She sighed as Simon pulled her into the crook of his arm and stroked the swell of her breast. ‘Are you happy?’ he asked.
‘Blissfully. This is idyllic. The sun is streaming through the window, albeit rather pathetically, and we’re lying here pretending that life is a bed of roses. The bubble has to burst. I want things to be different this time.’ She propped herself up on her elbows and turned to him. ‘Last night you promised me that we could stop the world and get off.’
‘So I did.’
‘Did you call Lance?’
‘I tried but there was no answer. I didn’t feel I could just leave a message. I need to speak to him in person.’
Kirsten hugged the sheet to her. ‘It’s going to ruin our relationship if we start again with the same emotional baggage. We won’t last five minutes.’
‘I promised you. I’ve waited ten long years for this, Kirsten, I’m not about to blow it. I’ll call Lance again. Now.’
‘Will you? If we’re going to make this work, we need a complete change of lifestyle.’ Kirsten stared at him determinedly. ‘I won’t be the neglected little corporate wife, sitting at home waiting for you.’
Simon lifted an eyebrow. ‘Yet you would consider being my wife?’
Kirsten smiled. ‘Of course. I love you. I should have been Mrs Conway all along.’ She looked at him earnestly. ‘But you have to swear to me that things won’t be just the same this time.’
He pulled her against his body and stared wistfully at the ceiling. ‘What do you want us to do instead?’
‘I don’t know. I can barely get my head round the fact that we’re together again.’
‘We could open a scuba-diving school in the Seychelles,’ he mused.
‘I’ve been there,’ Kirsten admitted. ‘It’s very beautiful. One of Tyler’s little conscience soothers. There are considerably worse places to live.’
‘There’s no doubt we’d leave the hamster wheel behind.’
‘I can’t scuba dive.’ Kirsten hated to pour cold water on his plan – no pun intended – but it did seem pertinent to mention it.
‘Neither can I. But we can learn. We can run the business end and get in experts to do the tuition.’ Simon pushed himself up in bed. There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes. ‘I’ve cashed in my share options from Petro Oz and Texan Oil. I had to when I left. Even as we speak, there’s a heap of cash sitting in my bank account doing absolutely nothing but waiting for an opportunity like this. We can do whatever we want. If not scuba diving, we could buy a beach café, a restaurant, a small hotel, chalets for tourists.’
‘Work together?’
‘Why not? Or if you don’t like the idea of that, maybe you could teach again, at a local school? We could even do something more community-based, if you want to. There are all kinds of opportunities that we could consider. I’ve been at the top of an international corporation. How hard could it be to run a small business of our own?’ He raked his hair and his eyes held a look of steely determination. ‘We could do this, Kirsten.’
She risked a half-smile. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly.’ He took her hands. ‘I want to make you happy. I told you that. I’ll do whatever it takes. If that means that we have to have sun, sand and sea as well as sex, then who am I to argue?’
Kirsten laughed.
‘We need time to think this through and plan it properly,’ he cautioned. ‘I have enough money to start up a small venture and support us for a while.’
‘I have nothing,’ Kirsten admitted. ‘I’m reliant on Tyler for everything. That needs to change too. I want my independence.’ They had no money in this house, no equity. It wasn’t theirs. Tyler, she was sure, would want to move away as soon as he could. He’d probably ask Fossil to find him a bachelor apartment right across the street from the office. ‘There must be obstacles?’
‘Of course there are, but we’ll work through them together.’ He cupped her face in his hands. ‘I love you.’
Kirsten giggled excitedly. This might be the end of her marriage, but it felt very much like a new beginning for her. ‘I love you too.’
He kissed her, his mouth firm, insistent, pressing against hers.
‘Nothing can stop us now.’
‘Nothing,’ Kirsten agreed.
Chapter Fifty-three
Tyler folded his arms and stared at Josh. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I will absolutely not reconsider. That woman is a menace.’ He pointed in Louise’s direction. ‘She’s not staying here a moment longer.’
