Concealment (2 page)

She was spot on—his rotund physique must have presented his tailor with a considerable challenge. Still, the moment had passed for a pithy response.

‘On the whole, you’ve made a fair attempt at these promotions,’ he said, at last getting to the main point of the meeting. ‘Far from easy in an economic downturn, so well done.’

He had no more experience of recessions than I did, but this didn’t stop him from patronising me.

‘Though a couple of them jumped out at me as anomalous.’

‘Which?’

‘Ryan Kelly—promotion to manager. I struggle to understand how such a major promotion is appropriate after that dreadful business in Daly’s wine bar.’

There was no reason for Smithies be aware of the incident, but somehow he seemed remarkably well informed about everything.

‘You’re talking about the last appraisal period—he’s really got his act together now, and we graded him as “meets expectations” this time around. Anyway, Daly’s was outside office hours.’

‘
And it was your Jimmy Choos he puked on, so you should decide if it screws his career,’
came the little voice again.

‘I’m sure I don’t need to remind you Amy—we are all ambassadors of the firm, twenty-four-seven. And I made it crystal clear that only those graded “above average” would be eligible for major promotions.’

‘Yes, but…’

I’d also understood some exceptions would be allowed, but he choked me off before I had a chance to say so.

‘You should have pressed for him to be graded higher in his appraisal if you felt so strongly.’

‘I wish I had now. Ryan is way better than some guys in other groups who were ranked as above average,’ I said, thinking of the worthless sycophants in Smithies’ old section.

‘I very much doubt that,’ Smithies said dismissively. ‘And you do need to be unbiased, even though Ryan’s related to you…’

Ah yes, I should have mentioned. Ryan was my ex-husband Greg’s kid brother. But by God, Smithies was crafty, trying to manipulate me by suggesting nepotism was at work.

‘I am unbiased.’

‘And even Greg thinks Ryan’s a moron, so no need for you to stick up for him on his account.’

‘
All the more reason to defend him, I should have thought.’

‘Then there’s Isabelle Edwards—you’re promoting her from one manager subgrade to another.’

If Smithies needed proof of my impartiality, this was it. I hated the suave little bitch, but I’d recommended her for promotion anyway.

‘You can’t have an issue with her—surely. We graded her as outstanding...’

‘
Plus she’s cosied up to slimy Smithies.’

‘Precisely my point—we need to sort the sheep from the goats—we should double promote her to senior manager.’

Smithies had told us all “for the avoidance of doubt” that double promotions would be vetoed in these straitened economic conditions. So this latest U-turn caught me unawares.

‘But I thought…’

‘You evidently haven’t thought at all, or used any imagination. The promotions process is not some box ticking, formulaic exercise—this is about people.’

‘
Bloody cheek, pinching your words,
’ piped up the little voice once more.

Too right—especially when done with no apparent irony.

‘Is this from the man obsessed with Bell curves and normal distributions?’ I challenged him, emboldened.

‘That’s different,’ he replied, with a satisfying level of defensiveness in his voice. ‘We had a significant problem when I took over—eighty percent of our people were graded “above average” in the previous appraisal round.’

‘
Hey—they might be if the other twenty percent are completely useless.’

‘Mathematically, that’s perfectly possible,’ I said, without thinking.

He eyed me suspiciously. I wasn’t sure where this cheeky disembodied voice was coming from and why I let her egg me on. Did I have some kind of subconscious death wish? For sure, if I valued my own survival in the Smithies regime, I would have to rein her in.

‘We digress,’ he said. ‘I take it you’re not happy with a double promotion for Isabelle.’

‘It could cause some ill feeling. I guess you don’t know Ryan and Isabelle are an item…’

‘I did know—and I can’t see it’s relevant. If the relationship endures, which frankly I doubt, for various reasons—he’ll have to get used to her leapfrogging through the grades.’

‘But you said no double promotions…’

‘There are always exceptions,’ he said. ‘And Isabelle Edwards is a most exceptional young lady, in all respects…’

He added the final comment with a trace of a smirk, despite his prudish hyper-awareness of corporate propriety. I remembered the little look he’d given Isabelle, and how a couple of days earlier I’d seen them sitting together in the canteen.

And the thought flitted into my brain and out, almost before it had fully formed. Were they having an affair?

