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  Although he thought nothing would stop him going to Thailand, fate intervened the following week.

  Ted, his former schoolmate, arrived from London to represent Kat. “She’s going to have to surrender her passport until her case is heard,” Ted advised him over a pint.

  Ross grimaced. “No holiday, then.” He sent a brief email requesting a refund on his air tickets. While Ted’s news was a blow, he was enjoying Kat’s company in the slightly less exotic surroundings of Birmingham.

  Minutes later, David Saxton phoned. “Do you think you could come back to work?” he asked. “Cari’s been suspended. Of course, the rest of the actuarial team are covering, but I really need someone of your calibre around.”

  The call, while unexpected, was music to his ears. His presence must be vital to Veritable or Saxton wouldn’t have phoned himself. Ross must make sure that Carolina Tait and Joanne Tonks found out, just to let them know where they stood in the pecking order. “Certainly, Davey,” he said, with barely a thought for Snow Mountain. Anyhow, he didn’t think Kat could do much to recover her family’s vodka brand before her passport was returned. “You don’t say no to David Saxton,” he told Ted.

  Chapter 45 Charles

  Charles was at work, in the satisfying position of having delegated instructions to others to deal with the bank’s latest IT crisis, when Davey Saxton rang.

  “Let’s have a drink after work,” Davey said.

  Charles knew better than to expect a blokey chinwag, but he wondered at Davey’s agenda. It was a bit late to ask about Charles’ intentions towards his sister.

  Davey must have really wanted to meet him, because he agreed to see Charles at Canary Wharf. He insisted on a bar with good beer, which suited Charles fine.

  “How’s life at the bank?” Davey asked, when he’d bought their pints.

  “Okay,” Charles said.

  “Are you getting a bonus for the investigation you did on us?”

  “All in a day’s work,” Charles said. In truth, he suspected the incident had done more harm than good. Alex was even less inclined to trust him. “Look, Davey, I could do with a cigarette.”

  “We’ll sit outside,” Davey said.

  Charles picked up his pint, even more puzzled. The tables outside were packed, but just starting to empty as drops of rain fell. They found a spot under a large umbrella. Charles lit a cigarette. “I suppose this is about Deirdre?” he asked.

  Davey seemed surprised. “My sister’s private life is none of my business.”

  Charles drew on his cigarette. The nicotine began to calm him. He decided to be straight with Davey. The man would find out soon anyway. “I assume you’re aware,” he said, “I’m moving out of Deirdre’s place. I’m not saying we won’t see each other, but I feel I got too serious too soon. I’m looking for a flat in Surrey Quays.” It was time to step off the merry-go-round of parties, drinks, frequent holidays and wild sex, at least for a while. He needed time to breathe.

  Davey caught his eye. “Are you sure about that?”

  Charles prepared himself for an impassioned speech urging him to stay with Deirdre, but Davey merely said, “Be careful. In my experience, my sister usually gets what she wants.” He looked around, obviously checking if anyone could overhear what he said to Charles, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “I suppose you’ve heard that Alana Green will be CEO of the merged company?”

  “No,” Charles said, truthfully. He hadn’t heard, although it was the outcome Alex had predicted. Charles had been rather sceptical, given that Alana had been promoted to lead Bishopstoke less than a year before.

  “There aren’t too many female CEOs in the FTSE100 and she’s young, black and American – she ticks a lot of boxes. The fund managers love her. Our generation is seen as pale, male and stale, I’m afraid.”

  Charles nodded. He was too aware of the contempt that Alex displayed for forty-somethings, seemingly ignorant that another decade would see him hit the big four-oh himself.

  “However,” Davey said, “There’s life in this old dog yet. I’ve secured funding to set up a new insurance venture. It’s very niche, dealing with certain risks for high net worth individuals. Kidnapping, business interruption, life insurance; that sort of thing. I’m taking young Ross with me. He’s smart. What I want to know is, can I count you in as my IT Director? I can pay you twice what the bank does and you’ll have an equity share as well.”

  “So you’re offering me a job?”

