The two senior women who interviewed him arrive, deep in conversation.
‘Welcome, Jonathan,’ says the one with red hair, extending her hand. Jonno remembers her as Maris Jay. ‘So pleased you’ve decided to join us.’
Decided to? Jon nearly laughs out loud. Decided to? He would have crawled all the way from Cairn Cottage on his knees for this job. ‘Thanks,’ he says diffidently.
Seventeen. Only ‘the Boss’, as Stu has described him, to come. He is curious to meet the man who founded CommX eight years ago and who has built the business up so quickly. It takes a certain kind of magic to make a design agency thrive because this is an overpopulated area – competition is cut-throat and a strong reputation difficult to establish.
Around half past nine, the door opens and a man enters. Late forties, perhaps, slightly balding, but with lively hazel eyes and an air of relaxed confidence. Something about the eyes, and the energy, remind him of Mannie. He’s wearing a beautifully cut grey suit, teamed with a very white shirt, open to show a well-tanned neck.
‘Morning everyone!’ Friendly, assured, in charge.
There’s a rapid-fire volley of good mornings and greetings, the odd wave from those who are already on the phone, then he disappears into a glass-walled office at the far end of the room.
Jon sits at his desk, feeling faintly awkward. What is he to do? What are his duties to be? How is he to start this new job? Everyone seems busy, intent on organising the week ahead, already coping with problems, finding solutions.
‘Hi.’ The girl Stu pointed out as Sara is by his desk.
‘Hi.’
‘We’ll be having our meeting in a minute, then I’ll do your induction. The Boss wants to see you after that.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’
‘No worries.’
She wanders off, leaving Jon once again alone.
An hour later, his head is whirling. He stares at the notes in front of him. CommX has twenty three clients with current projects. Some have three or four projects running, making, so far as Jon can tell, thirty seven live jobs. There are three divisions – magazine design, web design and consultancy. Brian Henderson has run through the lot in the course of the meeting, asking questions about project status, clearly expecting smart answers. Problems are flagged and fixes discussed. Upcoming work opportunities are debated. Pitches, they are called officially. Beauty parades is the slang. He tries to keep his mind on it all, but the sheer volume and complexity of the information is bewildering. Twenty-three companies. Multiply the key contacts within each company by, say four, and that means a minimum of ninety-two people whose names, jobs, personalities and preferences he will have to get to know, quickly. The prospect both thrills and terrifies him.
Sara takes him round the office, shows him the toilets, the kitchen, the fire extinguisher and assembly points. She runs through some of the main systems and processes, does a quick tour of the stationery cupboard and explains the filing systems and how projects are stored on the server and how they can be accessed. By midday, Jon is exhausted. He thinks longingly of the chickens and of Cairn Cottage and of the simplicity of life as a barman, and wonders whether he has made the right move.
‘Right,’ Sara says. ‘Got that?’
He jerks tensely. What? What does she mean? The point she has just been making about marking files in use, or all the points of the induction? ‘I think so,’ he says cautiously.
‘Good.’ She must see his expression because she softens a little and adds, ‘Don’t worry. It is confusing at first. But you’ll get used to it. Now,’ she glances at her watch, ‘The Boss said he wanted to see you at midday. Let’s see if he’s free, shall we?’
Jon has done his research on CommX pretty thoroughly, and on its managing director, Brian Henderson, in particular. The man has earned a healthy degree of respect and has won various industry awards. An article Jon downloaded from one of the trade magazines filled in the detail. Fifty three years old, educated at Stirling High and Oxford University, worked as a journalist on regional newspapers, then moved in-house, becoming public relations manager for a small pharmaceutical research company. Headhunted by one of the biggies a few years later, but made redundant after a decade of service. Married with two children, he needed to earn a living, and he boldly used every last penny of his redundancy money to set up CommX. It paid off. The rest, as they say, is history.
I want to be like you, is Jon’s first thought as he is ushered in to the Boss’s office: successful, knowledgeable, respected.
