Tell Me (3 page)

“Standards! Just turning up for work and doing a decent job would have done the trick.”

His PA shrugged. “There’s nothing in here to suggest Mr Malone wasn’t good at his job. He just wasn’t here enough to show us that.”

Tony tunnelled his fingers through his hair, unable to contain his exasperation. “Christ, I know you’re right about the process stuff. We all know how these things work. That’s why it’s so bloody annoying. Twenty five grand, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah. We got the tribunal on a bad day. Might be worth appealing the level of the award, if not the decision…”

“Get our lawyers on it. Meanwhile, I intend to make sure this crap doesn't happen again. You can start by sending the head of HR in to see me. What did you say his name was?”

“Eric Henderson. Been here for five years. Solid enough chap but not really an HR specialist. He’s an IT man, but he got human resources tagged on to his department in a cost-saving exercise last year.”

“Right. Good result. Twenty five thousand pounds worth of cost saving. Bloody fucking hell.”

Isabel stacked the documents into a neat pile and stood. “Quite. I’ll ask Henderson to come up, but in fairness I don’t think you can really blame him. He was dumped on too.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. And if Henderson’s not the right man for the job we’re going to need someone who is.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I know someone who might suit. Shall I arrange a meeting?”

It was on the tip of Tony’s tongue to thank her, and agree to interview whoever she put in front of him. Isabel was good like that, she anticipated his needs and sorted things without needing to be told. But on this occasion, he had an idea of his own he wanted to play with.

“Thanks, but not yet. There’s another solution I think I might try first.”

“I see. And what’s that then?”

“Just an idea. Someone I need to talk to first though.”

“Well, don’t take too long about it. We need to get this mess under control before we find ourselves with another expensive mistake to deal with. Right. I’ll get on to Eric Henderson then. Are you free to see him now?”

“It’s as good a time as any. No point putting it off.”

Even as Tony muttered the words at his PA’s retreating back he knew she was right, as usual. This company was a mess, which had a lot to do with why he’d been able to acquire it so cheaply. It was clear he had some work to do knocking it into shape, but he didn’t mind that. He thrived on the challenge. First order of business would be to surround himself with people who he could trust and who were good at their jobs. Isabel was a given. Henderson might turn out to be a square peg in a round hole but he’d soon determine that. Tony himself was a strategist, a gifted corporate visionary and leader, good with people but absolutely no use at all with systems and detail. And that was where his problems seemed to lie.

He sighed. Isabel was right, he was going to need some help here, someone who could get to grips with Henderson’s shambles of a department. And he had a feeling he knew the very person. He just needed to convince his old friend.

*****

“You want to what?” Stephen Kershaw lowered his steel grey eyebrows at Tony and glowered at him from under them.

Tony wasn’t impressed. He sipped his coffee and met his godfather’s stern gaze. “I want to borrow Mrs Richmond.”

“She’s not a bloody library book. And I’m not lending you my right hand woman.”

“Think of it as career development for her. She’ll probably be glad of the change, and the challenge if she’s half as good as you say.”

“She’s every bit that good, which is why I need her here. And she has plenty to challenge her running Kershaw Storage, thank you very much. Or if she doesn't, she soon would if I was crazy enough to start loaning out my best staff to the competition.”

“I’m not the competition. You’re in warehousing, I’m in distribution. We complement each other. If I do well, you do well. And I’m family.”

“You’re a bloody nuisance, that’s what you are. I should have smelled a rat when you were so keen to see me. I don't clap eyes on you for months on end, then suddenly you’re in my office, hassling my secretary for an appointment.”

“It’s been a while, true. We’re both busy men. But you owe me a favour, Stephen. Or seven. What about when you had that fire and I let you shift all your undamaged stock into my lorries for three days until you could hire temporary space. Then there was that contract with Linton’s—I introduced you and put in a good word, and they turned out to be your best customer to date. And what about the time your operations manager broke both his legs skiing while you were tied up looking after Diana? Who was it who stepped in and ran your company as well as mine for three months until you got sorted out?” Tony paused in his catalogue of good deeds to let the implications sink in. He leaned forward in his seat. “I only want to borrow her. Six months tops.”

