Executive Affair (4 page)

‘Oh, hello, would you mind holding a minute?' She put her hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Michael. ‘I have to take this call.'

He looked miffed. ‘I'll see you later then.'

Her hands shaking slightly, she turned back around. ‘Sorry about that, Robert. How can I help you?'

‘I'm just calling to see if you're all set for the move,' he said.

She relaxed; he sounded nice. ‘Yes, today's my last day. I'm a little nervous but really looking forward to it.'

‘That's good. And you've received your letter of offer from Harry?'

‘Yes,' she confirmed. ‘That came through last week and I sent the signed copy back to him straight away.'

‘You were happy with the terms?'

‘More than happy. Thank you for being so accommodating.'

‘It's no trouble. I'm glad that all is in order. I may be in Sydney later this year so I guess I'll see you then. Good luck.'

‘Thanks for everything.'

When she put the phone down she felt strangely emotional. Then she remembered Michael and knew why. She still couldn't trust herself not to lose it around him. She was glad that Robert had called when he did.

As she tidied her desk, she warned the girls not to blame all future problems on her as they usually did with other ex-employees.

‘Remember, I'll still be working for the same company so any derogatory comments will get back to me,' she laughed as she skimmed through some paperwork before throwing it in the bin.

‘I like your filing system,' Margaret remarked.

‘You should try it.'

Then Mark came out of his office.

‘Can I have everybody's attention, please? Gather around.' He waited a few moments for people to get in place. ‘I think you will all agree that Claire is going to be sorely missed,' he began.
‘I'm quite heartbroken to lose such a dedicated, hardworking employee.'

‘You're embarrassing me,' Claire grinned.

‘The positive side is that Amtech is not losing Claire and Australia is a great move for her, both personally and careerwise … Claire, we wish you all the luck in the world. We know you'll succeed with the role in Sydney. Just have fun while you do it and don't forget to stay in touch with us.' Mark kissed her on the cheek and handed her a book of Aussie slang words.

‘Thanks … I'll get great use out of this … I'm going to miss you all and of course I'll also miss the unpaid overtime, the bad weather …' She laughed even though she was close to tears.

Michael didn't go to Maguire's. She wasn't surprised. She had a good time anyway and was very fuzzy around the edges when it was time to go home.

They put her in a taxi, Mark, Margaret, Susan and John crowding round to wave her off.

‘I meant what I said earlier,' said Mark, ‘about keeping in touch. I know we'll be talking about the upgrade project in a few months but don't hesitate to call if you need some advice – and it doesn't have to be work-related. Call if you just need to hear a friendly voice … Okay?'

‘Thanks, Mark. That means a lot.'

‘And don't forget to send on some photos,' Susan added.

‘Especially ones of the chicks on Bondi Beach,' John put in.

Their prolonged goodbyes and hugs had annoyed the taxi driver. He took off with a screech of brakes and Claire was suddenly very alert.

She wound down the window and stuck out her head.

‘Goodbye, lads,' she shouted. ‘And goodbye, Dublin.'

Streaks of grey rain splattered the window as the plane began its lurching descent into Sydney. Claire felt cheated. She had left Ireland in wintry sunshine, and rain was the last thing she had expected at the end of her journey. Her eyes were stinging with exhaustion. The emotional goodbyes at Dublin airport and an uncontainable sense of anticipation had prevented her from relaxing enough to sleep.

Judging by the queues in customs, several planes must have landed within seconds of each other. Her luggage was amongst the last pieces to be loaded onto the carousel and she was even more exhausted when she finally made her way out to the arrivals lounge.

She spotted Fiona straight away. Excitement beamed across her face as she waved frantically before barging through the crowds to give her an enthusiastic hug.

‘Not too close, Fi – I haven't washed in thirty-six hours!' Claire gave her a weary smile.

‘It's great to see you, smelly or not!'

‘It's good to see you, too! I'm so happy to be here – I'm dog-tired but very happy.'

‘Come on, Den's parked in a five-minute drop-off zone, so we'd better hurry,' Fiona said and picked up Claire's suitcase with enviable energy.

Den was Fiona's ex-boyfriend. He jumped out of the car to greet them, oblivious to the glares of the parking attendant who was pointedly looking at his watch. His hair was unrepentantly red and a huge smile split his face in two. His car was the most ancient vehicle Claire had ever seen, an enormous sickly green Ford Falcon that had to be thirty years old. They drove through the eastern suburbs with Marvin Gaye's ‘Sexual Healing' blaring from the battered radio. It seemed an inappropriate song for so early in the morning and it didn't help Claire feel less disorientated.

Fiona and Den shared an apartment in Bondi, located down a narrow side street where securing a park was an impossible feat. Den dropped them off outside before setting off on ‘Mission Impossible'. The apartment was small and bright, the walls startling white and the timber floors gleaming. The clean smell of polish hinted that Fiona had gone on a cleaning spree in honour of Claire's arrival. There was a large balcony, bigger than the unit itself, and if you leaned right over the left-hand corner you could see the beach. Claire was to sleep in the sunroom.

