by Susan Lewis
‘How did I cheat?’
‘I don’t know, but I’ll work it out.’
‘Poor David!’ Babette laughed, walking back to her desk. ‘You bring in all these CD-Rom things and never yet have you beaten her.’
‘Come on, Smithy,’ David challenged, ‘sit down here and get yourself thrashed.’
‘Penny, Agence Méditerranée on the line for you,’ Brigitte called out.
‘Great!’ Penny cried. ‘I’ll take it in my office. Kill him, Smithy,’ she shot back over her shoulder as he and David started to battle it out.
Still chuckling to herself, Penny flopped down in her chair and picked up the phone to speak to the advertising agency David had recently signed up to handle the launch.
It was hard to believe that more than a month had sped by since she’d moved into the villa and taken over the reins of the magazine. She had worked harder in that time than she ever had in her life, but the kick she was getting out of seeing it all starting to come together was worth all the missed lunches and dinners, the frustrations of dealing with Marielle and even the sleepless nights courtesy of David whose appearances in the office were proving even more disruptive than they were erratic, for no one ever seemed to get any work done while he was there, including her.
She was over the embarrassment of the evening he had spent at the villa now, but all the same she was constantly on the alert to make sure that nothing like it ever happened again. It was only during the crazy hours when he’d turn up with some new computer game or other and challenge her to battle it out with him, while whoever happened to be in the office at the time yelled and cheered them on, that she let down the barriers. When they were alone together she was careful that they never discussed anything other than the magazine, and though she longed to ask him where he went when he wasn’t there she never did. She didn’t want to mislead him into thinking that her interest in him was anything other than professional. The teasing and banter and extravagant practical jokes – of which she was every bit as guilty as he – were just something they did and since it was helping to form a strong and loyal bond throughout the team she was happy to go along with it. The only person who ever showed any reluctance to join in the fun was Marielle, though she did deign, on the odd occasion, to join them all over at Legends, the Mexican café/wine bar across the road, when they all reached a point of such tiredness that things started getting even sillier than usual. Marielle’s relationship with David was still very much on, but since it didn’t appear to be affecting his judgement in any way Penny could find no reason to object to it.
Now the lighter nights were upon them and the heavy rains had passed, Penny was discovering a very real affection for the Côte d’Azur and its people. So many doors were thrown open to her, so much help and advice was forthcoming, that she was beginning to think that the horror of French bureaucracy was just a myth. She raced around in her five-year-old Peugeot convertible, employing tactics worthy of the most heroic French driver in order to get to a lunch in Eze, or a vernissage in Menton, or over to Monte Carlo for a show or a charity gala or, on one splendid occasion, to win 3,000 francs at the Casino. The International TV Festival in Cannes was now over, the mayor of Cannes himself had issued her with a pass, and she had been one of his honoured guests at a dinner he’d hosted for a couple of the French networks. The Film Festival was coming up and, to Penny’s amazement and delight, the organizers had invited her to the ceremony for the awarding of the Palme d’Or and she was currently debating whether or not to ask David to escort her. It could be that he wouldn’t deem her glamorous enough to be seen with at such a star-studded event, but if that was the case he knew what he could do with himself!
In fact, despite the fun they had together and the so far indisputable success of their working relationship, David was the only real black spot on the horizon. It wasn’t that the occasional erotic dream she had about him bothered her particularly, for the truth of her fantasies had nothing to do with David and everything to do with the fact that until now she’d always had a fairly active sex life. However, other than that momentary lapse with David, she’d had very little time to concentrate on affairs of the heart, though something she was managing to find time for was a growing curiosity about David’s frequent disappearances and his unerring ability to make things happen whether he was there or not. Of course, there was no question that Pierre was a prodigious deputy, but it was undoubtedly David’s influence that got things moving and David’s business prowess that was responsible for the unbelievable advances they had made without so much as a hiccup. It wasn’t that Penny wanted things to go wrong, it was simply that the total absence of banana skins and the astonishing readiness of all concerned to take on the impossible was making her slightly uneasy. It was patently obvious to her by now that there was a great deal more to David than met the eye, but if he was hiding something shady, which she strongly suspected he was, then the question she had to ask herself was whether she really wanted to know what it was. Well, actually the answer to that was easy, of course she wanted to know, but she was damned if she was going to give him the pleasure of being asked when he knew that he had her curiosity aroused and was so obviously enjoying it that she could have quite happily hit him.
