Alberta Clipper (11 page)

B
ut the
crossing
had been unusually turbulent, and he'd had the misfortune of sitting next to an elderly lady who had insisted on holding a conversation to distract herself from the jerking and bumping of the airplane.
 
She had asked him if he objected, but then had continued
chattering
without waiting for him to answer.
 
She had talked about her own family, her many grandchildren, her lovely sons in England, her deceased husband.
 
He had heard it all.
 
She had tried to get some information out of Mark about his own family.
 
Her questions had caught him off-guard.
 

Are you married?

Eh, no.

And no lady in your life?

Eh, well, no, not really.

Ah, too busy with your career.

Well, not reall-

Well, that's important too.
 

She
had been
very non-judgmental.
 
But the direct questions had
left Mark a little thrown.
 
H
e
struggled to give her any
concrete
information
,
and so
she had nattered on about her own family for the remainder of the fifty minute flight.
 
He’d
kept nodding his head, feigning interest
, even holding her hand when she grasped his during a particularly turbulent patch, all the while thinking about his own situation.
 
He was thirty-nine years old, and he seem to have regressed a decade.
 
He was single.
 
Unattached.
 
Unspoken for.
 

It had all happened so suddenly.  Just over a week ago they had been still living together, oblivious.  He had been feeling fairly miserable, but there had been no notable overture to their separation.  The word shocked him a little when it popped into his head.  That’s what they were now.  Separated.  A separated couple.

The train driver made some incoherent announcement over the public address system.  By the time he would return from this trip, he knew that Jennifer would be gone.
 
She had stayed with her sister most of last week, but her stuff, some of her clothes, her books, her perfume, had still been at home.
 
Her plan was to move to Edinburgh while he was in London, but he didn't know what she planned on leaving behind or taking with her.
 
To what extent she was moving out.
 
To what extent they were breaking up.
 

As usual, he thought, it was all on her terms.
 
If she decided to take every shred of evidence of herself, then that would be it.
 
But maybe she would leave something.
 
Her toothbrush.
 
Her favourite mug.
 
And then he would have a reminder of her there for the whole year, and he would half expect her to move straight back in on her return.
 
They hadn’t talked about it.
 
She hadn’t wanted to.
 
But neither had he.
 

It was clear to him now that t
heir whole relationship had been on her terms. 
Indeed that fact
,
and what it meant about himself,
had
been plaguing him that whole week.  It was obvious to him now that he’d had little influence on how his personal life had evolved.  He had let the past ten years happen to him rather than living them with accord. 
And now he was allowing their break-up, if that’s what it was, to be on her terms too.

He needed to take control.
 

Sitting there as the train seemed to magically start moving without a noise or a jolt, Mar
k had an epiphany.
 
It
occurred to him that his future was no longer mapped out.
 
Last week, he was destined to be a childless man, never to marry.
 
Now – now things had changed.
 
Some important stuff he had taken as inevitable was no longer so.
 
He wished that lady was sitting next to him now on the train, so he could answer her questions again.
 

Are you married?

No.
 

Long term partner?

No.

So you live alone?

Yes.
 
Yes I do.

No children then?

None.
 
Not yet.

Mark felt curiously excited.
 
The issues with the institutional desk no longer seemed very important.
 
He beamed at the weary-looking ticket seller as he handed her his credit card.
 
He almost felt like sharing his revelation with her, but guessed that she mightn’t have cared.
 
He wasn’t sure where things stood with Jennifer.
 
That was still true.
 
But she had left him.
 
No matter what way he looked at it, she had walked away.
 
And mixed in with the genuine hurt and shock he felt at what was happening to him, he felt a small amount of hope.
 
Hope and new possibility.
 

By the time Mark reached the CarltonWachs office in the
city
just over an hour later, he was fully prepared to meet Marc
us
and the other members of senior management who had been called together.  Last week’s investigation had uncovered a small amount of unauthorised dealing on an account managed at the Dublin office.  The damage done was far from irreparable, but those involved would most likely be suspended or let go.  The meeting had been convened to decide on a course of action. 

Fucking Craig and fucking Mick Dolan.  Mark felt marginally sorry for Craig.  It appeared that he had been coerced into getting involved by Mick, who was a far more senior dealer.  Thankfully the mess had been spotted at an early stage, but only by chance, when an investigation into a suspicious deal made at the UK office had led to the close examination of all unusual accounts.  Craig should have known better, but Mark could see how he might be easily led
by someone like Mick Dolan, who
s
e
flash lifestyle was legendary and who was a bit of a pin-up for the younger dealers on the desk. 

