Executive Affair (8 page)

It took her a few seconds to absorb the enormity of his statement. When she finally did, her instinctive reaction was selfish dismay. He looked so pleased with himself, she made an effort to hide how upset she was. ‘Congratulations! What are you planning to do with your spare time?'

‘Fishing and golf,' he grinned.

‘So what's going to happen with your position?' she asked carefully.

‘David Di Gregario has put a few employment agencies on it already. I'm hoping to do a full handover to my successor but Robert has also spoken to Tony Falcinella in order to have a fall-back plan should the recruitment process take longer than expected. If that happens, Tony will cover what he can from Hong Kong until the right person is found.'

She hadn't met Tony Falcinella, but knew his name. He was the finance director for Asia. She was silent for a few moments, trying to decide if she should be open with him or not.

‘You look worried,' he said. ‘Tell me what you're thinking.'

She didn't need any further encouragement. ‘It's hard to
imagine what it will be like here without you, Harry. I've relied on you a lot and I guess I'm apprehensive about how I'll cope without your support.'

‘You have nothing to worry about. I've had positive feedback from all the senior managers about you. You have their respect. I'm very confident that you will be able to manage without me – in fact, you'll soon see how dispensable I am,' he said with a chuckle.

Claire made her way home in a preoccupied daze. Her job would be very different without Harry around to support her. The phone started to ring as she trudged wearily up the stairs. She ran the last few steps, cursing as she frantically tried to fit her key in the stiff lock. She picked up the phone, breathless, to an amused Paul.

‘Hi there. You're obviously just in the door!' His cheerful voice was inexplicably annoying.

‘Yeah, and I must say I've had a diabolical day.'

‘Is it something you want to talk about? Do you want me to come over? We could go out for a coffee or a drink.'

She generally preferred to be on her own when she was in a bad mood. It seemed too soon to see him after spending all day yesterday together.

‘Okay,' she agreed, when she had hesitated too long to be able to politely refuse.

‘I'm in the city. I shouldn't be long.'

She ran to her bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans and a white top. When the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, she applied a light touch of lipstick and opened the door, ready to go.

‘Hi,' she said casually.

He kissed her – a soft, unsettling kiss.

‘I know it's a corny thing to say but I've been thinking about you all day,' he said as he pulled away.

She found that she couldn't return the compliment.

She suggested Tables, a popular noisy café on the main strip. They secured one of the few more private cubicles that looked out on the street. They silently watched the passing pedestrians for a few minutes and, when their order was taken, she started to tell him about her day. He listened until she ran out of steam.

‘Why don't you apply for Harry's job?' he asked, sipping his coffee as he looked at her intently.

‘I don't have enough experience for a role like that … I bet you they'll give it to a man. In fact, fifty bucks says they will – they wouldn't know what to do with a female finance director,' she said wryly.

‘I'm not betting anything – I reckon you're right,' he said smiling. ‘How do Frank and Harry get along?'

‘It's hard to say. I don't think Harry lets Frank get away with much but I've never seen them have a disagreement.'

‘Would Harry have more authority than Frank?' Paul seemed to be extremely interested in her work life.

‘Yes, Frank needs to get Harry's sign-off on customer proposals over a certain materiality level.'

‘What level? Half a million?'

‘Enough about work, Paul. Let's talk about something else.'

They made small talk for another hour before she suggested they leave.

‘Do you want to go for a drink?' he asked.

‘Not really – I usually like to stay at home Monday nights,' she said, smiling to take the edge from her refusal. ‘It gives me a chance to recover from the weekend.'

‘Okay. Can I see you tomorrow night?'

‘I've got a lot of work on at the moment … how about we do something at the weekend instead?'

In his car outside her apartment, he kissed her again. It was even nicer than before; she was obviously getting used to it.

Den was there when she got inside. He and Fiona were sitting on the floor, accompanied by the usual cloud of smoke and bottles of beer.

‘Hey, Claire, come here and give me a hug.' He stretched his arm out and hugged her legs.

‘Hello, stranger. Glad to see you remembered where we live,' she said as she knelt down beside him.

‘I've seen what you've done to my room. That's a disgusting colour.'

‘What would you know about colour? You have your head stuck in black and white contracts all day, Mister Lawyer,' she teased him.

‘Don't call me that. You know I hate it,' he grimaced, turning his head to puff on his cigarette.