Stephen’s response was an inarticulate grunt.

“How is Diana these days anyway?” Tony knew when and how to press his advantage.

“Good. She’s good. The cancer’s still in remission so we’re hoping it stays that way.”

“Me too. Really. Give her my love.”

“You could give her it yourself if you’d come round once in a while.”

“I will. Soon. So, about Mrs Richmond…?”

“You’ve never even met her. How do you know you’ll get on? She might not be what Dart Logistics needs at all.”

Tony sensed the older man’s resolve softening. He leaned forward, holding Stephen’s gaze as he enumerated the virtues of the renowned Mrs Richmond. “Efficient, forensic eye for detail, meticulous. A degree in law, second degree in business accountancy. Did I miss anything?”

Stephen Kershaw shook his head. “Sounds about right. But she’s sharp too, doesn’t suffer fools. She can be abrasive. Your people won't take to her, at least not at first.”

“I’ll smooth all that over. I’m not looking for someone to win popularity contests, and she won't be in an outward-facing role with my customers. What I need right now is someone in my back room to go through my organisation, top to bottom, unearth all the flaws and sloppy practises, point out what needs fixing, and better still fix it for me. She’d have free rein, and my full support.”

His godfather eyed him, his expression thoughtful. “You must be worried. What is it you suspect?”

“We have issues in HR for certain, but those are probably superficial and easily fixed with a head of department who knows his stuff. I’m uneasy about my accounts and finance section too, though I can't put my finger on just why. The gap between last year’s forecasts and our actual performance was huge, and I’m not sure it can just be explained by unpredictable market forces, or even incompetence at our end. I want someone I can trust crawling all over the figures, someone who can get under the skin of it and tell me what’s really going on.”

“I see. Well I reckon Mrs Richmond could do that, but you’re not having her full time. You can have her for two days a week, if she’s agreeable. I’ll ask her, but it's her choice. If she’s not interested I won’t have you hassling her or me. Six months you say? Maximum?”

“Well that was my estimate if she was with me full time…” A determined creasing of the older man’s forehead convinced Tony he’d pushed him as far as was prudent. “Okay. Six months, part time. And I’ll offer her a bonus, ten percent on top of whatever you’re paying her here.”

“I doubt the money will make any difference. I’ll tell her what you want to discuss and ask her to contact your office, but only if she wants to.”

“That'll do me. Thanks.” Tony sat back and finished his coffee. He only needed to talk to the woman, surely. He could be persuasive when he set his mind to it.

*****

Anthea rearranged the strap of her satchel-type bag on her shoulder and marched across the gleaming tiled foyer of the offices of Dart Logistics. She was shooting for purposeful, and thought she might have nailed it. The middle aged receptionist smiled up at her from behind her computer. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Anton diMarco please. Anthea Richmond. I have an appointment.”

The receptionist offered her another warm smile as she tapped numbers into her keyboard. “I have Anthea Richmond in Reception, to see Mr diMarco.” A pause, then, “Of course. I’ll send her right up.” She returned her attention to Anthea. “You need the second floor. The lift’s over there. Mr diMarco’s PA will meet you upstairs.”

Anthea thanked her and headed for the lift. First impressions do count, and the outward face of Dart Logistics seemed pleasant enough, professional with just the right dash of welcoming to put visitors at their ease. Despite this, as she pressed the call button and waited for the car to arrive she wondered, not for the first time, why she was even bothering with this meeting. She had no intention of agreeing to a secondment here.

The timing couldn’t be worse. Stephen’s plans for the future of Kershaw Storage were unpredictable, especially since he started dropping big hints about wanting to spend more time with his wife. But even without that complication, she wouldn't be interested. Anthea liked order, she craved certainty. A six month stint in a strange, ailing company, where she knew no one, where she would have to prove herself all over again to yet another sceptical and hostile audience? No thanks. Not for her.

Not happening.