‘She’s a great girl,’ Josh said. ‘You know that. With a bit of goodwill, you can both sort this out.’
Tyler stood up and paced his office. ‘She’s cost me my marriage and my dignity. Now she’s paying the price.’
‘You got yourself into this mess, Tyler. You can end it all now by playing fair.’
‘When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.’ Tyler ground to an abrupt halt at the window and gazed out at the snow. He wanted nothing more than to get through this day unscathed and go home to Kirsten. That was a rare feeling. ‘Push me too far and you’ll regret it too.’
‘You need me, Tyler,’ Josh said. ‘We both know that.’
‘Oh, do we?’
‘My sales figures keep the department afloat and Lance off your back.’
Tyler sat down again and spread his hands on his desk. There was a malicious smile curling the corners of his mouth and showing the merest suggestion of his teeth. He looked like a pitbull terrier. Without a muzzle.
Tyler smiled sweetly. ‘Are you sitting comfortably?’ Josh wasn’t.
Tapping at his computer, Tyler turned the screen so that Josh could read it too. The smile widened to a cold grin. ‘Shall we begin?’
Josh scanned the figures on the screen, which made for uncomfortable viewing.
‘These aren’t right,’ Josh said. ‘They show me as not hitting any of my targets in the last year.’
‘These are my back-up figures,’ Tyler said. ‘For times such as these. I can make them as right as I want to. You’re not out of the woods on this yet, Josh. You were the one on top of Louise when Kirsten thought it was me. In my eyes, that makes you complicit in this disaster.’
‘You can’t fiddle my figures,’ Josh complained. ‘That’s just not ethical.’
Tyler laughed in his face. ‘You should know me better than to think that would worry me. I always have these little beauties on standby. Just in case.’
‘I’ve enjoyed working with you, Tyler. Even though some of your practices have been dubious. There are people in Fossil who don’t like you, but I’ve always defended your corner. I’ve had your back, but this is beyond the pale. If you sack Louise, if you threaten me, then I’m done with you. You’ll get your come-uppance.’
‘Fine,’ Tyler said. ‘Sales managers like you are ten a penny. For every job we advertise there are hundreds of applicants. Someone will fill your shoes in five minutes. So, I’ll accept your resignation too. Just get your little girlfriend to type it up on the way out.’ He shooed at Josh as you would an irritating fly.
‘You really are low-life, Tyler Benson.’
Tyler shrugged. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
Josh stood up and walked from the office, dazed.
Louise was at her desk, but it was clear that she’d been straining to hear what was being said behind the closed door.
‘How did it go?’ she stage-whispered.
Josh bit his lip. ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Maybe not that well.’
Chapter Fifty-four
It was much later than usual when Lance eventually arrived at Fossil Oil’s head office. The staff would be wondering where he was. Martin held open the door of the Bentley for him and he bounded up the steps to the entrance and into the airy atrium.
He must phone Bud Harman, Lance thought, and firm things up from this end. They’d been good staff here, dedicated, trustworthy, and he didn’t want the whole shebang to collapse just because this was go
ing to be his last day.
Instead of taking the executive lift straight to the top floor, he decided to take the stairs and walk up through the offices, giving him a chance to wish his faithful staff a merry Christmas. By the top of the first flight, his heart was banging in his chest. Could be that he’d overdone the dancing, unaccustomed as he was these days. Last night had been a heavy session, but wonderful fun, the few bits he could remember of it. You couldn’t beat a good Christmas party.
His first port of call, the Customer Service Department, was deserted. Only half the staff were at their desks, and only half of those were still sitting upright; most were slumped against their computer terminals in a state of inertia. There was a deathly silence where there should have been ringing phones. Either someone had thoughtfully pulled out all the plugs, or similarly debilitating office parties had been taking place the night before throughout their customer network. A large number of the staff were wearing sunglasses indoors.
