Chapter 3

Wednesday 17 September 1975, 1.30pm

I picked Gina up from the office just after working through lunchtime, so we could shower or bathe and change for the board meeting in London. I eased the car through the heavy afternoon traffic, with Gina sitting up front next to me. When we got close to head office, set in a large steel and glass building, I stopped at the side of the road for a moment and Gina transferred to the back seat. For this occasion, I thought it was best to just be her driver. We walked in, with me walking respectfully just behind her carrying her slim brief case.

The ante room to the board room was a comfortable lounge with wingback chairs grouped around tables and a fully fitted cocktail bar in the corner of the room with a couple of bar stools next to it. The board members were standing around in groups making small talk. Weaving in and around them, three young and attractive cocktail waitresses, dressed in short tight black dresses with frilly white aprons and lace head caps, were holding out trays of drinks and canapés, a choice of orange juice or champagne in the glasses. No wonder these old board directors didn’t give proper respect to potential female board members.

Fred came over and welcomed his daughter’s arrival with a warm hug.

Before he could shake my hand I handed her the slip case, slightly bowing as I did so, and reverted to my childhood Brummie accent, “Oy’ll wait in the corner for yow, ma’am,” I said, nodding silently to Fred and retreated a step or two before turning and walked over to the bar, where a young woman behind the bar offered me a drink with a sweet red lipped smile.

“Just a tonic water, please, Oy’m drivin’,” I said.

I had worked in the south west of England five days out of seven for almost 25 years, with most of my clients speaking the Queen’s English, so my natural West Midlands’ dialect, centred around the Brummie accent, was reduced to just a hint as a natural part of my everyday speech I couldn’t quite shake off even if I wanted to. Today, pretending to be Gina’s driver, I decided to speak as though I had just got off the bus, or ‘booz’ in Brum.

I turned and watched as about half the board members also turned and welcomed Gina, who was looking stunning in a modest but well-cut business suit, the hem fashionably just above the knee, while the other half of the room looked down their noses at her. Other than the waitresses, Gina was the only female present in the room.

At a signal that Harry didn’t see, they all put their glasses down and retired into the boardroom, leaving Gina and a tall, dapper looking gentleman behind, as the serving girls took their cue and disappeared. The man gravitated towards Gina and engaged her in a brief conversation. From her body language, Harry saw that the conversation, or even the presence of the man, who Harry guessed was in his early forties, was unwelcome. He had invaded her space, so she half turned, taking one step back, turning into partly seeing me in at least her periphery vision. I saw her tiny smile form on her lips, like Mona Lisa, and just knew she was remembering the fun we had had earlier while she did what felt like a professional pedicure on my feet. I hadn’t minded at all because the whole process had got us giggling like children, but I did have the thought flash across my mind that if I had a traffic accident on the way home and ended up in a side ward like poor Eric Tremblett, how would the medical profession regard me and my bright red toe nails?

The board room door opened and Gina was ushered in to give her fifteen minute presentation. I knew she was confident in what she had to say because we had gone through it several times and I felt she’d be word perfect.

The man she had conversed with walked over to the bar and perched on the only other bar stool as he ordered a large pink gin, which the girl behind the bar prepared for him, then she left to collect up the used glasses left lying around by the departed board members.

“So,” he addressed me, “you’re Gina Tremblett’s driver?”

“Oy am, yow know. Harry’s my name.” I held out my hand. The man took it reluctantly and shook it limply.

“I’m Rupert, Rupert Bambridge, I’m up for a place on the board and have to give my presentation when she’s finished. She’s married to my boss, Eric Tremblett, d’you know him?”

I shook my head without saying anything.

“He’s a bit banged up in hospital apparently. So, what’s she like to work for, I mean what’s it like having to take orders from a woman, eh?”

“Well, Oy spent all my early years takin’ orders from moi Moom, so Oy have no trouble takin’ instruction from Mrs Tremblett, although she usually asks me to do things rather than orders me, it makes a difference, yow know. She’s been super so far, but then Oy’ve only bin workin’ for her for three days. I started on Moondee about lunchtoyme. But she’s very bin very friendlay towards me so far.”

“She’s gorgeous too isn’t she? I’d like to get my hands on her, I’m a tits and arse man myself and, man, she’s got them in spades.”

“Look myte, yow’re talkin’ about ma boss and Oy don’t loike yow attitude. She should at least expect respect from the loikes o’ yow.”

“Of course, of course, don’t mind me old chap, just a bit nervous, got to give a jolly old speech in a minute, you know.”

“I wouldn’t worry myte, Mrs Tremblett said yow both were certain shoe-ins for the board.”

“Quite, quite, well, we’ll see. I’m ready for another snifter, though, how about you?”

“Oy’m driving, so Oy’m stickin’ to a bottle o’ pop, an’ this one’ll see me owt.”

“Another large pink gin, please girl,” he ordered the girl who had just come back from collecting the used glasses from the tables. In the time it took her to put the tray of dirty glasses down safely, he impatiently said, “Come on girl, one doesn’t have all night, you know!”

The girl, ‘Mary’ according to her name tag, swirled a couple of ice cubes around a fresh glass, ensuring the inside was evenly coated in a thin film of ice cold water, tossed out the ice back into the bucket, unscrewed a bottle and dropped two drops of angostura bitters into the glass, and screwed up the bottle again, returning it to its shelf. Then she swirled the bitters around the glass with a practiced flick of the wrist before pouring two measures of Beefeater gin from an overhead optic. She handed it to Rupert who tossed the contents of the carefully prepared glass down in one.

Just then the door to the boardroom opened and Gina emerged. She walked over and told Rupert they were ready for him and he dashed off.

“I’m dying for the loo,” Gina said after he left, standing wriggling slightly.

“Through the door, right and it’s the third door on the left,” Mary interjected.

“Thank you, dear, er...” reading her nameplate, “ ... Mary, would you be an angel and do me a small gin and it by the time I get back?”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

“How’d it go in there, ma’am?” I asked, emphasising the ‘ma’am’.

“Very well, Harry, thank you for asking. Now, must dash!”

“She’s nice,” Mary volunteered as she placed Gina’s drink on the bar, “Better than that other arsehole, anyway.”

“Yes, Oy’ve only known her three days and she’s definitelay one of the good ‘uns.”

“You er taking her to a hotel or home ... cos I get off in a hour,” Mary said coyly, “if you want to get a drink or maybe a bite to eat. Everything stays open really late around here.”

“Oy’m married, Mary” holding up my wedding ring finger. “Anyway, how old are yow?”

“Twenty.”

“Well, Oy’ve got children older than yow. Don’t waste yowr time on old men, Mary, those that take up yowr offer, well, they only take. Surely a pretty girl like yow must have a boyfriend of yowr own age back at home?”

“No, I haven’t, not really. I used to have one but then I ... mucked it all up.” She started to tear up and suddenly ran out from behind the bar and left the room.

“Bugger!” I said out loud and got off my stool to follow her. As I reached the door, Gina came in.

“Where did Mary go? She flew past me in tears. What did you say to her?”

“Well, she tried to chat me up and I told her I was married and that I had kids older than her, and that she shouldn’t go for older men, and she must have someone nearer her own age. She’s only twenty. Anyway, she said she did have a boyfriend but she mucked it up. I was going to try and find her.”

“I’ve got this, Harry, I think she was heading for the loo. You watch the fort.”

I sat back on the barstool. The door opened from the boardroom and someone asked where Gina was.