The lift came to a smooth halt at the second floor and the doors glided open. Anthea stepped out to be greeted by another middle aged woman, but where the receptionist on the ground floor had oozed quiet calm, this individual crackled with nervous energy. Anthea half expected to feel a jolt of electricity shoot up her arm as the woman took her hand and shook it.

“Mrs Richmond? So nice to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you already. I’m Isabel Barnard. I act as PA to Mr diMarco and I’ll be looking after you too, if you join us. Which we hope you will, obviously. This way please. Mr diMarco will see you straight away.”

Anthea followed the woman’s bustling figure as she trotted off along the corridor, conscious she hadn’t managed to get even one word out. She’d hardly set foot in the place and already her fame seemed to be spreading. Was that a good thing?

It hardly mattered. She wouldn't be joining this firm anyway, helping to prop up this Mr diMarco who seemed incapable of putting his own house in order. She was here out of loyalty to Stephen, nothing else. She was genuinely fond of her employer. He’d had confidence in her and was able to overlook her other shortcomings because she did a damn fine job. Still, she felt indebted to the elderly businessman who’d been able to see past the uptight, driven young woman asking him for a position in accounts. He set her on, and allowed her to hone her natural talents, encouraging her to assume more and more responsibility across all facets of his business. She’d amply repaid his confidence in her in the couple of years she’d worked for him, and in return she knew that Stephen valued her. He respected her. He understood her.

Which was why she was so unnerved now at the prospect of his looming retirement. The next CEO would no doubt find her awkward and gauche. Everyone else seemed to. Her direct, tactless approach would get her into trouble as it always did before. It wasn’t that she ever intended to be rude, just that things came out wrong. Her career before Kershaw’s was littered with irritated or offended colleagues, complaints, grievances. She dreaded the thought of starting all over with a new boss.

There was an alternative, but that was probably even worse. Stephen had dropped a few hints, and she’d managed to deflect him. Then he’d come right out with it. He wanted her to take over as CEO when he retired. He’d suggested she accept promotion to the role of deputy CEO now, with a view to stepping up in due course. Better still, he’d like her to buy the company and had assured her she’d have no trouble at all raising the cash. Anthea knew that wouldn’t be an issue, she could dazzle the company bank manager with her talk of cash flows and revenue projections, and could back all that up with rock solid evidence. They’d be offering her loans until the cash came out of her ears.

Anthea dreaded all of that. She harboured no desire at all to have the top job, to be the one in the public eye, the one who had to deal with their employees face to face, the media, prospective clients. It wasn’t that she was without ambition or shunned recognition. She craved all that, had worked hard to build her career and was proud of what she’d achieved. But she was at home with her spreadsheets, her laptop, her policies and procedures. The company ran like a well-oiled machine under her expert control, she loved the quiet, predictable order of it all and knew it was her doing. But the cut and thrust, the chaos of leadership, of scanning the horizon for new opportunities, recognising a chance when she saw it and grabbing it with both hands—that was not for her.

“We’re just through here, please.” Ms Barnard opened a door and gestured Anthea to go in. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Thank you. Just a glass of water please.” Anthea stepped into the outer office which seemed to be Ms Barnard’s domain. Another door at the far end of the room stood ajar.

“Just go straight in. He’s expecting you.”

Anthea nodded, crossed the office and pushed the second door wide. She entered, a manufactured smile plastered to her face.

The blood drained from her features as the man behind the desk rose to greet her.

“Tony!”

“Mrs Richmond.” His slow smile of recognition transformed to one of incredulity, then amusement. He came around the desk toward her, hand outstretched. “How nice to meet you at last. Do please have a seat.”

Anthea was rooted to the spot. She stared at him, this man she knew so well, who knew her intimately, this man who was familiar with every contour and hollow of her body, every nerve and muscle. This man who could bring her shuddering to orgasm with just a few precise strokes of his fingers, or drive her to scream her safe word with a twist of his hand.

This man who was her fantasy. Her other world. This man who unleashed her secret self and brought her the relief that kept her sane. He was here, where he had absolutely no business being at all, in her safe, ordered real world.