Executive Affair

by Ber Carroll

  Fiona and Den shared an apartment in Bondi, located down a narrow side street where securing a park was an impossible feat. Den dropped them off outside before setting off on ‘Mission Impossible’. The apartment was small and bright, the walls startling white and the timber floors gleaming. The clean smell of polish hinted that Fiona had gone on a cleaning spree in honour of Claire’s arrival. There was a large balcony, bigger than the unit itself, and if you leaned right over the left-hand corner you could see the beach. Claire was to sleep in the sunroom.

  ‘I didn’t realise that you were still living with Den,’ Claire said as she sat down on the fold-up bed.

  ‘It makes sense at the moment. It’s convenient for both of us,’ Fiona answered, dropping Claire’s case with a thud before joining her on the bed.

  ‘But hasn’t it been a few months since you broke up?’

  ‘Nearly three. But we’re still really good friends and I like him staying here. I would miss him terribly if he moved out.’

  ‘He seems like a really nice guy.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s fun and he likes the same things as me. But you wouldn’t guess that he’s a lawyer, would you?’

  ‘He is?’

  ‘It’s hard to believe when you see how he dresses … and his car,’ Fiona laughed. ‘It’s amazing he’s not disbarred for having a car like that.’

  ‘Why did you break up? He seems perfect for you.’

  ‘He was perfect in many ways,’ Fiona replied, regret obvious in her voice. ‘But he’s searching for something … what I don’t know, but clearly I wasn’t it.’

  ‘I don’t know how you do it … I could never see myself living with Michael as a friend,’ said Claire with a grimace.

  ‘What happened between you two?’

  ‘I don’t really know. When we broke up, he was seeing someone else, but obviously something wasn’t happening for him for some time before that.’

  ‘And you had no idea?’

  ‘Absolutely none. Enough of Michael, tell me about Sydney.’

  They sat on the bed for a few hours, chatting, laughing, reminiscing. Eventually Claire was so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open and Fiona left her to catch up on some sleep.

  When she woke it was dark outside. If it hadn’t been for her bed shaking from the stereo vibrations, she suspected she would never have woken again. Dishevelled and still half-asleep, she wandered out to the living room. Den and Fiona were sitting on the floor, playing cards, surrounded by empty beer bottles and a cloud of smoke.

  ‘Cute pyjamas,’ Den commented. ‘I’ve always liked Mickey Mouse.’

  ‘Thought you’d be too tired to go out on the town tonight so we’ll have our own little party here instead,’ Fiona said, standing up unsteadily. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  ‘I’ll have a beer, although my body is telling me that it’s morning and it’s immoral to start drinking so early in the day,’ Claire said, shaking her head in bewilderment as she sat down on one of the beanbags.

  Den turned the music up louder. ‘We were keeping it down for your benefit,’ he explained.

  Claire nodded as if she fully agreed the volume had been far too low and took a swig of her drink.

  ‘What’s this beer?’ she asked, looking curiously at the label on the bottle.

  ‘VB, darl. Good old Victoria Bitter, best beer in the world,’ Den replied in an exaggerated Aussie drawl.

  ‘You know what? It’s great to be in Australia! Cheers!’ Claire said, raising her beer bottle to clash it with his.

  It was 6.00 am. Claire’s head was directly under the window and she moved the curtain so she was looking up at a pale blue sky. She sighed with relief that the torrential rain of the previous day had disappeared. She got up and had a long shower before putting on a pair of shorts and T-shirt. Looking out her window, she could see that their tiny street was stirring with traffic and pedestrians. She wrote Fiona a brief note to tell her that she was going out.

  She walked the whole length of Bondi Beach, breathing in the sea air, letting it clear her cluttered head. Despite the early hour, the beach was alive with surfers, joggers and even some volleyball players. She sat on the beach, toes curled in the sand, looking at the crashing surf. After an hour, feeling stiff from sitting for so long, she walked to the main strip, bought a Sunday paper and had breakfast at one of the multitude of outdoor cafés.