It was the same in Refinery Output. And no one at all had made it in to Alternative Fuels. He was terribly disappointed. These youngsters had no stamina these days. A few glasses of bubbly and they all went to pot. How were any of them going to make executive level if they succumbed at the first sight of corporate hospitality? No deals were going to be done today, that was patently clear. It wouldn’t do him any harm to go home early either. It would be a pleasant change to be waiting for Melissa when she returned from her shopping trip or wherever she was. That was one of the dangers of becoming an old married couple – if you weren’t careful all the surprises went right out of your life.
He needed to talk to Tyler about the hand-over. At least he knew that Tyler had more stamina. His right-hand man would be here come hell or high water. Fossil Oil was in his veins, just as it was in Lance’s.
Veronica was at her desk when he reached his office, just as she always was.
‘Morning,’ Lance grunted at her.
‘Morning, Mr Harvey.’ She handed him the folder which contained his post. Each day she opened it, slotted it into place and made little notes as to how he should deal with each piece. The woman was invaluable; it was a shame she wasn’t coming to DC with him.
He’d remember to ask her later what she’d bought Melissa for Christmas. It was sure to be beautiful. And expensive. She knew his wife only too well.
‘The party went very well,’ he said. ‘Good work, Veronica. Make sure it goes on to Tyler’s budget.’
‘Yes, Mr Harvey.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’m afraid there was a slight incident after you left.’
‘Benson caught with his hand up a secretary’s skirt?’ Lance guffawed. It wouldn’t be the first time.
‘I’m afraid the marquee caught fire and was destroyed. Wadestone Manor has suffered some smoke and water damage.’
‘Was it our fault?’
‘It may have been. The fire investigators and insurance assessors are there this morning.’
‘Keep me informed.’ Every year someone landed them with a huge bill for damages. Why couldn’t anyone party without trashing the place?
Lance headed to his desk via his drinks cabinet and poured himself a bourbon. He shuddered as the initial swig hit the spot. That was more like it. He sat down behind his desk, enjoying his first drink of the day.
The view out of his window on this side of the building was uninspiring. The city of Milton Keynes was growing at an alarming rate, changing rapidly from a scruffy, squalling infant into an attractive youth. Just as his own boys had. He looked at the photograph of his family on his desk. Melissa had been a wonderfully devoted mother and had more than made up for any lack of parental adoration he himself had felt. His job had been everything then. Whatever else came along took second place. Whatever crises occurred, Melissa dealt with them without bothering him. He’d always appreciated it, so that, luckily, he wasn’t one of those sad cases who was left with nothing – money in the bank but no family, no friends, no future once the company had finished with them. He’d seen that scenario far too often to let it happen to him. He loved her and he would make this Christmas a great one for her before they went home to the States. He should text her, but at this moment he had more important things on his mind.
He glanced at his watch. It was one o’clock in the afternoon UK time, which would make it a fairly uncivilised hour of the morning in Washington. From his last conversation with Bud Harman, Fossil Oil International had also enjoyed, or endured, its Christmas party last night. He wondered if they’d managed to burn down the goddamn building too. But Bud would be in bright and early. He and Lance were both drawn from the same oil well. Lance picked up the phone.
‘Hey, Bud,’ Lance said when it was answered. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Mornin’, Lance.’
Bud, at least, sounded hale and hearty. It would be a brisk call. They always were. Harman wasn’t the sort of man to indulge in social niceties during transatlantic telephone calls. He wasn’t the sort of man to indulge in social niceties face to face, come to that.
‘I know it’s early but I’m calling about the SACKED programme. I want to get things firmed up before I leave for Christmas.’
‘I wanted to speak to you too, Lance. You know how things move here. We had an emergency meeting last night before the Christmas party and the board decided that we won’t implement SACKED just yet. There are global changes coming and we’re going to put it on the back burner for now. Revisit it in six months or so.’