‘I didn't realise that you were still living with Den,' Claire said as she sat down on the fold-up bed.

‘It makes sense at the moment. It's convenient for both of us,' Fiona answered, dropping Claire's case with a thud before joining her on the bed.

‘But hasn't it been a few months since you broke up?'

‘Nearly three. But we're still really good friends and I like him staying here. I would miss him terribly if he moved out.'

‘He seems like a really nice guy.'

‘Yeah, he's fun and he likes the same things as me. But you wouldn't guess that he's a lawyer, would you?'

‘He is?'

‘It's hard to believe when you see how he dresses … and his car,' Fiona laughed. ‘It's amazing he's not disbarred for having a car like that.'

‘Why did you break up? He seems perfect for you.'

‘He was perfect in many ways,' Fiona replied, regret obvious in her voice. ‘But he's searching for something … what I don't know, but clearly I wasn't it.'

‘I don't know how you do it … I could never see myself living with Michael as a friend,' said Claire with a grimace.

‘What happened between you two?'

‘I don't really know. When we broke up, he was seeing someone else, but obviously something wasn't happening for him for some time before that.'

‘And you had no idea?'

‘Absolutely none. Enough of Michael, tell me about Sydney.'

They sat on the bed for a few hours, chatting, laughing, reminiscing. Eventually Claire was so tired she couldn't keep her eyes open and Fiona left her to catch up on some sleep.

When she woke it was dark outside. If it hadn't been for her bed shaking from the stereo vibrations, she suspected she would never have woken again. Dishevelled and still half-asleep, she wandered out to the living room. Den and Fiona were sitting on the floor, playing cards, surrounded by empty beer bottles and a cloud of smoke.

‘Cute pyjamas,' Den commented. ‘I've always liked Mickey Mouse.'

‘Thought you'd be too tired to go out on the town tonight so we'll have our own little party here instead,' Fiona said, standing up unsteadily. ‘What would you like to drink?'

‘I'll have a beer, although my body is telling me that it's morning and it's immoral to start drinking so early in the day,' Claire said, shaking her head in bewilderment as she sat down on one of the beanbags.

Den turned the music up louder. ‘We were keeping it down for your benefit,' he explained.

Claire nodded as if she fully agreed the volume had been far too low and took a swig of her drink.

‘What's this beer?' she asked, looking curiously at the label on the bottle.

‘VB, darl. Good old Victoria Bitter, best beer in the world,' Den replied in an exaggerated Aussie drawl.

‘You know what? It's great to be in Australia! Cheers!' Claire said, raising her beer bottle to clash it with his.

It was 6.00 am. Claire's head was directly under the window and she moved the curtain so she was looking up at a pale blue sky. She sighed with relief that the torrential rain of the previous day had disappeared. She got up and had a long shower before putting on a pair of shorts and T-shirt. Looking out her window, she could see that their tiny street was stirring with traffic and pedestrians. She wrote Fiona a brief note to tell her that she was going out.

She walked the whole length of Bondi Beach, breathing in the sea air, letting it clear her cluttered head. Despite the early hour, the beach was alive with surfers, joggers and even some
volleyball players. She sat on the beach, toes curled in the sand, looking at the crashing surf. After an hour, feeling stiff from sitting for so long, she walked to the main strip, bought a Sunday paper and had breakfast at one of the multitude of outdoor cafés.

Arriving back at the flat just after nine, she was disappointed that Fiona still wasn't up. Unable to restrain her impatience, she knocked gently on her bedroom door and opened it.

‘Sorry …' she said in a meek voice. ‘I've been awake for ages and I'm dying to get out to see everything. Do you reckon Den will take us out in the car?'

Fiona looked at her blearily. There was a movement in the blankets and Den's head appeared as if from nowhere.

‘Sure thing, babe. Just give me a minute,' he said and gave a loud unselfconscious yawn.

Thankful she had at least knocked before barging in on them, Claire quickly backed out of the room, muttering something about them taking their time and not rushing on her account. She wondered if they had got back together or if it had been just a drunken indiscretion.

Just one hour later, the Ford Falcon was chugging across the Harbour Bridge. Claire sat in the front and Den, acting as tour guide, answered her constant stream of questions with good humour. Sydney was breathtaking. The vast harbour, the protected bushland on the heads and the red rooftops all created a stunning backdrop for the city. They passed beach after beach, leafy suburb after leafy suburb until they reached Palm Beach and could go no further. They went for a rowdy swim, with lots of splashing and squealing, before lying in the sunshine. Fiona had had the foresight to pack a picnic and a bottle of wine. As Claire sat on the soft rug, her skin warm from the sun, her face
glowing from the wine, she thought that life didn't get much better than this.

The following morning she restlessly tossed and turned for over an hour, willing herself to go back to sleep. She reluctantly got up, defeated.

Fiona was in the kitchen having breakfast.

‘You're up early for someone who's meant to be on holiday,' she said.

