Who Stole My Life?

by C. P. IRVINE, IAN

  Great. Which means that I can't learn anything from any of the work I've may already have done. I'm really am going to have to do this from scratch. I hope I'm actually quite good at this.

  I look across at Claire. She's quite pretty. Slim, her red hair in a bob, blue eyes, a nice figure, and when she smiles, two small dimples appear in her cheeks.

  "Claire, concussion is a really funny thing. There's a possibility that I may act a little weird in the next couple of weeks, and since you're my PA you'll probably get the brunt of it, so I want to apologize in advance."

  She nods.

  "Some of the questions I may ask might appear a little silly, but please bear with me. Humor me for a while. Can you do that?"

  She nods again.

  "Okay, so let's start. Can you get me the files, and then after I've seen Richard, we'll go to the pub for a quick lunch and a case review, and then we'll head off to the Dome? Okay?"

  Just as she gets up to leave, Richard appears in the doorway. He winks at me as Claire walks past him.

  "So, you're back then, are you? Can't keep a good man down, that's what I say," he says, closing the door behind him. He walks across to one of my cabinets, slides it open and reaches inside, taking out a small bottle of whisky and two glasses. He pours us both one, and then sits down in the chair opposite me where Claire was sitting only two minutes before.

  "I just wanted to pop down and say, well, sorry about the other day."

  "For what?"

  "You know,…for the thing in the taxi,…and for not sending you to the quack's straight away. I didn't realize it was so serious," he says, going bright red, and looking down at his shoes. Richard is embarrassed.

  "At least not as serious as winning the ten million euro deal with Scotia Telecom?"

  "Exactly…" he blurts out immediately, then realizes it was a mistake. "No, I mean…"

  "It's fine Richard, I know 'exactly' what you mean."

  A moment’s silence. Richards gets up and walks to the front of the office, resting one hand against the glass partition and looking out between the slats of the blinds onto the floor beyond.

  "How long have you been with us now James?" Richard asks. Putting me on the spot. It’s a question I really can't answer.

  "Oh…long enough."

  "Long enough for what?" Richard spins around. "You're not thinking of doing anything silly are you?"

  It's really quite amusing, I think Richard thinks I'm considering leaving. On the contrary, I've only just joined.

  "Listen James, it's time you and I had a chat. Time you and I thought of the bigger picture. Time you and I thought of the future."

  This is getting interesting. Richard is looking down at his glass, cupping the glass in his palm and swirling the whisky around and around.

  "You know, this Scotia deal is the icing on the cake of a really successful career with us so far. When you joined us in 2006, after you left Peters Hall and Irvine, I knew that you'd deliver the goods. I could feel it in my bones, you know what I mean? I could tell, I could tell you had it in you. And you've not let me down. I think the time has come James."

  "And what time is that Richard?" genuinely interested. What is he talking about?

  "Oh, don’t play games with me James? You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been gunning for this for years…you've been biting at my ankles almost every day, eager, pushing, chasing me in my footsteps, and now the time is here…Hang on a second, have those Saatchi boys been talking to you? You wouldn't think about going to them now would you?"

  "Calm down Richard. Firstly, no I haven't been talking to 'those Saatchi boys' and no, I'm not playing games with you. Just tell me what it is you're getting at?"

  "Stop it James. I'm not a fool. I know what you’re up to. Now you've got the Scotia deal, you can write your own ticket wherever you go. And you and I both know that where you go, the Scotia deal will follow. So stop playing games man. What is it that you want…?"

  I open my mouth to protest once again, that I honestly don't know what he's talking about, but am silenced before I can say a word.

  "Okay, you win. I mean, I should have done it last year when you got the Body Shop deal, but I didn't and perhaps it was a mistake. A mistake that I'm admitting now, okay?"

  "Listen Richard…"

  "Bloody hell James. You drive a hard bargain. Okay, okay, you win, okay? You get a 40% rise in your base, the office opposite mine, a new car, and the big P. There it's done. It's yours."

  "The big P?" It's that letter again.

  "Are you trying to screw me? " Richard shouts. "Ok, 60% rise in base, and I'll backdate it all to when you won the Body Shop deal. And you're a Partner as from today!"

  I smile. So that's what this is all about. I've just been made a partner. The Big 'P'.

  For ten years I've believed that I've been a Product Manager. Quite a good salary, but nothing special. Then one day I wake up and find out that I've got a new career. Then on my first day on the job, I win a ten million euro deal, and on the second day in the office I get a 60% pay rise and get made Partner.

  On the face of it, I seem to be doing quite well for myself.

  "Done." I click my glass against Richard's. "I'll drink to that."

  "So are you staying?" he asks, still a little nervous.

  "Yes, Richard. I'm staying."

  "Good." He says, knocking his glass back, and walking towards the door. "Now just make sure you do a good job on the Dome project. That one's worth another €5m, and in spite of what's been said, it's not a done deal yet. The Saatchi boys are still sniffing around it. It's up to you to tie that one down. That's €5m, not just for me, James. It's €5m for us. Partner. "

  And with that, Richard is gone.

