by A. E. Radley
Going Up
A.E. Radley
Contents
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Reviews
The Suited Idiot
An Empty Office
Invisible
Not Accustomed to Losing
Becoming Visible
Unexpectedly Helpful
Meeting the Family
A Fresh Start
The Unfamiliar Aunt
Seeking Advice
Some Advice
The End
Missing
The Penthouse
Letting Her Go
A Casual Lifeline
A Heart of Ice
On the Move
New Beginnings
The Final Straw
Probation Over
Dinner Truths
Being Played
Unexpected Behaviour
Checking In
Flirting?
Come Home
The Morning After
Welcome Home
An Explanation
History Retold
A Question of Age
Reality Check
A Knock on the Door
No Surprises
You’re My Type
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About the Author
Also by A.E. Radley
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Also by A.E. Radley
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The Suited Idiot
Jonathan Addington leaned back in his chair. His fingers were interlaced behind his head, and a slimy grin slithered across his young features. Selina wondered how he ever managed to do business with anyone with an expression and attitude like that. He probably thought he was charming, roguish. In truth, his unpleasantness was too strong to be covered by a half-hearted grin.
“So, you see what I’m saying?”
He’d said a lot since he entered Selina’s office ten minutes ago. Most of it was focused on the end-of-year figures and the predicted turnover for the coming period. Namely, the fact that profits were down.
Of course, he’d started by mentioning how Selina’s hard work over the years had saved the company from bankruptcy, but that was only a pathetic attempt to butter her up before diving into a conversation about how revenues continued to drop.
“You’re saying,” Selina said, leaning into her high back chair and pinning him with a look, “that you want further cuts.”
“Exactly.” Jonathan sat forward. He brought his hand up and made a scissor action with his fingers. “Chop, chop. I thought you might have some ideas?”
It took every single piece of willpower that Selina possessed to not roll her eyes at him. She placed her hands on her desk and gently rolled her chair back. She stood up and walked over to the large office window, which, on the twelfth floor, overlooked the gloomy car park and railway line.
Not the office on the thirteenth floor that overlooked the award-winning park, the one she had been coveting for nearly thirty years.
While many people would have been happy as operations director for a top accountancy firm, Selina Hale wasn’t. She’d been eyeing promotion to the board since the day she walked into the offices of Nicholas Addington and Sons.
The thirteenth floor was the prize. The lifelong goal. Selina was driven solely by her desire to become a member of the board, where she could finally make some dramatic changes to the company and receive the benefits of such transformations by way of hefty dividends.
She was well paid for her current role, of course, but she found it grating that she was constantly the one developing and implementing changes that kept the business afloat, only to receive a standard salary. Meanwhile, the shareholders were living a life of luxury and benefitting from her hard work.
Selina craved the status, the power, the respect, and the money. And she had it all within her grasp.
Jonathan, however, was useless. Only in his role because his father owned the company, he was a board member with no real power. Despite an expensive education in a Scandinavian business school, Jonathan had no head for corporate dealings. He wanted to prove himself worthy of his father’s legacy and eventually take over the firm, but he was sensible enough to understand that he couldn’t do it alone and sought assistance wherever he could find it.
It hadn’t taken Selina long to get Jonathan onside and make him reliant on her for that advice. She wasn’t foolish enough to just give him the advice. No, she wanted to do the work, even when the work was restructuring the business and making scores of people redundant.
Because being willing to do the dirty work was how people got noticed.
“I’ve also been looking at the predictions,” Selina said, looking out of the window at some garbage beside the railway tracks. “Of course, if I’d not implemented my previous round of cost-saving initiatives, we’d be in a much worse state.”
She turned around and folded her arms, not allowing him to reply before she continued. “The marketing team is ripe for a little fat-cutting. Margaret doesn’t seem to feel the pinch like the rest of us, if her team breakfast meetings in the boardroom are anything to go by. And I know we’re all supposed to be tweeting and liking everything with a pulse, but there is no place for that in an accountancy firm. Devonshire Estates are not going to hire us to restructure their taxes because of a quirky video explaining what VAT is.”
She walked back to her desk and opened the top drawer, studying the folder she pulled out before handing it to him.
“My recommendations. They lose half their team, and social media is stripped back to interns. It’s for children, so children might as well run it. I wouldn’t want us to appear out of touch by not having any online presence, of course. It’s not the Stone Age.”
