did it! It nearly makes up for my embarrassment over the little episode in reception. Why do I always have my most excruciating moments in front of Guy?
?No, not New York.?
Guy stops the taxi.
?You?re going to be very late for work.?
?Mmmm.?
?But thank you for trying to save me from a free trip to New York.?
Guy grins and takes a crisp ?10 note out of his wallet. ?This should cover your taxi back to the office. Tell Nigel we have been having a strategic planning meeting and that?s why you?re late.?
I get out of the cab and shut the door.
Guy winds down the window. ?One more thing.? I look up expectantly.
?Thanks. Really. And tell Nigel that I?d never have guessed it was him if he hadn?t labeled the documents ?Information Pertaining to the Strategic Combination of HG and Leary Publishing.? ?
My mouth opens but nothing comes out. Does he mean . . . did he know about the envelope? When we came in for the meeting, did he already know? But before I can ask Guy anything, the taxi has driven off.
I walk into the office triumphantly. As I step out of the lift I look around the first floor proudly and walk over to Nigel?s desk, grinning ear to ear and giving him a little wave. But Nigel doesn?t wave back. He doesn?t even smile. His desk is back to normal?all neat piles and color-coded Post-it notes. He walks over to my desk as soon as I?ve sat down.
?Nigel! Have you heard about Robin?? I whisper excitedly.
?Georgie, you?re late for work,? Nigel says simply. ?I will not tolerate tardiness in this department. I assume you will be working an extra half an hour after work today. Now, I think we both have work to be getting on with. The Pensions Bulletin questionnaire you submitted has a number of questions relating to investment managers, which I don?t think are at all relevant to the Bulletin, so would you kindly make sure the revised questionnaire is with me by the end of play today.?
So that?s it then. No celebrations, no more investigative work. It?s just boring old crappy research. But underneath Nigel?s stern expression I?m sure his eyes are twinkling.
In a way I?m relieved everything is back to normal here. I could do with something going right in my life. I turn on my computer and the phone rings.
?Georgie? Thank God! I?ve been trying you all morning. So, did you get it??
?Hi, Mike,? I say unenthusiastically. ?I, um, yes, I got it. I?ll bring it round later, shall I??
?You are a total gem. Yes, bring it round tonight. I?m here till seven. Maybe we can get a drink afterward? See you later, sexy.?
?Okay.?
I put down the phone. I don?t really feel like going out for a drink with Mike later. Maybe I could send him the disk instead. Yes, that?s a much better idea.
I dig out a piece of paper and start writing: ?Mike. Here is the disk. I hope it means we can end this whole stupid saga. G.?
I fold it in half and put it in an envelope along with the Zip disk. I carefully write Mike?s name and the address of his St. John?s Wood flat on it, and take it down to the post room.
If I pull this off, I muse as I walk back upstairs, I will have saved Leary, and saved David?s career. I think I might start a diary, so that my children can read it and be impressed. Or better still, a video diary. That way I might end up on TV.
I could get famous, and then I might become an executive coach or something, teaching people how to grab opportunities and be masters of their own destiny. I could have a slot on day-time television for people who?ve lost their jobs. (?Oh, Bill. We have all lived through the threat of redundancy. Why, when I was working at Leary, I came very close to losingmy job. But instead of accepting the inevitable, I fought the merger. I may have been just a researcher, but I wasn?t afraid of my Goliath . . .?) I?m just working out whether my pink dress from Gucci would work well on TV when Nigel interrupts my reverie.
?Georgie, that is a further ten minutes that I will be adding to the clock tonight. Will you please sit down and do some work? And no more personal calls today.?
Fine. If I can?t make calls, there?s always e-mail. I?ve got to tell Mike I?m not coming round tonight. Short and to the point.
GEORGIE BEAUCHAMP: Hi Mike. Afraid I can?t come round later after all?lots going on at work. Have put the disk in the post; you should get it tomorrow. Georgie.
I turn back to the Pensions questionnaire. I can?t believe I?ve still got this stupid thing to do. Is it really important in the big scale of things? I actually think we should have an amnesty from normal work and have a day off or something to celebrate the company not being torn apart by that nasty HG company.
Ping!Ooh, it?s an e-mail. Maybe it?s David? No, it?s Mike.
MIKE MARSHALL: You?re putting it in the post? Georgie, do you realize how important this is? Put in on a fucking bike, at least. In fact, sod that?I?ll come and pick it up myself. Where are your offices? M
Mike come and pick it up? I don?t think so?Nigel would go ballistic, and anyway, I don?t want to see him. Sending it on a bike is possible, but that would mean going back down to the post room and then convincing reception that sending a bike to Big Base Records is a genuine business necessity. And somehow I don?t think they?ll fall for it. Not to mention the fact that I am too embarrassed to talk to anyone in reception since they witnessed me hanging on to Guy?s arm earlier.
I hit Reply.