  Arriving back at the flat just after nine, she was disappointed that Fiona still wasn’t up. Unable to restrain her impatience, she knocked gently on her bedroom door and opened it.

  ‘Sorry …’ she said in a meek voice. ‘I’ve been awake for ages and I’m dying to get out to see everything. Do you reckon Den will take us out in the car?’

  Fiona looked at her blearily. There was a movement in the blankets and Den’s head appeared as if from nowhere.

  ‘Sure thing, babe. Just give me a minute,’ he said and gave a loud unselfconscious yawn.

  Thankful she had at least knocked before barging in on them, Claire quickly backed out of the room, muttering something about them taking their time and not rushing on her account. She wondered if they had got back together or if it had been just a drunken indiscretion.

  Just one hour later, the Ford Falcon was chugging across the Harbour Bridge. Claire sat in the front and Den, acting as tour guide, answered her constant stream of questions with good humour. Sydney was breathtaking. The vast harbour, the protected bushland on the heads and the red rooftops all created a stunning backdrop for the city. They passed beach after beach, leafy suburb after leafy suburb until they reached Palm Beach and could go no further. They went for a rowdy swim, with lots of splashing and squealing, before lying in the sunshine. Fiona had had the foresight to pack a picnic and a bottle of wine. As Claire sat on the soft rug, her skin warm from the sun, her face glowing from the wine, she thought that life didn’t get much better than this.

  The following morning she restlessly tossed and turned for over an hour, willing herself to go back to sleep. She reluctantly got up, defeated.

  Fiona was in the kitchen having breakfast.

  ‘You’re up early for someone who’s meant to be on holiday,’ she said.

  Claire wasn’t due to start her new job until the following week. ‘Tell me about it. Hey, you look really good,’ she added with admiration.

  Fiona had always favoured an alternative style of dress and she didn’t look like herself in the smart grey suit and the high-heeled court shoes.

  ‘Everyone here gets pretty dressed up for work,’ Fiona replied a little defensively. ‘I’d better get going. Here’s my business card – you can ring me if you get lost.’

  For the rest of the week Claire continued to wake up early. She used it to her advantage, spending the mornings sightseeing before it got too warm. Returning in the afternoon, she would have a leisurely lunch on the balcony before walking to the beach. By the end of the week she knew her way around most of the city centre and was an expert on the eastern suburbs public-transport system.

  It was ironic that she found it hard to get up early on her first day of work. She had to force herself out of bed and into the shower. She dressed in a dark navy suit, the short skirt showing off a light tan from a week of sunbathing. She brushed her hair back from her face; straight and almost black, it fell to her shoulders. Putting her bag on her shoulder, she gave her reflection one last critical look before leaving.

  Rush hour was a new experience. Used to the leisurely pace of midday commuters, she was momentarily stunned by the crowds and how quickly they were moving. She wasn’t skilled enough to actually secure a seat on the train and had to stand uncomfortably for the twenty-minute journey. Exiting at North Sydney Station, she was almost half an hour early. She went for a coffee, sipping it nervously as she absently studied the parade of business people that strode past.

  She walked into the reception of Amtech Australia at precisely one minute before nine, standing awkwardly as the receptionist answered a s
eries of calls. Employees hurried past, throwing glances in her direction.

  She introduced herself as soon as there was a lull in the incoming calls. ‘Hi, I’m Claire Quinlan. I’m starting today.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Audrey,’ the receptionist answered, giving a friendly smile. ‘Harry told me to expect you. Take a seat while I try to get hold of him.’

  Claire was reading the Sydney Morning Herald when Harry hurried out to the reception area, a little out of breath. With his shock of white hair and a multitude of soft wrinkles, he looked more like a kindly grandfather than a hard-nosed finance director. He shook her hand vigorously, almost painfully, and she followed him as he weaved his way through the open-plan workstations to arrive at his office. He invited her to sit at the meeting table that was located in front of his large cluttered desk.

