Chapter 5

Back to Dave

CareSpan threw us a party. Well, we'd identified changes to increase their capacity by 15% within existing resources - and a variety of ways for them to leverage future investment. OK, so, obviously going native with the corporative speak, here, but what I think that means is that we'd found ways of multiplying future funding so that a 5% increase in money coming in might result in a 10% increase in 'product'. The nice thing about working for people like CareSpan was that they didn't automatically think that this was a good excuse to cut the original budgets - whether the same good sense would apply in the corporate world remained to be seen - and, instead, had thrown a party.

And quite a party, too. Somehow they'd hired a river boat on the Thames - just for us - and seemed to have supplied copious amounts of alcohol. I was really impressed when I noticed a couple of casks of proper beer from London's best microbrewery, being attended to by a couple whose ancient T-shirts and pallid complexions identified them as actual brewers. Talk about pushing the boat out ... ho, ho.

I'd been amongst the first to arrive - and that was before I knew about the beer - and quickly found May [CareSpan's Chief Executive] to remonstrate about the extravagance. May, of course, was far too busy to talk - arguing with what appeared to be a chef, in this instance - and simply smiled gnomically. "Extravagance ... well ... maybe ... if we'd paid for it..."

And then she was off, and I got caught up in a flood of new arrivals. Most were from CareSpan, of course - there were a lot more of them than than us - but a fair amount from PCW and a few just friends of mine, people I'd met through previous consultancy work or just ... friends. I did have some.

Naz and Seffi arrived - together, I wasn't remotely surprised to note - and ensconced themselves conveniently close to the bar. I got to talking to a couple of people from a London charity - about politics, since you ask - and started in on the ale. It took me some time to notice that Debbie wasn't about ... and that the boat was about to ... I don't know ... sail? Cast off? Get under way? I found May in a hurry, not quite sure why I thought she'd be able to help. She could, though, simply asking, "You haven't checked your mobile, have you?"

I hadn't. I did. And, yes, there was a message from Debbie ... she would be joining us at the next pier, for whatever reason...

When we got to Blackfriars, I was waiting by the gangway, as you might expect. As soon as the boat came into the pool of light around the pier, I anxiously scanned the waiting ... people; hardly a crowd.

Nonetheless, I noticed three things, pretty much at once. Debbie looked stunning, instantly, in a pale green chiffon dress with what might be emeralds around her neck. Then, Debbie was standing beside a guy in a powered wheelchair, apparently controlling the thing via a small keyboard under his right hand. And, thirdly ... standing behind Debbie was ... Carla.

Well ... I suppose I could have been blown out of the water - as a small part of my mind suggested, maliciously - but my main thought was, bizarrely, that it was nice that Carla had finally met Debbie ... and vice versa...

Then, of course, they were coming aboard - see, nautical stuff comes naturally after a while - and I was being hugged by Carla, peculiarly aware that Debbie was simultaneously passing by with the guy in the wheelchair - or should that be "the wheelchair using bloke". Whatever ... Debbie squeezed my arm as she passed; I sort of twisted in Carla's arms to smile at her ... but she'd passed by.

Carla stepped back out of the hug and looked at me - and, over my shoulder, at Debbie.

"Lovely woman", she said, "Very bright, capable ... excellent choice, if you don't mind me saying so." I didn't, but then I didn't know what she was actually talking about. Choice? As colleague? Life partner? And where the fuck did the life partner bit come from? Ah, well...

I shook myself, tried to re-engage with Carla, but an awful lot of my mind was still thinking stuff around... 'I'm sort of involved with someone ... or not involved ... but still a bit entangled ... and he's a nice guy'. Words Debbie had said to me not so long ago.

Meanwhile, Carla was sort of demanding my attention - in a nice way. Actually, she was hanging on to my arm, looking round the party, obviously impressed. And it was impressive - not too many people (which was good) but wonderfully subtle lighting, an excellent sound system, superb free bar ... and what looked like a huge buffet, currently being rolled out into the room. I told Carla that it was absurd, CareSpan organising all of this.

"Of course they didn't, silly...", she said, "I did."

I looked at her for a while in silence and then she pulled me gently towards the bar - pint of East London Gold for me, an orange juice for her. Orange juice?, I thought, but then I was being dragged away again, past Naz and Seffi - the only people dancing, but seemingly oblivious to the fact - and out onto the deck ... or whatever ... outside from the main party, anyway. I noticed the South Bank passing, the London Eye. It was a fine sight.

