From The Moment I Saw Him .... (15 page)

I took the hint.

“Yes, that would be nice.  Anyway, it’s time I
headed home.  Thank you very much for the champagne.”

 I rose, he helped me on with my coat, and I was
reminded of Nick, whose manners were always excellent.  He walked to the
entrance of the hotel with me.

“Shall we call you a cab?” he enquired.

“No - I’m going to walk for a bit.  Thanks anyway.”

I didn’t like to say that the cab fare to Wapping
was more than I could afford.

“Well, goodbye then, Eithne.  See you tomorrow.”

He stood there, smiling, as I walked away.   I felt
that, smooth operator or not, he would be a definite plus as far as agency life
was concerned.

Robin called me into his office the next day, to
plan a forthcoming client meeting.  As I was leaving, he said to me

“The grapevine’s been humming since yesterday.  I
hear you went for a drink with our esteemed Mr Inglis.”

I leaned against the doorpost, feeling irritated.

“Honestly, haven’t people got anything better to
do?  I go for drinks with lots of people.”

“Yes, but he’s known to be particularly
discriminating.”

He hesitated, as if calculating what to say next.

“I think you’re well able to take care of yourself,
Eithne, but please don’t fall for his personal brand of charm.  He does have a
reputation.  Actually, I’ve always thought he was a bit of a shit.”

“It’s Nick all over again,” I exclaimed with a
smile.

“Nick?”

“My old boyfriend - people were always warning me
off him to begin with.  Don’t worry, I’ve had lots of practice since then.”

I was beginning to make friends among the other
staff now I was settling in.  One person I liked very much was a young art
director called Mia Brown.  She reminded me of Sofia Kinski to look at, with
tumbling black hair and an extravagant dress sense, but there the similarity
ended.  She was warm and friendly, we shared the same, slightly jaded outlook
on things, and would often meet for lunch to discuss what was happening in our
own lives, as well in as the agency.

Mia had heard about my Savoy trip, and hastened to
fill me in with some relevant background.

“Do be careful there, Eithne,” she advised.  “People
like Ian Inglis should only be let out with a health warning - can cause
cardiac problems.”

“Tell me more,” I invited.   We were sharing a pizza
at a small cafe round the corner.

“Well....” she frowned.  “From what I can gather,
he’s very attentive to start with, and gives his victim a great time, but then
he quickly gets bored and walks away.  Several girls in the agency have left
because of him since I’ve been here.  I just thought you should know.”

I speared a tomato on my fork.

“My old boyfriend Nick was like that at first,” I
said.  “After I’d slept with him, when we were at school, he was far less
inclined to bother about my feelings and what I wanted.  But later on, when we
were at Oxford, he did change.”

I thought with a pang of those happy days back at St
Hugh’s.  We chewed in silence for a bit.

“Anyway, thanks for the advice.  I’m not sure I’ll
need it, I didn’t get the impression he was desperate to see me again.”

“That’s all part of his strategy.”

Perhaps it was.  I saw Ian in the corridor once or
twice, and he greeted me with his polite smile, but no dinner invitation was
forthcoming, and I began to think that people were wrong about him.  I wasn’t
sure if I was glad or sorry - I didn’t want to end up as an Ian Inglis
conquest, but I had enjoyed my glimpse of the good life.

A week later, Ian’s secretary, Mara, rang to ask me
to go to a meeting in his office that afternoon.  When I got there, Richard
May, the head of Planning, was also sitting at the coffee table.

“Come in, Eithne,” said Ian, with his courteous
smile.  “We want to brief you about a potential new client.  Have you heard of
John Warrender and Company?”

“I’m afraid not.”

I sat down, feeling embarrassed at my lack of
knowledge.

“Don’t worry, that’s one of the reasons that they’re
talking to us.”

Richard explained that the company manufactured a
range of upmarket condiments of good quality.  The company had the potential to
grow substantially with a better marketing and advertising strategy in place,
and Mackerras Mackay was one of three agencies being asked to pitch for their
business in the coming month.

“I’m going down to see them tomorrow afternoon. 
They’re based just outside Guildford,” Ian said.  “I’d like you to come with
me, to take some notes and put a few intelligent questions, generally make a
good impression.  Tell Robin you’ll be out of the Agency for the afternoon.”

“All right.”

They talked strategy briefly - I couldn’t contribute
a lot to that - and then the meeting came to an end.

“Eithne - Richard has his gnomes doing some
background research.  Make sure you read it before tomorrow,” Ian said.

I took the information home with me, and studied it
carefully before I went to bed.

The next morning, I dressed smartly in a new wine
coloured suit with a long tailored jacket.  Worn with a white silk blouse, I
thought it looked business-like and chic at the same time.  Ian surveyed me
carefully when we met in Reception at the appointed time.

“You’ll do,” he said, smiling. 

I nearly felt affronted, but pushed the thought
away.

We drove down to the company in Ian’s car, a long,
sleek BMW which smelled of leather and expensive aftershave.  I couldn’t help
but contrast it with Nick’s little black Mini, which had always reeked of
cigarette smoke and pot.  I was glad that Ian did not smoke, I had never much
enjoyed the smell, and it was indelibly associated with Nick for me anyway.

Ian did not appear to want to make much conversation
on the way down.  I looked on with interest as the suburbs gave way to more
countrified surroundings, and was almost sorry when we arrived at the company
headquarters - green fields were a nice change after weeks in town.

We were due to meet with John Warrender himself.  He
was a sharp little man, in his late fifties, rather quaintly attired with a
buttonhole in his tweedy lapel, but his eyes looked as though they did not miss
a trick.