‘Hi. Have a seat.’ Brian Henderson looks up from the papers he is studying and waves Jon to a chair. ‘Sorry I didn’t have time to say hello properly before. Things are always mad in here on a Monday morning, and I’ve been in Dubai and New York, so there’s some catching up to do. What do you think of it so far?’
Jon clears his throat. ‘H-hmm. I’m delighted to be here,’ he hedges, not sure quite what he can say in response to the question. The workings of CommX are, so far, a bewildering mystery.
Brian smiles. ‘Pleased to have you. It was a lucky chance.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Well, you might have missed the advertisement if I hadn’t ... or did you see it advertised yourself?’
‘Advertised?’
‘The design post. Of course, it would normally have gone through the agency, but I believe there was an administrative hiccup and the agency didn’t get briefed until very late in the day. So meeting ... someone who knew you were looking,’ he nods at Jon meaningfully, ‘... was lucky.’
Jon’s confusion must have been reflected on his face, because Brian adds, ‘I didn’t take any part in the selection process, of course. That was conducted by my team here. I wouldn’t like you to think you were here without merit.’
Jon’s head is buzzing with so many booming alarms that he hardly knows which one to consider first.
Someone who knew you were looking.
Mannie. It was Mannie who’d phoned him about it. My sister organised this job for me. Anger mixed with mortification at the thought. How dare she patronise him like that? Putting in a word for him as if he wasn’t capable of getting a job on his own?
Then the second implication of Brian Henderson’s words wallop into him and take his breath away completely.
He runs a business ... It’s in Stirling, I think.
He isn’t sure how he got out of there – or indeed, how long he was in there after Brian Henderson’s bombshell. He supposes there was some discussion of his duties at CommX, but he prays that someone else will brief him because he can’t recollect a single word. Maybe it doesn’t matter anyway, Jon thinks as he paces the car park in his lunch break, because how can he possibly stay here after this discovery?
Mannie has fallen in love with his new boss. And whatever she says, he can’t believe that there hasn’t been some encouragement on Brian Henderson’s part – because how could someone as bright and pretty and young as Mannie turn her back on a great guy like Cal for this middle-aged slap-head, however smart and smooth and successful he is?
Jon forgets his earlier admiration and respect for Brian Henderson and is swamped by a growing fury. He pulls out his mobile and punches Mannie’s number into his phone. He has to talk to her. Now.
‘This is Mannie Wallace. I’m sorry I can’t speak right now, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.’
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
‘I need to speak to you Mannie. Call me back. It’s Jonno.’
There are strict rules about mobile phone use, he does remember that part of the induction, but he doesn’t care. A stiff breeze swirls round the car park, stirring the dust that has accumulated in the corner of the building and whipping the leaves on the small rowan trees that have been planted in an attempt to soften the stark lines of the new-build block. Jon turns his face to the wind and feels it ruffle his hair. One gust, stronger than the rest, blows some grit into his face and he closes his eyes, almost
welcoming the discomfort. The bleakness of the place echoes his mood perfectly.
His break comes and goes, but Mannie doesn’t call. Nor, he realises as he retraces his steps reluctantly back into the office, has he eaten. And if he felt gawky in the morning, he feels miserably uncomfortable now. Every instinct tells him he should just go home and forget about the job. Then he remembers his long battle to secure work and he rebels against the prospect of renewed unemployment.
In the face of his gloom, however, the afternoon disconcerts him by becoming interesting. It transpires that he is to shadow Stu for a few days while the new computer is in transit, and they go out to a meeting with the national agency that looks after Stirling Castle. As they walk across the ancient esplanade and enter the precincts of the Castle itself, a sense of excitement quells his unease.
For the moment.
‘How’s it been, then?’
Back in the office, Jon is engrossed in filling in a meeting report form and is only peripherally aware that someone is standing by his desk. As he’s on a main passageway to the kitchen, he has already grown used to comings and goings and has begun to filter them out.