  ‘When did you arrive in Sydney?’ he asked, rummaging through the stacks of paperwork on his desk.

  ‘A week ago. I’ve been busy sightseeing and sunbathing. It feels strange to have to come to work – I’ve got used to the good life,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Any problems settling in?’

  ‘No, I’m staying with a friend and she’s taken good care of me. Sydney is an easy city to get around.’

  ‘Well, I’m really glad you’re here, Claire. I’ve been without a finance manager for three weeks now and I’m feeling the pressure. I’m sure that the rest of the team is too.’ He found what he was looking for and sat down across from her. ‘This is an organisation chart for the Finance department. You will be my only direct report – everyone else reports to you. The team is a good one – most of the people have been with Amtech for a few years and know what they’re doing.’

  ‘That’s good to know.’ Claire nodded and tried to memorise the names on the chart.

  ‘I expect the finance manager to be very close to all my colleagues on the senior management team, giving day-to-day operational support while I handle the strategic side. I think Emma has done a reasonable job of getting the right reports to the right managers, but some things have fallen through the cracks and I think they’ll all be very happy that you have started. Most of the senior managers are away in Asia this week, so you’ll have to wait until next week to meet them.’

  Harry showed her to her office. It was on the other side of the building and he introduced her to a few people they met en route.

  ‘Well, here you are … not very big … and I’m afraid you don’t have a view of the harbour.’ He peered out the window to see if there was anything of interest.

  ‘Don’t worry. I love it,’ she said, putting her bag and the few pieces of paper she had acquired on the desk. ‘Where do the rest of the department sit?’ She was impatient to meet her four direct reports.

  ‘Just around the corner. Come on and I’ll introduce you to everybody.’ He stood back to allow her to pass through the door in front of him.

  The workstations were only a few steps away, as Harry had promised. Archive boxes were abandoned in every available corner, piles of filing stacked on most desks. The printer area was a total disaster zone with months of homeless printouts. Everybody, including Harry, seemed cheerfully unaware of the mess. He stopped to introduce Claire to a short robust girl who was knee-deep in paperwork.

  ‘This is Emma, our financial accountant,’ Harry said, casually leaning against one of the nearby filing cabinets as Emma stood up to shake Claire’s hand. ‘Emma was presented with her ten-year service award last month. She started as a filing clerk and has worked her way up to this position.’

  Claire guessed Emma was in her late twenties, but it was difficult to put an age to her serious face. Her eyes were wary and her smile was forced. Claire felt uncomfortable, sensing hostility but not totally sure.

  Maybe she’s just nervous and I’m being paranoid.

  ‘Claire, meet James, our accounts payable administrator. He gets up at six every morning for a surf and then comes in here for a sleep. Paying our vendors is just about the last thing on his mind!’ Harry shook his head in despair.

  James laughed, his even teeth perfect in his tanned face. His hair was bleached yellow-blond from the sun, his shoulders muscled under his pristine white shirt. Claire guessed he was very popular with the female contingent of Amtech.

  ‘How could you say that, Harry?’ he protested with a hurt expression. ‘I live for my work!’

  Harry became serious for a moment. ‘As you know, James, Claire has transferred from Ireland so she will be a great asset to us when the payables upgrade project happens in a few months.’

  ‘I was only involved in the upgrade for a few weeks before I left,’ she said, thinking immediately of Michael.

  ‘But you know all the right people, Claire. Those contacts will mean more than anything when we rip out our current process and implement the upgrade,’ Harry responded.

  ‘I can’t wait until my job is turned upside down and inside out,’ James said dryly.

  Faces, names and first impressions were starting to churn in Claire’s head. She followed Harry as he made his way to a tiny woman with auburn hair in a childish ponytail. Her face was busy with light freckles, her youthful look contradicting the thick wedding band on her left hand.

