by Ian Fox
“But that’s a wonderful job,” Sally said when they were discussing it at home. “What more do you want? You’ll send the odd letter and have lots of coffee.”
“But that’s not what I want to do,” Emely said.
“And why didn’t you say so to your boss?”
“I didn’t dare. He’s so nice to me.” Emely hung her head down.
“But then he’ll never find out what you want, exactly.”
She knew Sally was right, but Emely was still unable to pluck up the courage to talk about this to her boss.
Her friend said, “If you can’t mention it to your boss, tell someone else, for heaven’s sake.”
“I will, I will,” Emely said, but did nothing, afraid that she would be laughed at.
Finally the day came when she had to defend her degree. Three professors sat in front of her, listening with interest.
“Long-term investments are mostly dependent on a company’s income, which is connected to the development of the economy as a whole, the political system, tax policies. Midterm investments are dependent on development within a specific economic field, exchange rates, and monetary policies ….” Emely was hoping that she would remember everything. She had spent the whole night preparing and the pain at the back of her head was getting unbearable. “There are also movements on the stock market which are the result of the disproportionately high number of offers, i.e., demands ….” She had invested more than three months’ time preparing for this.
Since she was working at a stockbroking company, her mentor advised her to write something about stockbroking in her final thesis. But he was surprised at the result. Her thesis included completely new approaches in the forecasting of the potential growth and falls in the value of securities. He was enthusiastic about finally having found a student who didn’t simply quote from various books, but tried to find new directions. When he started reading her thesis, he was unable to put it down until he reached the end. “Leave me alone!” he shouted at a cleaner who came to his office for the second time. “Can’t you see I’m very busy!”
“If the values …” he read out loud, forgetting the cleaner who was giving him angry looks. She figured he could clean his darned office himself if he wanted, and left.
*
One professor suggested to Emely that she go on to postgraduate study, certain that a fund could be found which would give her a scholarship. But Emely was not interested. She wanted to finally do what she wrote about in her thesis. That was all. She wanted nothing else.
*
“Congratulations, honey, I knew you’d do it one day,” Sally said to her, giving her a big hug.
Emely was glowing with satisfaction. Finally her studies were over. It wasn’t that she couldn’t go on, just that she had felt in the last year that things were getting repeated and there was no more she could learn in the area that interested her. She would much rather spend the spare time she had looking at various books on shares and bonds, improving her already considerable knowledge.
“Good job we’ve still got a bit of that champagne in the fridge that we didn’t finish last week.”
“Oh, no, Sally, that champagne is flat. I’ve worked really hard all these years and I think I can give myself something more. Let’s go for dinner somewhere.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful. Where do you suggest?”
“Not McDonald’s, that’s for sure. This time I’d like to be served like a lady, the full works. We’ll order an aperitif, an appetizer, and all the rest.”
“Super, Emely, I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful evening.”
*
At work they were also happy about her success. Everyone knew she was a good student and never doubted that she’d succeed. They organized a wonderful party. Her boss told her that in the morning they would be installing a new software system and so there was no point in her coming to work before ten.
When Emely arrived at the office at nine fifty five the next morning, she was shocked. The premises were decorated with at least fifty colorful balloons. Everyone was there already and as soon as she came in, they all got up and walked toward her.
Adam, one of the brokers, said, “Congratulations, Emely, on your success.”
“I knew you’d do well,” Miriam said. The accountant squeezed both of Emely’s hands.
“Congratulations … congratulations!” Everyone was shaking her hand.
“But how did you know I’d succeed? I could have failed,” she said.
“We just knew,” her boss said, kissing her twice on the cheek during all the commotion.
What he didn’t want to tell her was that the day before, he had called the college for the first time and inquired about how she had done. He had always been a prudent man and it would seem silly to organize a party unless he was certain. After all, these things cost money. But he was surprised to hear what her mentor had to say to him: “Has she successfully defended her thesis? Who do you say you are? Oh, yes, the director of the company she works for. Listen, not only has she defended her thesis successfully, she surprised everyone here with her work. Do you know what she wrote about?”
Emely’s boss became embarrassed since he couldn’t answer the question. Once, he had asked her about the title, but his thoughts were on some liquidity problems the company had that day and so he was not paying attention. “To tell you the truth, no, I don’t know.”
“It’s fantastic. The title is ‘The Short-Term and Long-Term Forecasting of the Value of Securities,’ and we were all surprised to read about the new approaches she came up with. Listen, what does she actually do at work? I suppose stock analysis or trading.”
“No, not really. She’s my secretary.” He didn’t know why he felt embarrassed saying that.
“A secretary?” shouted the voice at the other end of the line. “Are you crazy? Listen, in case no one has told you yet, Emely is a very capable woman who knows how to use her brain and I’m certain secretarial work is too undemanding for her.”