‘Hello?’ The sing-song note of inquiry finally penetrates and he looks up to find the girl, Alex, standing next to him, laughing at his concentration. ‘Anyone in?’
He sits back in his chair and smiles. He can’t help smiling at Alex. She’s like a little bobbing robin, bright-eyed and spirited, hop, hop, hopping from one foot to another with a delightful vivacity. She reminds him of Mannie at her nicest.
‘Sorry. Hi.’
‘How was your first day?’
‘Everyone’s been very friendly,’ he says, truthfully.
‘I’m all in. The first day back after a break always seems endless. Fancy a drink?’
The prospect of a pint is enticing. ‘Do I just.’ He glances at his screen. ‘Can you hang on five minutes? If I don’t finish this I’ll forget what I’m supposed to be filling in.’
‘Sure. No hurry. I need to finish up myself.’
The pub Alex suggests is in the local village of Bridge of Allan. ‘Less likely to bump into the others,’ she explains. ‘Not that that’s a bad thing, I mean, they’re a nice enough bunch, but if you want to escape from work talk, it’s better to go further afield.’
Jon has no complaints. He’s had as much new information in one day as he can handle and besides, getting Alex to himself is rather a pleasant prospect.
‘Let me get the drinks.’
‘No, not at all.’ It doesn’t seem right for a girl to buy the first round on a date. Is it a date? Probably not, probably just a friendly gesture, but even so—
‘I insist. My personal welcome to CommX. A thanks for making tea this morning.’ She grins mischievously. ‘Even if it was cold.’
Jon blushes furiously, and hates himself for it, but it’s a hazard with his coloring. ‘Sorry. So many people stopped me to introduce themselves—’
‘I was teasing, Jon Wallace. Here’s your pint. Do you think we might sit outside?’
‘Great.’
It’s May, and the weather has turned clement. The stern breeze that played havoc with the dust in the car park earlier in the day has died away completely, bequeathing a pleasingly warm early evening sunshine.
‘So. What do you make of us all?’ Alex takes a long swig of her pint. Jonno watches her with a deep sense of pleasure. Her hands are small and tanned, the glass looks ludicrously large and heavy in them, yet she handles the drink with ease. The beer leaves a small moustache of creamy foam on her upper lip and he has to repress the urge to kiss it away.
‘People are very friendly. It’s a lot to take in.’
She wipes the foam away with the back of a small hand. ‘I always think if you can handle working in an agency like this, you can handle anything. It’s very high pressured. Be warned.’
‘I don’t mind that.’ If I can stick it at all. ‘What do people think of the Boss?’ he asks casually.
‘He’s good. Very polished. Some people call him Innocent because he’s such a smoothie.’
‘Innocent?’ Jon’s short laugh is more a cynical bark. ‘Really? That’s funny.’ He thinks about it for a moment, then says carefully, ‘And maybe not very apt? I heard he was a bit of a womaniser.’
‘Did you? He’s married.’
‘Yeah.’
Alex surveys him thoughtfully. ‘You shouldn’t listen to rumours.’
‘Are they wrong?’
She takes another long pull of her beer. ‘Let’s just say, I’ve heard that he appreciates a pretty face.’
‘Has he ever come on to you?’
Her laughter is like a bell, clear and true. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, will I? No. He’s not daft. He’s not going to set himself up for a sexual harassment case. Anyway,’ her shoulders lift in dismissal, ‘So far as I’m concerned, what he does out of the office is his own business.’
Jon takes the hint. ‘How long have you been with CommX?’
She’s a couple of years older than him, she has been working as a designer for five years and she’s currently single. Glory be – because by the time they part an hour later, Jonathan Wallace is well smitten.
He turns the Volvo towards Hailesbank and mulls over the many unexpected twists and turns the day has taken. These feelings, he realises, make the choices and decisions that lie in front of him all the more difficult.