Coffee was served in his office.  Ian dealt very
competently with his questions.  I even managed to add some comments of my own,
and John Warrender was delighted when I asked for more information about the
history of the company.  It had been started by his grandfather just after the
First World War, and had grown very slowly ever since. Now it needed some
professional assistance to help it become a bigger player in the market.

He insisted that we take some jars of a new product
in development to try, and unscrewed one for me to smell and taste.

“Damsons,” I said at once.  My mother had been a
great maker of damson pickle and jam when I was younger, and I recognised the
distinctive flavour.

“Well done. You’ve got a good palate,” he exclaimed,
pleased.

The meeting did not finish until nearly five, when
we left, laden with information and jars and - I thought - a certain amount of
goodwill.

We drove in silence for a minute or two, while Ian
negotiated a difficult piece of road. Then he turned and smiled at me.

“Great,” he said.  “It’s nice to know you’ve got a
brain as well as looks.  You had him eating out of your hand.”

I found the first part of this remark extremely
insulting.

“I don’t think you’d say that to a male colleague,”
I retorted stiffly.  “And do you think I’d be working for Mackerras Mackay if I
didn’t have a modicum of intelligence?”

Ian shot a swift, shrewd glance at me.

“You’re right.  I apologise,” he said at once.  “It
wasn’t meant to be patronising or sexist, but it’s good to see people realising
their potential.”

There was another short silence, while I smoothed my
ruffled feathers.  Then Ian said,

“Are you in a hurry to get back?  Only I know a nice
little pub on the way home.  Perhaps we could have dinner there - and you’ll forgive
my lack of tact?”

It seemed churlish to refuse.  Besides, I was
hungry.

The nice little pub turned out to be more of a
hotel, and the manager greeted Ian with enthusiasm.  I gathered that he was
well known there, especially when we were given a very good table in the
window.  We were early, and the restaurant was quiet.

“Shall I order for both of us?” Ian asked, as the menus
were placed before us.

“No thank you.  I’d prefer to choose my own food,” I
said with a polite smile - his earlier remark still rankled.

He started to say something, but then thought better
of it.  I was quite enjoying playing him at this game.  He did, however, order
an excellent bottle of wine.

“This is mainly for your benefit; I’m driving,” he
added, as the waiter filled our glasses.

A bright fire blazed across the room from us, and a
hum of conversation and laughter wafted in from the bar.  It was a relaxing
scene, and I was happy to sit quietly for a time after the exertions of the
afternoon.  Ian’s gaze lingered on me across the table.

“I can’t quite make you out, Eithne,” he said, after
a while.  “You seem very together on the surface, and yet underneath, I can
sense all sorts of hidden depths and contradictions in you.  I wonder why that
is?”

“I don’t know.  Isn’t that true of everybody to some
extent?”

I took a gulp of wine.

“I’ve had some very happy times, and some very sad
ones too.  I suppose I’m much more on the defensive against life than I ever
used to be, and I certainly don’t intend to let my heart rule my head in the
future.  Perhaps that’s what you mean.”

“One rotten apple shouldn’t spoil the whole barrel,”
he murmured.

“Well, if we’re going to converse in clichés,
perhaps I should say that I’ll most definitely be looking before I leap.”

We both laughed, and the atmosphere lightened.  Then
the first course arrived, and we talked about the afternoon’s meeting.  Ian
seemed to think we were in with a good chance.

“It’ll probably come down to the creative work, but
Charlie usually pulls it off,” he said.  “We could do with another food
account, so here’s hoping.”

We chatted impersonally about agency matters as we
ate our way through an excellent dinner.  Neither of us could manage a pudding,
but over coffee, he surprised me by saying

“And what was the real reason you left Marsham and
Hunter?”

I hesitated for a moment.  Why did he ask that?

“I told you before - I wanted to experience life in
a different type of agency.  Lots of people move on after a couple of years.”

“And?  I don’t think that’s the whole story, is it?”

“There was one other thing.”

I decided I might as well tell him - it might have
been the wine loosening my tongue.

“I was at a Sales Conference with my boss and he
tried to force his way into my hotel room.  He was drunk, but I don’t know what
would have happened if I hadn’t managed to shove him out.  It was a really
horrible experience,” I said, shuddering.  “He apologised afterwards, but I
couldn’t forget it, more to the point, I really detested him for trying it on. 
He was married, with kids too...”

Ian listened in silence.  He said gently

“Did you tell anyone else at the agency?  His boss,
for example?”

“No.  I didn’t think they’d give a damn.  You know
what agencies are like, half the staff are shagging the other half anyway. 
They’d probably have told me not to be a silly little girl.”

He frowned, his eyes were thoughtful.

“Yes, but the office stuff usually implies consent
between both parties.  You shouldn’t have to put up with anything unwanted.” 
As he finished his coffee, he added “I’m glad you’re out of there.  You’ll find
things are different in future.”

He called to the waiter for the bill.

“Time to get you home, it’s been a long day.”

Neither of us spoke much in the car, but it was not
an awkward silence, more a comfortable one, as if we were older acquaintances
than we really were.  Ian insisted on driving me back to Wapping, and came
round to open the door for me when we arrived.

“Goodnight, Eithne.” 

He surveyed me solemnly for a moment, and then
pulled me towards him.  I hadn’t been expecting him to kiss me, but his lips
were soft and gentle, there was nothing forceful or threatening, and it didn’t
seem out of place.  He patted me on the back, and went back round to his side
of the car.

“And just for the record - I’m not married, with
kids,” he said with a smile.  “Enjoy your weekend.”