Alberta Clipper (2 page)

Christine turned back to the coffee machine.  “It was okay.”

Petra hoisted the bag back up on her tiny shoulder.  The interview was apparently over.  “
W
el
l, I’m sure I’ll see you around,
”
she said
, leaning on the
long strap
like she need it for stability.

“Great.”
 
Christine racked her brain for something nice to say.
 
“Good luck in your new job.”

With another mouth-only smile, Petra stalked off towards the door of the coffee room.
 
As she exited, she passed a jacket and tie-less guy with dark curly hair, who gallantly stepped back, allowing her through.

“Good morning, new girl.”
 
His lustful grin appeared to restore Petra’s confidence.
 
She smiled at him over her shoulder, walking off through the open-plan workspace like she owned it once more.

Christine turned back to the coffee machine.
 
She shook her head.
 
“She’s not here five minutes, Craig.”

“Aw Jugs, don’t be jealous.”
 
Craig hoisted himself up onto the counter-top beside her.
 
“You’re in early.
 
Make me one of those, would you?”

Christine sighed
.
 
She handed her coffee to him
, and set about making herself another.
 
“Try to be nice to me today, okay?” she said.

“What's wrong
with you?
”

“Oh, nothing.
 
Just tired.”
 
She
glanced up
at Craig
who
had taken a crumpled tie out from his trouser pocket and was trying to knot it around his collar.
 
“I fear I have gotten off to a bad start with Mark’s new PA.”
 
She nodded towards the door
through
which Petra had exited.
 
“I can sense trouble.”

Craig gave her an exaggerated look of sympathy, and slurped his coffee.

“So how was your weekend?” she asked.

“Great.”
 
His face lit up.
 
“Pulled twice, and that was only Friday.”

Christine shook her head.

“What?”
 
Craig laughed at her.
 
“I'm a young, virile man.
 
In my prime.”
 
He pouted.
 
“Are you jealous Chrissy?
 
You know you are my princess.”

“Yeah, right.”
 
Christine propped herself against a table and blew on her coffee.
 
“Is that what you tell Rachel?
 
 
I don't suppose she was one of your Friday night conquests?”

“Nah.”
 
Craig pushed at the knot of his tie.
 
“She had some family thing Friday.
 
I was over at her place Saturday night.
 
It's really something else.
 
Her father took me through his special collection of whisk
eys
.
 
He had one there he was given by the Duke of Edinburgh in the sixties.
 
How cool is that?”
 
For all his swagger, Craig could still look like an excited child when he wanted to.
 
“No business done last night.
 
Had to rest myself, you know?
 
Protect the assets.”

Christine raised an eyebrow.
 
“Someday this is all gonna bite you in the ass Craigey.
 
And if you upset Rachel, Daddy’s not going to be happy.”

“Christine!” Craig feigned hurt.
 
“Would I?”

“Shame he’s your biggest client.”

Craig drained his mug.
 
“Don’t you worry, sweet-cheeks.
 
I know what I’m doing.”

But Craig’s demeanour suddenly changed, and he jumped down onto the floor.
 
Christine turned to see
Shay
walk through the coffee room door.

“Good morning, Craig.
 
Christine.”
 
A jovial
Shay
walked over to the coffee machine.
 
Christine moved to allow him full access.
 
In one fluid motion, Craig rinsed his coffee cup at the sink, and floated from the room in silence with just a
nod in his boss’s direction
.
 
Shay
nodded back
.
 
He
had already started lifting lids, checking filters and bean levels, wiping the shining chrome clean of steam residue. 
With his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows h
e
appeared
more like a
forty-year-old barista than a senior manager in
an international investment bank. 
He looked at Christine’s mug.  “You need a refill?”

“Why not.” 
She
draine
d her mug and handed it to him
.

“Looks like another beautiful day,”
Shay
nodded towards the cloudless sky out the window.

“Yeah,” Christine followed his gaze.
 
“It’s been some summer so far.
 
Off the charts.”

“You have holidays planned?”

It was an innocuous question, but Christine couldn’t help feeling defe
nsive.  “Eh, no.  Not yet.  No need to
go abroad when the weather is like this at home.  How about you?”

“Nothing booked yet.
” 
Shay
inhaled over his steaming coffee.
 
