by Sam Carlton
“Park in my bay round the back. I’ll wait for you in the foyer.” She did as she told and ran from the car to the foyer. “Where’s your spoon?” he asked trying to sound sullen.
“I’m so sorry Leo. I know there’s no excuse – I should’ve believed you. I got overwhelmed by events.”
“And that’s it?” he said, jabbing the button to call the lift.
“I’m sorry. I suppose I’ve never been that lucky in love – you seemed too good to be true. Too good for me, anyway. When I could explain your interest in me as using me to get a story it made more sense than you being with me ‘cos you liked me.”
They got in the lift and Leo realised the situation was ripe for manipulation.
“I’m such a catch, am I?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Like you don’t know.”
“How come I’m thirty-six and single then?”
“You’re too good-looking. Most women would think you were married.”
He swallowed a guffaw.
“D’you know what I think Fiona Williams?” He tugged her lapels to make her look at him.
“No. What?” It was lovely to feel his hands on her, even if he was dripping rain all over her dry-clean only jacket.
“I think you reckon men are commitment-phobes when it’s really you. When you’re in a good relationship with a man who adores you, you run away. You manufacture a drama like you did this morning. You’re a saboteur. I’m not sure I want a relationship with someone like that – it’s too stressful.”
The lift reached Leo’s floor and he got out. He couldn’t stop grinning and was glad he had his back to her.
“I am not a commitment-phobe,” she pouted after him.
“Prove it.” He spoke strangely because his teeth were clamped on his cheeks to stop himself from laughing. He unlocked his front door and stepped back to let her enter first.
“How?”
“Let’s move in together.” He shut the door behind him.
“Are you serious?”
“Is this the face of a joking man?” He pulled a miserable face at her.
She flung her arms around him enthusiastically, almost knocking him off his feet.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” She kissed him to emphasise every word.
*
“Who was that?” Georgia asked as she came down the stairs. She yawned and covered her mouth. Matt watched her with desire, willing her dressing gown to fall open.
“That was your sister phoning to tell you that she can’t open any Sunday newspaper without you staring back at her. Apparently you’ve brought shame on the family and should be appalled. She says that there used to be names for women like you. She made it sound rather Dickensian.”
“What did you say?”
“I said that vice paid well and I was going to open a sex dungeon and pimp you out to any major corporate executive who was interested.”
“You did not!” she laughed, sensing that he probably had.
“Nancy hung up on me.”
Georgia noticed the Sunday papers on the mat and picked the top one up. The front page bore the headline: Would you say no? and a large picture of Georgia standing on the drive. It must have been when she was talking about Jeff as she had removed her sunglasses. Seeing herself on the front page of every Sunday paper was bizarre. She wasn’t a film star or pop singer or politician or royal. She was an accountant. She wondered if a Chartered Accountant had ever caused such a media stir before. Her eyes speed read and took in odd snippets such as ‘financial fox’.
“I’ll go out in a bit and buy another copy of every paper – I want to keep them for our children to realise what rebels we were,” Matt said.
Georgia didn’t make any comment. If she’d paid Matt the attention he deserved she would have realised a long time ago how broody he was. Matt being Matt hadn’t forced it but had subordinated his wants to hers. All that stood between them and the rest of their lives was a signature. And that’s when things became complicated.
*
“So am I forgiven?” Fiona asked. She put a large fry-up in front of Leo. He’d insisted she eat too so she’d made a smaller version for herself. This was the sort of love she’d dreamt of, where her partner ordered her to eat bacon and sausages and fried eggs.
“I reckon so.” He cut the end off a sausage and dipped it in his egg yolk. She’d never seen anyone do it before so copied. He winked at her. “I’ll make a philistine of you yet girl!”
“Were you serious about moving in together?”
“Yes – we can move some of your stuff in this afternoon if you want.”
“Here?” She’d need to buy a wholesale box of paracetamol to live with Leo’s colour schemes.