However, at the end of the following week, during most of which David had been absent, Penny decided to call Sylvia. All she wanted to know was something about David’s past, something that would perhaps shed a little light on whether or not she was imagining some kind of hidden agenda or whether she was correct in at least one of her suspicions.
As she waited to be connected she shifted the fan around a little to cool herself off, then glanced through the pile of paperwork in front of her that Pierre had just sent in. Seeing what it was, she gave a sigh of exasperation. Marielle, who appeared to regard her position as David’s mistress as being far superior to that of being David’s partner, was becoming excessively trying with her constant referrals to Pierre on matters that should have been coming to Penny.
At last Sylvia’s voice came down the line and Penny turned in her chair towards the open window.
‘Penny, chérie,’ Sylvia cried, ‘I’ve been meaning to call, but time has just run away with me. So, tell me, how are you getting along over there?’
‘Just fine,’ Penny answered, thinking that that was another thing she found somewhat peculiar, that Sylvia hadn’t been in touch over these past six weeks. ‘Marielle Descourts continues to be a pain in the neck,’ she said, grimacing, ‘but one I’m having to live with. Needless to say, David is the main cause of the friction between us.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m sure you know what I’m talking about,’ Penny told her.
Sylvia was laughing. ‘I think so,’ she answered. ‘David always did have an eye for the ladies – it’s what’s causing the problems in his marriage.’
Penny’s smile collapsed. ‘Marriage?’ she said.
‘He didn’t tell you he was married? Well, no, I don’t suppose he would. They broke up a year or so ago. He only sees her now when he sees the children.’
‘Children?’ Penny echoed.
‘He has two boys. They’re, let me see, they must be four and six by now. Little monsters, the pair of them, but quite adorable.’
‘Where are they?’ Penny asked, aware that she was starting to lose focus.
‘In Florida, with their mother.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Penny said distantly. Then, quickly pulling herself together, she said, ‘Well, good for him or whatever I’m supposed to say to that. Anyway, it’s about him that I’m calling.’ She stopped. Now that she was on the point of asking she couldn’t quite work out how to phrase her questions without sounding petty. ‘I was wondering,’ she began, ‘how you came to be his godmother . . .’ Why worry about sounding petty when you could always sound ridiculous, she cringed inwardly.
‘His mother and I were at finishing school together,’ Sylvia answered, a smile evident in her voice. ‘Why do y
ou ask?’
Finishing school, Penny was thinking in disgust. Of course: didn’t everyone go to finishing school? ‘Well, I suppose I have to come right out with it,’ she said.
‘You usually do.’
‘Yes, well, what I was really wondering was how he knows so many people.’ Terrific, Penny, she congratulated herself. Why don’t you just ask now how he manages the miraculous feat of walking without crutches when he doesn’t have a broken leg?
‘How does David know so many people?’ Sylvia repeated, obviously baffled by the question. ‘Well, I imagine because he’s travelled such a lot. Why does it bother you?’
‘It doesn’t. I mean, what bothers me is that he seems able to pull on so many influential people at the drop of a hat. And then when I ask him how he knows all these people he just says he’s too modest to tell me.’ Arrogant bastard, she added silently.
Sylvia was laughing. ‘Modesty is a new feature in David’s repertoire,’ she said. ‘I’d like to see it.’
‘So you haven’t seen him lately, then?’
‘No. Should I have?’
‘No. I just wondered where he was when he was supposed to be here.’
‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘I’d rather lasso my tongue to a galloping horse than give him the satisfaction.’ She suffered Sylvia’s laughter until she was sure Sylvia was listening again, then said, ‘Basically, I want to know what qualifications he has . . .’ Qualifications? What was she saying, for God’s sake? ‘What businesses has he been involved in before?’ she said decisively.
‘Oh now, let me see. Well, I guess the easy answer to that is: you name it, he’s done it. As I told you before, he has an excellent head for business, which is how he came to be such a wealthy man.’
‘I didn’t know he was wealthy,’ Penny said, feeling her face start to freeze. Again she waited, realizing that Sylvia was enjoying herself immensely at the other end of the line. ‘So,’ she went on, when Sylvia had finished laughing, ‘if he’s so wealthy, what is he doing down here playing around with this hick magazine?’
‘It won’t be hick by the time the two of you have finished with it.’
That doesn’t answer my question.’
‘It doesn’t? I rather thought it did.’
Penny blinked. As someone who normally prided herself on her ability to ask all the right questions, she could hardly believe what a total mess she was making of this. ‘But it doesn’t tell me what kind of things he’s been involved in up to now,’ she said, ‘and, for all I know, still is,’ she added quickly. She was thinking now of the dubious characters he had mentioned, who hadn’t as yet made contact, and she was half afraid that she had made a prize idiot of herself by taking him seriously.
‘Well, to answer your question accurately I need to make a few phone calls first. He was in the States for a long time and I’m not entirely au fait with everything he was doing there. But, in a nutshell: I know he closed several big deals with shipping agents, getting them to use companies in which he had anything from a minimal to a controlling share; the same with a couple of the big computer companies and I think, but don’t quote me, with one of the major record companies. A couple of years ago he won the contract for I can’t remember how many government-run trade fairs and, as far as I know, he’s still one of the major stockholders in some kind of housing project in Miami. There’s probably more, but, like I said, I’d have to make a few calls to find out precisely what.’
‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary,’ Penny said crisply, and when the perfunctory goodbyes were over she rang off.
The call left her feeling unaccountably depressed. Well, not entirely unaccountably: for hearing all that about him had more or less confirmed her suspicions that he and not Sylvia was her boss. But if he was, then why wouldn’t he admit it? Maybe she should try trapping him into it, for she’d had enough experience of him to know that a direct line of questioning would get her nowhere.
Deciding to leave the plotting of tactics until later, she turned back to the paperwork on her desk. Today’s major decision, now that David had struck a stupendous deal with a printer in Toulon, concerned the artwork for everything from the front cover of the magazine itself to the snazzy little logo on their letterheads. Marielle and David had already flagged their preferences, which, surprise, surprise, happened to coincide, and Penny wondered how David would respond if she disagreed. She imagined he’d be willing to discuss it, but what if she chose the worst of the bunch, a title that obviously wouldn’t work, and put up a show of sticking to her guns? What would he do then? Overrule her? It would be interesting to find out and maybe this was a way to get him to admit that they were no more a fifty-fifty partnership than Jacques Chirac and Noddy.
Looking up as someone knocked on the door, she called ‘Entrez!’ and when Smithy’s cheeky face peered round the door she broke instantly into a smile.
‘Smithy!’ she cried, getting to her feet. ‘I had no idea you were coming in today.’
‘Just passing,’ he said, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘You’re looking a bit snowed under,’ he commented, glancing at her desk. ‘And harassed,’ he added, rumpling her already dishevelled hair.
‘Spot on with both,’ she told him. ‘But you’re just the person I want to see. See this letter here,’ she said, holding it up. ‘It’s taken eleven days to reach me from the UK. Eleven days.’
‘Yes?’ he said, going to help himself to a coffee from her percolator.