‘Right.’ Lance was pretty sure he’d already announced it at the party last night. He’d have to check with Veronica.
‘That doesn’t mean things won’t change for you. I have good news, Lance. I’m promoting you to executive president. We had to let Don Fletcher go. The man just couldn’t stand the pace.
Lance was shaken to his very core. Promoting. The word reverberated in his brain. This wasn’t a common word in Bud’s vocabulary.
‘It’s a lot more travel, but you can do it based from London or New York, whichever suits you.’
He knew that. The executive president’s role would see him going round the globe overseeing Fossil’s interests. It was a very desirable position.
‘You’re on board?’ Bud bellowed down the phone.
Lance puffed out his chest. ‘I sure am.’
‘I knew you would be. You’re a company man through and through.’ He could hear the metaphorical back-slap in Bud’s voice. ‘We thought Simon Conway could fit into the chairman’s role,’ he continued. ‘He’s a great asset to Fossil Oil and we should use him to his full potential. With Tyler Benson behind him, they’ll make a great team.’
‘Tyler will be disappointed. He’s had his eye on my job for years.’
‘We’re not in this business to make everyone happy.’
‘We could promote him to deputy chairman,’ Lance suggested. ‘New title, more money. It would smooth things over.’
‘Do it then. We’ll talk more in the new year.’
‘Merry Christmas, Bud.’
‘Merry Christmas to you too, executive president.’
Lance felt choked as he hung up. And proud. Much as he’d tried to tell himself otherwise, there’d been no doubt that he’d been teetering on the brink of corporate oblivion; now a saving hand, in the unlikely form of Bud Harman, had plucked him back to safety in the nick of time. There would be no global restructuring this week. The SACKED programme had itself, for the time being, been sacked.
Melissa would be pleased. If there was one thing she would like more than being a chairman’s wife, it would be being an executive president’s wife. It would probably entail a whole new wardrobe. Executive president of Fossil Oil – it sounded good. There would be no twilight exodus on Christmas Day. No grim Washington winter. And plenty of time to finish off the turkey his wife had optimistically ordered.
He thought Melissa would choose to stay in England too, despite her continual moaning. She liked it here and she had things to keep her occupie
d. Some things that Lance wished didn’t keep her quite so well occupied, but then that was life. In the dim and distant past, he hadn’t exactly been as white as the driven snow himself. Still, her little affairs had never done them any harm and he could see no reason why that should change. They were both pretty content with their lot.
Tyler and the new recruit Conway would make a formidable team. Simon was honest, upright and straight-down-the-line. He would make a good chairman. His calm, direct style of management would temper the worst of Tyler’s excesses and was the right choice to take Fossil Oil into the future. Tyler would like his promotion too. Another step up the corporate ladder. It was what he lived for. If they both played their cards right, the world was their oil well.
The telephone jangled next to him, shaking him from his pleasant reverie. Perhaps it was Melissa touching base. He massaged his shoulder, which still ached naggingly. He’d ask Veronica to get him some painkillers. That should see him right. With a contented smile to himself, he put the receiver to his ear. ‘Lance Harvey,’ he barked, ‘executive president.’
He liked the sound of that.
Chapter Fifty-five
We go to the pub across the road from Fossil Oil, part of a massive chain of identikit venues but none the worse for it. I guess because it’s Christmas Eve, the place is busy even at this early hour. It’s always popular with the staff of the varied corporate offices around this part of the city, Fossil included. I recognise some of the faces that are already in here now, even though they should be at their desks. Us included, I suppose. The pub does a cheap all-day breakfast which is a major part of the appeal and, around us, dozens of bleary-eyed and clearly hungover people are tucking in. I find the canteen in the offices much nicer, but Josh wanted to be off the premises for the discussion we’re about to have, and I had to agree with him. We definitely need some cooling-off space between us and Tyler Benson.
The hubbub of conversation is at such a level that Josh has to lean over when he asks me, ‘What do you want to drink?’