Chapter 7

There was not a lot going on in the office on Tuesday, but I did see Alice in the car park. She asked if everything was OK between myself and Davinia. I reassured her, and even thanked her for putting Davinia's mind at rest about being in the Three Chuffs together. And then she did it again, "Well, Dave, Davinia should realise that nothing could happen between you and I, could it?" with a little innocent smile, and she drove off before I could think of a good put down. Damn her.

I did see Davinia, she said that she was going to finish at the Players by about half past eight, and she could join me for supper. That cheered me up, and I went shopping at lunchtime for something to make a nice supper. I found some really good looking aubergines, and so I bought some fresh pasta and committed us to an aubergine pasta bake, to be followed by home made key lime pie. So, I spent the early evening cooking, and Davinia turned up on time. It was a lovely evening, we ate, we watched the evening news, and we went to bed and made love. This is how it was meant to be last week.

I did tell her that TJ was coming to stay for a weekend soon. I told her she'd like him, he was a bit messed up after his bad divorce, but I'd known him since school, and we knew each other well. She perked up, and said she would get him to tell all my boyhood and college secrets. I told her that there were no secrets, everything was very easy and open. I didn't tell her that that included sharing the same girl for over a year.

Davinia did tell me that she thought she wasn't going to be back until Friday evening. But she wasn't going to do any theatre work that night.

On Wednesday, I got a call from Lucy, she seemed to want to chat, which I didn't as I had all the Project Managers together in the conference room in five minutes, so I suggested that I do take her for that drink we never got the other week. I'd pick her up at eight o'clock.

Lunch time on Wednesday was the lunch with Charlie Bullard. Tim and myself went in Tim's car, as Charlie was to meet us at the Golf Club. We found Charlie in the bar, there was another man with him, tall and distinguished. This was Sir Philip Crichton. He seemed genial enough, and Charlie asked if we would mind him joining us for lunch. I looked at Tim, who said he was most welcome.

Charlie went off to confirm his booking in the restaurant, and Sir Philip disappeared to the Gents. "What are you thinking, Tim? We can't sell Charlie a total reorganisation with that guy there, he's older than Neil or Charlie, and obviously a member of the old school."

"Trust me, he'll be on our side. You don't get to the top of a Bank by clinging to the past."

So we went into lunch. After some time of just general small talk, Charlie asked "Well, you two suggested this little get together, so what's on your minds?"

Tim glanced at me before he took the lead, "We've been talking about some of our insurance team, and how we can accept transfers into us from other departments, and even how we might lose some as well. We got to wondering why the company has its present structure, I was hoping you could fill us in."

"You'd have to go right back into the start of the company for that. When we started it was towards the investment community, Neil saw an opportunity and got myself and a guy called Eric Armstrong involved. Neil was the salesman, and he sold the idea of a complete new system to our first customer. It was Eric's job to deliver, he was the real development man. And he did a brilliant job." Charlie paused to look round the table. He paused when he looked at Sir Philip.

Sir Philip said, "Go on. I'm learning a lot. It's good to hear the whole story, and I've only known the company for the last four years."

So Charlie continued, "Well, out of that first contract well done, we got more orders. And we got our first banking system order as well. The pressure was really on. I suspect, I don't know, that the pressure was the final straw on Eric's marriage. I think it was pretty weak already, but it final broke up. Eric wasn't too bad in that period, but he did rather go for anything in a skirt. It's a fairly natural reaction, I know I've been there, only I was a lot younger than Eric when it happened to me."

Charlie paused to sip his wine, "Then, one of the things in skirts was Neil's wife. I think it was once only, and I think everyone had too much to drink. I remember it, it was a Saturday night barbeque. Anyway, it was obvious that Eric wasn't going to be working for the company by five past nine on the following Monday. By the way, Neil and Sinead managed to patch things up, and went from strength to strength, until breast cancer got her some years later."

"Oh, he hasn't been married to Susan for very long then?" asked Sir Philip.

"Actually they aren't married. But they've been together now for about eight years, and they always refer to each other as 'my husband' or 'my wife'. The ring on her finger isn't actually a wedding ring." answered Charlie, looking at Sir Philip, but glancing at myself and Tim. I guess he was conscious of the confidentiality of what he was saying.

