Two Years After ; Friends Who Lie ; No More Secrets

by Paul J. Teague

  ‘All sardines present and correct?’ Haylee asked. ‘Off we go, for a weekend of bonding and corporate bollocks.’

  It was soon very uncomfortable in the car. The windows steamed up fast with five adult bodies on board, and the weak fans in the dashboard struggled to disperse it. They’d foolishly worn their coats because there was no room in the boot for them, adding to the discomfort, and the odour of fresh sweat soon permeated the enclosed space. Their legs were crushed against the seats in front. The only blessing was that it was only just over an hour to their destination.

  ‘I thought Edward was travelling with us?’ Rosie asked, as they finally neared the end of their wretched journey and were within spitting distance of their destination. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m not missing being jammed in a car with him. I just thought the senior team were travelling together.’

  ‘Well, with David recovering in hospital, it seems that Edward has made a few changes to the agenda. He wanted Mackenzie to attend, but it was too late in the day for her to join the others on the same train and seat bookings, so she got David’s place. Edward decided he was travelling by train with Annabelle, so they could discuss some numbers on the way down.’

  ‘Second-class tickets, I hope?’ Rosie said.

  ‘Fuck that,’ said Neil. ‘They’re both in First, Annabelle told me. I challenged Edward about it. He said they needed the space and confidentiality of First in order to discuss management issues. Prick!’

  ‘You’re looking pale, Neil. Are you okay?’ James asked.

  ‘Well, Mackenzie isn’t the only one who suffers from travel sickness, but it would be impolite of me to ask a wee girl to sit in the back,’ he whispered.

  ‘We’re almost there now – here’s the conference centre. Hold on tight. They have speed bumps along the driveway.’

  Right on cue, the car reared up at the back, then crashed back down, leaving the stomachs of the rear seat passengers somewhere in between.

  ‘Jesus!’ said Neil.

  ‘So, did you get any cards for Valentine’s Day?’ James said to Rosie, a smile on his face like he was teeing her up for a joke. ‘After our conversation the other day, I thought you might like to receive one from a friend. You seemed like you might need cheering up.’

  Rosie felt a fiery rage rise up.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, James, did you send me this abomination of a card?’ Her hands moved to her coat pockets. It was so tight in there that she struggled to retrieve it. She held it up to him, right in front of his face.

  The car bounced for a second time, shaking violently.

  ‘Sorry everybody, I took that one a bit fast,’ Haylee admitted.

  James examined the card.

  ‘Damn it, Rosie, I didn’t send you that! Mine had a picture of some lovely wildflowers on it with a cinema voucher inside it, so you could treat yourself to a night out. You don’t think I’d send you something like that, do you?’

  ‘I need to get out,’ said Neil.

  ‘Who the hell knows?’ Rosie raged. ‘For all I know, it was you who sent that dickpic. And put the porno magazine on Leonie’s car.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rosie.’

  The car crashed down from a third speed bump, and Neil could hang on no longer. He was sick, and in the confined space there was no avoiding it – the three of them in the back seat were covered in it.

  ‘Damn, I’m pleased I got the front seat,’ Mackenzie said. ‘That might have been me.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  It wasn’t the best of starts to a staff bonding weekend, but at least Neil had succeeded in getting intimately acquainted with James and Rosie. He was horrified.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, ‘I thought I could hang on ‘til we got to the end of the drive. Dinnae fret, I’ll pay for the cleaning. Damn it, I feel like some stupid wee bairn.’

  Rosie felt partly to blame. Neil had been asking to get out of the sardine tin, but she’d been so busy accusing James that they’d completely ignored his pleas.

  They let Haylee check them all in, out of embarrassment for the condition of their clothing. Rosie, James and Neil slid off into the toilets to clean themselves up as best they could, pending delivery of their room keys. By the time they had all gathered in the reception area once again, Haylee had their bags and their key-cards waiting.