Jonathan opened the folder and flipped through the scant details it contained. She wasn’t about to give away all of her plans, just the headline facts and figures.
“As you can see, I recommend a substantial cut of their budget. When they can prove that they are making more than they are spending, they may apply to have it back. But at the moment, I’m not seeing much proof that the marketing budget is being spent effectively.”
Selina sat down and waited for Jonathan to read through the small pack.
He skimmed it, at best, before closing the folder and placing it back on her desk. “Ten steps ahead as always, Selina.”
She smiled and spread her hands. “That’s what I’m here for. Are you happy for me to implement the plan?”
He nodded eagerly. “Go ahead.”
She knew he was happy to be saving money and relieved that it would be Selina doing the deed. That allowed Jonathan to save face and walk around the office looking forlorn and pretending it had nothing to do with him.
It was the perfect arrangement. Jonathan would still be well liked by the staff. Selina would implement the next round of operational tweaks that would stabilise the business financials. And get her noticed by th
e board.
“Speaking of marketing,” Jonathan added, “did you see the cost for the new website?”
This time Selina did roll her eyes.
“I did,” she confirmed. “I’ve already looked into alternative suppliers. This is just another example of Margaret overspending. How hard can it be to build a website? That quote was obscene.”
Jonathan smiled and stood up. “I knew you’d have it all in hand.”
“You can rely on me,” she told him. “I’ll have new proposal documents to you for the website by early next week. And I can assure you, we won’t have to sell organs to fund it.”
“Fantastic.” He tapped his watch. “I have to get going. Drop me an email if you need anything.”
More golf, she assumed. Jonathan spent more time networking on the green than he did in his office, which suited Selina perfectly. He asked for solutions to problems she already knew existed. She provided the solutions and implemented them with his blessing. While he was on the golf course, the entire board were informed of her ongoing progress, and her place on the thirteenth floor moved a step closer. Sometimes it felt too easy.
“I will. Enjoy your afternoon.”
She smiled in farewell and watched him leave her glass-walled haven. He strolled through the outer office like a man without a care in the world. She supposed that was exactly what he was. He’d never had to do a real day’s work in his life.
As soon as he left, Gemma walked into the office.
Well, more like waddled. Selina regarded Gemma’s pregnancy bulge and let out a small sigh. Gemma was one of the few assistants she had managed to train to become acceptable, and now the foolish redhead had decided to start a family with her new husband.
“Your solicitor called and would like you to call him back when you have time,” Gemma said. “And Mark from IT says he can’t do tomorrow morning anymore but wonders if you’re free at two on Friday.”
“Am I?” Selina asked disinterestedly. She didn’t pay an assistant so she could waste her time committing her own schedule to memory.
“You are. You have a meeting with Margaret at one, but you scheduled it in for an hour.”
Selina paused, staring into space for a moment while she mentally calculated if she’d need longer to tell Margaret that her team and budget were being reduced by seventy-five percent.
“That should be fine,” Selina replied. Margaret would complain and rant for a while, but she was stick thin and training for the London Marathon so would no doubt run out of energy before the hour was up.
Gemma shifted from foot to foot with discomfort. Her pregnancy had made her balloon, to the extent that Selina wasn’t entirely sure her assistant was growing a human baby. From the size of her, there were good odds it was an elephant calf.
“I’ll have a latte from Edge.” Selina picked up her mobile and scrolled through her address book to find her solicitor.
She noticed Gemma’s lack of enthusiasm at going out for coffee, but she wasn’t about to start drinking the swill from the staff room. It really wasn’t Selina’s fault that Gemma could no longer see her ankles.
“Problem?”
“No, Selina,” her assistant answered quickly. “Just a latte? Would you like something to eat for later?”
And save you from having to do two visits? Selina thought to herself. No, thank you.
“No. Just the latte.” Selina turned in her chair, indicating that the conversation was over. She didn’t need to turn to hear Gemma plod out of the office.
Gemma’s productivity since pregnancy had taken a nosedive. Maternity leave was still a way off, and Selina didn’t know if Gemma was even planning on coming back. The notion of sacking her and getting an agency worker was tempting, but she was hardly on the human resources department’s Christmas card list as it was. Sacking her pregnant assistant before she went on maternity would probably not endear her to anyone.
Selina took a deep breath and pressed Jeremy’s name. She placed the phone to her ear and listened to the dial tone, feeling more stressed with each one she heard.