"Anyway, that Monday morning was pretty traumatic. The only thing we could do was to promote Eric's number two as the new Development Director, that was Andrew Tweedsman. And Andrew was brilliant, he held the whole company together for that time, I like to think with my help. But Neil was off the rails, and we didn't have a Sales Director back then." Charlie looked over at Tim, directly, "I think Neil's memory of those days is what worried him about you last year, Tim"

"So why isn't Andrew still Development Director, instead of Research? I've never been really sure what he does?" I asked.

Charlie looked at me, and then took another sip of wine. He glanced at Tim, and then continued, "Because it all got too much for him. He was brilliant for as long as the projects were only investment, with a little bit of banking. And for as long as it was all leading edge, high-tech stuff. He wasn't very good when it came to just bulk delivery of software project after software project, and it got worse when we radiated out to insurance and a lot more banking."

Again, Charlie paused. But no one said anything, so he went on, "It became obvious that we had to do something, things were beginning to go wrong on us. It was all shades of ITP and the problems you had last year. But, if Neil is one thing, it's that he's loyal. There was no way he was going to sack Andrew, or put someone over his head. So, Andrew was pushed sideways into Research and Technology, where he does an excellent job, he's very well respected by all the big technology companies and universities. He's turned out to be a huge asset for us. Then we split the development teams into the three departments, appointed a head of each department, and they all report to Neil. It's not the best arrangement, but we seem to have stuck there for the past eight years."

Tim looked up, "And the structure within the development departments?"

"Well, that's straightforward project teams. It's always been like that, or at least since the very earliest days when it was more of a 'all hands to the pumps' sort of non-structure. Why?"

"Because neither David nor myself are convinced it's the best structure." replied Tim.

Sir Philip stepped in, "What's wrong with it?"

Tim glanced at me, and I thought it was my time to take the centre stage, "Because it limits our flexibility, it's difficult to have one person working on two or more projects at the same time. Because it limits people's promotion chances and career prospects, unless you're a promising project manager you have no prospects with us. If you're a good consultant for insurance or banking, or an expert in some specific technology, then you're a problem within our structure. And the split between insurance, banking and investments means that we don't share technology knowledge or experience. Nor do we serve the grey cross-over areas between the three divisions, and there's more and more of those these days with financial services."

Sir Philip seemed to like that. Charlie just looked thoughtful. Eventually he looked up, "Is this a bid to rule the Company?" he asked, with one of Charlie's best friendly smiles.

Tim slapped him down, "No, it's a bid to see the company better organised for the sake of its staff and to benefit of the clients and the bottom line."

"Let's have coffee." said Charlie, determinedly. He stood up. Was the meeting over? Had we scared him away.

Charlie and Sir Philip led the way out of the restaurant, towards the lounge, where large coffee urns were set up on a corner table. Tim and myself followed. Sir Philip seemed to be doing a lot of talking in Charlie's ear. I said to Tim, "Have we blown it?"

"Not yet. But we are running pretty close to the wind. Let's take it easy now. We've fired our warning shots. Remember how you blew my mind when you came up with this last week. Give Charlie some space, Dave."

We all got our own coffees, and sat down in a group of armchairs, overlooking the eighteenth green.

Charlie was stirring his coffee, but he looked up, "I have been prevailed upon" he glanced at Sir Philip, "to hear actually what you would want to do. What you're suggestion is. But, it is not me you have to convince, it's your colleagues in banking and investment, and of course, Neil."

Tim asked, "Would it be better if we used Neil's new Development Forum to explain some of our ideas, then?"

"Possibly. I think Neil formed that to solve some of the things you have talked about, to encourage cross-fertilisation. But, I could have a word with him, and see if he'd let you set the agenda for some of these ideas."

Sir Philip turned to Tim, "Tell me about you two. You seem to be in agreement on this. I suspect poor Charlie feels he's been outnumbered and ambushed. Have you two worked together for a long time?"