  ‘The rest of the staff have arrived already and are starting to gather in the Inspiration Lounge,’ she began.

  Neil chuckled at that, his disdain for corporate nonsense undiminished by a bit of travel sickness.

  ‘Here are your room keys. The reception desk has arranged for a mobile valeting service to take care of the car, so it will smell delightful by the time we have to travel back home in it. If you bring your clothes down in one of these bags, they’ll get them express cleaned for you. See? All sorted.’

  ‘That’s why you’re such a great wee receptionist Haylee,’ Neil replied, ‘Thanks for that, I appreciate it.’

  That was the pussy cat Rosie knew and loved. Neil Jennings was a perfectly decent man, only made unreasonable by idiocy and incompetence.

  They took their key-cards, checked their room numbers and headed off in different directions: Neil and Haylee towards the elevators and James, Mackenzie and Rosie towards the door which led to the ground-floor rooms.

  ‘Looks like we’re all together,’ Mackenzie said. ‘You guys stink of sick. I’m going ahead.’

  She raced forward, allowing the fire door to swing back in their faces.

  ‘Nice,’ James said. ‘What a well-mannered young lady.’

  ‘I’m sorry I chewed you out back there,’ Rosie said, aware that it might have been a bit heavy for such a confined space. And perhaps not the best timing.

  ‘Look, if you don’t believe me, you’ll see when my card arrives in the post on Monday morning,’ James replied. ‘I didn’t send you that pornographic one. I wouldn’t do something like that. What do you take me for?’

  Rosie knew she’d jumped to conclusions. As they worked their way along the long corridor, it quickly became apparent that they’d been placed in adjacent rooms.

  ‘This is embarrassing,’ said James. ‘If you’d rather I got a new room, I’m happy to go back to reception and change it. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.’

  ‘It’s fine, James, honestly. I believe you. And it was a nice thought sending me a card. I’ll look forward to seeing it when it arrives.’

  ‘Did you keep the weird card?’ he asked. ‘For evidence. You should speak to the police if you’ve been receiving stuff like that. It’s an offence, and whoever did it can get in some real trouble.’

  ‘I threw it in the bin outside the conference centre,’ Rosie replied, slotting in her key-card. ‘It was fragranced with aroma de Neil.’

  James burst out laughing, sliding his own key-card into its slot.

  ‘Right, well let’s get cleaned up and make sure we’re not late for Edward’s presentation - you know how he hates people being late.’

  James moved through his door and Rosie followed suit. She was as confident as she could be that James was telling the truth. So who had sent the card? It had to be somebody at work, if the memo on her desk was anything to go by.

  She only had ten minutes to peel herself out of her soiled clothes and put them in the cleaning bag that Haylee had given her, then jump in the shower, dress, dry her hair and make sure she looked in a fit state to attend a formal meeting. As she switched off the hair drier, she heard a door opening immediately across from her room, then a familiar voice. It was Mackenzie.

  ‘Yeah, well, whatever,’ she said, obviously speaking into her phone. ‘Yeah, it’s boring as fuck, but at least they have to pay me, ’cause I’m an apprentice and all that.’

  Her voice faded as she made her way along the corridor. There was a knock at her door. It was James.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked. ‘Let’s do this. Don’t forget your clothes bag.’

  As t
hey made their way along the corridor, Rosie stopped, considering whether to ask James something of a sensitive nature. She decided to go ahead.

  ‘Do you think there’s anything unusual about Mackenzie?’ she asked.

  James stopped walking and laughed.

  ‘I’d say there’s a lot that’s unusual about Mackenzie,’ he said. ‘But nothing that a decade or so of work and adult life won’t sort out. She’s young and graceless, that’s all. She’ll learn. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Well, she’s just so… blunt. And rude. And she knows everything about me – she’s been checking me out online.’

  ‘Don’t you do that?’ James asked.

  ‘Well, yes – but I don’t tell them what I found out about them,’ Rosie smiled.

