Murder... Now and Then (38 page)

It had almost been time for the offices to close up when she had gone into Max with it. He had explained it in layman's language; she had thanked him. She had told him – entirely truthfully – that she couldn't have survived without him for the past three months. Their eyes had met, their mouths had met and in no time at all they were gliding up in the lift to the penthouse flat.

He was telling her how easy being a business executive was, once you got the hang of realizing that you simply got other people to do all the work. He was reassuring her, telling her she mustn't worry about the job. She was new to it, but all that she had to remember was that they were trying to impress her, not the other way round. She was the one who would make recommendations to the directors – all these flash young men were dependent on her goodwill, and would be only too eager to make certain that she understood their ideas.

She wished she could believe him, because Victor was determined that she should do this job, for some reason, even though she felt like a fish out of water. And she was so much better at this. But she liked Max, and it bothered her a little. She smiled up at him.

If he had to regret it, she could at least make sure that he would never forget it.

‘Mark Callender?' said Charles, a little unwillingly, as he poured Victor a Perrier. ‘What about him?' He gave himself a dry sherry; it was the festive season, after all. They were in his office at the clinic and he had hoped that Victor had come to talk finance. He was showing some interest in expanding the operation; Charles had entertained visions of Rule Life Style Clinics springing up everywhere.

‘He's PPS to a cabinet minister or something, isn't he?' said Holyoak.

‘Yes,' said Charles.

Mark Callender had been defeated at Stansfield by a tiny margin which had, of course, been overturned at the next election, by which time Stansfield had lost their chance. Mark had been snapped up by another constituency, and had been returned with a comfortable majority elsewhere. It had always irked Charles slightly that Stansfield had failed to see his friend's sterling qualities. Stansfield could have had Mark, and he could have had a friend at court which was always useful.

‘I was wondering if you could speak to him about the possibility of his boss opening the new factory,' said Holyoak.

How did Holyoak know that a friend of his was parliamentary private secretary to anyone? Zelda, he supposed. Zelda could spread news faster than any other medium known to man. She had doubtless given Victor the lowdown on poor old Max, and what had happened during that election, in the hope of spiking his chances of promotion. How galling for Zelda that the only piece of information upon which Holyoak had seized was the one in which he saw an opportunity to push Holyoak UK into the news bulletins. All the forecasts suggested that the opening would coincide with the run-up to the election, and that could mean free publicity.

He had no desire at all to rake up old memories, but he didn't want to offend Holyoak, who was talking quite seriously about investing in the clinic, albeit not on the grand scale of Charles's daydreams.

‘I'll see what I can do,' he said.

‘I never forget a favour,' said Holyoak. ‘ You get him to the opening, and I'll be very grateful. You have my word.'

Charles thought about that. ‘Have you made up your mind about the general manager's job?' he asked.

‘Not yet,' said Holyoak.

‘I'd like to think that Max hadn't been ruled out because of gossip and rumours,' said Charles. ‘ Or even his weakness.'

Holyoak nodded. ‘Done,' he said.

‘Charles got him to do it,' said Geraldine. ‘His friend Mark is his PPS. I think he jumped at the chance to show that someone had faith in Britain and the government.'

‘The opening's on the first of April,' said Zelda, with a laugh. ‘Maybe Mark's got a sense of humour.'

Geraldine smiled. ‘You met him,' she said. ‘What do you think?'

‘True. Not the practical joke sort. Well, that should make certain that the opening gets coverage. And I suppose it's a little feather in Charles's cap, too.'

Geraldine nodded. Charles liked being the man with the contacts in high places. Getting Holyoak an introduction to someone who might one day have need of his sophisticated security systems on a government contract was more than a little feather in his cap. She heard nothing but Victor this and Victor that these days. It used to be Max; now it was Victor.

‘I'm surprised Charles has never thought about standing for Parliament,' said Zelda.

Geraldine smiled. ‘He was quite interested in politics once,' she said. ‘I think it would be too rough for him – he'd be taking offence all the time. Anyway, he went off the idea.'

Zelda laughed. ‘Another coffee?' she said.