  --------------------

  We're sitting at the back of the "All Bar One" opposite the Palace Theatre where ‘Singing in the Rain’ is still playing. I feel at home here, a rare piece of continuity in my otherwise fractured world. We've just finished eating, and now I have the contents of the Millennium Dome file spread out over the table top. Claire is reading aloud to me from the notes of the first exploratory meeting we had with them, before they gave us the contract.

  Occasionally she reads a line to me, a line which the minutes insist that I am meant to have said at the first meeting. It’s a strange feeling, hearing her saying words that apparently came out of my mouth, but which I cannot remember ever saying. Even more interesting though, is just the whole thing about the Millennium Dome. The background notes make compulsive reading in their own right, and as I scan through the pages, I am lost in the history of the project.

  The Millennium Dome was first conceived by the Conservative party when they were formerly in power. Then, when Labour took over the reins of government, Tony Blair decided it was the only good thing the Tories had ever come up with, and pledged to build the Dome for the people of Great Britain. Something that would act as a flagship of British know-how and engineering, something that the world would marvel at, a landmark building that would mark the start of the new millennium, and which the British people could be proud of. And something that would bring in billions of pounds of foreign cash as the tourists flocked to London to see it.

  So they built it. And it was a great success.

  My heart starts to beat faster as I read the rest of the third page of my notes.

  In the fourth paragraph, towards the bottom of the page I have scribbled on the side that one of the contributory factors towards its success, was the decision to build it in Hyde Park.

  Hyde Park?

  Or to be more specific, the top of Hyde Park, near to Speaker’s Corner. In the centre of London, with easy access to everywhere, and smack bang in the tourist heartland of the city.

  "James?" Claire interrupts me, destroying my train of thought.

  "Have you been listening to a word I've been saying?" she asks, a little nervously.

  "Sorry," I say, putting my finger on the page marking where I w
as and looking up. "What did you say?"

  "Obviously not then. I just wanted to ask… well, I just wanted to know, honestly, where I stand just now?"

  Her face has flushed, and the paper in her hand has begun to shake a little.

  "What do you mean? I think you’re doing a fine job. I'm very pleased by what you're doing. What exactly do you want to know?" I ask.

  "It's just that, …well, when you say you can't remember anything. I was wondering…I mean, the other night, and last week, …the past six months…? Have you forgotten all that too? Have you really forgotten ‘us’?"

  "Forgotten ‘us’?" I close the file on the Millennium Dome, and put it on the table. She has my attention now, my undivided attention.

  "Yes…I mean, James, it meant something to me, even if it didn't to you…"

  "What did?" I have a funny feeling about this.

  "WHAT? So it's true then…you genuinely can’t remember anything? Oh dear..." She looks away for a second, staring out of the window on to the street. She swallows, and in a second her whole demeanor changes. When she turns around she is a very different person.

  "Forget it. I'm sorry I mentioned it." She looks quickly at her watch. "Oh no, it's late. We've got to be at the Dome in fifteen minutes. We'd better hurry."

  The journey over to the Dome is a little awkward. We sit in silence. Whereas on the one hand I want to ask her what on earth she was referring to, on the other I have a strong feeling that it's best left well alone. I'm slow, but not totally stupid.

  For the second time in two days, I'm left wondering if there is more to my new life than meets the eye.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Millennium Dome

  .

  "Come in, come in." the President of the Millennium Dome committee welcomes us to the boardroom, situated in a suite of penthouse offices near Marble Arch, with an impressive view over Hyde Park and a structure that I can only describe as an identical copy of the Millennium Dome, the same Millennium Dome that I last saw in North Greenwich.

  It's huge and it dominates the north of Hyde Park: Londoners and tourists are thronging around the awesome marvel that is now one of London's top attractions, and shop-workers and office-workers taking a break are lounging around outside in the cafes that form part of the complex.

  From the eighth floor of our office building we are about eye level with the upper quarter of the mesh of wires and pylons that thrust outwards and upwards from the centre of the Dome, supporting its roof and dancing on the London skyline.

  And from where we are, I have to say, it just seems so right. The green of the trees, the grass, the open space around, its location so close to the center of London, and the accessibility that this location easily provides to the attraction. In hindsight, Hyde Park is such an obvious choice. No wonder it's such a success.

  "Twelve years, and still going strong," the chairman of the committee comments as we drink coffee and stare out at it, from the large, panoramic windows that frame the object of their achievement. "Twelve years, and no sign of letting up."

  "How on earth did you get permission to build it in Hyde Park?" I ask, the words tripping out my mouth before I could stop them. "And I thought the Dome was only a temporary construction?"