‘Tough luck. Much as you try to deny it, you
are
a lawyer. Worse still, you're a
good
lawyer. It's something you have to learn to live with, just like any other handicap.'

‘What time did Den leave?' Claire asked as she made herself some tea the next morning.

‘Not long after you went to bed. It was nice to see him … Don't worry, nothing happened between us.'

‘I'm not sure I should believe you! Are you seeing James again?'

‘Yes, tonight. I like him.' Fiona sat down with her overflowing bowl of cereal. ‘What does he do at Amtech again?'

‘He works in Accounts Payable.'

‘You know, James and Den are complete opposites,' Fiona said, looking thoughtful.

‘I noticed that.'

‘James is very driven – I think money motivates him – but his chosen career path isn't that well paid. Then you have Den. He gets paid a fortune but hates material possessions and doesn't have any respect for money.'

‘Yes, well, you'll have to see how it goes with James,' said Claire. ‘Just take things slowly …'

‘Yeah …' Fiona chewed a mouthful of cereal. She seemed oblivious to the fact it wasn't just Den who was the complete opposite to James; she was too. ‘Where did you go with Paul last night?'

‘Tables.'

‘Anything else you should be telling me?'

‘I kissed him.'

‘What was it like?'

‘The world didn't exactly turn on its axis, but I think there's potential.'

Fiona grinned approvingly. ‘That's good progress.'

Julia swung into Cherie and Wayne's driveway at a reckless speed. She was crying loudly. If she was honest with herself, her second marriage was heading the same way as her first. At least this time she had Cherie to lean on. Cherie – practical, solid and always at home on standby.

‘Julia!' Cherie's welcoming smile dissolved as she registered the emotional state of her late-night visitor. ‘Hey … what's happened?'

‘It's ten pm and Robert still isn't home. He hasn't even called.'

‘For heaven's sake, is that all? You gave me such a shock. Come in and sit down,' Cherie offered, trying to control her annoyance. Julia had really scared her. She should have known it would be something trivial.

She ushered Julia into the kitchen and closed the door so Wayne wouldn't hear the commotion.

‘Robert is obviously still at work. Wayne only came home
not that long ago,' she said as she put on the kettle. Wayne had been home at least an hour but she was trying to make Julia feel better.

Her efforts were wasted. Julia was determined not to be consoled. ‘He's having an affair! Where else would he be until this hour?'

‘Just because he's late home doesn't automatically mean he's having an affair.' Cherie sat down across from her.

‘He works late
every
night. It's probably his new secretary. The bitch doesn't even pass on my messages when I call!' Julia's face was contorted with unjustified hatred.

The kettle had boiled and Cherie got up to make some coffee.

‘I don't feel like coffee. Can I have a real drink?' Julia asked, taking her cigarettes from her bag. She lit one and inhaled aggressively.

‘It's very late, Julia … and you do have to drive home …' Cherie hesitated.

‘Relax … I'm having a hell of a time and I just need a drink.'

Cherie felt a wave of pity for her and got two beers from the fridge. She had wanted an early night and had been about to go to bed when the doorbell rang. But she made a conscious effort not to think of herself. She knew how much Julia needed her.

Their friendship had been founded on a surprising sense of girlishness. Julia would whisper confidences about her blossoming relationship with Robert and burst into refreshing fits of giggles; though they wore different sizes in clothes, Julia would frequently come across belts and earrings and nail varnishes that she claimed would suit Cherie better than they did her. She
made Cherie feel like she was back in high school and not a tired mother of two. The wedding marked a change, and the last six months had been particularly rough. But Cherie was loyal, a friend for life, and she believed she could help Julia through this bad patch.

‘I really think you're overreacting,' she said. ‘Wayne is very busy at the moment too. Amtech is doing well and everyone is struggling to keep up with the boom.'

‘Give me some credit – I know that something is wrong.' Julia started to cry again. ‘Robert had an affair with me, remember? While he was still married to Dianne … so what's stopping him from doing the same now with his secretary?'

‘It was different with Dianne – she and Robert were very unhappy.' Cherie had a slight pain in her head and she was very tired. ‘Why don't you go home and talk to him?'

‘I'll have another drink, then I'll go. Do you have any gin?' She pushed her empty glass towards Cherie.

‘There's some in the cupboard.'

‘Thanks. Just make it straight.'

