Just Business (2 page)

Everybody in HDD knew and liked Helen. With short chestnut hair and pretty hazel eyes, she looked like the proverbial girl next door. Yet she cajoled the managers into a reluctant responsibility for their financial results and was pleasantly uncompromising on budgets and deadlines. Finance directors came and went but there was always Helen, holding the department together and managing it better than any of her bosses.
Don could only conclude that her silence masked a massive shock at losing her job.

When there was nothing more for Don to say, Helen found her voice.

‘I can't believe Phil has done this.'

Her words were so quiet, Don had to strain to hear. ‘Phil' had to be Phil Davis, the finance director, Helen's boss. Don fidgeted with his tie, daunted by her anger. It enveloped the whole room, made all the more ominous by her low tone.

‘He can't get away with this.'

Colour was starting to flood her face.

‘Get away with what?' Don prompted when she didn't continue of her own accord.

‘He sexually harassed me.' She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Now he thinks he's found a convenient way to get rid of me.'

Don felt a little panicked. He was only three days promoted; a sexual harassment suit against a senior executive like Phil Davis was entirely out of his league.

‘Have you made a complaint?'

‘No. But I told Phil that I would when it happened again last week.'

Don nodded when she paused and wondered what ‘it' entailed.

‘But he found a way to shut me up – by retrenching me – the
bastard
!' Helen checked herself before repeating, ‘He's not going to get away with this.'

Don glanced at his watch; he had ten more people to see before the end of the day.

‘I think you should lodge a formal complaint … I'll tell Niamh that you'll call her, okay?'

‘Thanks, Don. I'll talk to Niamh. I know this hasn't been
easy for you. Thank you for handling it all so professionally.'

With that she left, her poise intact. Don's confidence was restored with her words of praise and he picked up the phone to call the next victim to the gallows.

Jessica Sutcliffe found herself staring at Denis Greene's limp, greasy ponytail. The hair drawn through the elastic band was grey and split. She had an urge to get the scissors from her desk drawer to snip it off. She waited while Denis read through his calculation sheet. He took his time, studying the numbers with the care of someone who wasn't too good at maths.

Denis noted they had rounded his years of service up to four – he supposed that was generous enough. He had got five weeks in lieu of notice and seven months' redundancy. The overall number was appealing; there were things he could do with the money.

‘Do I take it that the figures are agreeable to you?' Jessica asked, aware of precious time ticking by.

‘Don't put words in my mouth,' he was quick to reply, his voice loud with a rough Yorkshire accent.

‘Look, Denis,' Jessica stifled an irritated sigh, ‘if you have issues, now is the right time to air them.'

Denis made an effort to gather his thoughts. The girl, Jessica, hadn't mentioned his business visa. He guessed that it wouldn't be valid if he was no longer working for HDD, the sponsoring employer. But he wasn't sure what would happen to his outstanding application for permanent residency. He had made that application two months ago; only a few people knew about it.

‘Denis?' Jessica prompted, her impatience now revealing itself.

‘You're pressuring me! Give me time to think, lass!' he snapped.

Denis, oblivious to Jessica's surging temper and his own rudeness, continued to weigh things up in his head. If the application for permanent residency fell through, the worst case would be that he and Lily would have to return to England. They had been arguing about that for ages anyhow, with Lily's mother getting older and constantly whingeing that her only daughter lived on the other side of the world. But this retrenchment might be forcing the issue prematurely. Denis had planned to go back some time in the next few years, not straight away as Lily wanted.

Jessica gave a deliberate cough just as Denis reached a conclusion. He decided he would take the cheque and walk away from HDD. Things had been getting too complicated and this was the perfect reason to back out. If that meant they had to go back to England, then he could live with it.

‘No issues.' He looked at her with narrowed eyes before adding, ‘For now.'

Five o'clock came and HDD was lighter by fifty people. Black Monday was over for most but Niamh had one final meeting in her office.

‘It's been a tough day,' she said to Don and Jessica when they came in.