Mark had zero sympathy for Mick.  He was very likely to be let go.  Mark didn’t rate his chance of being taken on by another bank.  Not in Ireland anyway.  Not many woul
d be interested in a forty-five-year-
old git like him, even with his experience.  There were plenty of younger, sharper guys about.  Financially, he should have been in a position to retire by now anyway, but Mark doubted that he was.  He was a fool.  And Craig would be lucky not to be dismissed along with him.  Idiots.

It was
Shay
who Mark was more concerned about. 
Shay
should have seen that there was a problem before the UK office had come snooping around.  Had he a tighter rein on his team, it would have been far less likely that Mark would be in London right now.  But Mark knew that it was next to impossible to know about this kind of deceit, if those involved wanted to deceive you.  And he did not want to lose
Shay
.  They made a good team, they complemented each other.  And Mark trusted him.  No, Mark was not prepared to let
Shay
take the heat for this.

As he passed through security on his way up to the tenth floor, he was very clear in his mind how he wanted this meeting to go.  He just hoped that the UK’s
own woes would be enough for his English colleagues
to deal with, and that they’d let him manage the Dublin office as he saw fit.  The lift was empty when he got in, and he used the quiet space to take a couple of deep breaths.  He was very familiar with the London
branch of CarltonWachs
and many of the staff, spending at least a few day
s there every month.  But even though
it was the same company,
the London office
never felt like home.  There was a different atmosphere here to that of the Dublin office which Mark regarded, not without some satisfaction, to be a
friendlier,
more productive working environment.  But then that was London.  It moved at a faster pace, and so by default did everything in it.  He took some more calming deep breaths, until the lift stopped at the fourth floor, and some guy that Mark didn’t recognise got in.  He looked hassled, and Mark noticed some perspiration on his forehead as he gruffly acknowledged him and
stabbed at
the button for the tenth floor which was already lit.  Mark regarded his scruffy casual clothes, and the two mobile phones he had clipped to his belt, and guessed him to be one of the IT engineers.  Christ, he looked as stressed out as Freddie
back in the Dublin office
.  What was it about these guys?  Mark made a mental note to sit down with Freddie when he got back, just to see how things were with him and give him an unexpected pat on the back.  He was entertaining these benevolent thoughts when the lift stopped again on the eighth floor. 

And in the two seconds that it took the doors to slide open to reveal her standing there, Mark knew.  He knew because he was free to feel it now, free to
acknowledge
it
and to enjoy it.  He knew, because his stomach contracted within him, and he felt his chest thump.

“Christine.”

“Oh, hi Mark.  Fancy meeting you here.”  And she laughed.

And
Mark
knew. 

He
was in love.

~

The meeting went as well as he could have expected.  The decision was taken to handle the
Dublin and London
transgressions separately, but for both management teams to liaise regularly so that any disciplinary action could be metered fairly.  The main parties involved
were to be suspended pending a
full investigation.  In Ireland, that meant Mike and Craig.  There had been some rumblings over
Shay
McAvoy’s responsibi
lity
, but Mark had been firm. 
Shay
had been completely co-operative with Marcus from the moment he had been made aware of a potential issue.  He had saved Marcus’s team a week of work through his own handling of the situation.  There was as much value in firing Mark as there would be in firing
Shay
he had said pointedly.
  And he had meant it.

In the end, the
decision was taken to let the Dublin office deal locally with their own.  As it was, the losses on the Dublin account were minimal, and could be kept under the radar.  Mark shook hands with his colleagues, accepting the apologies offered for their not being in a position to entertain him that evening.  They needed to sort out their own bigger mess, and fast.  Mark didn’t envy them.  The UK losses were not so big as to detrimentally affect CarltonWachs as a whole, but they were not insignificant. 

As it was, he was glad not to have to go to dinner with them.  He needed some time alone to think. 
On his way back out towards the lift
he passed a smaller meeting room, and
glanc
ing through the glass partition walls, he saw Christine seated at the table with a
stout
girl in her twenties and two Asian blokes of similar age.  Without his consciously telling them to, his feet stopped walking, and he stood there, looking at her.  God, she was beautiful.  Her wavy blonde hair was pinned back on both sides but hung loose around her shoulders over her blue shirt, which was open maybe one button more than was decent.  He could make out something shiny hanging from her
neck, hidden down in her shirt.  He was standing there, wondering what it might be when
she looked up and waved at him.

Mortified, he
waved back, a sort of half wave, and realised too late that she thought he was summoning her.  She stood
and, evidently excusing herself, made for the door.  The others at the table looked up and he recognised a face from a presentation he had attended in the Singapore office some months back.  Aki or Akio or something –

“Mark.  Did you want me?”

An intoxicating
scent of perfum
e
seemed to encompass her as she closed the door of the meeting room softly and stood before him in the brightly lit hall.