Chapter Twenty-one
In Edinburgh, Mannie is having problems of her own. She pushes her way through the heavy revolving door into the hotel and crosses the shiny marble floor of the grand lobby. She’s in a hurry. She’s always in a hurry, but today her mission is especially pressing. At the reception desk she stops abruptly. ‘Seen Freddie?’ she asks, perhaps more sharply than she intended.
‘Not recently,’ says Agnieska, the receptionist on duty, but her eyes flicker to somewhere over Mannie’s shoulder and she swivels sharply to catch sight of the hotel’s head of operations scurrying through the door into the grand salon.
She glares at Agnieska, but the girl has ducked her head away and is studying something intently. She’s always too protective of the man.
‘Freddie!’ Already Mannie’s heels are snapping on the tiles, businesslike pops of intent. She catches up with him in seconds. ‘Mosse Harbinger Fund Managers. They need twenty-two tables, not eighteen. And they’ve changed their minds. They want an option on desserts for the dinner rather than just the parfait au citron.’
‘Four extra tables? At this notice? The dinner’s tonight!’ Freddie Blackman has been at The Acanthus Hotel for less than a year and still isn’t used to the stringent demands Mannie makes in order to please her clients and meet her targets. It’s what makes her supreme at her job – but feared by her colleagues. ‘How are we meant to do that for heaven’s sake? The room’ll be bursting and the Wyllie Room is booked so we can’t move them in there!’
‘Your problem,’ Mannie says callously and turns on her heel. She has other headaches.
‘And a second dessert? Chef’ll go ballistic!’ Freddie calls after her retreating figure.
She doesn’t even bother to reply to that one.
She picks up Jonno’s message. Heavens, he sounds angry. This is his first day at CommX and she knows he’s really excited. She hated sending him in cold because finding out about Brian is inevitable, but there hasn’t been an opportunity to explain things. And anyway, how can she explain? Better to let things take their course and deal with the fallout afterwards.
Three times that afternoon she picks up her phone with the intention of calling her brother and three times she lays it back down again. The longer she leaves it, the more time there will be for things to shake down at his end. She considers switching her phone off, but although she’s not looking forward to a conversation with Jonno, she really has to face it this evening, because he has to go back in there tomorrow. She can’t risk him throwing in the perfect job because of any stu
pid, misplaced notions.
One thought overrides all others: Jonno has seen Brian. She’s jealous of her brother for that, because she hasn’t seen Brian since their dinner in Leith.
He has called, though – just the once, but every word is etched onto her heart as if she has taken a needle and tattooed them there herself. They echo down the days and replay in her head.
‘Hi. It’s Brian.’
‘Hi! Wow, hi, I mean, it’s great to hear your voice, where are you?’
‘New York.’
‘New York?’ Disappointment at learning of the vast distance that separates him mixes with a sense of glamour. He’s calling her from New York! He’s making the effort to call her from half way across the world!
‘I’m over here for a couple of days. Business.’
‘Sounds really glamourous.’
‘Maybe, but transatlantic travel is pretty exhausting.’
‘Where are you now? This minute.’ She longs to picture him, exactly.
‘In my hotel room.’
‘Wish I could be with you.’
‘That would be nice. Listen, Mannie—’
‘God, if I’d known you were going, I could have come with you! You should have told me.’
‘Whoa, Mannie, stop.’ She can hear him laughing. ‘You know, it’s very flattering to have a gorgeous girl like you making the running, really, really wonderful.’
‘I can hear a but coming.’
‘Mannie, I’m married. I told you that.’
‘That doesn’t mean we can’t see each other, does it? I’ll be really discreet, I promise. I won’t say a word to anyone. I’ll do anything you ask, Brian. Have you thought about me? Since we had dinner?’
‘No. Not once.’ That shocks her into silence, then he laughs. ‘I’m lying. Of course I’ve thought about you. I’ve tried not to, but Christ, Mannie, you’re bloody irresistible, do you know that?’
Loving Susie: The Heartlands series Page 19