The Terrible Privacy Of Maxwell Sim

‘Are you going back?’

‘I’m not sure,’ I said, truthfully. Then: ‘I don’t really want to. I feel like starting afresh, doing something totally different. Not really the right time to do that, though, is it? Not with the job market the way it is.’

‘You never know,’ said Lindsay, ‘something might fall into your lap.’

‘I don’t believe in miracles.’

‘Neither do I. But people get lucky breaks sometimes.’ She bit off the flesh from the other half of her lemon slice, and put the rind back in her glass. ‘Did Trevor not tell you I was coming along tonight?’

‘No. I suppose I should have guessed something was up when he said we were meeting here. Normally we go to the pub.’

I was glad that we hadn’t gone to the pub, I must say. This place was much nicer. We were in the lounge bar of the Park Inn Hotel, where the seats were soft and deep, the decor was calming, there were no crowds, and smooth, jazzy music oozed out of the speaker system at a volume almost outside the range of human hearing. It was characterless and impersonal here, but in a good way, if you see what I mean.

‘What makes you think that something’s up?’ said Lindsay.

‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong,’ I said, ‘but I just get the feeling that all this is leading up to something, and I don’t quite know what.’

‘What it’s leading to,’ said Lindsay, leaning forward slightly, and lowering her voice to a near-whisper, ‘is almost certainly up to you.’

Her gaze met mine for a brief, charged moment. I was still trying to think of a suitable reply when her mobile rang. She glanced at the screen.

‘My husband,’ she said. ‘Excuse me for a minute, will you?’

She stood up to take the call and wandered over to the other side of the room. I heard her say, ‘Hello, honey, how’s tricks?’, and then Trevor came over with the drinks.

‘One pint of Carlsberg for your good self,’ he said. ‘They serve it good and cold here, I must say. Cheers.’ We both took long draughts, and then he asked me about my Australian trip, and we talked about that for a while. ‘It’s done you good, I reckon,’ Trevor told me. ‘You’re looking much better than I thought you would.’

I was grateful to him for saying this, but before I’d had the chance to thank him he had changed the subject.

‘What do you think of Lindsay, then?’ he asked.

‘She seems very nice.’

‘She’s more than that. She’s fantastic. The best in the business.’

I nodded, but after a moment or two felt compelled to ask: ‘The best what in the business, exactly?’

‘Didn’t I tell you? Lindsay’s our PR Officer. She reports to me, as Head of Marketing and Strategy, and runs all our campaigns. And her latest –’ Trevor actually put down his glass of lager now, and looked to the left and right, as if there might be industrial spies from a rival company seated at the adjacent tables ‘– her latest is an absolute beauty. A copper-bottomed, one hundred per cent corker. It’s going to send us … up there.’ He raised his hand towards the ceiling, apparently meaning to signify an ascent into the stratosphere.

‘Sorry about that, chaps,’ Lindsay now said, returning to our table. ‘Spot of bother with the other half. Pissed off that I’m not there to cook his dinner for him, even though I already told him I was coming here tonight. Haven’t managed to drag him beyond the caveman stage yet, unfortunately.’

‘I was just telling Max,’ Trevor said, ‘that you have come up with an absolute peach of a campaign for the IP 009.’

‘The IP 009?’ I queried.

Trevor picked up the toothbrush from the table. ‘This gorgeous specimen here,’ he cooed, regarding it lovingly. ‘Number nine in our Interproximal range, and the undisputed jewel in the crown of the Guest catalogue.’

The design of the handle and the texture of the wood reminded me of the first brush Trevor had shown me, although this was clearly a superior version. ‘Is it made by the same people?’ I asked.

‘Actually, no,’ he said. ‘This is an import from Switzerland. Unfortunately this is beyond the range of any British manufacturer at the moment. They could probably manage the handle, but this –’ he indicated the detachable head ‘– is where the real genius lies. You can put on three different brushes: one for ordinary cleaning, one for routine interdental work, and this one, which we are claiming is the longest and most far-reaching interproximal brush currently available in the UK. Fifteen millimetres of flexible but hard-wearing nylon- polyester blend, engineered by Swiss craftsmen with incredible skill so that it can rotate on three different fulcrums to any angle you care to mention. This brush will reach anywhere in your mouth – absolutely anywhere – without you having to contort and gurn in front of the mirror. It will even get plaque out from the gingival crevice between the second and third upper molars, which as anyone involved in dentistry will tell you is the Holy Grail of oral hygiene. We are hugely proud of this product, and this is why we’re going to launch it next month, with a massive fanfare, at the British Dental Trade Association Showcase at the NEC. For which purpose, Lindsay here has come up with a wonderful new slogan, which sums up not only this product, but the whole ethos of Guest Toothbrushes, in a phrase which is simple, elegant and to the point. Lindsay?’ He glanced across at her expectantly, and jerked his head. ‘Go on. Tell him.’

Lindsay smiled modestly. ‘It’s nothing special, really. Only Trevor seems to be quite taken with it. OK, here goes.’ She closed her eyes, and took a breath. ‘WE REACH FURTHEST.’

There was a short silence, while this phrase was allowed to hang in the air. We all sat there for a while, savouring it, as if it were a fine wine which released its secrets on to our palettes only gradually.

‘That’s … good,’ I said at last. ‘I like that. That has a certain … Well, I don’t quite know what.’

‘Je ne sais quoi?’ suggested Trevor.