  ‘Now, Claire, this is Stacey, the most important person in the company, our payroll officer!’ He smiled as he put a friendly arm around the woman. ‘Stacey is an efficiency freak. We tease her that she’s got an obsessive compulsive disorder. Oops!’ He deliberately scattered some paperclips on Stacey’s immaculate desk. She pretended to throw her stapler at him.

  ‘See what I have to put up with, Claire? My staff have no respect for me.’

  Harry was laughing as he rested his hand on the shoulder of the middle-aged man who sat opposite Stacey. He had his back to them, and had continued working despite the laughter.

  ‘Last but not least, our credit supervisor, Alan Harris. Alan has been with us six years. He has a dotted line of responsibility to Frank Williams, the sales and marketing director.’

  Alan’s grey hair needed a cut and his shirt was barely tucked into his trousers. He had a very slight smirk on his face, as if he knew something nasty that she was yet to find out. He extended a limp sweaty hand for her to shake without rising from his seat. Obviously not keen to indulge in small talk, he immediately turned his back and resumed typing, stopping dead any potential conversation.

  Harry walked Claire back to her office.

  ‘Well, you’ve met most of the key people, with the exception of the senior management team. I have a meeting to attend now. But I’ll call around later in the day to see how you’re getting on.’

  Claire sat in the bare office, pretending to study the organisation chart, feeling a little overwhelmed. It looked like Emma and Alan were going to be difficult and she wasn’t sure how to manage them. They had both been with the company a long time and she doubted if she could tell them anything they didn’t already know. Maybe she was way out of her depth with this position.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a beep from her PC, indicating that there was a new message in her inbox. It was from Susan. She had perfect timing, even from the other side of the world. Claire typed a reply, happy to have something to do. Then, feeling more confident, she went in search of Emma.

  ‘Do you use Oracle for all your accounting?’ she asked, seeing the familiar background on Emma’s screen.

  ‘Yes, but I don’t believe we use it to the same extent as Ireland does,’ Emma answered, turning around. ‘Our payables process is partially manual. I imagine the new upgrade should bring us up to the same level as the other subsidiaries.’

  ‘It will actually put you ahead of the other subsidiaries as Australia is second in line to Ireland for the implementation,’ Claire smiled. ‘I’m keen to get stuck in and have a look at the balance sheet – when would you be free to do a review with me?’

  Emma checked her electronic calendar and Claire could see over her shoulder that her day
was free of appointments.

  ‘Sometime this afternoon?’ Emma suggested, with the slightest hesitation.

  ‘Is two okay?’ Claire said quickly, anxious to make a firm time.

  ‘Sure.’

  Claire went back to her office, relieved that she had organised something to do in the afternoon. She printed off a trial balance from Oracle and spent the next two hours doing a top-level review, preparing a comprehensive list of questions for Emma. When she finished, she sent meeting invitations to each of her reports, setting up one-to-one sessions for that week. She asked each one to come prepared with a summary of their role and what their major issues were. Even though she was a little intimidated by Alan Harris, she decided to meet with him the next day. Once he and Emma were done, the rest would be easy.

  She was glad to leave the office at lunchtime. The sun was blinding and she cursed when she realised she had forgotten her sunglasses. She sat in the shade in a nearby park and ate her lunch, a sandwich and orange juice. The view from the park was spectacular, the blue sky meeting with the even bluer waters of the harbour, the sun making sparkles dance on the water. She found herself smiling, all her worries about her new job squashed by a surge of happiness.

  The balance-sheet review went well. Emma seemed to be competent but she wasn’t quite as experienced as Claire had first thought. She spent three hours with her, shooting rapid questions, scribbling hurried notes. There was a mutual respect by the time the meeting was over. She could understand why Emma would be wary of a new boss, especially as she would work more closely with Claire than the others.

  ‘Do you enjoy your job?’ Claire asked, trying to make the meeting less formal.