‘But…’

‘You don’t like Isabelle, do you?’

‘How can you say that?’

‘
Well, it’s true isn’t it?’

‘It was obvious at the brainstorming meeting.’

This flair for mind reading was not only disturbing but also puzzling. Obviously, he couldn’t see inside my head, but the conclusions he drew were nonetheless unnervingly accurate. Now, I wished I’d second-guessed him better and suggested the double promotion myself.

‘The double promotion is OK,’ I said, avoiding any discussion of my feelings for Isabelle. ‘But Ryan Kelly deserves to be moved up.’

You may reflect on this later and think I’m lying, but it honestly wasn’t a big deal. Yes, Ryan’s promotion had been marginal, but everyone falls one side of the boundary or the other, and Ryan fell on the right side. Why should I capitulate purely based on Smithies’ snide remarks?

‘We’ll come back to that later, once we’ve dealt with your other questionable decisions.’

That alarmed me, no matter how firm my determination to stay calm.

‘Which?’

‘Well, for example, you’ve allowed six subgrade promotions to go through on the nod, despite my instructions to rigorously review each case.’

‘I
did
rigorously review them.’

‘I fear that your idea of a rigorous review may be not be the same as mine,’ he said sadly. ‘But hey—it’s a fairly minor point and if you can agree to hold Kelly back, I’ll let those stand.’

I pushed my plate aside. Who needed an eating disorder with Smithies’ slimy cunning to blunt the appetite? The trade-off was clear enough—one pissed-off guy instead of six—a fair deal on the face of it. Yet the cynic in me knew Smithies had introduced the subgrade promotions as a pseudo bargaining chip.

Though I could only guess at why he was so keen to advance Isabelle.

‘OK.’

If I had to rationalise, I’d say I’d taken a pragmatic approach, done the best job for my team. But that still didn’t ease the sting of guilt at not having tried harder.

‘
What a complete shit you’ve turned out to be.’

‘So are we done?’ I asked, ignoring the voice.

I had no desire to spend a nanosecond more than necessary with the odious man, but my hope that the meeting had ended was premature.

‘One more matter,’ Smithies said. ‘Lisa.’

We’d been considering Lisa for promotion to partnership, an elevation that would deliver a salary comfortably into six figures. I dreaded what was coming next.

‘It’s not me,’ said Smithies, with a faux apologetic hand gesture. ‘But questions are being asked, at board level.’

He might not have asked the questions—for a start, he wasn’t on the executive board, but he’d doubtless prompted them.

‘I’m afraid we’ve been forced to pull her off the partnership promotion list.’

He was such a consummate liar that his pain on delivering this news appeared utterly genuine.

‘So sorry, but in the current economic climate…’

‘
What excuse does he use for stabbing people in the back when the economy’s booming?’

‘She’s passed the first interview—she’s jumped through all the hoops so far—it’s not fair to…’

But he cut me short.

‘It’s perfectly fair. We’re in a recession and everyone’s wary of who egg-zackly we let into the partnership. Frankly Lisa is a bit too much of an Essex chav girl to cut it.’

‘
What about diversity?’

‘Aren’t Essex chav girls part of our diversity initiative then?’

The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them. He greeted them with a cold stare.

‘If you and I are to work amicably together, Amy, you’ll need to lose the habit of making flippant comments when I’m being serious.’

I felt my cheeks flush.

‘Yes, sorry.’

‘And I’ll leave you to tell her. OK?’

I shuddered in anticipation.

‘Look—I know it’s a tough conversation,’ he said, picking up on my hesitation, ‘especially as she’s your chum. But hey, we don’t pay you half a million quid a year to have an easy life.’ He wiped his mouth with his napkin and blotted the beads of sweat off his forehead.

No—they paid me half a million quid to be shat on from above and below simultaneously, dogged by self-doubt, striving desperately to play the part of a successful Pearson Malone partner.

‘
Is it worth it—is half a mill the price of your soul?’

I must admit, I’d been asking myself that question.

‘Leave it to me,’ I said, standing up to go before he had the chance to suggest coffee. ‘And thanks for lunch.’

‘My pleasure,’ he replied with another Instagram grin.