“What’s wrong with it?” he said and crammed half a rasher of bacon into his mouth. He ate with an appetite that made her want to hug him.
“Well, it’s… a bit… it’s… ” A bulb of inspiration switched on in her mind. “It’s your home. If we’re going to make it work we need a fresh start – not your flat or my flat, but a joint home.”
“Very tactful.” His eyes twinkled at her and she wondered whether she’d ever look at him without feeling excited.
*
Georgia decided to avoid the rush hour and go into work later on Monday morning.
“I don’t know if I can face it,” she said to Matt.
“You can face it. You know it’s got to be done and you’re not a coward.”
“If I see Jeff I’ll kill him.”
“No you won’t. I’m not wasting the rest of my life visiting you in prison.” He pointed to her toast. “Eat something. I don’t want you passing out through starvation.”
“Yes Mum.” Her dressing gown was cosy and warm. Being at home with Matt was safe. She could put on her act of bravado when she was with Matt and needed to boost his confidence. On her own it was more difficult.
“I’ll never make partnership,” she said. In truth, she knew that she’d be lucky to make it to the end of the day.
“And it’s the world of accountancy’s loss.”
When she got to work, everyone in the department stared at her as if they expected her to behave differently. She said ‘good morning’ to every person she normally said it to but didn’t make eye contact. Jeff’s office door was closed. As soon as she sat at her desk David Crossley, her boss, followed her into her office and shut the door.
“I’ve spoken to Jeff already. I’ve been waiting for you to come in.” He sat opposite her and crossed his arms. David was a nice man and a gentle boss. He looked highly uncomfortable at being put into the position of disciplinarian. Georgia noticed a light sheen of sweat across his forehead and decided to make things easy for him.
“Georgia – I don’t know what to say.” He shook his head and seemed genuinely bewildered. “I’ve had the Institute on the phone asking for your head on a plate.” The Institute of Chartered Accountants wasn’t known for its fun and flexible view of life. “They’re satisfied that I’ve given Jeff a severe warning and they’ve issued him with their own admonishment too. But you –what can I say to you?”
“I’m sorry,” Georgia said. She wasn’t but there was no point upsetting him.
“They’re holding a meeting about you – they want to expel you. You can attend the hearing to put your side of things across but I think it’s a foregone conclusion.”
“Never mind.”
“Georgia – I don’t think you understand. If you’re expelled you won’t be a Chartered Accountant any more. That means your employment here, at Bailey Martin, will also be terminated. You’ll be out of work.”
“Worse things happen at sea.” The press, and consequently everybody else, remained entirely oblivious to Joshua’s offer for the business. They only knew what he fed them via Jeff. He’d omitted any information regarding the sale.
“My advice to you, for what it’s worth, is to get the best price possible for any intervi
ews you give to the press – you’re going to be notorious for a short while – you’ll never work in the City again.” He sat on his hands and squirmed. “I’m so sorry Georgia but I’ve reassigned your current clients to other managers. The Bailey Martin panel of directors has asked me to tell you that you’re suspended on full pay until the outcome of the Institute hearing is known.”
“Can I take this morning to sort my office out – I’m assuming I won’t be keeping it for much longer?”
“Usually, the employee is requested to leave immediately.” His discomfort at reciting the rules made his left eye twitch. He exhaled deeply. “But I’ve known you for over six years – I trust you. You can stay to sort out your things.”
“Thanks.”
He got up to leave. At the doorway he turned.
“Do you have any plans as to what you’ll do?”
“One or two.”
“I always knew you’d be trouble,” he said kindly. When he closed her door she leant back in her chair, wheeled it away from the desk and spent a few minutes spinning around in it, varying the speed by tucking her legs in or holding them out straight. She stopped spinning when she felt sick and scanned the office. What should she take home? She had no desire for the corporate paperweights and the accounting tomes could go on a bonfire for all she cared. The selection of stationery in the desk drawers would be her housewarming gift to the next occupant. There was only one thing worth taking – her photo of Matt. She picked it up and kissed him softly before slipping it into her handbag.