Cherie was annoyed with herself for giving in. Julia drank too much and she hated contributing in any way to her getting drunk. It was hard to resist her. Even though Julia was generally a weak person, she could be very manipulative when it came to alcohol. There was an uncomfortable silence as Julia drank her gin and Cherie plucked up the courage to say what was on her mind.

‘Do you think it would help if you saw someone?' she said finally, concern creasing her forehead into worried lines. ‘I mean a counsellor or someone like that? You've been so unhappy and they might help you get things into perspective.'

‘A shrink! You're kidding, right?' Julia was looking at Cherie
as if she was insane. ‘If there's one thing that would finish off my marriage it's seeing a shrink. Robert despises people who can't control their emotions.'

Cherie stared back at her, seeing her face blotched from crying, and her eyes glazed from the gin. She decided to persevere. ‘What about AA? Have you ever considered going to one of their meetings?'

‘Oh, for God sakes! Surely you don't think I'm an alcoholic! Maybe you need to go to one of those meetings yourself and see what kind of people go.'

‘All sorts of people go to AA, Julia … doctors, priests …'

Julia looked at her suspiciously. ‘You seem to know a hell of a lot about AA all of a sudden.'

‘Yes, I've been reading up on them. I think I have a friend who has an alcohol problem.' She looked directly at Julia, challenging the denial she would make.

‘I can give up drinking whenever I want. I did it before for a few months … it was before you knew me … I admit I have some problems – but they're to do with my marriage, not alcohol.'

‘Okay, if you insist. But why not get some counselling to straighten yourself out?'

‘Come on, now. You know that's not necessary.'

‘You said you had problems …'

Julia didn't know how to handle Cherie's persistence; she hadn't been exposed to it previously.

‘I don't see how talking to a stranger will help me.'

‘It can be very powerful to talk honestly to someone you don't know.'

Julia hesitated only to find herself locked in Cherie's determined stare. It was impossible not to give in.

‘Okay, okay. Anything to get you off my back. I'll think about it. Okay?'

‘Okay.'

Saturday morning was crisp and sunny. Julia woke feeling more optimistic. Robert was already up.

Cherie is right, he's just busy at work. I should be more understanding, considering the pressure he's under. I'll be really nice to him today
…
we'll have a good weekend together. Everything will be fine.

She felt a wave of nausea as she pulled back the covers. She sat on the side of the bed until it passed. The nausea was happening too often.

I need to cut down, just have one or two drinks and stop at that. I'm always feeling sick these days … I need to get healthy … but Cherie was totally overreacting with AA
…
I can manage this myself.

She had a long shower, carefully washing away the stale smell of booze. She put on a pair of tight jeans and a white linen shirt. She tied her blonde hair back in a ponytail and leaned closer to the mirror to examine the ravages of the previous night.

I look so old – when did that happen? His secretary is only nineteen – how can I compete with her? Stop it! Stop it! Think positive. He's married to me. He must love me.

She took care with her make-up, using a concealer to disguise the shadows under her eyes and a hint of blusher to give her colour.

I've got to stop drinking … I look pale, ill
…
Maybe I will see a counsellor, but I'm not going to AA.

She found him in the courtyard, reading the morning paper. There was an air of tranquillity to the scene, his absorption in
what he was reading, the brightness of the sun, the peaceful green of the plants. It belied the turmoil of their marriage. She admired him from the doorway. He was a very sexy man, his Californian tan looking fresh against the blue of his shirt. His hair and eyes were the same chocolate brown, a neatly trimmed beard accentuating his masculinity. She felt a sudden rush of love for him.

She kissed him on the cheek and sat down.

‘Good morning, honey. Sorry I missed you last night,' she smiled, resting her hand affectionately on his arm.

‘Morning,' he said, without raising his eyes from the paper.

‘Isn't it a gorgeous day … maybe we should go for a drive?' she suggested, squinting up at the sun.

‘I can't. I need to go into the office,' he said, his refusal hurtfully abrupt.

‘Well, maybe I could meet you for lunch then?' she persisted.

He sighed and looked up from the paper. ‘I don't have the time today. I have a lot to get through.' He folded the paper and stood up. ‘I'll see you later.'

The front door slammed in his wake. Disappointment flooded her, then anger, and all her good intentions of being understanding and supportive disappeared under a cloud of renewed suspicion.