Of course if I’d known how it would all pan out, I’d have played it differently. For one thing, I wouldn’t have wasted my breath arguing about a promotion for someone who’d be dead before it took effect. I’d have refused to take on JJ due to immense pressure of work and I’d have told Smithies to speak to Lisa himself.

But as it was, I actually believed I’d handled the meeting well.

JJ’s secretary must have been psychic—before I’d even arrived back at the office, she’d called to fix a meeting the next morning.

I’d been planning to impart the sad news about her partnership to Lisa during a quiet drink after hours, but I now realised it couldn’t wait. I needed her help preparing for the meeting and she’d instantly twig why the client had been allocated to me.

Lisa bounded into my office with no inkling of her fate, wearing a purple trouser suit, far too full-on for her spiky red hair and green eyes. Her skull and crossbones earrings finished the outfit with a flourish—no convention of business dress too trivial to flout. Such non-conformist signals disturbed Smithies—no wonder he’d killed her promotion.

Her face crumpled as I broke it to her.

‘Well, I told you Smithies doesn’t like gobby cows,’ was her verdict.

True, but neither of us had foreseen this—Lisa stood so far above most of the other candidates, we’d assumed she’d be safe.

‘My position is untenable,’ she said simply. ‘I’ll have to leave. And truth be told, it’s probably for the best, given the way everything’s panning out here.’

She had a point. For some time we’d been bemoaning how the firm had changed in the three years since Bailey had taken control and gathered his clones around him. Ironically, amid all the pontificating on diversity, he’d created a culture where everyone was afraid to be authentic. Everyone except Lisa, that is.

By dint of her talent and sheer force of personality, they’d allowed her some latitude. But with Smithies in the driving seat, she’d finally paid the price for bucking convention. Her response surprised me though—how could someone with her drive and naked ambition capitulate at the first hint of opposition?

‘Wouldn’t it be better to fight, get the decision reversed, pass the assessment and then give them the finger? I’ll do everything in my power to help.’

‘What power?’ she asked, with a roll of her eyes. ‘You can’t stand up to Smithies. It’s only taken him a few weeks to make you toe the line. No—much wiser to quit while I’m ahead, before I end up the same.’

It was sad to hear her thinking this way. Once I’d been a role model—now she pitied and despised me for jumping through the hoops.

‘I’m amazed you’re taking it so calmly.’

‘It’s called being realistic.’

I wasn’t wholly convinced by her stoicism. Whatever she said, I would try my utmost to help, and not just for her, but me too. Without Lisa, life at Pearson Malone would be intolerable.

Meanwhile, we had a meeting to prepare for.

Lisa rattled off a status update. Since Princess Isabelle Edwards also worked on JJ’s affairs, it came as no surprise to learn that everything was under control. Queries from the Megabuilders’ due diligence team—sorted. Review of draft sale and purchase agreement from a tax perspective—no sweat—Isabelle had already emailed off a raft of incisive comments to the lawyers. What a paragon of virtue the girl was.

I was beginning to think this would be a doddle, until Lisa casually mentioned there’d been a “slight problem” on the account.

The hairs on the nape of my neck prickled.

‘Like what?’

‘A risk management issue.’

“Risk management issue” was a euphemism for being sued. And although even Smithies couldn’t find a way to reproach me for an error made before I took over, I still felt uneasy.

‘Surely not an Isabelle cock-up?’ I suggested in tones laden with sarcasm.

‘No,’ laughed Lisa. ‘And not me either, thank God—it goes back years. But Isabelle’s been the most involved in sorting it out—why don’t we ask her to explain the details.’

Lisa picked up my phone and dialled Isabelle’s extension. Seconds later, Isabelle stuck her immaculately coiffured head round my office door.

I’d been to school with girls of Isabelle’s ilk. Flawlessly presented, they churned out straight A’s, ran for the county and lived in spotless detached Tudorbethan houses, where the sheets were laundered twice a week. Nothing bad ever happened to them as they glided effortlessly through their perfect lives.

Twenty years on, the bile of envy was as caustic as ever.

She sat down next to Lisa, her sober grey skirt suit and pale blue silk blouse in marked contrast to Lisa’s outlandish outfit. The image was shrewdly calculated—Pearson Malone men responded better, if only on a subliminal level, to women who played it safe sartorially. I absorbed every detail—the nude ten-denier tights, the skirt an inch below the knee, the medium-heeled navy pumps…