Original Sin (15 page)

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'There are worse things than temping. What about some coffee, then? I could make it now - no point in waiting - and a couple of chocolate digestives.' 'All right then, but don't waste time gossiping with Mrs Demery. I've got some copy-typing for you when you've finished those letters. And, Mandy, what I said is confidential. I spoke rather more freely than I should have done and I want it kept within these walls.' Fat chance, thought Mandy. Didn't Miss Blackett realize that it was gossiped about all over the building? She said: 'I can keep my mouth shut. It's no skin off my nose is it? I'll be gone by the time you move from here.' She was hardly on her feet when the telephone on her desk rang and she heard George's worried voice, but speaking with such conspiratorial quietness that she could hardly hear. 'Mandy, do you know where Miss FitzGerald is? I can't get Blackie out of a partners' meeting and I've got Mrs Carling here. She's demanding to see Mr Gerard and I don't think I can hold her much longer.' 'It's OK, Miss Blackett's here.' Mandy handed over the instrument. 'It's George. Mrs Carling is in reception screaming to see Mr Gerard.' NVell she can't.' Blackie took the instrument, but before she could speak the door was flung open and Mrs Carling burst in, thrust Mandy aside and strode straight through to the front office. Immediately she was back confronting them. %Veil, where is he? Where's Gerard Etienne?' Blackie, attempting dignity, flipped open her desk diary. 'I don't think you have an appointment, Mrs Carling.' 'Of course I haven't a bloody appointment! After thirty years with the firm I don't need an appointment to see my publisher. I'm not a rep trying to sell him advertising space. Where is he?' 'He's in the partners' meeting, Mrs Carling.' 'I thought that was only on the first Thursday.' 'Mr Gerard moved it to today.' 'Then they'll have to interrupt it. They're in the boardroom I suppose.' She made for the door, but Blackie was quicker and, slipping past her, stood with her back against it. 'You can't go up, Mrs Carling. Partners' meetings are never

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tointerrupted'be held.' I have instructions that even urgent telephot% cal[]

'In that case I'll wait until they're through.'

Blackie, still standing, found her typing chair firmly ock-,pie

remained calm.

'I don't know when,that will be. They could send

sandwiches. And haven t you a signing in Cambridge �

hour? I'll let Mr Gerard know that you called and no dobtl'tis touch with you when he has a free moment.' ISle'Il The recent contretemps, the need to re-establish her st Mandy, made. her voice more authoritative than was tactfttt'us

SO the ferocity oee ;e/i. PcnttUrs r.i&heanm ,Mts Carling ;obsUet i) the chair atasp ' ' p' ' g soodsoth was almost touching Blackie's. She was three inches sho

seemed to Mandy that this difference made her more,'ter

terrifying. The muscles of the stretched neck stood out like ,hot

eyes blazed upwards and beneath the slightly hooked

litt-t-le hafe rloment!tyoUstupidlernouh.likearedash.svatOu itsvenom bitch! You

conceited little fool! Who do you think you re talking to? It s

which has paid your wages for the last twenty-odd years q'l y ta

you forget it It's time you realized just how unimportant y hd

this firm. Just because you worked for Mr Peverell, and he ari)

you and tolerated you and made you feel wanted, you think dulg

queen it over people who were part of Peverell Press when y?OU

still a snotty-nosed school kid. Old Henry spoiled you, of co

like a moonstruck cow. He was sick and tired of your devo , 'qhn wanted you out, but he hadn t the guts to sack you He nh

have any guts, poor sod. If he d had guts Gerard Etienne wotl

;nCvhear.gWn'oTt s.,him I want to see him' and it had better ht t

Blackie spoke through lips so white and stiff that it

ten,dy that they could hardly move. 'It isn't true. You're lying,'{idsntll

And now Mandy was frightened. She was used to office

over three years of temping she had witnessed some imp

squalls of temperament and like a stalwart little boat had lhksriv�

bbed

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happily among the strewn wreckage of tumultuous seas. Mandy rather enjoyed a good office row. There was no better antidote to boredom. But this was different. Here, she recognized, was genuine suffering, real adult pain, an adult malice welling out of a hatred which was terrifying. This was grief which could not be assuaged by fresh coffee and a couple of biscuits from the tin Mrs Demery reserved for the partners only. She thought for a terrifying second that Blackie was going to throw back her head and howl with anguish. She wanted to hold out a hand in comfort but instinctively knew that there was no comfort she could give and that the attempt would later be resented.