This would be interesting, I thought, especially after last Friday. Tim answered Sir Philip, "We've worked together ever since we've been at TGI, and that's over five years now. And I can tell you that we don't always see eye to eye. We're very capable of giving each other a pretty rough time. But we trust each other implicitly."

Sir Philip just smiled and nodded. "Are you friends? I mean out of work or are you just close colleagues?"

"We're friends." said Tim and myself in unison.

Again, Sir Philip just smiled and nodded.

And that basically was that. We chatted on for a little more, then said thank you for the lunch, and headed back to the office. As we crossed the gravel car park, Tim observed, "And that's why I was pleased to see Philip Crichton there. I didn't think Charlie would take it too well."

I picked up Lucy at eight o'clock as promised. She was dressed rather well, sexy but not slutty, the same image that she had when I picked her up in Shades half a lifetime ago.

We kissed, a polite peck, something the neighbours could see without suspicion. We went to a good pub on the other side of Sheepen that I'd been to once before, but which I remembered did some quite good bar food.

Once I got us drinks, I sat and looked at her, "You're looking good, Lucy. Not only are you dressed sexy, but you look better in yourself. More confident."

"Well I don't feel confident. You remember how you wanted me to dress before when you said we should go out for a drink."

"Yes, slutty. And you certainly don't look slutty."

"But you also said I wasn't to wear some things."

"Oh! Wonderful! Does it make you feel naughty?"

"A bit. In fact, more than a bit. I dressed like this for you, Dave, I felt I owed you something. But, we aren't going back to my place for... you know."

"That's a bit unfair. To you as well as me. You dress up with no knickers, and then don't follow through. That's just teasing."

"Sorry, Dave, am I being a bit cruel? I didn't mean to."

"No. Actually it's OK. I'm getting on great with my girlfriend, and I was in two minds as to what I wanted to do this evening anyway." I paused to take a drink, "But, I assume this means that you had a talk to Pete, and now everything is rosy?"

"Well, yes, I've spoken to him, and I think I may have got it all wrong. He promises me that he doesn't have any girlfriend up there in Edinburgh, and that he is only working hard because he has the opportunity to make a bit of money."

"And you believe him?"

A cloud of doubt passed over her eyes, "Yes. Shouldn't I?" she looked at me, concerned.

I took a sip of my drink. "I don't know. You're the only one who might stand a chance of knowing. But if he was cheating, it might just suit him to keep you hanging on. He wouldn't be the first husband to lie to his wife."

"Don't say that, you've got me worried." She looked nervous.

"Oh, sorry Lucy. Honestly, you know your own marriage best. It was just that you were so sure it was over. And you know I don't like to interfere between a husband and his wife. Well, if it is all back together, then that means I was humping a happily married woman, and that's against my credo." I looked at her. Well, she's a cheating bitch, and even if I was the beneficiary, why should I let her off the hook?

"No. If Pete had talked to me a bit more in the first place, then I wouldn't have felt that it was all over. And, don't worry, I'm certainly not going to tell him about you and me. I'll just write it off as one of those things. There's no need for him to know."

"OK. I believe you. Do you fancy something to eat?"

"You sure? You don't owe me a meal, and I've told you, it isn't going to get you anywhere."

I laughed, "No, It's alright, honest, Lucy. I've got to eat something, although I don't want very much, I had a big lunch. And I'm grateful for the company."

I got up and went and got a couple of menus for the bar food. I passed her one, "You have whatever you like. Just because I'm eating light doesn't mean you have to."

And so we have something to eat. We chatted happily about various things, but mainly about the shops in Sheepen. We had another drink and then I drove her home. Only she directed me to stop in a lay-by well before we got back to her house. I thought she was going to be circumspect about being actually dropped at her house, but I was wrong.

"I know we said we weren't going to do anything, Dave. And I don't want to be a tease, but would you like to check that I did dress as you wanted?"

I looked at her, she was really quite attractive. And we were in a lonely and dark car park. And I know I said I didn't want anything to happen. And maybe I could change my mind... But the image of Davinia came to mind, and that was a big But.

I turned in the driving seat to face Lucy, "I'll take your word for it. Nothing against you, but..."