“I was going to offer her the position of executive assistant,” he said weakly, embarrassed again.
“Well, it’s your decision. You manage that company and know best what you need most. But I think that Emely would do the job of an analyst or a stockbroker much better than that of an executive assistant. Have you any other questions?”
“No, thanks for talking to me.”
“Then I’ll say goodbye, I’m late for a lecture.”
“Bye,” the director said, and spent a while holding his chin, thinking what to do.
*
“This really wasn’t necessary,” Emely said.
She had never expected such a reception. She was thrilled and her cheeks were glowing.
Then they all took tall glasses and opened the champagne bottles. Emely was speechless; it was all too much for her. Never before had she been given such a party. She liked her colleagues and got along well with nearly all of them. She loved going to work and because she often stayed there well after quitting time, they seemed like family to her. She had never argued with anyone and always tried to be nice. And now all these people got up from their desks and interrupted their important work just for her. She wanted to hug everyone and cry.
“So, Emely,” her boss said, “the time has come to offer you a better job. I’m sure being my personal assistant was getting a bit boring for you.”
Emely shook her head and smiled. This is where I become an executive assistant, she thought with bitterness.
“As of tomorrow, you no longer sit next to my office, but back there.” He pointed to a desk. Emely only now noticed a new desk positioned between two others. She thought it strange that she would be sitting between two stockbrokers.
“As of tomorrow,” he added, “you’ll be buying and selling shares and bonds to your heart’s content.”
Emely could not believe her ears. She stood there in front of everyone, speechless. This was a complete surprise. “What … how come …?”
No longer being able to control herself, she began to cry the first tears of happiness. The joy she had felt after the defense of her thesis was nothing compared to this. She wanted to scream with joy. Some of her colleagues were also surprised about the boss’s decision. Emely could see it in their eyes. But she detected no disapproval anywhere. Some looked at each other, then came to her and congratulated her again. She stood there still unable to believe that it was true, while they all shook her hand. She was no longer trying to hold back the tears, there were just too many of them.
The director looked on with satisfaction. He liked Emely and was sure that his decision was the right one. He also knew that he’d miss her gentle voice on the telephone, telling him who was on the line. Now she’d be a stockbroker, he told himself, trying to get used to the strange turn of events.
“So, my dear Emely, we’ll have some more fun and then you’ll go home and have a rest.”
“But I’m not tired,” she said. She wanted to sit at her new desk that very minute and start her new job.
“No way!”
“But …”
“Would you rather become an executive assistant?” her boss said jokingly.
“No.”
Everyone laughed.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 10
_______________________
The next day Emely began asking questions again. “How come you never married, John?”
The question came as a surprise. “I ….” He wanted to say something, but the words would not come.
“You never found the right woman?”
“No,” he said dryly.
“Have you ever been in love?”
He scratched his head and smiled. “When I was at school I did fall in love a few times, but never later. I’m not interested in a serious relationship.”
“I see,” Emely said with a nod. This was precisely what she had thought about him. A person so completely devoid of feeling is incapable of love. That’s why he’s so aggressive. She said, “What about your mother? Did you love her?”
“No. My mother took no notice of either Ronald or me. Once when Dad was on a business trip, I found her in bed with another guy. I often felt that Ronald and I were a burden to her.”
“What about your father?”
“He was a good man, but always away. He invested all his energy in the business. He got up before me and often came home when I was fast asleep.”
Looking searchingly at his face, Emely began to think. An interesting psychological case. When she was a child, she had wanted to become a psychoanalyst. She liked listening to people and trying to analyze their personality.
“And who helped you when you had problems?”
“Ronald,” he said without hesitation.
“Is he married?”
“Yes. He has a daughter and a son.”
“And what about you? Didn’t you want what he had?”
“No. I’m not very good with women and kids’ crying gets on my nerves. No, I’ve never wanted a family.”
“But children don’t cry all the time,” she said with slight irritation.
“Oh, I know, but I still don’t think I would make a good father.”
Emely wanted to offer him a few words of encouragement, but was unable to express herself. “Who knows, maybe you just haven’t come across the right woman yet. I’m sure one day someone will set your heart on fire.”
“I very much doubt that.” He looked down and then immediately at her. “And why aren’t you married?”
For a few moments Emely was speechless. She had become engrossed in the role of psychoanalyst and felt she should be the one asking questions.
“Well …” She took a deep breath. “Until not long ago I was sure I didn’t need anyone. The only important thing to me was my company. But a year ago I met Philip. Our friendship soon turned into real love and I can honestly say that I truly love him. I had a few men before him, but I can’t say that I loved any of them. Before Philip, no one attracted me enough. We haven’t talked about marriage yet, but I’m sure we’ll soon start thinking about it.”