  ‘Exactly!’ James said. ‘We all do. I checked you out, and I bet you tried to check me out too?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I did.’

  ‘We all do it; it’s just that Mackenzie hasn’t learned how to be discreet about it yet. It’s the internet equivalent of watching your neighbours from behind the net curtains. We just don’t admit to doing it.’

  ‘And what did you find out about me?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘Nothing that I hadn’t heard through the grapevine already. I’m very sad for what happened to you. It doesn’t matter who was to blame for what – as far as I can see, your life was wrecked two years ago and so was the life of your child. It was horrible, but it was just a tragic accident. They do happen, you know. Somebody doesn’t have to be crucified every time. We’re all human and we all make mistakes sometimes.’

  They’d handed over their washing bags at reception and were almost at the Inspiration Lounge, though Rosie had little expectation of inspiration playing any part over the next two days. They were five minutes late too. She knew enough about Edward Logan already to know that he would notice.

  ‘You ready?’ James asked as they stood outside the double doors of the conference room. ‘We’ll jump together like we’re doing a parachute drop. No chickening out. After the count of three, ready?’

  ‘Thanks for saying what you said,’ Rosie whispered, ‘About the accident. I appreciate it. Most people go on a witch hunt. I’ve had very little sympathy about what happened.’

  Edward had already started his presentation when they sneaked through the doors and he was in full flow.

  ‘…so, contrary to what I told you in Monday’s meeting, we’re now going to have to cut the existing staff by 25%.’

  He looked up and saw them standing by the entrance, searching for a place to sit.

  ‘Oh, good of you to join us, James and Rosie. I had the conference centre staff take the extra seats away, as I didn’t think we’d be needing them. I hope you don’t mind standing for this session.’

  ‘Arsehole!’ came Neil’s barely concealed voice. He was sitting at the back of the room in what might traditionally be regarded as the naughty boy’s seat.

  Mackenzie looked like she’d made it in the nick of time, having found a place to sit, even though she’d only been a few minutes ahead of them.

  ‘Damn pleased I’m just an apprentice,’ she began. ‘You lot are screwed. I’m so glad I don’t have a mortgage to pay.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  This was Edward’s show, and if it were possible to gain superhuman powers from HR deliverables, he was Thor at that moment, holding the room in the palm of his hand as he talked about redundancy procedures, compensation packages, notice periods and re-training support. Then he threw a grenade into the room.

  ‘When you signed your new contracts with Silverline Supply Chains, you varied your terms and conditions for redundancy payments. Those of you with long service will find that your compensation arrangements have been reduced. David Willis offered a very generous package which we were unable to sustain.’

  ‘Aye, but David Willis managed to keep this company profitable for three decades before you expensive-suited tossers came in and screwed it up!’

  Neil Jennings’ fury filled the room. As one of the longest-serving members of the team, he’d just discovered that he would have to work another ten years to receive the same pay-off that he would have done a year ago. He didn’t look like he was going to manage another ten minutes under Edward Logan’s stewardship.

  Rosie ran the numbers in her head. She’d clocked up a decent period of service, and her redundancy payment might cover a few debts, but she was much too young to be contemplating retirement and that Holy Grail of all workers, a fully funded pension.

  ‘You know what? Fuck this!’ Neil Jennings cursed. The room was silent, as it always was when Neil had his say. As far as Rosie could see, in spite of the fact that he looked like he might murder Edward Logan, there was a lot of love for Neil Jennings in that room. He was saying what they were all thinking in exactly the way they’d like to say it. When it came to conveying outrage, anger, contempt and frustration, the Glaswegian accent sounded like it had been invented for such occasions.

  ‘You can stick yer bloody redundancy package where the sun don’t shine,’ Neil cursed, throwing his paperwork on the floor. ‘I’m telling yer this contract change is irregular and illegal. I’ll be spending the rest of this weekend reading up on company legislation on company time. And if yer don’t like it, yer wee tosser, call me in for another disciplinary on Monday morning. ‘Cause it’s official, yer wee jobby, Neil Jennings no longer cares!’