She called Fiona’s mobile.
“Fi – where are you?”
“At my desk, clearing it out. I’ve been sacked for bringing the firm’s good name into disrepute. I’ve effectively been told that I’ll never work in this town again,” she adopted a John Wayne-style drawl.
“Me too – well, almost. I’m suspended on full pay.”
“It’s great isn’t it?” Fiona squeaked.
“Yep! I’m going to the solicitor’s in a bit and signing the contract – I suppose they’ll call you afterwards to get your signature too. We’ll be millionaires!” She remembered the last conversation she’d had with Fiona. “Listen, Fi… I’m really sorry for what I said about Leo. Are things OK between you?”
“We’re moving in together – he’s making me eat fried breakfasts. He’s banned me from counting calories! I love him!”
*
Matt didn’t switch on his computer. There was no point in fielding queries when Georgia and Fiona wouldn’t be carrying out the assignments. He marvelled that an idea of his during a night of dandelion wine could result in each of them receiving two million pounds. It was insane. He hoped Georgia wasn’t having too hard a time at work and wondered what time she’d be back. He felt on tenterhooks and decided to kill the time by making some muffins. Matt had always enjoyed cooking, nothing fancy, but opening the oven and taking out a tray of cakes or a simmering pot of lasagne presented him with a simple pleasure. He slid the muffin tray into the oven and the phone rang. I bet she’s signed, he thought, and his stomach tightened.
“Hello.”
“Matt – mate, thought you might have some hot PA fielding your calls now you’re a media star!”
“Billy. How are you?”
“Waiting for the nod mate, then its all systems go. Your missus looks pretty do-able in the papers.”
“Thank you. I think.”
“She is going to accept the million for doing a Playboy centrefold? She’ll only regret if she doesn’t – it should be made illegal for totty like her to refuse. Has she said if she’s doing it?”
“I don’t think she will.” He couldn’t resist adding proudly, “Some things are for my eyes only.”
“Just thought I’d call and offer my services.”
“What for?”
“You’ll be wanting to branch out – offer blokes the chance to get their birds tested. I know you might be shy to ask but I’d be well up for it. Only problem is what bird in her right mind would refuse? I could ugly myself up a bit though if necessary. Are you OK?”
“Fine,” Matt spluttered, “something stuck in my throat that’s all.” He coughed to mask his giggles.
*
At 1 pm, Georgia stood up and left her office for the last time. She walked down the corridor to the lift and heard Jeff’s door open.
“Georgia – are you leaving without saying goodbye?”
“Looks like it.”
“I want to thank you.” He ran to catch up with her. “Easiest fifty grand I’ve ever made.”
“Good.” She took the stairs, the need to keep moving overpowering her.
He followed her, desperate to try one last wind up.
“Don’t be cross with me – as our ethics champion I had no other option.” He lowered his voice. “You realise the promotion to senior manager was between you and me? With you gone, they’ve got to offer it to me – thanks for that.”
She turned to him and silenced him with a finger to his lips. He flushed at her touch. Adopting her Carrot mentality she let her eyes drop down his body before agonisingly slowly bringing them back to meet his.
“Are you in the office this afternoon?”
“Yes,” he said with her finger still on his lips.
“I’ll call with some very important news. I always keep a promise.”
Georgia walked to Chancery Lane but when she reached Brown-Thorpe’s offices couldn’t recall a single step of her journey; it was as if she’d teleported. Her mind was fixed on one thing. She was scared to leave employment behind, she fretted over what would occupy the rest of her life. However much she adored Matt she couldn’t fill every day looking at him. Blokebusters was theirs, it would be awful to leave it and see it develop without her. She wasn’t sure she could. She hated missing a train, the sensation of seeing it rumble into the distance and knowing she should be on it was torture. Seeing the business roll away from her would be infinitely more agonising. What would Matt say if she got home and said she’d opted to stay a director? If he loved her he’d learn to live with it. Wouldn’t he? Brown-Thorpe’s offices were impressive with smoked glass and shiny marble sculptures. She went to the reception desk and spoke to a woman with an orange face and white neck.
