by Gould, R J
His answers were monosyllabic.
Did he think he could improve his team’s awareness of budget restraints?
“Yes.”
Might it be possible for family affairs to be kept out of the workplace?
“Yes.”
For instance, were his children able to travel home from school alone?
This line of questioning was unacceptable for a manager to ask – he could report her to Human Resources. But what the hell. He plodded on, responding with indifference.
“Yes.”
And so it went on.
She set his objectives for the following year to include taking part in a course on interpersonal skills for financial managers and an in-house training session entitled Dealing With Awkward Customers.
Isn’t it more a case of dealing with awkward line managers David would have liked to ask? “Mary, I’m OK with customers, they’re never awkward when I speak to them.”
“You’re wrong there, David. Some have insisted on speaking directly to me because they want access to the head of department. When I confirm they aren’t going to get the funding they expected they become very awkward indeed.”
“That’s because we keep changing, or should I say reducing, what they’re entitled to.”
“That’s beside the point. Irrespective of the reason, they are awkward.”
And so it went on, Mary not accepting any counter arguments.
After a pointless forty-five minutes she concluded. “So I am putting down this training session as an action. I want you to do it.” She was taking notes as she spoke; she didn’t look up to gauge his reaction. “Well, I think that’s about it, David. Thank you.” There was an obvious candidate in the room for a course on interpersonal skills for financial managers and it wasn’t him.
Her handwriting was neat, tiny and jet black, in sharp contrast to the turquoise swirls and loops on the get well card that Bridget had sent him. It had a picture of a person swathed in bandages; only the left foot was exposed. Even the face was covered bar tiny gaps for mouth, eyes and the base of the nose. A doctor was standing by the side of the bed, speaking to a nurse as they gazed down at the foot. ‘Good to see so much improvement in only a week.’ Bridget had written To David, my hero – but perhaps best not to take on a mugger next time! Love Bridget.
Mary was talking. “David, are you listening? I said I nearly forgot to ask. Is there anything you’d like to discuss about my performance?” She glanced at her watch before turning to her computer screen.
“Yes there is, Mary. To be truthful, it’s awful. You treat me like an idiot and are more patronising than I would ever dream of being to my own children. I know you’ve been on lots of management courses because you’re forever telling me. I’m just surprised that with all your training you don’t recognise that you can get more from your staff by motivating rather than trying to terrorise them.”
Mary was pleasantly speechless. David continued. “I’d like my comment recorded in your notes, please.”
“Yes I will. And thank you for your frankness, David – I’ll reflect on what you’ve said. If I appear forceful it’s only because there’s so much needing to be done here.”
To David that comment confirmed her failure to listen – her attitude was ingrained. He stood up and extended his hand. “I’ve enjoyed the discussion, thank you for your time, Mary.” He grabbed the hand coming up to meet his own and deliberately shook it with considerable force.
He went straight into the small kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Once there, he took a plastic bag out of his jacket pocket and extracted a digestive biscuit. Rachel had allowed him to bring these on condition that he dunked them to make them softer. He used to keep his biscuits in one of the cupboards in the room, but they got pinched at an alarming rate so now he stored his regular supply in a desk drawer in his own office.
Jabulani entered and strode towards him, grabbing hold of both of David’s hands. For a man who always had a broad smile, this one was gargantuan. “My news is wonderful. I’ve been waiting for you to come out of your meeting, I can’t sit still.”
“What is it?”
“My brother is alive! We received a call yesterday evening from France.”
“Fantastic. What happened?”
“It was all solved with money. The prison guards were bribed by some of my brother’s colleagues at hospital. I’m so very glad, but for others it was terrible. The police had to produce a body to fool their officers so someone else was brought into custody and murdered with the pretence that it was Farai.”
“My god! How awful to kill for that reason alone. Great news for you, but unbelievable that things like that can happen.”
“I’m ashamed that that is what goes on there now.”
“What will your brother do?”
“He’ll soon be in England with his family. He worked with an English doctor in Zimbabwe and the man has told him he can organise a work permit for the hospital where he’s based. It’s in London, Stepney, so we’ll be neighbours.”
“Stepney to Queensbury isn’t quite neighbours.”
“No, but it is more neighbour than Zimbabwe to England or heaven to earth.”
Jabulani talked about his love for his elder brother, reminiscing about their childhood in happier times, how they both sang and played guitar and now they would be able to make music together again.
As David reached his desk his mobile rang. It was Bridget. There was a showing of the reworked Brief Encounter at the Phoenix in East Finchley and would he like to go on Saturday. Both of them had identified it as one of their favourites when they’d talked about films at the Greek restaurant. They agreed to meet outside the cinema then chatted on. David had mentioned Jabulani and the trip to Harrods and now he was able to give her the good news about his brother.
“And wasn’t it your staff review today?” she continued.
“Yes, ‘fraid so.”
“Didn’t it go well then?”
“I decided to tell her what I thought, I reckoned what the hell. I’m restless here Bridget and if I’m forced to leave then so be it. I’m going to investigate this idea I have about opening a café.”
