Dr Blake didn’t move a muscle.
‘But, you know, I’d always remembered her as being beautiful …’
Dr Blake stopped breathing.
‘And now—’
Jake thought again of Annie’s angry eyes, the dark shadows underneath them, the sour expression of bitterness gone mad.
Dr Blake watched his face flicker through a hundred expressions. If I had a mirror in this room I’d be out of a job, she thought.
‘I’ve just discovered that my memory of her … well, either she’s lost her looks or I’ve upped my standards. Basically, I’ve spent the past seven years working my arse off, convinced that every hour, every
minute
of work I did – pushing myself up that ladder, missing out on relationships, friendships, basic life experiences – was proving that Annie Markham – beautiful, gentle, perfect Annie Markham – was wrong in rejecting me. Only to discover seven years later that she’s a sour-faced, hard bitch. My motivation for my entire career has … been flawed.’
They sat in silence, absorbing this monumental psychological step. Well, Jake was absorbing it, Dr Blake was suddenly remembering she’d forgotten to tape
Coronation Street
.
Double poo.
Sod silence, she thought. If she got home early, she’d make it in time for the last few minutes.
‘How depressed would you say you’re feeling now? On a scale of one to ten.’
Jake stared at the carpet. He shrugged.
‘Dunno,’ he whispered eventually.
Dr Blake shut her pad.
‘A perfect place to finish,’ she said with a reassuring smile.
11
ONE WEEK LATER,
at seven-thirty in the morning, Jake, David Silver and two of their top colleagues sat working in a coffee bar near George Markham’s office.
In two hours’ time, they’d have their first official meeting with their new clients. They knew their plan was good. They’d spent every minute of the past week working on it. They’d go so far as to lay money on it being the answer to everyone’s prayers.
Now all they had to do was convince their clients.
An hour later, Jake anticipated the usual heady sensation of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
An hour and a half later, feeling more tense than alert, he ordered his third coffee. Where the hell was the buzz?
Two hours later, on the dot of 9.30 am, Jake Mead Associates’ four top consultants shook hands with Susannah, Charles and Edward Goddard inside George’s spacious office.
Shirley came in.
Thank God, thought Jake. More coffee.
He leafed through his notes, listening to his colleagues expertly make small-talk with the clients. At just the right
moment, he looked up, gave everyone a disarming, yet modest, smile and stood tall.
‘Right, well,’ he started, rubbing his hands together to relay his company’s attitude of gritty optimism.
‘Oh, sorry, but we’re not all here yet, we’re just waiting for Annie,’ explained Susannah.
The coffee finally hit Jake’s nervous system. Not a moment too soon, he thought, collapsing into his seat. He suddenly felt wide awake.
While his colleagues gave the slides and laptop one final check, the door opened and all except George and Jake were disappointed by the sight of Shirley with the coffee.
Behind her raced a rather jumpy Annie.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said. ‘I got stuck in traffic.’
While Annie sat down, Jake tapped his notes on the desk, making them an even neater pile than before. From the corner of his eye, he felt Edward’s body language suddenly shift into another gear.
By now, Jake had carried out the silent ritual of taking in as many details about his clients as possible, seeking out the possible troublemakers and the potential allies, and always the most intriguing, the troublemakers in disguise as allies. If only they all knew how easily they could be categorised. If only they all knew how he could almost predict word for word how they were going to react to his presentation.
He took one last swig of coffee, stood up, cleared his throat, looked out at everyone, cheesy-grinned and, after the requisite dramatic pause … he was off.
Jake was smooth, professional and confident. He didn’t falter from his script, he didn’t patronise or dumb down. He joked when it was appropriate, became grave when required. He illustrated his research into his clients’ world with the light
touch of a geisha. He warmed them up, cooled them down, held them at arms’ length, drew them in, reined them out to seduce them back. He played them like a Stradivarius.
And he didn’t look at Annie once.
Until she poured herself a coffee. And with one surreptitious, sideways glance, he discerned that unlike when he’d chanced upon her in the kitchen, she was now wearing make-up. And hair combs. And a bra. But the expression was the same. Sourness, bitterness and a hint of wary suspicion. He’d seen the look before in so many of his clients’ faces – the Contraception Look, he called it – and it was his least favourite look to deal with.