Claire wasn't due to start her new job until the following week. ‘Tell me about it. Hey, you look really good,' she added with admiration.

Fiona had always favoured an alternative style of dress and she didn't look like herself in the smart grey suit and the high-heeled court shoes.

‘Everyone here gets pretty dressed up for work,' Fiona replied a little defensively. ‘I'd better get going. Here's my business card – you can ring me if you get lost.'

For the rest of the week Claire continued to wake up early. She used it to her advantage, spending the mornings sightseeing before it got too warm. Returning in the afternoon, she would have a leisurely lunch on the balcony before walking to the beach. By the end of the week she knew her way around most of the city centre and was an expert on the eastern suburbs public-transport system.

It was ironic that she found it hard to get up early on her first day of work. She had to force herself out of bed and into the shower. She dressed in a dark navy suit, the short skirt showing off a light tan from a week of sunbathing. She brushed her hair back from her face; straight and almost black, it fell to her shoulders. Putting her bag on her shoulder, she gave
her reflection one last critical look before leaving.

Rush hour was a new experience. Used to the leisurely pace of midday commuters, she was momentarily stunned by the crowds and how quickly they were moving. She wasn't skilled enough to actually secure a seat on the train and had to stand uncomfortably for the twenty-minute journey. Exiting at North Sydney Station, she was almost half an hour early. She went for a coffee, sipping it nervously as she absently studied the parade of business people that strode past.

She walked into the reception of Amtech Australia at precisely one minute before nine, standing awkwardly as the receptionist answered a series of calls. Employees hurried past, throwing glances in her direction.

She introduced herself as soon as there was a lull in the incoming calls. ‘Hi, I'm Claire Quinlan. I'm starting today.'

‘Nice to meet you, I'm Audrey,' the receptionist answered, giving a friendly smile. ‘Harry told me to expect you. Take a seat while I try to get hold of him.'

Claire was reading the
Sydney Morning Herald
when Harry hurried out to the reception area, a little out of breath. With his shock of white hair and a multitude of soft wrinkles, he looked more like a kindly grandfather than a hard-nosed finance director. He shook her hand vigorously, almost painfully, and she followed him as he weaved his way through the open-plan workstations to arrive at his office. He invited her to sit at the meeting table that was located in front of his large cluttered desk.

‘When did you arrive in Sydney?' he asked, rummaging through the stacks of paperwork on his desk.

‘A week ago. I've been busy sightseeing and sunbathing. It feels strange to have to come to work – I've got used to the good life,' she said, smiling.

‘Any problems settling in?'

‘No, I'm staying with a friend and she's taken good care of me. Sydney is an easy city to get around.'

‘Well, I'm really glad you're here, Claire. I've been without a finance manager for three weeks now and I'm feeling the pressure. I'm sure that the rest of the team is too.' He found what he was looking for and sat down across from her. ‘This is an organisation chart for the Finance department. You will be my only direct report – everyone else reports to you. The team is a good one – most of the people have been with Amtech for a few years and know what they're doing.'

‘That's good to know.' Claire nodded and tried to memorise the names on the chart.

‘I expect the finance manager to be very close to all my colleagues on the senior management team, giving day-to-day operational support while I handle the strategic side. I think Emma has done a reasonable job of getting the right reports to the right managers, but some things have fallen through the cracks and I think they'll all be very happy that you have started. Most of the senior managers are away in Asia this week, so you'll have to wait until next week to meet them.'

Harry showed her to her office. It was on the other side of the building and he introduced her to a few people they met en route.

‘Well, here you are … not very big … and I'm afraid you don't have a view of the harbour.' He peered out the window to see if there was anything of interest.

‘Don't worry. I love it,' she said, putting her bag and the few pieces of paper she had acquired on the desk. ‘Where do the rest of the department sit?' She was impatient to meet her four direct reports.

‘Just around the corner. Come on and I'll introduce you to everybody.' He stood back to allow her to pass through the door in front of him.

The workstations were only a few steps away, as Harry had promised. Archive boxes were abandoned in every available corner, piles of filing stacked on most desks. The printer area was a total disaster zone with months of homeless printouts. Everybody, including Harry, seemed cheerfully unaware of the mess. He stopped to introduce Claire to a short robust girl who was knee-deep in paperwork.

‘This is Emma, our financial accountant,' Harry said, casually leaning against one of the nearby filing cabinets as Emma stood up to shake Claire's hand. ‘Emma was presented with her ten-year service award last month. She started as a filing clerk and has worked her way up to this position.'

Claire guessed Emma was in her late twenties, but it was difficult to put an age to her serious face. Her eyes were wary and her smile was forced. Claire felt uncomfortable, sensing hostility but not totally sure.

Maybe she's just nervous and I'm being paranoid
.

‘Claire, meet James, our accounts payable administrator. He gets up at six every morning for a surf and then comes in here for a sleep. Paying our vendors is just about the last thing on his mind!' Harry shook his head in despair.