“They can’t kick you out because of what you say in a staff review. Must go, a customer’s come in. We can talk about it on Saturday.”
The Reunion – R J Gould
Chapter 19
David wiped away the silent tears with the back of his hand as the credits rolled for Brief Encounter. He looked across at Bridget who was dabbing her eyes with a tissue. She gave him a watery smile. “Daft aren’t we.”
“It’s powerful stuff.”
They left the cinema, crossed the road and stepped into The Five Bells. It was noisy and young so they did an about turn and walked on. They reached The Alexandra which was also crowded but quieter with an older clientele. Bridget grabbed a table by the window that was in the process of being vacated while David got the drinks.
Bridget was the first to speak. “My two are out tonight. A rare invite to a party for Andy and an even rarer acceptance, and one of Kay’s friends has got a sleepover.”
“Mine are out, too.”
“Then you could invite me round to see the new colour on your walls.”
David considered whether his principal long term objective, two if the flippant repeat one was included, was about to be achieved. Excitement and nervousness surged.
“With pleasure, I’d love to.”
They had a second drink then walked to East Finchley Underground. They’d chosen public transport to get to the cinema having decided to go for a drink after the film. The journey to Mill Hill East was just a few stops on the Northern Line. Bridget took hold of David’s hand as they sat on the platform waiting for a train.
The carriage they entered was near empty; it was too early for the young pub goers to be heading home. Almost opposite them sat a shabbily dressed old lady. She had a large, paisley handbag on her lap and they watched with curiosity
as she rummaged through the plentiful contents. She took out a buff coloured envelope and extracted a letter written on matching paper. She began to read it. David glanced at the neat, old-fashioned script. There were three sheets which she no more than skim read before folding them carefully inside the envelope and placing it back in her bag. Then she pulled the letter out again and re-read it, this time more slowly. As she did so she sighed then began to cry.
Bridget stood, walked across the passageway and sat by her side. “Can I help you?”
The woman looked up startled. “No dear, it’s something I’ve got to deal with all by myself.”
With great compassion Bridget eked out her story. Of a beloved husband who had died having completed this, his final letter, while wasting away in a hospital bed. He had passed away on the very day of their sixty-seventh wedding anniversary. That morning the lady had made a carrot cake, his favourite, to celebrate the occasion. But by the time she arrived the curtains had been drawn around his bed and a nurse greeted her with the news. Bridget consoled her with talk of the importance of memories. She spoke of her love for her own father and the pain of the loss.
“Is that your husband?” the old lady asked, looking across at David.
“No,” Bridget replied, “but he’s a very good friend.”
The woman refolded the buff sheets, fitted them back inside the envelope, and then placed it in her bag. Bridget supported her as she struggled to stand up. “Well home I go to start my new life,” she said, able to produce a watery smile. “Thank you dear, you’re very kind.”
She looked across at David. “And you’re a lucky young man to have this woman.”
“I know.”
The train stopped and the fellow passenger left. Bridget sat down next to David in the now deserted carriage.
“Not much point sitting, Bridget. We’re at High Barnet, it’s the end of the line.”
“I thought Mill Hill was the last station.”
“We were meant to switch trains to the branch line a while back, but we missed the stop.”
“Oh god, I am sorry. I got carried away chatting to the poor soul.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. As she said, you were so very kind.”
They stood up and exited the train.
Bridget continued to chat as they walked. “Well I don’t know about being kind, I didn’t like seeing her upset. Shall I tell you something? The underground drives me up the wall. Whatever’s happening, passengers ignore each other. If you speak to someone they look at you as if you’re mad. A few days ago the woman next to me was reading Fingersmith which I’d just finished. I told her I’d loved it and she turned her back on me. It’s not as if I look threatening, is it?”
“No, you don’t look threatening.” David put a hand on her shoulder, pulled her closer and kissed her. It made his jaw ache but was worth the pain. They stood close together for a while.
“Come on, let’s cross platforms and head back to your place.”
As they walked, a rush of intense affection hit David. The physical beauty of Bridget was matched by a personality he had grown to love in such a short time. Her brief conversation with the old lady and the passing comments about the underground typified her good nature. The kindness and compassion. The strong views about what was right and what was wrong with the world.
Half an hour later they were in David’s house and Bridget was complimenting his choice of paint in the lounge. “Orange is my favourite colour,” she exclaimed.
“I’ve started the bedroom too,” he said. “I’ve only done one wall so far. I’m considering whether to do the others the same colour or whether that would be too much.”
“Well, we’d better have a look then, hadn’t we?”
Up the stairs they went, David’s heart pounding. He’d painted the wall behind the bed Redcurrant Glory and Bridget indicated approval before turning to face him. Now it was she who began the kissing having placed her arms around his waist.
“I love you Bridget,” he whispered.
Bridget took off her cardigan and dropped it to the floor. “Let’s get undressed.”
