The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene (40 page)

   Gringo smiled back and left it on his face, adjusting it ever so slightly, especially for Julie.

   He glanced down at the desk.

   A man stared back. The smile vanished. The guy was fortyish, crumpled grey suit, fat and bald, and was sweating as if he had raced straight from the swish squash courts that graced the basement.

   ‘Ah, Mister Greene, I presume, please take a seat.’

   Gringo’s heart fell as he slumped into the chair.

   ‘Where is Ms Cairncross?’

   ‘Julie? Ah, promoted I’m afraid, gone off to northern climes, taken over the position of Head of VAT, Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Signed a five year contract, so I believe, very highly thought of, she is, we won’t be seeing her around here for a very long time, pity really, smart girl, surprisingly pretty too, if you took the time to look, didn’t make the best of herself really, I thought, though she never seemed to take much of a shine to me.’

   Can’t say as I am surprised, thought Gringo, but already the guy was talking again.

   ‘No matter, I have her full report before me on your little difficulty. I’m sure she’ll have left nothing out, no stone unturned, so to speak. She’s a very thorough person, Ms Cairncross, always conducts her enquiries in the most diligent way, nothing’s too much trouble for her, my name’s Willetts by the way, I shall be looking after you from now on.’

   Great, thought Gringo, just what I needed.

   ‘Now, how shall we play this? Would you like to read, or be read to?’ he said, glancing down and picking up the report in his hands.

   Gringo thought that rather odd, that he should have a choice in the matter. He had imagined they, or rather she, would have just told him the results of their pontificating; indeed he imagined that she would have let him down rather lightly, especially if the news turned out bad.

   ‘I’ll read,’ said Gringo decisively, suddenly imagining he might detect meanings between the lines that the sweating idiot Willetts would never see.

   ‘Fine,’ the guy said, turning the report round and sliding it across the desk.

   Gringo picked it up and began reading. It was huge, pages and pages of tiny narrow type, no doubt a cost cutting measure to save paper, quite beyond anything he had been expecting. To make matters worse, Willetts began humming like a tramp at a bus stop. Gringo gave him his moustached look over the top of the report and the bloke caught his disapproval and ceased, and began tapping on his computer.

   Gringo ploughed on through the guff and gobbledegook. He was tempted to jump to the back page and read the last paragraph or two, but resisted that idea, just in case he might miss something of importance. Fact was, there wasn’t much of any consequence until the final page. He slowed his reading speed and concentrated on the meanings, both the obvious, and the hoped for between the lines.

While I am certain that Mister Greene has been open and helpful throughout my enquiries, it is quite clear the company, namely Dryden Engineering, seriously neglected their duties when it came to VAT accounting.

Accordingly I levy a mandatory £5,000 fine and a severe censure as to their future conduct, and an additional warning that officers of the Company could be held personally liable should there ever be a reoccurrence.

In this case, Mr Kevin Greene was not found personally liable for any transgressions; on the contrary, I felt he was put forward as a rather naïve figurehead by persons unknown who should have taken the responsibility upon themselves.

The monetary fine didn’t interest Gringo one bit, he wouldn’t be paying it, instead the words
rather naïve figurehead
rotored around his brain. If anyone is naïve, darling, it isn’t me, and with that thought his mind flashed back to
that
night in her tiddly townhouse. He could see her in his mind’s eye lying naked on the bed before him.

  
He thought she looked like a doll, white, fragile, her perfect skin reminding him of the smooth China cups in her office, as if any pressure might break her, might destroy her. In moments such as these it is weird the crazy thoughts that occasionally enter the mind… she came across as one kind young woman, more than that, she was extremely
feminine
. That wasn’t quite accurate. She wasn’t extremely feminine at all; she was the ultimate in femininity.

  
What would Willetts have given to witness such a sight?    Gringo was conscious that just thinking about her could make him excited. He glanced across at sweaty-poos who was still in another world, typing away. Just as well there was a hefty desk between them, and a decent modesty panel. Beyond Willetts’ shoulder sat the same china cups as a reminder of the beautiful woman who had formerly occupied that chair.

   Gringo cursed aloud.

   Willetts looked up and grimaced over theatrically.

   ‘Yep, not so good is it?’

   ‘What?’ said Gringo, not giving a banking toss about the idiotic report, as his mind returned to the here and now.

   ‘The ultimate result, not so good, I said, but at least you personally are in the clear, old man.’

  
‘Yes,’ said Gringo, tossing the report back across the desk.

   ‘No, no, that’s your copy, old man, take it back to the office, discuss it with your fellow directors. You really must put measures in place to prevent a reoccurrence. We don’t want to see you here again.’

   The oaf hadn’t even noticed that Kevin Greene did not appear on the board of directors, printed on every copy of the letterhead that dozed away in that huge report that sat before them.

   ‘Is that it?’

   ‘Yes, I think so, that’s everything for now, you are free to go, old man,’ and then he added, and they were the first remotely hostile words he had used: ‘You have fourteen days to pay, the fine and the refund. It wouldn’t go down well if you missed the deadline.’

   Gringo nodded and stood up and packed the report away in his bag.

   ‘Cheerio,’ said Willetts, as if he were a vicar arranging a marriage.

   ‘Goodbye,
old man
,’ said Gringo, as he left the room.

   Diane was there, as if she had been waiting for him.

   ‘Everyfink all right?’

   ‘Everything’s fine, Diane, couldn’t be better really, pity about Ms Cairncross though.’

   ‘Oh it is,’ she said, as she escorted him through the building. ‘If she had stayed I might have stayed too, but I’m not working for old sweaty bollocks in there.’