They both mumbled their concurrence. Their faces spoke volumes: they wanted to get as far away from the office as possible.

Niamh knew they all shared the same thumping headache and spoke quickly. ‘I wanted to touch base before we head home. I need to know if you have any issues to report, anyone who is likely to get legal.'

‘I have one,' Don replied.

‘Who?'

‘Helen Barnes.'

Niamh took a sharp breath. She had been very surprised to see Helen's name on the retrenchment list. The previous finance director had once said she was a sterling employee, someone you would move heaven and earth to keep. But Phil Davis, his successor, had offered her name up like a lamb to the slaughter. Said that these were hard times and he couldn't justify her large salary. With so many others going, Niamh hadn't challenged his reasons. Now she wished she had.

‘She says that Phil sexually harassed her and put her on the retrenchment list because she wouldn't play his games,' said Don.

The faint thumping in Niamh's head got more insistent. She knew Helen and she wasn't the type of woman to make an idle accusation of sexual harassment. She massaged her aching forehead. ‘Sexual harassment is always so difficult – there are usually no witnesses and it comes down to one person's word against another.'

‘Phil Davis is a creep – it doesn't surprise me at all that he's made a pass at Helen.' Jessica folded her arms in disgust. She was well known for having a temper that was in sync with her red hair. She always had difficulty keeping her opinions to herself.

‘You should know better than to jump to conclusions like that without knowing the facts,' Niamh admonished half-heartedly.

Jessica wasn't listening. ‘What did Phil do to Helen? Did he –'

‘Jessica!' Niamh's next admonishment was sharper. ‘It's none
of your business … Don, is Helen going to make a formal complaint?'

‘She said she would. I asked her to give you a call over the next few days.'

‘Thanks … Now, Jessica, do you have any issues to report from your meetings?'

‘No, nothing.'

‘Good. That means we only have two potential cases. Two out of fifty isn't bad.'

‘Who's the other one?' asked Don.

‘It's Scott.'

Don and Jessica were silent. Scott was their colleague; he was new but he was popular. He was doing a great job at streamlining recruitment and without him they would be going back to the old chaos.

‘Please keep this confidential,' Niamh warned them. ‘I don't want any leaks on Helen
or
Scott –' She was interrupted by a knock on the door and it opened to reveal a peroxide head.

‘Are you all finished now?' asked Sharon.

‘Yes, just done.' Niamh started to clear her desk, moving files into the drawer where they could be locked away.

‘I brought some drinks – thought you could do with the numbing effect of alcohol after a day like today,' Sharon said as she opened the door fully and walked in carrying a bottle of wine and a stack of plastic cups.

Jessica took the bottle of wine from Sharon's grasp, nodding with approval at the label. ‘Where did you get this?'

‘Malcolm's office,' Sharon said with a shameless grin. Her life was a seesaw of diets and binges. The wine indicated she was currently riding the crest of a binge.

Jessica opened the bottle and poured four equal shares to the very rim of each plastic cup.

Niamh raised her cup in a toast, saying, ‘Not sure what we're celebrating, but cheers anyway.'

‘We're not celebrating, we're commiserating,' Don corrected her.

‘Yeah, commiserating at losing the only good-looking man in the department,' said Jessica, then seeing Don's fallen face added, ‘Sorry, Don, don't take it personally but you can't compete with Scott. He's a
sexy beast
– isn't he, Niamh?'

Niamh felt all eyes turning to her direction. In her head she was thinking of blue eyes, berry-brown skin and the lean muscle across his shoulders. Scott
was
incredibly sexy but she wasn't going to admit it to anyone but herself. She had registered that he was attractive at the very first interview. But then he became a member of her staff, putting him in a no-go zone even if she had been single. Outwardly, she hesitated only slightly before saying, ‘I'm not qualified to comment on sexy beasts – I'm married.'

Everyone laughed.

‘Yeah, typical of a smug married person to get rid of the only sexy beast we've had around here in ages,' Jessica said.