"You've fallen in love, haven't you Dave. She's got right under your skin." She laughed, "It's alright, Dave. In fact it's rather nice. How the mighty have fallen!"

"No! It's not like that. Not like that at all. But I think if you're sort of going with just one person, you owe them some loyalty." Where the Hell did that come from? It certainly wasn't in the Book of Dave Finch's Philosophy Towards Women!

We drove on, and pulled up outside her house. We kissed again, a polite friendly kiss, "Good luck, Lucy, I hope it works out for you."

"Same to you Dave. Tell her to look after you. She's got a good one in you." I laughed and drove home.

Thursday came and went, and Friday was much the same, except I had a long chat to Tim about our tactics for the Development Forum.

Then at about six o'clock I went over to Davinia's office, she was sitting at her desk. "Fancy a drink then?" I asked.

"I was waiting for you." She started tidying her papers way. Then I noticed a large leather book lying on her desk. I picked it up, "What's this?"

"Oh, It's a nineteenth century copy of The Rivals. Drew gave it to me. Rather sweet of him, don't you think? Apparently he found it in some second-hand book shop and he thought of me."

Don't explode, Dave! Keep calm, and don't worry her. "Yes, it was a rather nice gesture. But don't you think letting him buy you presents is going a bit far?"

She stopped and looked at me, then came over and put her hands around my neck "Now, don't get all uptight about it. He isn't getting anywhere with me. And it was only one old book."

I sighed, but decided to let the matter drop. But I would mention it to Tim, maybe another man would see it different.

We went over the road to the pub. We only stayed for a couple of drinks, then we went up to the Chinese for a meal. And that was the start of a wonderful weekend.

On the Saturday night we had a proper date, we went to the cinema and then for a meal afterwards, and I walked her home, and we stood and kissed in the porch of her parent's house. It was all a bit silly really, but Davinia liked it. It sort of marked her independence, and I guess she needed that.

On the Sunday, Davinia did warn me that her time was going to be taken up with the play for all her spare time, as it was the actual run at the end of the week. The run consisted of a first night on Friday, and a last night on Saturday. It seemed that a lot of work has gone into just two performances, but I guess that's what these enthusiasts do. So we agreed that she would make the time to come to a late supper on Tuesday evening, so as I could tell her how the Development Forum had gone, and other than that, I accepted that I wasn't going to see a lot of her. But I promised to be there on Friday night.

So, although Davinia didn't stay with me the whole weekend, and she did spend some of the weekend with the Players, I did see lot of her, and there was no tension, and lot's of sex, and it was good.

Tuesday was the first meeting of the Developer's Forum, chaired by the big boss, Neil Timmons. Tim gave me a short lecture on how we were to play it cool, and not push for reorganisation with too much enthusiasm, I promised to let him lead on that one.

Right at the outset, Neil declared that he was only going to chair the first two meetings, and after that he would drop out completely, or only attend as an observer. He did acknowledge that Tim and myself had some ideas, and suggested that we present them at the first meeting after he's handed over to Andrew Tweedsman's chairmanship. I wasn't sure whether I was pleased that we were going to get something on the agenda, or annoyed that we had to wait another couple of months. After the meeting, Tim told me that I was pleased.

I did find the interaction of the people around the table was interesting. You could visibly see Darren from Banking stiffen whenever Neil mentioned Tim's name, let alone whenever Tim spoke. Sheila from Investments seemed a lot better, but I suspect she was more confidant of her position, I'd heard that she was very respected in her market. The two deputies from Banking and Investments didn't contribute a thing, not that it mattered much, and I hadn't a lot of time for either of them. I thought that both Neil and Andrew seemed to treat me OK, and did listen and respond to my comments, which was good for my ego. Except for Darren, Tim seemed to be very well respected, I guess the work he did to save the ITP project last year was paying dividends.

Tuesday evening, Davinia came round to my place at about ten o'clock. We had a very late supper and went to bed. I was OK with it, because I knew she was under pressure, and she had still made the effort to be there.

On the Friday evening, I had one quick drink over the road, and then I went home, showered and changed and was up at the little theatre by seven thirty. I found Davinia backstage, she was walking down the corridor as I came through the door. She was carrying a huge bunch of flowers.