The door banged. Mrs Carling had swept out.

Blackie said again: 'It's a lie. It's all lies. She doesn't know anything about it.'

'Of course she doesn't,' said Mandy sturdily. 'Of course she's lying, anyone could see that. She's just a jealous bitch. I shouldn't take any notice of her.'

'I'm just going to the bathroom.'

It was apparent that Blackie was about to be sick. Again Mandy wondered whether she could go with her but decided against it. Blackie walked out as stiff as an automaton, almost colliding with Mrs Demery as she came in carrying a couple of parcels.

Mrs Demery said: ffhese came in the second post so I thought I'd bring them in. What's wrong with her?'

'She's upset. The partners didn't want her at the meeting and then Mrs Carling arrived demanding to see Mr Gerard and Blackie stopped her.'

Mrs Demery folded her arms and leaned against Blackie's desk. 'I expect she got the letter this morning telling her that they don't want her new novel.'

'How on earth do you know that, Mrs Demery?'

ffhere's not much happens around here I don't get to know about. There'll be trouble about this, mark my words.'

'If it's not good enough why doesn't she revise it or write another?' 'Because she doesn't think she can, that's why. That's what happens to authors when they get rejected. That's what they're terrified about all the time, losing their talent, writers' block. That's what makes them so tricky to deal with. Tricky, that's what writers are. You have to keep on telling them how wonderful they are or they

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go to pieces. I've seen it happen before more than once. Now old Mr Peverell knew how to deal with them. He had the fight touch with authors had Mr Peverell. With Mr Gerard it's difficult. He's different. He doesn't see why they can't get on with the job and stop whining.'

It was a view with which Mandy had considerable sympathy. She might tell Blackie - and indeed believe it - that Mr Gerard was a sod, but she found him difficult to dislike. She felt that, given the chance, she could cope with Mr Gerard. But further confidences were interrupted by the return of Blackie much sooner than Mandy had expected. Mrs Demery slipped away and Blackie, without a word, sat again at her keyboard.

For the next hour they worked in an oppressive silence broken only when Blackie issued orders. Mandy was sent to the copy room to make three copies of a recently arrived manuscript which, judging by the first three paragraphs, she thought was unlikely to appear in print, was handed a pile of extremely dull copy-typing and then told to weed out any papers more than two years old from the 'Keep a Little While' drawer. This useful compendium was used by the whole office as a depository for papers for which no one could find an appropriate place but which they were reluctant to throw away. There was little in it under twelve years old and weeding the 'Keep a Little While' drawer was a deeply unpopular chore. Mandy felt that she was being unjustly punished for Blackie's burst of confidence.

The partners' meeting ended earlier than usual and it was only half past eleven when Gerard Etienne, followed by his sister and Gabriel Dauntsey, came briskly through the office and into his own room. Claudia Etienne was pausing to speak to Blackie when the inner door was flung open and he reappeared. Mandy saw that he was contain-ing his temper with difficulty. He said to Blackie: 'Have you taken my private diary?'

'Of course not Mr Gerard. Isn't it in your right-hand desk drawer?' 'If it were I should hardly be asking for it.'

'I made it up to date on Monday afternoon and put it back in the drawer. I haven't seen it since.'

'It was there yesterday morning. If you haven't taken it you had better discover who has. I presume you accept that looking after my diaries is part of your responsibility. If you can't find the diary I should be glad to have the pencil returned. It's gold and I'm rather attached to it.' Blackie's face was scarlet. Claudia Etienne looked on

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with an amused sardonic lift of her eyebrow. Mandy, scenting battle, studied the outlines in the shorthand notebook as if they had suddenly become incomprehensible. Blackie's voice was hovering on the edge of hysteria. 'Are you accusing me of theft, Mr Gerard? I've worked in this office for twenty-seven years but -' Her voice broke off. He said impatiently, 'Don't be a little fool. No one's accusing you of anything.' His eye hit on the snake curled over the handle of the filing cabinet. 'And for God's sake get rid of that bloody snake. Chuck it in the river. It makes this office look like a kindergarten.' He went into his office and his sister followed. Without a word Blackie took the snake and shut it in her desk drawer. She said to Mandy, 'What are you staring at? If you haven't any typing to do I can soon find you some. In the mean time you can make me some coffee.' Mandy, armed with this new gossip for the delectation of Mrs Demery, was happy to oblige.