“I’m here to see Andrew Hopkins. My name’s Georgia Brown.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“I believe so.”
The receptionist made a phone call and Georgia noticed people eyeing her up, like they recognised her but couldn’t quite place where from.
“His secretary will come straight down to collect you.”
“Thanks.”
Georgia was led into a plush room with a disproportionately high ceiling to accommodate the large palm tree in the corner. She smiled and was glad she hadn’t brought Matt along. He’d be snipping bits off it when Andrew Hopkins arrived. Not that it was the only reason she was glad he wasn’t there. She was kept waiting for five minutes until Andrew Hopkins entered the room. The stereotypical City lawyer: short hair, tired-looking, Thomas Pink shirt and tie combination and an expensive suit. Georgia smiled and thought, Give me an eccentric genius any day.
“Now, Georgia – Mr Daniels, my client, requested an amendment this morning which is now reflected here.” He pointed to a line and Georgia saw the price now showed seven million pounds on one contract, eleven million on the other. He smiled at her. “Which contract are you here to sign?”
SECTION 4: REVELATIONS
Matt & Georgia
The first thing Georgia did on leaving Brown-Thorpe’s offices was to call Jeff. He was surprised to hear from her so quickly.
“Jeff – I always keep my word. Remember I promised to let you know when Matt earned his first million from his Internet business? Well, it’s just happened. And his second. And his —” She had never felt such relish at having the phone slammed down on her.
Matt and Georgia decided to let the dust settle on their notoriety before they made any
sweeping plans about the rest of their lives. Four million pounds could buy you a lot of things, time being the most attractive option. Matt handed control of the website and his systems for processing business over to Joshua within a week of Georgia signing the contract. Georgia stayed away from these meetings.
They went on holiday to America, flying first class to New York. It was the first time either of them had flown in luxury and the first time Matt had ever had sufficient legroom on a plane. After four days in New York they flew to Arizona (Matt was desperate to see cacti growing wild) before moving on to LA. It was the most intimate time they’d ever spent together, better even than their honeymoon.
Two months after the sale, when the money was safely in their account and the enormity of it had sunk in, Georgia asked Matt what he truly would like to do.
“It’s not just about me though, is it?” he shrugged, but when pushed said, “I’d buy a large house with land in or around Torquay. I’d start a family and have loads of children and dogs and cats. I’d occupy myself by growing palm trees – the climate in Torquay’s ideal for palms – and maybe sell them.”
So that’s what they did.
They found a detached eight-bedroom farmhouse-style home just outside the most suburban part of Torquay. It was set in two acres of land and Matt had an enormous greenhouse constructed; he called it P Gardens because it wasn’t quite as large as Kew. He grew more palms than he dreamt possible and sold some to private buyers, some to nurseries. Georgia did the paperwork and bookkeeping for him.
Matt framed Georgia’s letter of expulsion from the Institute and hung it in pride of place in one of their downstairs toilets. It took five years until she could look at it without smiling.
Within a year, their first child was born. They called him Adam and he remained an only child for two years until Robert came along. Sophie broke the pattern of boys and gave Georgia her much longed-for daughter and the quartet was completed shortly after with Tim.
Matt was terrified that his experiences of childhood would make him a dreadful father but needn’t have worried. His appealing blend of gentility, eccentricity and intelligence meant that his children worshipped him. It was a mutual arrangement. He couldn’t bear to be apart from them and prided himself on being a hands-on father and husband, never happier than when driving his people-carrier stuffed to the gills with his kin. For the first time in his life he was part of his own family and thrived on the permanent state of organised chaos.