David began to unbutton his shirt. “Here, let me help,” Bridget said. She flicked her tongue over his chest as she undid each one.
“My turn to assist, ma’am.” Now David took off Bridget’s blouse, mimicking the licking before planting a delicate kiss on the erect left nipple visible through her bra.
As he was undoing his belt there was a strong vibration inside his trousers. It was his phone which he’d set on silent before the film had started. His inclination was to ignore it, but weekend calls were from his children and he felt duty-bound to look at the screen.
Bridget was down to her underwear, her knickers matching the pretty lacy bra. As David lifted the phone out his pocket she was in the process of unhooking her bra.
“Hello Sam,” he said as her bra fell to the floor to reveal a miraculous development for the woman who had once been known as ‘titless’. The sight of her breasts was a strong force for an erection, though having Sam on the other end of the telephone presented an interesting counterbalance. If a penis could ever have a mind of its own and be confused then this was it. At that instant the force in favour of erection was winning, but as the conversation developed shrinkage took over.
Sam had had a massive bust up with Adrian and they had come to blows. ‘Can’t you make up, Sam, at least stay on until the morning…the problem is I can’t drive because I’ve been drinking…that’s kind of Adrian’s mother…you’ve already left…in Cranbrook Drive, OK see you in about five minutes...bye, Sam.’
Bridget had caught the gist of the conversation and was getting dressed.
David must have had a look of distraught dismay because Bridget burst out laughing. “Poor you, but it’s not a disaster, there’ll be another opportunity. Actually I quite enjoy doing a striptease when the audience is on the phone to one of his children. Is there a bed for me, you’d better show me where it is before Sam’s back?”
As David was taking Bridget into Rachel’s room the front door opened. “I’m up here, Sam,” David called out. “Bridget’s upstairs too, she’s staying tonight. We’ll come down.”
As they walked downstairs, Bridget put a hand on David’s shoulder. “Persevere and you’ll get me,” she whispered.
In the kitchen Bridget watched as David cleaned up Sam’s cut lip and she remained in the room listening to the subsequent counselling session. Then all three went upstairs together.
Alone in his bed, David considered getting Bridget into his bedroom when Sam was asleep. But he decided against it and slept happily, knowing it was merely a case of having to wait a little while longer.
He woke refreshed and went downstairs to prepare breakfast. To his surprise he heard the front door open. It was only 9.00, far too early for Rachel’s return. Jane entered the kitchen.
She was carrying a brown A4 envelope and came straight to the point. “Thanks for sending me those documents, David. I agree with everything you’ve suggested. To speed things up my solicitor thought I should come round to get you to sign the papers rather than doing it via your solicitor.”
“Leave them on the table in the hall and I’ll have a look at them later.”
“I was hoping you’d sign them now then I can take them back with me.”
“Sorry, no time.”
“Why are you being obstructive? You haven’t changed your mind about the settlement have you?”
“No. I’ve told you, I just haven’t got time now.”
“What’s so important to stop you getting this sorted?”
Bridget was standing by the kitchen door. She was wearing the Simpsons tee shirt David had lent her. The family were in a line smiling, Homer was holding baby Maggie who was looking up in admiration at her frazzled father.
“Probably me.” She stepped into the room. “You must be Jane, I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Who are you? This is my house, you
’re in my house.”
David laughed. “I think you’re being silly Jane, bearing in mind the circumstances.”
“Are the children here?”
“Sam is.”
“Well then I think this is different to my situation. Having a woman stay here isn’t fair on the children.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. They’ve met Bridget before and they like her. Perhaps it’s best if you leave now.”
“How you’ve changed David. And I don’t like what I see.”
“Well you didn’t like the old me either so what’s new.”
Bridget stepped forward. “I’m starving, any chance of breakfast?” She took hold of David’s hand.
Jane stood her ground for a few seconds, looking from David to Bridget then back to David again. “OK, I get the message, I’m going.”
“I’ll look at your papers later. Would you leave them on the hall table?”
Jane turned and left the room. They heard a thud as the thick envelope was dropped on the table, followed soon afterwards by her customary slamming of the front door.
The Reunion – R J Gould
Chapter 20
Bridget was keen to get home before her children so immediately after breakfast David drove her back. Their conversation was subdued as they chatted about what was not to be the night before and their morning meeting with Jane. Bridget was stoic and saw the funny side, David wasn’t and didn’t. “Thanks David, I enjoyed yesterday,” Bridget said when the car had pulled up outside her house. “Take care, I’ll see you soon.”
David moved towards her in an attempt to kiss. Bridget backed away. “Not a great idea if you don’t mind. I’ve got some very nosey neighbours.” She opened the door and got out. He watched as she walked up the driveway. She turned and waved before closing her front door.
David’s thoughts were all over the place as he drove home. There was a sense of joy that a relationship with Bridget was imminent despite last night’s frustration. When Jane informed Bridget that it was her house and she had no right to be there he’d been furious. But now he found himself facing up to mixed emotions as he reminisced about the time when he and Jane had been so close.