She probably hadn’t had a man for years.
He shifted mode into serious but loving – the Parent’s Voice.
‘Now, let’s move on to the different areas of concern for my colleagues and myself. Of primary concern to you – and therefore to us – is cost reduction.’ A pause before continuing. ‘And the first, most easy cost reduction is to reduce the head count by thirty per cent.’
Another pause.
‘Or sack 1,200 people,’ came Annie’s voice from the corner.
Jake eyed her quickly, sensing David’s inward groan. David now owed him £50. Admittedly, Jake had been at an advantage in knowing that Annie’s fragile looks belied her boldness, but a bet was a bet.
‘Allow me to illustrate,’ he said, selecting a graph and nodding to David to turn off the lights.
As the lights dimmed, everyone turned to the graph, which illustrated this point with such painstaking detail that not one of them understood it. Not even the consultants. But it was
in a fabulous shade of purple. Mauve almost, with a hint of lemon.
‘Does it not occur to you,’ said Annie, ‘that the heads involved in the headcount are attached to bodies?’
No shit Sherlock, thought Jake. And I bet you think you’re the first person to ever say that. Sweet.
‘We
are
a company known for its heart,’ Edward confided to Jake.
You’re a company known for its sinking revenues, arse-hole, thought Jake.
He smiled an apologetic, empathetic smile. His voice was conciliatory and benign.
‘Of course these are real people and let me assure you that no one likes having to put someone out of a job.’ Dramatic, sensitive pause. ‘But a large number of those redundancies are contractors who’ve been extended, so not all of them are going to be out of work. Secondly, many of the people who will be downsized will be IT, that is, Information Tech—’
‘I know what IT stands for,’ interrupted Annie quietly. ‘And downsized.’
Jake took a deep breath and continued.
‘Those people will be snapped up again in no time,’ he mollified gently. ‘Thirdly, there will be people who are under-performing, forcing others to work twice as hard to cover them. And finally –’ he turned to Susannah, and spoke with compassion ‘– we’re talking about thirty per cent of the staff losing their jobs so that a hundred per cent can keep theirs.’
Susannah nodded firmly. Beautifully put, she thought. (And beautiful biceps.)
‘Seventy per cent, surely.’
‘Pardon?’
Annie took a deep breath.
‘Thirty per cent of the staff losing their jobs so that seventy per cent can keep theirs. Not a hundred per cent.’
Jake smiled.
‘It will be a hundred per cent of the new total staff.’
Annie assumed an expression of delight.
‘Oh how clever! You mean that thirty per cent no longer exist at all. You’ve whitewashed them completely. Invisible maths!’
‘
Annie!
’ Susannah’s voice was utterly no-nonsense. Even Jake jumped.
There was an ugly pause.
‘How long do you think this company’s got if we keep going at this rate?’ asked Edward.
Annie, blushing in shame at being spoken to like that in public, was grateful for his thoughtfulness.
Jake managed to keep any shock out of his expression and voice at this question. Edward had been chief exec for six months. What had he been doing all that time if he didn’t know the answer to that?
‘To our estimation, we’re probably talking a few months.’
Edward nodded thoughtfully at this. He was trying to formulate something.
‘Is it not possible to knock these heads off—’
‘Reduce the head count.’
‘Reduce the head count,’ repeated Edward, ‘a bit slower. Make it a bit less traumatic for everyone. Including myself. I love my staff like … like children.’
Let’s hope you never have children, thought Jake. He opened his face into an expression of non-judgemental explanation.
‘To be honest, all you do then is create a culture of paranoia – everyone waiting for their turn – and that breeds low productivity and low quality—’
‘And unhappiness,’ concluded Annie.
Jake nodded. Were there any dangers of contesting Annie’s attitude at this stage? He didn’t think so. Again, he was at an advantage.
‘If I may be so bold, I sense a feeling of hostility towards our role here,’ he spoke quietly.
Susannah shot a warning glance at Annie. Yup, he was right. Susannah was still in control.