  “If you’ll take it,” Davey said. “You might want to think again about living in Surrey Quays. It’s convenient enough for Canary Wharf, but I’ll be taking office space in the City, in the Heron Tower.” He laughed. “Poor Deirdre. She waited twenty five years for you. The cool guy of the school. Captain of the football team. What I can’t understand is why you went into IT?”

  “I was good at it,” Charles said. “And I wasn’t going anywhere with the soccer. I sat on the waiting list for a trial with Charlton for a few years. I needed to be earning some money, especially marrying young, as I did.”

  “Charlton’s loss is my gain, then,” Davey said. “So you’ll accept?”

  Charles gathered he had some bargaining power. “The bank gives me a cheap mortgage,” he said. “It’s a stable career too. I could sit it out until retirement.” As he said it, he realised he couldn’t bear the thought. Working for Alex was already driving him to distraction. How much worse to do the same job year in, year out, as successive waves of young idiots like Alex were recruited to manage him.

  In the end, they agreed that Charles would triple his salary. “Welcome on board,” Davey said, clapping Charles’ shoulder. “Another beer?”

  Alex texted while Davey was at the bar. He wanted another early meeting next morning. Charles took great pleasure in replying that it was not convenient, and he would see Alex at nine as usual.

  Inevitably, Alex was scowling and fidgeting when Charles strolled to his desk at one minute to nine, his nicotine levels boosted and a smile on his face. “I’m late for my next appointment,” he complained.

  “Hadn’t you better go, then?” Charles said. “We can catch up later.”

  “No, I’ve been thinking outside the box,” Alex said. “Alana’s kicked David Saxton into touch and he’s setting up a new company. The bank’s raising funds for him.”

  “Aren’t we working for Bishopstoke?” Charles asked.

  “Nothing to stop us doing Saxton’s corporate finance work as well,” Alex smirked. “Double the money, double the fun. Saxton’s going to need help with IT, and he likes you, doesn’t he? We could second you for a fair fee.”

  “What might that fee be?” Charles asked.

  Alex named a sum ten times his salary.

  “I see,” Charles said. “Well, you’d better ask him.” He resolved to email Davey at once for a formal job offer. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Alex’s face when he resigned.

  Chapter 46 Amy

  To Amy’s surprise, she discovered on her return to work that she’d hardly been missed. The merger with Bishopstoke was the talk of the office. No one spoke of anything else, as they speculated on what it meant for them: would they have an extra three days’ annual leave like Bishopstoke staff, where would the merged company’s offices be, and would the Veritable marketing team have jobs at all? All new products were on hold, and consequently so were the marketing campaigns. Parveen, with very little work to do, concentrated on honing her CV and encouraging her team to do the same. She took Amy to one side.

  “I hope you’ll come with me once I’ve secured a marketing position elsewhere in the City,” Parveen said, her brown eyes earnest.

  “Does that mean you rate my work?” Amy asked.

  “Of course,” Parveen replied. “I will admit my behaviour hasn’t been perfect. You were foisted on me by David Saxton, and I resented that. But you’ve proved you can hold your own in a busy team.”

  “Thank you,” Amy said, flattered. She considered whethe
r to admit she didn’t want to work for Parveen again, and decided honesty was the best policy. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m looking for a job outside financial services.” She’d posted her CV on job boards, but Marty’s offer was all she’d had so far. “Will you give me a reference?”

  “An excellent one,” Parveen assured her.

  Within days, Parveen began to leave her desk for several hours at a time. Her absences were never explained. It was an open secret that she was having job interviews. She had just returned from one, and settled to filing her nails, when Amy said she was having lunch with her father and it might take some time.

  They met at Rustica, taking a table outside so Charles could smoke. “Bottle of house white?” Charles ventured.

  “Absolutely,” Amy replied. She scanned the menu, looking for cheaper options. While Deirdre might have deep pockets, Charles had made it clear enough that he didn’t.

  “I’ve got news,” Charles said, when the food was ordered and wine had been poured for them. “I’m moving to pastures new – in every sense.”