‘I want you to organize a comparative analysis of postal systems around Europe,’ she told him. ‘Set it in motion now and we’ll run it just before Christmas. God knows whether it’ll shake the French into doing something to improve their act, but we can try.’ She put a hand to her head. ‘Now let me see, there was something else I had for you . . . Ah yes, I know what it was. Somebody tipped me off the other night about a new theatre group starting up down here. I’d like you to look into it. I’ve got the contact numbers. It might be something we could get into sponsoring. Or maybe I should give that to Marielle,’ she added, looking confused. ‘Yes, I think that one should go to Marielle and you can take on the French presidential profile we discussed the other day.’
‘Anything else?’ he grinned, sitting down.
‘Did you speak to Brigitte on your way through?’ she asked, returning to her own chair.
‘She was on the phone.’
‘Then see her on the way out. I gave her a list this morning of things I want you to take on. There’s a lot, so you’ll probably need to rustle up a couple of worthy French hacks to give you a hand – and you could find yourself in Brussels a good deal more than here. Is that OK with you?’
‘Sounds great to me,’ he said. ‘And that leads me rather neatly on to what I’ve come to see you about. A mate of mine in Paris files a column every fortnight to one of the British tabloids, a kind of offbeat look at life in Paris. He’s a bit of a wag so I thought you might be interested in running it too.’
‘I’ll certainly take a look,’ Penny said. ‘Get him to fax me some of his articles and where to get in touch with him.’
‘I’ll do that,’ he said, his freckly face breaking into a roguish grin.
Penny waited, sensing that there was more to come and that whatever it was was probably going to be embellished with the usual Smithy flair for the bizarre. ‘Well, come on, out with it,’ she prompted when he simply continued to grin.
‘I was just wondering,’ he said, his jug ears turning pink with some kind of devilish delight, ‘if you’re going to do it?’
Penny frowned. ‘Do what?’
His grin widened. ‘You mean David hasn’t told you?’
‘Told me what?’ she asked warily.
‘About the bungee jump he signed you up for.’
‘What!’ she cried. ‘David Villers signed me up for a bungee jump! Well, you can tell him from me that if he thinks I’m going to jump out of . . .’ She started to laugh. ‘You’re winding me
up,’ she said.
‘No, scout’s honour,’ he saluted. ‘He’s put your name down for a bungee jump over at Théoule the Sunday after next. It’s for charity.’
Penny’s eyes were dancing. ‘I couldn’t care less who it’s for, there’s no way in the world I’m doing a bungee jump,’ she said. ‘Tell him to do it.’
Smithy chuckled. ‘OK, I’d better come clean,’ he said. ‘He did put your name down, but then he saw there was parasailing too, so he’s put you down for that instead. And guess who’s going to be driving the boat!’
‘I don’t care who’s driving,’ Penny cried. ‘There’s no way I’m allowing myself to be dragged out to sea on a parachute.’ She looked at him, watching his tawny eyes sparkle with mischief. ‘OK,’ she sighed. ‘Who’s driving the boat?’
‘David and yours truly.’ He beamed. ‘So you’ll be in safe hands and you can’t back out now because we’ve already got you some sponsors and the publicity’s about to start.’
‘Paul Smith, if you think my feet are going as much as one inch off the ground with you two in control you’ve got to be out of your tiny mind. You’ll cut me loose or something and I’ll end up in a tree on Corsica.’
‘Would we do that to you?’ he cried in horror.
‘Yes! You would! Besides, I’ve never done it before and neither,’ she said forcefully as he made to interrupt, ‘do I want to.’
‘Oh, come on, Pen, be a sport. It’ll be a laugh.’
‘For you maybe,’ she cried. ‘But I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t one of you go up and let me drive the boat?’
‘Oh, there’s no fun in that,’ he scoffed.
Despite the sheer absurdity of the idea Penny had to confess that there was a little part of her that wouldn’t mind giving it a go. But with David and Smithy at the helm? ‘I’ll think about it,’ she told him, wondering what the hell she could wear when she was already dying at the very idea of exposing her thighs in public. But she could always kit herself out in knee-length leggings or something. ‘When did you say it was?’ she asked.