  He stormed out of the room, and there was a round of applause from his colleagues. Neil Jennings had just articulated their thoughts, feelings and frustrations, though they would never have had the courage to do it.

  ‘Damn, he’s good!’ said James. ‘There’s a chair free now – want to share it?’

  Rosie nodded, and they moved over to the vacant seat while Edward adjusted his dignity. Despite the scene Neil had just caused, Edward still commanded the room; however much contempt he was held in, he had their futures in his hands.

  ‘This feels comfortable after that car ride,’ Rosie whispered. ‘I’ve got more space on this half-chair than I did in that. It’s positively luxurious by comparison.’

  For a moment – and only for a moment – Rosie caught a glimpse of her former self. She was flirting with James, joking about and enjoying it. Although the occasion was a grim one, she was with her work colleagues and engaged in corporate life. And, if only for a second, that sense of them all being in the same boat, that joy of laughing with a colleague, made her feel like her old self again. It felt like they were all gathered there for the world’s worst sermon, but in spite of everything, Rosie saw a future for herself in that conference room, a feeling that had taken two years to rekindle.

  Edward had recovered himself. It was evident that whenever Neil Jennings had a go at him, he would assume the appearance of a Windows computer carrying out a re-boot. Fortunately for the attendees, it didn’t take long for Edward to execute a re-start. He would be out of things for around half a minute, then he would start talking again. With the applause now over for Neil’s outburst, Edward was ready to continue, as if nothing had happened.

  ‘So, here’s how we’re going to manage this process…’

  ‘He’s like that molten metal Terminator,’ James said, ‘When a bullet’s fired through its head, it looks shocked for a couple of seconds, then it carries on trying to rip your head off.’

  Rosie burst out laughing at the image. It was entirely out of keeping with the mood in the room.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, as some of the newer staff members glanced impatiently at her.

  Rosie felt like a giggling school-girl, admonished by the teacher, but unable to obey the instruction to settle down. She was shaking on the seat as she tried to stifle her laughter, aware of James smiling beside her.

  Joy was to Edward Logan what a wasp was to the rest of the world; when it was in the room, it had to be squashed, and the sooner, the better. Edward had just the tool to swat this pest.

  ‘We’re going to complete several
exercises today which will help us to isolate the posts which will be in scope for redundancy. This first exercise is one I devised myself, to enable us to get a better sense of what holds the company back and what oils the wheels. I call this process Spanners in the works.’

  ‘Is he allowed to do this?’ Rosie asked. ‘I thought there were procedures for making people redundant. This feels like a Wild West version of it.’

  ‘I suspect they know who’s going already,’ James replied. ‘This will just be some half-arsed exercise to make us feel like we have some control over our fate.’

  ‘If you look in your document packs for the accompanying worksheet, I’d like you to take a few minutes in silence to note down behaviours which you feel may inhibit the success of the company.’

  Edward looked like he was auditioning for Simon Cowell; never had a man looked so much like this was his big moment.

  ‘I will be doing the same thing, and we’ll add our results to the whiteboard.’

  The room descended into silence. An attentive member of the staff from the conference centre had brought in an extra chair, and James took it from her. Rosie felt disappointed that he had moved; the physical contact gave her a thrill which she hadn’t experienced for some time. The only close male contact she’d had were the professional hands of the medical staff and the family contact with Sam and Iain. She was ready for something more now, and that felt good. It meant she was emerging from the darkness.

  The room remained hushed until Edward called time on the activity. There was a low murmuring as he asked people to stop writing down their ideas, then he picked up a marker pen and poised himself to start writing down responses from the staff.

  ‘There are no right and wrong answers here,’ he began. ‘You may think that some behaviours should be supported in the workplace. This exercise is all about thinking things through from the company point of view. For instance, here are some behaviours that I would consider very disruptive, to get the ball rolling.’