"They're gorgeous, who are they for?"

"Me, Drew sent them. Aren't they beautiful."

This time I didn't stay so calm. "That's too much. He's gone over the top. He'll be stalking you next. He's got a problem, and now we've got a problem. I've half a mind to go and find the little runt and..."

"Hey, don't be silly. They're only flowers."

"No. They're not only flowers. I guess they're the biggest and most expensive bunch of flowers in this place tonight. And they're on top of that bloody Victorian book last week. The guy's got a problem, and you've got to sort it out, Dav. Or I will."

"Now you are being silly. So, a friend sends be a bunch of flowers for the first night of a play I've been working on? It doesn't make him a psychopath. And I promise you I haven't done anything to encourage him." She looked hurt.

I took the flowers away from her and gently laid them on a table. Then I took her in my arms, "I'm not saying you have encouraged him, but I am beginning to think you quite like the attention. But I do know you wouldn't do anything. But, don't you see, Dav? The guy's getting out of order, it isn't healthy. He should be out there looking for his own girlfriend, not going to the florist to send flowers to mine." I kissed her nose. She kissed my chin.

"I guess so. I will try to think of a way to put him down. I don't want to hurt him, he's really nice. But you're right, it is a little over the top. I'm sorry, I guess a girl just gets flattered when she's sent flowers like this."

I kissed her nose again, "Promise?"

"Promise."

I kissed her again, properly this time. With people pushing past us in the corridor, with one guy saying, "Now, now! All our emotions should be channelled into the production. Come along you two."

We broke apart, I looked at her, "What do you want to do after the show? Shall I wait for you?"

"No. I suspect we will relax with a bottle of wine or two backstage. Why don't you just go home and wait for me there?"

"OK, Will you be hungry?"

"No, I doubt it. Or not for food anyway." She leaned into me and kissed me again.

So with wishes of good luck, I went round and took my place in the audience. I noticed Drew sitting about five rows in front of me.

The play was no where near as bad as I was expecting. It wasn't good, but not terrible either. And, of course, the costumes were fabulous! Afterwards I just went home, had something to eat and waited.

Davinia arrived at about midnight, happy and slightly tipsy.

I asked her if she wanted another drink or some coffee, she chose coffee, so I made two mugs of coffee.

I passed her one, "I thought it was very good. It was a pity that the audience didn't pick up on all the malapropisms. But that wasn't your fault." She just sat in the chair, listening, with her smile on her face, "Oh, and I thought the costumes were brilliant."

"Did you notice when they exited on the wrong side in Act 2? They had to belt round to the other side ready for their next entrance."

"No. It didn't show from our side, in the audience."

We fell to silence. Each sipping our coffee.

Then I thought I could approach what was on my mind, "What happened to Drew's flowers?"

"Is that all you can think about, those bloody flowers?" she slammed her coffee down on the table, and stood up. "It's alright, I told him, he was hurt and I hated myself. Happy?" and she stormed off to the bedroom.

I found her lying on the bed, crying. I just lay next to her, and put my arms around her, cuddling her and waiting for her to calm down.

"Let's just go to bed and talk about it in the morning. I don't want to upset you Dav. I don't even want to upset Drew. But it had to be done. Now come on, let me take off your clothes and let's just go to bed."

I think she really was more drunk than I realised. I hope that was her excuse. She sort of helped me undress her, and I tucked her under the duvet. She was fast asleep by the time I'd undressed and cleaned my teeth.

On the Saturday morning, after some average sex, I think Davinia was a bit hung over, I got the full story.

"I'm surprised you didn't see the flowers as you left, or in the interval. I got Peggy, she's the wife of the director, to put them out in the foyer."

"I wonder if Drew saw them there." I pondered.

"No. He didn't. At the end he came backstage to find me. I thanked him for them, but purposely pretended that he'd sent them to the whole company, and that we'd put them in the foyer for everyone to enjoy. You could see he didn't like that, and he told me that they were really meant just for me. I told him that that was wrong, that he shouldn't be sending me flowers, and that he shouldn't entertain ideas that I thought of him in anyway other than as a friend. He looked so heartbroken. I really felt awful. But I think you were right, he really did have a thing for me. Not that I blame him, I think I'm a rather good catch." She sort of half-laughed and leant up to kiss me.