   Gringo laughed aloud. He wondered if she knew that from personal experience, but of course she did not.

   ‘Have a good marriage,’ he said to her at the door.

   ‘Oh I intend to, Mister Greene, I intend to.’

   The blonde awarded him one last practiced smile, a smile that Gringo just about returned, though in truth he was still thinking of a naked Ms Cairncross, and then he was back out on the damp tarmac, and wandering back toward the car.

   He never saw Diane the beautiful again, other than in the newspapers and gossip columns. It didn’t last of course, the marriage, three years and two children later, and it was all over. God knows what became of her, or of the kids.

On Friday evening Gringo guided the car from the close and pointed it toward Shrewsbury. What had made Glen change her mind about accompanying him he never discovered, nor ever asked, for he was too elated to have her sitting alongside him, as they headed toward the motorway network.

   He’d read somewhere that Shrewsbury was the biggest town or city in Britain that wasn’t connected to the motorway system, but that was for later, because there was plenty of motorway between his house and Shropshire, and he had every intention of enjoying the trip.

   She had done him proud, slipping into that classy black suit. He’d been out with dozens of beautiful women, but none of them, not one, not even Melanie Harris herself, and certainly not Maria, could hold a candle to Glenda Martin when it came to unspoilt beauty, leastways that was what Gringo thought, sitting in the car beside her.

   As ever she talked and talked, as did he, with smiles on their faces, and happiness in the car. She repeated two American jokes that Harry had told her, and then asked him to explain them. One of them he could and did, while the other remained a total mystery to them both.

   ‘American humour, eh?’ he said.

   Glen giggled and shook her head.

   It wouldn’t have made a ha’peth of difference if the journey had been ten times further in miles, or ten times longer in time, neither of them would have run out of conversation, nor would they become bored in each other’s company, and shortly afterwards, or so it seemed, they were pulling up outside the Greene’s country cottage.

   ‘Is that the time?’ she said, glancing at the dash, genuinely bemused as to where the hours had gone.

   ‘You’re a fine travelling companion,’ he said without thinking, and they paused and looked at one another and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her, and for once she would have let him do so, but the cottage front door burst open and light flooded out, as did the happy cat, and they both looked up to see the delighted old couple smiling and grinning from the doorstep, as the warmth and contented ambience of a happy home shimmered behind them. Gringo grabbed the two overnight bags from the boot and followed her up the path.

   ‘This is Glenda,’ he called, ‘though she likes to be called Glen.’

   ‘Come on in, Glen,’ said his mother, grabbing her by the forearm, while stepping over the purring cat. Mrs Greene dragged the pretty girl into the sitting room where a log fire crackled and spat out its welcome.

   ‘Lovely cottage, Mrs Greene.’

   ‘Do you like it? And you must call me Gayle. Are you hungry, Glen, you must be starving?’

   ‘We are a bit; we didn’t have time to stop.’

   ‘That’s typical of Kevin, when he gets on the road he never stops for anybody, or anything, he doesn’t seem to realise his passengers sometimes have certain needs.’

   They laughed together at that, by then in the kitchen.

   ‘We’ve done a fish and chip supper, nothing grand,
I hope you like it.’

   Glen already knew there were fish and chips on the go, it couldn’t be hidden in a cottage like this, not in a million years, and perhaps that explained why the cat seemed hyper excited.

   ‘I love fish and chips,’ said Glen genuinely, the thought of salt and vinegar on fresh chips making her suck her teeth, and after that the two women hit it off as if they had known each other for years.

   Outside in the hallway Gringo had been shocked at the sight of his father. It had only been a short time since he’d seen his parents last, but this time his dad looked truly dreadful. He’d lost yet more weight, and he didn’t have weight to spare, though it didn’t seem to bother the old man unduly, as he admired their visitor.

   ‘She’s mighty pretty.’

   ‘She is that.’

   ‘And is she
the
one?’

   ‘I don’t know, dad.’

   ‘What do you mean, you don’t know? Either she is, or she isn’t! You must know for God’s sake, it’s here in the guts,’ and his old father thumped his own chest and it echoed like an empty drum.

   ‘It isn’t as straight forward as that.’

   ‘Yes it is! You either love her or you don’t!’

   ‘There are other men in her life.’

   ‘Ah, bunk! Bugger the others! What do you expect with a woman like that? Of course there will be others hanging around like starving dogs, horseflies round shit, a bloody queue right round the county, I shouldn’t wonder. With a woman like that you must expect to fight off the blighters. Get yourself a gun! Faint heart never won a fair maiden, Kevin, boy. Strike while the cooking fat is smokin’. Have you asked her to marry you?’

   ‘Dad!’

   ‘Well have you?’

   ‘No! Not that it’s of any of your business.’

   ‘It
is
our business! We won’t be here forever, you know.’

   ‘I know that dad.’

   ‘Well bloody well get on with it!’

   ‘Dad, I’m trying my best.’

   ‘Don’t bloody well try, just do it! Stop pissing about; ask her, and do it this weekend, and if you can’t do that, get her in the family way!’

   ‘Dad!’

   Glen came back into the hall and immediately noticed the heavy atmosphere between the men.

   ‘I’m not disturbing anything, am I?’

   ‘No, course not,’ said Gringo.

   The father smiled at the girl through his tired eyes and slipped his pipe back into his mouth.

   ‘Gayle says supper’s ready now, if you want to come on through.’

   Gringo smiled at her and almost imperceptibly nodded her away. Glen bobbed her head and retreated to the sanctuary of the kitchen.