Zelda always fed and watered her guests until they staggered out begging for a week on bread and water. Charles could hardly bring himself to visit her, what with the cholesterol and the sugar and the saturated fats, and had manufactured a prior engagement when she had invited them to a pre-Christmas dinner. But she was a wonderful cook; Geraldine had learned the art from Zelda, modified by Charles's healthy eating regimen, but she still felt she could never hold a candle to Zelda herself. And she wouldn't dream of turning down an invitation to eat at Zelda's, so she had come on her own. It had been fun, just the two of them.

‘You should do a cookery book, Zelda,' she said, pushing her cup across the table for more coffee.

‘Your husband would have it banned,' said Zelda. ‘Do you fancy a brandy?'

Charles allowed alcohol, within certain strictly defined limits, which Geraldine was in no danger of meeting, never mind exceeding. ‘Please,' she said.

‘I thought Charles had taken his first step on the road to Westminster when Mark Whatsisname was here,' said Zelda.

Geraldine nodded. ‘I think that was the idea,' she said. ‘But he didn't pursue it. I don't know why, really. I think maybe what happened to Valerie gave the whole election bad associations. He had no heart for it next time round.'

‘Could be,' said Zelda. ‘And I suppose you didn't help.'

‘Me? What did I do?' Zelda handed her a brandy which probably shouldn't be consumed prior to driving. Geraldine reached over for the bottle and solemnly poured half of it back in.

‘You weren't exactly cock-a-hoop about him running all over the town wearing a blue rosette, were you?' said Zelda.

Geraldine smiled. ‘ Not exacdy,' she said. ‘ But I've got used to the idea that I married a turncoat.'

‘He just saw sense,' said Zelda.

‘I suppose he was always a Tory, really. He just thought he was a socialist because Max was. At least Max is still on the side of the people.'

Zelda made a snort of contempt, something Geraldine had never been able to do. Zelda did it beautifully.

‘He really burnt his boats with you, didn't he?' said Geraldine.

‘Yes, he did.' Zelda sipped her brandy.

It was the one subject on which Zelda could not be drawn; her legendary delight in gossip did not extend to talking about herself and Max. But from the moment Catherine had set foot in Stansfield, Max had become
persona non grata
with Zelda, and he had stayed that way.

‘He's having a thing with Anna Worthing,' she said, steering the subject away from herself. ‘If I'm any judge.'

Geraldine looked at her blankly. ‘Who's Anna Worthing?' she asked.

‘That woman that came over here from Holland – the one who was here to start off negotiations.'

‘Oh, her! But I thought she was supposed to be the big boss's girlfriend.'

‘So they say. Tim says it's all over the papers there – Holyoak's famous everywhere but here, he says, and the papers have got hold of this story about him and Anna Worthing. They say it's been going on for years – he had set her up in Amsterdam, and he only put her officially on the payroll when he moved his head office over here. Tim says she knows nothing about the job – she hasn't even got an O-level to her name. That's who the penthouse flat's for – so they can slip up there after work. But Max has beaten him to it, if you ask me.'

Geraldine gave a little shrug. ‘He does seem very devoted to his wife,' she said. ‘ I had to call in on her every day before they got the full-time nurse. And she wasn't that bad, not then. She's very sick now, though.'

‘Well, that's just it. He's famous
for
being devoted to his wife, amongst other things – he's all for the family and honouring your obligations. Marriage vows are marriage vows, that sort of stuff. You don't get involved with other women just because your wife can't do anything for you. Tim says the newspaper stuff is getting quite juicy – they say Holyoak actually took Anna Worthing over there at the same time as his wife.' She shrugged. ‘But perhaps his wife knows all about it,' she said.

‘For what it's worth,' Geraldine said, ‘Charles doesn't think she is Victor's mistress, and he's got to know him quite well over the past few weeks.'

‘Charles doesn't think that Max screws around, and he's known him for thirty years. You'll forgive me if I don't place much faith in what Charles thinks.'

Geraldine laughed. Zelda had had poor Max in bed with every woman to whom he had ever so much as said good morning, and Charles was quite convinced that he had entirely mended his ways since he had married Catherine. Somewhere about the middle of these two extremes was Geraldine's guess.