  “Splitting up with Deirdre?” Amy asked eagerly.

  “That’s part of it,” Charles admitted. “I’m buying a flat so I can have my own space. In fact, it has two double bedrooms. You could live there too, if you like. I mean, it’s got to be better than the broom cupboard you’re renting right now.”

  As Amy was wondering what to say about Ross and her uneasy presence in his flat, Charles dashed any lingering hopes he’d return to Rachel. He added, “I love Deirdre and we’re still a couple, but I shouldn’t have moved in. If I don’t put some distance between us, she’ll be talking about marriage and babies. She’s still young enough.”

  “Really?” Amy’s jaw dropped.

  “Oh yes,” Charles said. “Dee’s in her early forties, so it’s possible. But I’ve been there, done that, already. I’m not the marrying kind.” He drew on his cigarette.

  Amy had a disturbing vision of Charles behind the wheel of his babe magnet Porsche, prowling the streets of London for women. She shuddered. If anything, she would prefer him to settle for married bliss and a new family with Deirdre. “Any more news?”

  “I’m keeping the car if that’s what you mean,” he said, confirming her fears. “Actually, I’m changing jobs as well. Davey Saxton is establishing a new company and he’s asked me to work for him. On extremely attractive terms, actually. It’s all official now. I resigned from the bank this morning.”

  He must have seen he’d surprised her from the look on her face, for he added hastily, “That’s confidential, of course. Only a few people know Davey Saxton’s leaving Veritable after the merger. I just thought you might be one of them.”

  “Me?” Why should she be privy to sensitive information like that? “No, I had no idea. But Parveen’s trying to swing redundancy packages for us.”

  “You wouldn’t be entitled to one after just a year with Veritable, surely?” Charles said. “Also, you gave me the impression Parveen had horns and a tail.”

  Amy had reconsidered her opinion of Parveen somewhat. “She’s okay, actually. Veritable put her under too much pressure before, that’s all. She didn’t have a big enough team or budget to meet their demands. And yes, she explained I wouldn’t get statutory redundancy pay, but she’d do her best to squeeze an ex gratia sum out of HR. Apparently the City analysts ignore reorganisation costs when they look at our accounts, so Veritable can afford to be generous.”

  “They’re certainly being generous to Davey.”

  “Anything they give me is a drop in the ocean then. A teaspoon of plonk compared with a crate of champagne. Anyway, why did you think I’d know?”

  “I thought Ross might have told you.”

  She understood at last. “Is Ross going to work with you?”

  “Yes, he is,” Charles said. “He’s a very clever young man. Davey holds him in the highest regard. I’m sure I will too.”

  Charles’ opinion would change should he discover Ross merely considered her a friend with benefits. Of course, Charles still believed Ross was her boyfriend. He would hardly be persuaded otherwise once he knew she was living in Ross’ flat. It was time to explain. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” she asked.

  “Oh, the good news, I should think.” Charles looked expectant.

  “I’ve moved into Ross’ flat.”

  Charles was clearly delighted. “Congratulations. I take it you’ll invite me round for supper soon?”

  “Maybe.” That would be an interesting evening. Ross could hardly turn away his new colleague. “However,” Amy said, sorry to bring Charles back to earth, “Ross isn’t my boyfriend. In fact, he’s going out with Kat, and she lives there too.”

  Charles looked stunned. “Kat? I thought her boyfriend was a gangster.”

  “It turned out Jeb wasn’t her boyfriend, but he was a gangster. In fact, he tried to kill her.”

  “What’s been going on?”

  Amy took a deep breath. “It’s a long story.”

  She was, thankfully, interrupted by the arrival of their food; several small plates of titbits and a half-baguette sliced and arranged on a square of slate.

  “That doesn’t look like enough,” Charles observed. “Shall I order the same again?”

  Amy giggled. “Yes, as you’re getting a massive pay rise. Wasn’t David Saxton annoyed when you dumped Deirdre?”