“Ah, she lives,” her solicitor answered. “I wasn’t sure, as you’ve been ignoring my calls for two days.”
“I’m extremely busy, Jeremy.” Half true. Although, she’d find things to do if it meant avoiding this conversation.
“Well, your tactical avoidance of matters has landed us with a demand.”
“English, Jeremy?”
“Your wife—”
“Ex-wife,” Selina corrected.
“Not yet. Your wife’s solicitor has sent a letter saying that if a reasonable settlement is not met soon, then you will be going to court. To allow a judge to distribute assets and finalise the divorce.”
“Precisely what I want to happen,” Selina said.
“Selina, we have spoken about this. Court is a bad idea.”
“So you keep saying, but I think attending court and explaining the whole situation to a judge will ensure not a single penny of my money gets into the hands of that conniving bitch.”
Jeremy let out a heartfelt sigh. “Selina…”
“When’s the date?” she asked. She was already planning a few choice statements she’d enjoy making.
“Selina,” Jeremy said, more forcefully this time. “You hired me to advise you. I strongly advise against going to court. To be frank, your reputation and personality are not going to do you any favours.”
“My personality?” Selina spluttered.
“There’s a high likelihood that the court will rule in your wife’s favour after spending a few minutes in your company.”
“Well, that’s uncalled for. I thought you were on my side.”
“I am. Which is why I’m telling you that you come across rather harsh on a good day. When you’re cross, you’re like a steamroller with anger management issues. Courts are quiet, calm places that like to distribute judgement in a fair and reasonable manner. You will not do well there.”
Selina got to her feet and walked over to the window. She looked down and could see Gemma slowly making her way across the car park to the closest coffee shop, Edge.
“I’m not meeting with her,” Selina argued.
“I know, but you can’t ignore every communication from her solicitor either. If you continue to do that, then court will be her only option. And I cannot stress enough—”
“They’ll hate me, I get it.” Selina let out a sigh. She frowned and leaned closer to the window. She blinked, her eyes not quite believing what they saw.
There was a homeless person living in the car park.
It was hard to tell from her office, but they seemed to be wrapped in a sleeping bag, in plain sight of any clients who could be using the car park. Of course, Gemma stopped and gave them some money.
“Idiot,” Selina muttered. Gemma should be using her brain and calling someone to remove the homeless person, not giving them money and encouraging them to stay and clutter up the area.
“Pardon?” Jeremy asked.
“Not you. I’m going to have to call you back.”
“Selina—”
She hung up the call and quickly rang John in the facilities department, her eyes fixed on the car park’s new inhabitant.
“Facilities,” John gruffly answered.
“There’s a vagrant in the car park,” Selina said.
“The one to the rear?” John asked.
“No, the one three miles away that I can miraculously see from my window which overlooks the rear car park.” Selina glanced up at the ceiling and shook her head. She couldn’t believe the level of incompetence at this company. “Get security out there and move them on.”
“We can’t do that. It’s a public car park which we rent spaces in. We don’t own it. We’d have to get the police to move them on, and the police usually have better things to do than respond to those calls.”
“Call the police then,” she insisted. “It doesn’t look good for our clients to be parking their car next to
some criminal. I’d think that’s quite obvious, John. Isn’t it?”
There was a slight pause, probably while John debated if it was worth arguing with the operations director just two years out from his retirement.
“I’ll give them a ring,” he replied neutrally.
Selina hung up the call. She folded her arms and glared down at the scene below. Cars meandered around looking for an empty space, while her assistant meandered even more slowly on her way to Edge. Selina’s latte would no doubt be frozen by the time it got to her. And a nomad clad in a likely smelly sleeping bag sat in plain sight of everyone.
Promotion to the thirteenth floor couldn’t come soon enough.
An Empty Office
Selina tucked her folder under her arm and hurried out of the meeting room. She couldn’t believe the nerve of some people. Bloody Margaret had commandeered what should have been a thirty-minute meeting about office supplies. She’d had to suffer through an hour and a half talking about a client appreciation event she wasn’t entirely sure would bring in the revenues that Margaret claimed.
Ordinarily she would have shut the whole thing down and got the discussion back on track, but when the chairman of the board, Nicholas Addington, seemed interested in the conversation, she had found that she was stuck. Trying to reroute the conversation to office supplies was impossible once Margaret started to discuss the wine list for the event.