‘What do you think of Holyoak?' she asked Zelda.

‘I don't really know him all that well,' she said. ‘Tim's done all the negotiation.'

‘What does Tim think of him?' asked Geraldine.

Zelda looked down into her coffee cup. ‘ I haven't seen much of Tim since he got back,' she said.

‘Not even at work?'

‘No.' Zelda looked up. ‘He took a month's holiday once the deal went through,' she said. ‘He's told Holyoak he doesn't want to carry on in the business.'

‘Oh.' Geraldine wasn't sure what to say. Everyone but Zelda knew that Tim hated the business; he had gone into it when he left university as a stop-gap measure simply because of Zelda's refusal to promote Max. Max did all the work, and Tim signed, the letters and contracts. Zelda had never promoted Max, and never looked for anyone else. Tim had worked very hard to sell the business, because that way he could get out. It wouldn't be his father's business any more, and the moral blackmail which had kept him there would cease to have any effect.

Not that Zelda had had any notion that that was what she had been doing; she still hadn't. She just thought that Tim was misguided.

‘So – who'll be the new general manager?' asked Geraldine.

‘Well, it won't be Max Scott, if I have any say in the matter,' said Zelda. ‘I've put Holyoak straight about him.'

The Christmas holidays were over; the old Driver practice of closing the factory over both Christmas and New Year had been swept away by the new management who had also instituted the heartily disliked half an hour for lunch; the office closed thirty minutes earlier in the evening, now that they were in the new building. Max didn't see what difference it made, except that he and Anna could get together half an hour sooner, so it suited him.

It was business as usual on the last day of the old year, as Max knocked on Zelda's door, and went in.

‘Come in, Max,' said Zelda. ‘Sit down.'

Max looked round Zelda's new office. Her new title was Director, Personnel – it was on the door. ‘This is what I call executive status,' he said with a smile. ‘You could mark out a tennis court in here.' He sat down.

She didn't smile back. But then, he couldn't honestly remember the last time Zelda had smiled at him. It was a source of some regret to him that he had never been able to develop his infant relationship with her; he still found her very attractive. And he liked her, quite apart from that; all he really wanted from Zelda was a smile. But it wasn't to be.

‘Our lord and master communicates with me by phone most of the time,' she said. ‘I presume you know him rather better than that.'

Max frowned. ‘Holyoak, do you mean?' He shook his head. ‘I've never clapped eyes on him,' he said. ‘I was beginning to think that he must be a fantasy friend of Charles's. I'm relieved to hear he communicates with you at all.'

It was Zelda's turn to frown. ‘You mean he doesn't even know you?' she said. ‘He's never spoken to you?'

Max shook his head, puzzled by her reaction. ‘ No,' he said. ‘ Why should he have?'

‘Because he's just made you general manager,' she said.

Max stared at her. ‘What?' he said.

‘Against my advice,' she said. ‘ But I did at least think that he'd had some discussion with you on the matter.'

General manager? Just like that? Max still couldn't believe she'd said it. And he'd detailed poor old Zelda to tell him, which must be very nearly killing her.

‘It's a responsible job, Max,' Zelda was saying. ‘I think you may have to cut down on the number of young women who come into my office saying that they have to leave for personal reasons.'

Max grinned. ‘I don't think they're all down to me,' he said.

‘I can only assume that he listens to the advice of his Public Relations manager when he makes senior appointments,' she said handing him his letter of appointment.

Good old Zelda. Trust her to have noticed him and Anna. Could that possibly be why he'd got the job? Surely not.

‘A word of advice, Max I think you're trespassing on his territory. You might not keep the job too long if he finds out what's going on.'

Was he? Anna hadn't said anything to that effect. Max smiled. He hadn't wanted the job in the first place – he was astonished that he had been given it. The delightfully accommodating Anna, though – that was a different matter; he had never been so well-catered for in that department. No declarations of love, no demands, no hassle at all. They just took sheer pleasure in one another, and he'd sooner keep Anna and lose the job any day.