  “I haven’t dumped her, as you charmingly put it. In fact, Davey seems to think I’ll move back in. Maybe I will. Anyway, you’re not changing the subject that easily, young lady. Spill the beans.”

  “Kat disappeared,” she began, “and Ross and I went to Birmingham to look for her.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it turns out that I’m the marrying kind,” she said drily. “Kat stole my identity to wed an illegal immigrant for money.” She told him nearly everything. It would have been too hurtful to describe her dalliance with Ross.

  Even so, Charles was appalled. “You’ve packed as much into a week as I have in a lifetime,” he said. “You shouldn’t live with Ross and Kat after the way they’ve behaved towards you. It’s a strange ménage à trois, and not in a good way.”

  Amy shrugged. “Kat’s my friend. Ross has a beautiful flat, and his spare room is enormous.” It was almost as swish as the Malmaison. Unlike the tiny converted cupboards in the basement, Ross’ penthouse was spacious. He favoured cream throughout his flat, the only splodges of colour coming from canvases by up and coming artists already selling for three times what he’d paid. Amy had a double bed, a walk-in wardrobe and a balcony. In practice, she had sole use of the bathroom too, as the master bedroom boasted an ensuite. Ross hadn’t mentioned charging rent, and she wasn’t planning to suggest it.

  “Move into my spare room,” Charles said. “It’s close to the City, in Shoreditch. I’ll ask my lawyers to hurry up with the purchase.”

  “No thanks,” Amy said. Charles had said he wanted his own space. The last thing he needed was Amy playing gooseberry as he decided whether to return to Rachel, Deirdre, or anyone else. Of course it was preferable to Ross’ luxurious flat, watching Ross and Kat canoodle, then dealing with the aftermath of the inevitable split. It was only a matter of time before Kat grasped how obnoxious Ross was.

  “Actually,” she said, “I could move to Birmingham.”

  Charles was puzzled. “Why would you do that? It’s an even longer commute than Brockenhurst.”

  “Marty and Erik have offered me a job, as the marketing manager for their anti-cancer drug. It’s good money, and interesting, but it’s in the Midlands.” She sighed. “I have until tomorrow to make up my mind. Marty phoned me today. I kept putting off the decision, and he’s losing patience. He needs someone at once.”

  “Amy, you can’t trust Kat as far as you can throw her. How can you even think about working for her brother?” Charles looked worried.

  “Erik’s not like Kat at all,” Amy said. “He was prepared to die for her
– and for me and Ross.” Only luck, in the shape of a passing librarian, had saved Erik’s life; indirectly, possibly Amy’s too. Would the police have turned up in the tunnels otherwise? She would never know.

  “It’s a new venture,” Charles pointed out reasonably. “How will you market a cure that isn’t licensed yet? And they may call you a manager, but I doubt you’ll have a soul working for you.”

  “It will be a marketing department of one,” Amy admitted. “Initially, I’ll be generating interest in the drug before it’s released. It’s sure to be a blockbuster. Don’t you see? This could really build my career.”

  “Let me ask Davey if he can find you a role with us.”

  “I really don’t want to work with Ross again,” Amy said. “Don’t forget, you just told me to move out of his penthouse.”

  Charles laughed. “You’re right; I’m being dense. Where would you live if you moved to Birmingham? I don’t know the city at all.”

  “I hardly know it myself,” Amy admitted. “Erik lives in the Jewellery Quarter, and that’s lovely, rather like Hatton Garden in London. Marty said I could take one of Erik’s rooms rent-free, but I declined.”

  “Quite right,” Charles agreed. “You’d both bring your work home then. There’d be no balance in your life any more.”

  She nodded, unwilling to remind him yet again about the unsocial hours she’d already worked at Veritable. In truth, she’d baulked because she didn’t know if Marty was right about Erik. She suspected, in fact, that she liked Erik rather too much. After her foolish fling with Ross, Amy had resolved to let her next relationship develop slowly. “Marty’s got another old workshop I can have, anyway. He assured me there were no cellars or secret tunnels.” It was hardly stylish, he’d said, but he’d send one of his brood round to apply a lick of paint.