  "It was. And still is." He replies, patting me on the right shoulder as he turns to sit down at the head of the boardroom table. "A five year license from the Queen to build and operate the Dome from 1998 to 2003. But due to its unparalleled success, and its undoubted role in bringing in over five billion euros worth of additional tourist revenue in the first two years of operation, coupled with the fact that the Dome rapidly became part of the London skyline, an image that is now synonymous with the new prosperous Britain, and is known by children and adults around the world from the slums of Bangladesh to the richest mansions in China or California, we were given an extended license first for another ten years in its initial form, and then more recently for another five years to convert the Dome into an international arts centre. A venue for classical, and rock concerts to rival Madison Square Gardens, or the Hollywood Bowl. Or an exhibition hall, or a theatre. Whatever we want. And that's it really. Why you’re here. We want you guys to help us with the ideas, then to help brand it, promote it, and market it. Make sure we become the Number One and most sought after entertainment venue in the world." He smiles, nodding at the rest of the board members as they file into the room and take their places around the large, glass table.

  "It's exciting." I reply. "…And a big challenge. But one which myself and my partners are eager to get started on, and one which we know and feel extremely confident that we can deliver on." I bluff, seamlessly.

  "Tell me, Mr Wessex." I leave the window, and sit down opposite the Chairman of the board, Claire taking a place beside me. "What do you think are the contributory factors to your success so far? In your words, why do you think the Dome is so successful?" I would really like to know. A memory, unfortunately a very clear one, of another Dome, in another place, haunts me, floating in front of my mind's eye. I can see it clearly. A vision of another Dome that was a monumental flop.

  "Of course, I wasn't chairman of the board at the beginning and I didn't take over till 2001. But it's clear to me that the answer is made up of a combination of things. Marketing. Location. Good layout. The brilliant show, and the fantastic themed attractions, easy accessibility, government sponsorship. The fact that David Miliband promoted it so much when he became Prime Minister after Blair, cannot be overlooked. Everywhere he goes in the world, he takes one of our marketing team with him. And in practically every speech he makes in front of the cameras, he continues to extol the virtues of the regularly updated themed exhibitions inside the Dome, and how they continue to represent the best of British ingenuity, technology, achievements, knowledge, science."

  "So what was so special about the marketing?"

  "Simply the fact that everybody was clearly informed on how to get to the Dome, where it was, and how much it would cost to get in. We set their expectations correctly and then delivered. No one was disappointed when they eventually saw it all. But I think the master stroke of the whole thing was the way Peters Hall and Irvine promoted it. It was their idea, and the Dome Board accepted it. They suggested that when we presented the package to the public and talked about the pricing structure for entrance, we shouldn't say that we were charging for entrance to the themed attractions like 'The Body' for example, but rather, that we should really promote the spectacular show that was put on in the centre of the Dome as being the main attraction, and that we should charge fifteen euros a head for that, and five euros a head for access to the cinema to see the ‘Mr Bean’ film. Doing that, we could then say that entrance to the Body and the other themed areas was all free... All thrown in, once you paid for your entrance to the show. Peters Hall and Irvine knew that people wouldn't object to paying for entrance to another show in the heart of London, especially such a fantastic one, and that by then offering 'free' entrance to the other also well advertised attractions of the Dome, it would just all seem like so much better value for money than our original idea of charging entrance to the themed areas, and giving the show for free. It was a good idea. And every day it brought tourists to the heart of London, who, after leaving the Dome’s attractions, would pour into the shops and restaurants on Oxford Street and the West End in their thousands and spend, spend, spend. And that part was a great idea. The economy thrived, and everyone loved it. Hang on a moment…You were with Peters Hall and Irvine then, weren't you? In fact, correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you one of the people who worked on the team that proposed this in the first place?"

  A bald-headed bespectacled gentleman at the far end of the table interrupts him.

  "Yes, Mr Wessex. Mr Quinn was at Peters Hall and Irvine until 2006. He was a key member of the team, and in fact it was his idea to propose the strategy you have just so highly praised. That's one of the many reasons why we are so keen to give the contract t
o Cohen's. We wanted Mr Quinn back on board again."

  Ouch. Suddenly Richard's keenness to make me Partner makes even more sense. It's a double whammy. He needs me for both the Scotia Telecom deal, and now also this. Clever Bastard.

  At the same time, I can't help but be impressed. By myself.

  What the Chairman of the Dome committee has just explained makes so much sense…the idea that 'I' had had to promote the Dome was really straightforward. So simple. Yet, so effective. That combined with the excellent location in the middle of the city. No wonder the Dome has been so successful. The Dome in North Greenwich, the one that I know…the one that I have dreamt of…the reasons for its failure are all so clear to me now.

  Firstly, no one knew how to get there, or how or where to buy tickets for it. There was so much confusion about that. And on top of that, the tickets were far too expensive. It took people away from the centre of London, getting there was awkward, and that deterred lots of people from going. What's more, when you got there, you were surprised to find the stage-show going on in the middle of the Dome, in the arena. No one had ever publicized the entertainment, no one even knew it was there.

  I only went to the Dome once, at the end of its run, but when I eventually did, I saw the show four times in one day, and I bought the CD of the music by Peter Gabriel. Music which he composed especially for the show.