Niamh grinned at her. ‘Sorry – but it was a last in, first out policy, nothing to do with sexiness.'

‘How did Scott take it, Niamh? Was he okay?' Sharon asked. Not many people knew that there was a very caring person beneath the scary hair.

‘Not great,' Niamh confessed with a grimace. ‘He was pretty pissed off. And I didn't handle him very well. I was thrown off course –'

‘I should hope you didn't
handle
him!' Jessica picked up on
Niamh's unfortunate choice of words and burst into a fit of giggles.

‘How many times do I have to tell you?' Niamh pursed her lips with a mock primness. ‘I'm married.'

Married! Yes, she was married but it didn't feel like it. It must have had something to do with living with a stranger. After one plastic cup of wine, she left to go home to that stranger.

Traffic on the bridge was bad even though rush hour was over. Niamh hated sitting in traffic, edging forward in millimetres. She put on a CD to stop herself getting agitated and to stop the analysis of how she and Chris had become strangers.

It was a full hour before she turned into their street in Manly. Light filled the windows of their two-storey house. Chris was home before her and that was nothing short of amazing. She parked next to his silver BMW in the double garage. He loved that car in the same way he loved all the other symbols of his success as an up-and-coming solicitor. He was gunning for partnership and was within striking distance of his goal. She should have been proud of him.

He was cooking dinner, a rare occurrence.

She kissed his cheek. ‘This is a nice surprise.'

‘How did it go?' he asked, not reacting in any way to her kiss.

She kicked off her shoes before answering, the coolness of the tiles a welcome balm to her feet. ‘It was terrible – Malcolm made a total mess of the address. He told everyone it was “just business”, nothing personal. He kept referring to “the ten per cent”, as if they weren't real people. He doesn't know the meaning of sensitivity!'

She stole a piece of capsicum from the chopping board. She was hungry; there had been no time for lunch.

‘Christmas is just around the corner and the job market is already starting to slow down for the holidays. That was the worst part of today – knowing that most of them are going to be out of work for a few months. Scott –'

‘Who's Scott?' Chris interrupted and Niamh felt a warning stab of frustration. She had already mentioned Scott numerous times. Chris had a faultless memory when it came to his own life but a hopeless one when it came to anything she told him about her work, her family, anything.

‘He is, I mean
was
, the recruitment manager in my department. He's only been with us two months and he was really mad at being made redundant. I kind of lost control of the meeting with him. I think he's going to sue us.'

Chris bestowed her with a disapproving look. ‘For heaven's sake, Niamh! You're the human resources director – you can't afford to lose control!'

‘I know, I know, but I could understand why he was angry, I really could. He left a good job to come to HDD … He's got a child to support … I felt sorry for him …' She stared back at Chris, knowing full well he wouldn't be interested in the mitigating circumstances but telling him anyway so he could prove just how uncaring he was. He didn't let her down.

‘Don't let it bother you so much. You have outplacement counsellors to deal with that messy stuff.'

‘Messy stuff' meant personal and home issues and they clearly didn't rate with her husband. Niamh lost her tentative hold on her temper. ‘Of course it bothers me! We sent fifty people home to their families today – that's
fifty
people who had to tell their partners they have no income and no job prospects until after the holiday season!'

‘All I'm saying is that you have to distance yourself from
all that. Human Resources exists to hire and fire, if you can't –'

‘Thanks for summarising my job in such a crude way,' she interrupted. ‘I do a
lot
more than hiring and firing. My job is about
people
– people management, development – and I care about
people
. There's nothing wrong with that – just because all you care about is money and your bloody partnership –'

‘Stop!' he cut her off. It was clear he didn't want to engage in the emotion of another fight. ‘Look, I know you've had a bad day but don't bring it home, eh?'

She swallowed a response because he was right. It was late, it had been an awful day and she didn't need to round it off with an argument. Most of their conversations these days involved someone raising their voice in frustration before they descended into a full-blown argument. It was history repeating itself. Twenty years ago it had been her mum and dad fighting, now it was Chris and her.