She waited until she heard the Mercedes reverse out of the drive and speed away. She followed him in the Audi, scratching the passenger door against the gatepost in her haste. She drove as if her life depended on it and within seconds she had his car in sight.

She stayed with him, running a few reds so she wouldn't get left behind. He drove his normal route to work and his car
disappeared down into the underground carpark. Julia waited across the street. The lights came on in Level 3 and she saw his silhouette moving towards his desk. There was no other woman, only his work. And it clearly took priority over his wife.

If only Robert didn't work for Amtech
…
He is so obsessed with his job, he doesn't have any time for a wife.

She saw him get up and open a filing cabinet. He took out a document and read it for a few moments before returning to his seat, his back to the window.

They would have to fire him, that's the only way he would leave. But Donald would never fire a vice-president. It would be bad publicity – he's too damned conservative for that. I guess if he really wanted to get rid of someone, he would pay them out. That would be good
…
I would get Robert to myself and we wouldn't suffer financially. I wonder how much Donald would pay to get rid of a vice-president.

She stayed outside thinking about it until the clenching in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't yet eaten breakfast.

Robert sat with his back to the splendid view. It was dark outside and the lights of the other buildings glowed, giving an illusion of warmth that belied the rather cold evening it was. He was deep in conversation with Tony Falcinella, the finance director for Asia.

‘We've interviewed twelve candidates and there's nobody even remotely suitable,' Tony said, his frustration clear from his tone. He had spent the last two months in Sydney while his wife and children were in Hong Kong. Even though travel was a prerequisite for his position in the company, he was a home bird and tried to avoid going overseas.

‘Have we advertised?' Robert asked.

‘Yes. Very prominent ads in the
Sydney Morning Herald
and
the
Financial Review
. We're also using two of the most prestigious employment agencies. They keep telling me it's hard to get good finance people in Sydney at the moment.'

Robert turned in his seat so he could look at the view. It was a rare moment that he stopped to enjoy the peculiar beauty of the concrete towers, speckled with lights.

‘How are the finance team coping without Harry?'

‘They're doing fine. Claire is very competent. But there are a few big deals on the horizon and Steve Ryan feels that she doesn't have quite enough experience. She's only in her mid-twenties.' Tony was fully informed, having made it his business to meet Claire as well as having discussed the situation in depth with Steve on a number of occasions. He had been in favour of offering the job to her when the other candidates had not come through but Steve was adamant that she needed more experience.

‘I know Claire – I organised her transfer from Dublin. I'm glad that she's doing well. When do you reckon she would be up to the job?'

‘Well, she's certainly technically capable. She just needs to develop a better understanding of the business … maybe a year or so?'

‘What if we transferred someone from San Jose on a year's assignment? Do you think that would work?' Robert spoke slowly as he usually did when his mind was running ahead with possible solutions.

‘That's a great idea!' Tony said enthusiastically, a speedy return to Hong Kong now looking possible. ‘Then Claire would be ready to take the job at the end of the year. Do you have someone in mind?'

‘Not straight off. But let me think about it.'

Robert sat still for a long time after the call ended, his feet
on the desk. It was nine-thirty at night and there was nobody left in the office. He knew that Tony was trying hard but, best case, the recruitment process would take at least another two months. Australia was the third largest international subsidiary in the world. It would be highly undesirable if the business had to operate without a finance director for a total of four months.

He wondered who he could send to Sydney. Scott would never move his family. Ritchie was involved in a major project for the next six months. Robert couldn't recall how many times he had been to Sydney. He did so much international travel that all the business trips blurred together in his memory. He had always liked Sydney, though. It was a beautiful city and whoever got to go would be a lucky bastard.

He left for home reluctantly, turning off the lights on his way out. Ten years ago the place would have been buzzing at this hour. The eighties, a decade of hard work and hard play. Not many new faces had joined the company since then and that youthful and enthusiastic culture had been lost. No more late nights at work or drinking beer in the bar across the street afterwards. He missed those days. His colleagues now worked ‘family hours' and he felt he didn't fit in any more. He wasn't a family man and never would be. He wished he could turn the clock back.

He put on a Queen CD as he drove through the quiet suburban streets. Queen, the best band of the eighties. It was exactly ten miles from the office to their house in South San Jose. The darkness concealed the flat arid landscape and the grid-like predictability of the streets. San Jose and Sydney were very different places.