Davinia left just after breakfast, but I promised to come to the play again that night, and to join her in the after the show party at the pub.

I got the pub first, and Davinia came along later with a whole bunch of the Players. It was an OK time for me, Davinia did spend the whole time with her arm around my waist, or holding my hand, or sitting very close with her hand in my thigh. But, of course, I didn't know anybody, and I didn't know their in jokes, and I didn't care about the actual play. But I survived it.

And, at closing time, we set out to walk home. But Davinia stopped me, "I want to go home to Ma and Pa's. I'm just tired, too tired to sleep with you, Dave. I just want to curl up and sleep forever."

I looked at her, was there any point in arguing? I quite fancied letting her sleep late, whilst I made a special breakfast and served it to her in bed. But, I've run out of arguing with Davinia. "OK. I'll miss you. I'd have liked you curled up in my bed, and sleeping late tomorrow. But if that's what you want to do..."

"It is."

So, I walked her back to her parent's house. And we kissed goodnight. "Why don't you come round for Sunday lunch tomorrow? I'm sure Ma will have enough to go round."

"Sure, if that's what you'd like. I'll come round at about noon. OK? And perhaps we can go out for the evening?"

"We'll see." She kissed me and was gone.

We had a pleasant family lunch on the Sunday. I have to admit I thoroughly enjoyed it, my Dad used to try to give me a good, stable home life. But cooking wasn't one of his strong points, and weekend lunches tended to be out of a tin. Maybe that's why I've taken up cooking.

After lunch Davinia and myself went for a walk along the river, in the spring sunshine. But she told me that she was going to go to Church that evening with her parents, "I'm sorry, Dave. But the pre-Easter evensongs are a sort of regular thing in my family, and I know they want me to go with them. They've hardly seen me in the last few weeks, every break I've had from the play I spent with you. You could come with us if you like."

"No. I think I'll give that a miss. I'm not big on Church."

So, I went home alone, feeling sad. I thought things would be better between myself and Davinia after the play was over, that's what she promised. Maybe her mother was right, she wasn't really that keen on me. Maybe she would really have liked to play Drew off against me, two timing both of us. I was feeling very uncertain as I sat alone drinking my whisky that evening.

Davinia seemed happy enough in the office on Monday, "I want a set of keys to your place, please, Dave."

Promising, I thought. "OK. You can have them right now. I keep a spare set in my desk draw."

"Thank you. And I want you to promise that you won't come home until eight thirty tomorrow night. Go to the gym if you want to, but please don't go drinking. Promise?"

"I promise, but can I know why?"

"No. Now go away, I'm busy."

So, I went away. I saw Tim later and asked him if he was going to the gym later that day? No, he didn't intend to, so I told him about Drew's book present and the flowers. In fairness to Drew I also told him that Davinia had really put him down. So Tim suggested that we leave it, and see if Davinia's warning will work.

I did as asked, and stayed out until eight thirty on Tuesday. I got home to find the table laid for a candlelit dinner. And Davinia dressed in a sexy silk blouse, obviously without a bra, and a short skirt and high heels. I just wanted to know whether they were stockings or tights. But when my hand wandered that way, she determinedly moved my hand up her body.

The meal was great, she had gone to a lot of trouble. She'd got smoked trout from the local smokery, and we talked about how I loved their foods and was waiting to try their new smoked venison. She had made a variation of chicken cordon bleu, and she had obviously taken her lessons from me, because she used ham from Jones, the grocers in the High Street that definitely sell the best choice of hams locally. She had made a cold Zabaglione for dessert, which really interested me. I asked which recipe she'd used, as I had one that used wine rather than Marsala, which I thought made a lighter cream, but no, she had used the Marsala that I kept in the cupboard. I told her that I usually only used that for Tiramisu, like the one she'd missed a couple of weeks ago. Mentioning that was probably a bit of a mistake, she seemed a bit upset that I did. However, she got the wines right, or pretty close and I was quite proud of what she'd managed.