“I see,” John said with a nod. He took a last sip of the coffee he had brought with him.
There followed an awkward silence and they both turned to the computer screen, hoping to see something interesting.
Emely reached for the pocket calculator and did a quick calculation. “I suggest you buy seven hundred Micro Investment shares immediately, but at a price of no more than four hundred and fifty dollars per share.”
Obediently John picked up his cell phone to call his broker and carry out the transaction. He never doubted her decisions since so far they had always resulted in considerable amounts of money.
*
During the day they focused on the securities market and didn’t say much. John wasn’t exactly talkative anyway, and Emely kept thinking about Philip. Who knows if we ever will get married? she thought bitterly.
She looked at John, squeezing her fists and thinking about ways of escape. After hours of thought she was no nearer a solution. Hell, if people have managed to escape from Alcatraz I should be able to get out of this damn hole, she thought.
*
In the late afternoon she tried to concentrate on a book John had bought her, but her thoughts kept wandering. When she began dozing, John appeared. He was in a good mood and invited her for dinner. It had been quite some time since they had eaten together in the dining room. Lately he had been bringing all her meals to the basement.
“I can see you’ve made us some wonderful food, John. Are we celebrating something?” she asked in a friendly manner as she examined the richly laid table.
“No, we’re not celebrating. It just seemed right to cook something nice. But it is true that the Micro Investment shares have gone up by 6 percent.”
“John, you know they may fall again by twice as much tomorrow. The stock market is unstable at the moment.” She was being extremely friendly toward him, part of her strategy. When he relaxed and began to trust her, she would attack.
She had a cocktail to begin with and then they had the appetizer, tiny slices of bread covered with cheese and cauliflower that were truly special. Emely’s stomach ached from hunger so she ate quickly and was looking forward to the entree.
“The appetizer was delicious. I’m really curious what’s next.”
John brought out a stuffed turkey with new potatoes, carrots, and bell peppers.
“Oh no!” exclaimed Emely, and burst into laughter. “Who’s going to eat this huge turkey?” With her hand on her mouth she admired the roasted bird’s golden skin.
“We’ll manage somehow,” he said, pleased at her response. After all, he had gone to a great deal of bother and spent a lot of time cooking the meal.
They chatted about this and that during dinner and the atmosphere was pleasant. For dessert, they each had two slices of caramel cake with marzipan icing. Emely’s elegant poise slowly faded as her stomach got excessively full.
She asked, “Where did you learn to cook so well?”
“I don’t really know. I told you that Mother didn’t give Ronald and me much attention and father was never at home. So I spent a lot of time with Peggy. She was our home help. She cleaned, ironed, and cooked really well. She was one of a kind.”
Emely’s head was resting on her hands as she became engrossed in his story. For the first time since she had been incarcerated in this house she completely forgot that she was his prisoner. “And do you ever see her now?”
John looked away. “Peggy died when I was eighteen. From cancer, poor thing, nothing could be done.”
Emely felt sorry for him for a moment, but immediately remembered why she was there and her sympathy evaporated. “You know, John, I didn’t get much love when I was little, growing up in a convent orphanage.”
“Really?” John was genuinely surprised. “I always thought you must have been a spoiled girl,
growing up in a rich family.”
“Oh no, just the opposite. I was very poor.”
“And your parents?”
“I don’t know anything about my father, but my mother died giving birth to me. Immediately after, I was taken to an orphanage.”
“Hard to believe. I would never have guessed it.”
“Why?” she asked, slightly upset. “Do I seem like such a spoiled person? I worked really hard to get what I now have.” She sat up straight again.
John got up and poured them more wine.
“I have to thank the nuns for that. They’re very hardworking and don’t have any free time. Or, more precisely, they spend their free time in prayer.”
“So are you a very religious person?”
“Not as religious as I should be. I haven’t been to church for ages and I’ve shortened my prayers to the bare minimum. Often I had so much work that I used to come home so tired. After a shower, I just went to bed, began my prayers but fell asleep instantly. And so my prayers got reduced to a few sentences.”
“I personally don’t believe in God,” he said coldly.
“What do you think happens after death, then?”
“I don’t know. I think we should enjoy life as it is because when you die, there’s nothing left.”
“Aren’t you afraid of dying?” Emely asked.
“I don’t know, sometimes. I sometimes dream that I’ve been murdered and wake up soaking in sweat.”
Emely wanted to say that she no longer knew what a good night’s sleep was, but didn’t want to spoil the pleasant atmosphere.
John said, “Peggy, on the other hand, kept praying. Sometimes it really got on my nerves.”
“How old was Peggy?”
“She must have been around fifty. She was as thin as a rake and when she got mad she swore like a fishwife. I once said to her that she would find it hard to get to Heaven if she didn’t stop swearing.”