“
We’ll see.  It’s more like work and less like
a
holiday when you have to pack for three small kids too.”

Christine just smiled and nodded.  “I’d better get going.  I’ll see you at the briefing
Shay
.”

“Sure Christine.  See you then.”

~

Each morning on the CarltonWachs fourth floor began with what was fondly called the Brief Briefing. 
Attended by
representati
ves
from the company’s team of analysts and the dealing desk, the briefing was supposed to facilitate the exchange of up-to-date information on t
he markets and various sectors, enabling the analysts to apprise those
involved in the actual purchase and sale of shares and commodities.
 
Unofficially, the meeting
was also known as the Briefs Briefing, especially on a Monday morning, when
a good portion
of the half hour was spent discussing the
previous
weekend’s conquests.
  As the only girl in attendance, Christine was generally left out of this part of the discussion.  Eighteen months working in the bank had dulled any sensitivity she might have felt when she fi
rst had to sit and listen to
her colleagues’
boardin
g school banter
. 
Now she hardly noticed
when the conversation turned bawdy.

Having hurriedly applied some make-up in the ladies
’
room
, Christine made her way to the meeting room for t
he first briefing of the week, which was also to include a presentation on a significant client
.  Inside, Craig was already sitting at th
e large oval table
with
one of the analysts
,
a
bespectacled
guy who looked so
much
like
a thirty-year-
old
Harry
Potter that he was known by everyone in the office as Harry, although that wasn’t his real name at all.  Harry was standing over a laptop, with a worried expression on his face.
 

“D
o you need me to get someone from IT
?” Craig
asked him.

“No.
 
I can sort it.”
 
Harry
pressed a few buttons.
 
Then he stood upright and put his hands on his hips.
 
“Okay, maybe you should.”

Craig
rolled his eyes at Christine and left the room.
 
Harry
kept fiddling with the computer.
 
Christine
sat watching
him.
 
Usually she relished these meetings.
 
She loved being the only scientist in a building of financiers.
 
They had to listen to her.
 
To take her seriously. 
Not like if she had taken a job at the MET office.
 
There she would have been one of many.
 
Here, she was special.
 
They needed her.

But this morning, not even a second cup of
Shay
’s
good
coffee could lift the tiredness from her body.
 
She was considering making herself a third, when
Craig
reappeare
d followed by a hassled-looking
bearded guy, who nodded at Christine before dropping to his knees at the end of the table where the wires were.
 
After a moment, the screen on the wall at the end of the room turned a shady blue.

“There.”
 
The guy
slowly put one foot on the floor under him, and hoisted himself up with the help of the table.
 
“That should be it.”
 
 
 

“You're the man, Fred
die
,”
Harry
said, as he
scroll
ed
through slides detailing
the
client’s proposal for a pricing contract.
 
Graphs of oil and gas prices decorated the walls when
Craig
dimmed the lights in the room.
 
“Beautiful.
 
See?”
 
He turned to Christine.
 
“I designed a new presentation format for the department.
 
It will give even a bad news presentation a feel-good factor.
 
 
 
It -”

He stopped abruptly as
a
suited man
entered the room
accompanied by
Petra
.
  The atmosphere seemed to change
almost immediately,
and everyone sat a little straighter in their seats.
 
As the chief
executive of the CartlonWachs
Irish office,
Mark
Harrington had no need to attend the
daily
briefings, but nonetheless he regularly
did, which
his
staff both appreciated and dreaded.  Christine watched Petra smiling and flirting with him as he
quietly
outlined the routine of the morning meetings to her. 
Sh
e didn’t rate Petra’s chances at making Mark smile.  His photo on the corporat
e website might have been of an attractive, successful executive, but the embodiment was more often than not shaded by a grey cloud of melancholy.
  Although he was generally liked as a boss.  He expected a lot of his staff, but he was fair, and the CarltonWachs employees were well looked after.  Christine just sometimes wondered why Mark didn’t smile more.  But then again, who was she to judge.

“Guys.”
 
Mark nodded to
Harry
.
 
“I hope everything is ready?
 
Is
that thing working okay?”
 
H
is eyes tracked
Freddie who was making as inconspicuous an exit from the room as possible.