He shot an irresistibly twinkly smile at Susannah.
‘It’s happened before, please, we’re used to it.’
He turned back to Annie, all hint of twinkle gone.
‘My role here, Miss Markham, is to stop the company losing money. Not to make its employees happy.’ A wide grin round the room. ‘Believe me, if you paid me to do that, I would.’
He joined in their grateful laughter.
How would you do that? thought Annie. Leave?
‘Of course,’ interrupted Susannah quickly. ‘Annie understands.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I think we’re all agreed then,’ she looked round at Edward. ‘A head count reduction of thirty per cent.’
Annie’s heart went out to Edward as he nodded unhappily.
Jake took another swig of coffee, which was getting colder and more bitter.
‘Then there are various costs that don’t make a contribution at all to the company,’ he went on. ‘They should go.’
Annie could hardly believe her ears.
She joined the others in looking up at the slide. It was more lemon than mauve this time.
‘Hold on a minute!’ murmured Annie. ‘What does AS stand for?’
Jake looked at his notes. ‘Artists’ Sponsorship? I believe the company sponsors exhibitions.’
‘Yes, it does.’
Jake shrugged.
‘All outgoing, no income. Gotta go.’
Annie stared at him, barely able to contain her anger. ‘Have you any idea what that money means to those artists?’
No, I’m a heartless bastard, he thought. I play the role and take the money.
Jake started chewing his lower lip, but before he replied, he was saved by Edward.
‘How much money does the sponsorship specifically lose a year? On its own?’ asked Edward calmly.
Jake looked through his notes, one hand over his mouth, the other loosely on his waist. Annie noticed that although he had broadened out on top, there still wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Probably on drugs, she thought.
Jake shrugged. ‘On its own it’s negligible. So it’s entirely up to you.’
Edward looked over at Susannah and Annie. ‘I say we keep that one,’ he grinned.
‘I agree entirely,’ said Susannah.
‘You’re the boss,’ said Jake to Edward. He suddenly found himself able to smile at Edward.
Jake took off his jacket, loosened his tie even more and poured himself another coffee while his colleagues changed some slides over and briefed everyone on the next stage of
the meeting. Annie studied Jake as he poured milk into his second cup of coffee. When had he got all those lines round his eyes? And when had his expression got so grim? He suddenly looked up at her. It was a bold, demanding look that annoyed her, so she threw him a secret smile, intended to infuriate, before glancing with laconic approval at Edward.
Infuriated without knowing why, Jake cleared his throat and continued.
‘The other primary area is to increase revenue. At the moment, as a PR company you’re a Jack of All Trades. As you know, each of your departments focuses on a particular industry and what has become obvious to us—’
A graph clicked on to the wall. Ooh, magenta, thought Annie. Lovely.
‘Is that one department by far and away is the biggest earning department.’
Susannah beamed
‘Celebrities,’ she said proudly.
‘Toiletries,’ replied Jake, pointing to the highest grid in the graph.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Toiletries is carrying all the other departments,’ explained Jake. ‘In fact Anus-Betta wiped the floor with TV presenter Marty Chuddup last year. It seems that celebs just don’t come to you any more, so you’d save an awful lot of money and bother if you stopped trying with them. However, the toiletries companies are happy to pay you top wack for what they see as a top service. So you should leverage that as your successful line of business. Stop doing things that aren’t making you money.’
Annie was humbled by the sight of Susannah’s face. She
was clearly far more horrified at the thought of losing the company’s celebrity clients than she was at the thought of losing 1,200 members of staff.
Susannah wasn’t just horrified. She was also terrified at the thought of having to break the news to George.
* * * * *
After the meeting, Annie rushed on to her work at the gallery, tension gnawing at her gut. Her boss Samantha hadn’t opened up yet, so Annie was on her own. The echoing emptiness calmed her considerably.
She always loved being there first, turning the lights on one by one, seeing each painting come to life in the morning’s bright silence. She stood back and took in each one. She loved the artist they were exhibiting this month.
Samantha had taken some persuasion. She’d stared at the paintings, screwing her face up into an ugly scowl.