Carla was a fine sight, too - she had a silver threads braided into her hair, I noticed, a black dress flowing round her, quite unlike the clingy numbers I'd seen her wear before. As I said, a fine sight ... it was just that so much of my brain remained focused on Debbie ... and possibly more of a shame that D was also a fine sight - and sitting just a few metres away, listening intently to her disabled friend.

The conversation looked like it would continue for a while; I began to feel a bit voyeuristic and realised that I was ignoring Carla. I turned to find her grinning at me.

"You've got it bad, haven't you?" I nodded. Nothing that I could say, really - or too many things I could say, perhaps. And this was Carla, without whom...

She cut off my train of thought by saying, "Well, good. She's a fine person - and the way she's supporting Phil [I assumed this was Debbie's friend] only demonstrates that. Pretty good negotiator, too..."

This was going places I wasn't overly happy with, so I forced myself back to reality, back to Carla.

"OK ... thanks ... but, how about you? I can't say I've been over impressed with your negotiation skills - or your availability - recently. Now you pitch up without notice ... OK pitch up and pay for a party ... a very nice party ... but what's been going on with you?"

"Hey," she said, squeezing my shoulder, "Nice to have you back for a while, too. Me, I'm checking up on my investment, obviously. Also, I wanted to talk to you - or you and Debbie - about your business plan ... which is a good plan ... no worries, it just needs a zero added on to some of the figures. And, I hear you've been talking to the big boys, thought you might like some help ... or support." She paused, with a peculiar gleam in her eye. Went on, "And - finally - I won't be flying for a while ... and I wanted to see you before I went into purdah."

Things clicked in my brain. Arthritically, glacially slowly, but the mechanics ground their way to a conclusion nonetheless. The voluminous dress, the slightly different figure, last month's hassles ... all fell into place.

"Bloody hell," I laughed, "You're pregnant ... congratulations!"

Carla was indeed pregnant, Mr Snorey - she snorted at my explanation - was indeed the father. She'd laid on some champagne to accompany the announcement and so we headed back inside to get it - I gave a sort of complicated wave to Debbie, but I don't think she noticed. Carla actually stuck to the orange juice, but when she raised her glass to answer my toast she revealed quite a large diamond on her finger - well, it could have been a fake, but somehow I doubt it - and was instantly surrounded by a large number of admiring women. Humanity, I sometimes feel, is a strange concept ... and one that I don't pretend to understand.

I found myself on the edge of the melee, for the moment, so I nipped back to the bar for a couple more glasses of champagne and looked around for Naz and Seffi to give them to. I found them sitting on the floor in a corner of the room, Seff - who appeared to be wearing a bin liner, I noticed - with an arm round his shoulders, feeding him something or the other from the buffet. Naz, however, was - between accepting the offerings - busily working away on a laptop. UML diagrams, I saw as I reached them, disturbing his attention just long enough to hand him a glass.

"What the fuck," I asked in my best exasperated tone, "are you up to? This is supposed to be a party..."

He did actually look sheepish for a bit, but there was no disguising the excitement in his eyes. "Seff here came up with an idea a minute or two ago ... just wanted to see if it would work ... and I think it could. Actually, I think it could save us a lot of time and money, in the long run, maybe make what you're doing a bit more saleable."

OK - I was interested, so I squatted down beside them, Seffi sort of leaning into me as we all looked at the mass of figures on the screen. I was truly impressed ... Naz had reverse modelled the whole CastList concept into UML and so had, in minutes, been able to rough out how the new idea might fit into the existing structures. And what an idea: Seff was 'simply' suggesting that we use psychometric data - which pretty much all corporations collect these days, even if they never do much with it - and use that as feedstock in populating the "human" side of the matrix. Depending on the accuracy of the data and the psychometric models themselves - and I had severe doubts on both, having done most of the tests myself at various points - we could clearly significantly shorten the data gathering side of the process ... and in a way that would really appeal to the corporate mind. We would also, clearly, need significantly more people to develop the new idea than just Naz. Whatever - we kind of already knew that. We drank the champagne and I gave them both a hug ... simultaneously as Seffi was still pressed up behind him ... and we all sort of grinned at each other for a bit.