10o

14

Declan was to arrive for the river trip at half past six, and it was 6.25 when Claudia went in to her brother's office. They were the last two people in the building. Gerard invariably worked late on Thursdays, but it was the night when most of the staff planned to leave early and take advantage of Thursday late-night shopping. He was sitting at his desk in the pool of light from his lamp, but stood up as she entered. His manners to her were always formal, always impeccable. She used to wonder if this was one small ploy to discourage intimacy.

She seated herself opposite him and said without preamble: 'Look, I'll support you about selling Innocent House. I'll go along with all your other plans, come to that. With my support you can easily out-vote the others. But I need cash: 350,000 pounds penceI want you to buy half of

my shares, all of them if you like.'

'I can't afford to.'

You can when Innocent House is sold. Once the contracts are exchanged you can raise a million or so. With my shares you'll have a permanent overall majority. That will give you absolute power. It's worth paying for. I'll stay on in the firm but with fewer shares, or none.'

He said quietly: 'Ifs certainly worth thinking about, but not now. And I can't use the money from the sale. That belongs to the partnership. I'll need it anyway for the relocation and my other plans. But you could raise it. You could raise 350,000 pounds penceIf I can, so can you.'

'Not as easily. Not without a great deal of trouble and delay. And I

need it urgently. I need it by the end of the month.'

'What for? What are you going to do?'

'Invest in the antique business with Declan Cartwright. He's got the chance of buying the business from old Simon: 350,000 pounds for the four-storey freehold property and all stock. It's a very good price. The old man's devoted to him and would prefer him to have the business, but he can't wait to sell. He's old, he's sick and he's in a hurry.'

'Cartwright's a pretty boy, but at 350,000, pounds isn't he pricing himself rather high?'

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'm not a fool. The money isn't going to be handed over. It will still be my money invested in a joint business. Declan isn't a fool either. He knows what he's doing.'

'You're thinking of marrying him., are you?'

'I may do. Does it surprise you?'

'It does rather.' He added: 'I think you're fonder of him than he is of you. That's always dangerous.'

'Oh, it's more equal than you think. He feels as much for me as he's capable of feeling, and I feel as much for him as I'm capable of feeling. Our capadties for feeling are unequal, that's all. We both give the other what we have to give.'

'So you propose to buy him?'

'Isn't that how you and I have always got what we wanted, by buying it? And what about you and Lucinda? Are you so sure you're doing the right thing - for you I mean? I'm not worried about her. I'm not deceived by that air of virtuous fragility. She can take care of

herself all right. Anyway, her class always do.'

'I mean to marry her.'

'Well you needn't sound so belligerent over it. No one's trying to stop you. Incidentally, are you proposing to tell her the truth about yourself- about us? More to the point, are you going to tell her family?'

'I shall answer reasonable questions. So far they haven't asked any, reasonable or unreasonable. We aren't in the age, thank God, when fathers are asked for their consent and fiancs have to produce some evidence of moral fitness and financial probity. Anyway, there's only her brother. He seems to assume I have a house for her to live in and enough money to keep her in reasonable comfort.'

'But you haven't a house, have you? I can't see her living in the Barbican flat. Nothing like enough room.'

'I think she rather fancies Hampshire. Anyway, we can discuss that nearer the date of the wedding. I shall keep on the Barbican flat. It's handy for the office.'

'Well, I hope it works out. Frankly I give Declan and me the better chance of the two. We don't confuse sex with love. And you may not find this marriage easy to get out of. She'll probably develop religious scruples about divorce. Anyway divorce is vulgar, messy and expensive. OK, she couldn't prevent it after two years of separation

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but they'd be very uncomfortable years. You wouldn't enjoy public failure.'

'I'm not even married. It's a bit early to start deciding how I'm going to cope with failure. It won't fail.'