Chapter 11

The bed was empty when I awoke next morning. I crawled downstairs in my pyjamas to discover Mum, Jenny and Sarah had already finished breakfast, and that Jenny was busy washing up. She'd put a spare dressing gown on over her nighty, but the picture she presented standing by the sink was still extremely provocative.

Sarah caught my eye and smiled, but refrained from comment. Mum was totally oblivious to what passed between us.

"Busy night?" Sarah teased.

I nodded self-consciously.

"Phil fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow," she added dolefully.

"We were still wide awake when we went to bed."

"So I heard."

"Sorry."

"I enjoyed listening in."

Jenny finished her chores and joined us, leaving Mum to put everything away in the cupboards. I poured out some cereal and tucked it whilst Jenny enquired after the children.

"They're still flat out, thank God. I'm enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasts," Sarah confessed.

"Your husband?"

"We won't see Phil until later if he's been drinking. I wish I had the courage to wear that."

Jenny's gown had slightly parted and her transparent nighty was on full display.

"I think it was Vanessa's," she revealed, surprising Sarah even more.

"She didn't wear it for me," I admitted ruefully.

"I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay. It's all going to come out in due course. I'm just fortunate enough to have found someone else."

I squeezed Jenny's hand and she smiled back at me.

Dad blundered into the kitchen and Jenny quickly closed her dressing gown before he got an eyeful. I was grateful as I didn't want him adding a heart condition to his other trouble.

"I'm going for a shower," Jenny announced. I watched her depart until she was out of sight.

"She seems such a nice girl," Mum confided, "so helpful and down to earth."

Within the hour, the house was in an uproar as Sarah's children awoke and demanded permanent attention. I played bat and ball with Gemma on the back lawn whilst Amy watched and sometimes tried to interfere.

"Stop that, you horrible child," Gemma scolded her, inadvertently doing an almost perfect impression of her mother.

Jenny made herself useful peeling vegetables when Mum started Sunday lunch, a family tradition that seemed set in stone. Roast beef with Yorkshire pudding was a dish that always brought back fond memories of home. It was followed by homemade apple pie with lashings of thick custard.

Afterwards, the men were volunteered to wash up whilst the women relaxed in the lounge with a pot of tea. Come late afternoon, I made our excuses and we packed up to leave. Amy burst into tears, having spent the best part of the afternoon playing some innocuous game with Jenny.

"You'll see her again, honey, I'm sure," Sarah consoled but Amy insisted on following us both out to the car and waving goodbye as we drove away.

"Aw," Jenny cooed as she waved back through the car's rear window. I patted her leg.

"You were fantastic. I think you won everybody over in one go, including my sisters."

"I really like your family. They made me feel welcome."

It was such a relief that things had gone so well. It reaffirmed my decision to invite her to stay with me and gave me great confidence in our future together.

I thought nothing could ruin a perfect weekend but a letter delivered while we were away made an excellent attempt. It was the results of my summer exams and they made sober reading. Of the six courses, only two had been passed with flying colours. I scraped through two more by the skin of my teeth, whilst Electronic Circuit Theory and Mathematics were unmitigated disasters. Jenny read over my shoulder but failed to realise the full significance of what was written.

I sat down and sighed. Jenny walked out of the room and returned carrying a beer.

"Thanks," I gasped as I gulped it down. "This is the final nail in the coffin."

"Can't you resit?"

"I did my best. I might improve by a few percent with a lot of hard work but that wouldn't make enough of a difference. I'm simply not cut out for this."

"What are you going to do then?"

The bad news was not entirely unexpected and I'd been tossing ideas around in my head for several days. It was time for a change, I decided.

Each evening, after a hard day at the office, I worked on putting together a business plan that would hopefully provide a way out. I'd developed a good working relationship with Simon Gibson, the commercial liaison at Natwest bank. Whenever Sheridan's submitted a request for further funding, he'd call me up and get an honest assessment of where I felt the company was headed, rather than rely on the corporate spin the directors invariably peddled.

Offering the house as collateral, I proposed an initial advance of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds with which to lease modest premises and hire a couple of engineers and a secretary. Unlike Penrose, I was only interested in chasing small contracts, jobs that Sheridan's failed to make money on but agreed to deliver in order to tender for larger projects.

I would still refer prospective clients to Sheridan's for complex contracts that would be almost impossible for me to resource. Just a few small jobs a month would cover all outgoings, any more would lead to profit and possible future expansion, or so the theory went. I made an appointment with Simon for midweek and arranged time off from work to attend.

I sat across the table, coffee in hand, as Simon read through my business plan. I trusted his integrity enough to know he'd instantly spot any potential pitfalls in my proposal or errors in my sums.

"One question," he asked.

"Go ahead."

"Why do you want to leave Sheridan's?"

I sighed. "I wanted the technical directorship but Sir Paul will only hand it out to graduates. I've wasted the whole year at Imperial trying to indulge him but I've failed miserably."

"I tried to call you a few times this year but you were never available," he replied. "Now I know why."

"I can't remain a project manager all my life. I want to move on."

"Quite."

"I need to boost my earnings as ... well ... I might have a costly divorce on my hands."

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that."

"I can make a go of this. All I need is the funds to get started. I have enough contacts in the industry to bring in lots of work."

"I don't doubt what you say but your cost estimates are way off target."

"Perhaps two hundred thousand," I proposed hopefully.

Simon shook his head. "You misunderstand. You'll spend a quarter of a million in no time at all. You should be looking at five hundred thousand with an option for another five, and that's being conservative."

"A million quid?" I blurted.

"Minimum. As well as premises and payroll, you'll have corporate liability insurance, legal fees and all manner of things you haven't accounted for."

I gulped.

"Our team can advise you on all this of course but you need to appreciate what you'd be letting yourself in for."

I nodded. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's neither. It's not my decision to make. All these things have to go over to head office for approval."

"How long will that take?"

"They're usually quite quick, particularly if they get a good recommendation from the branch."

"I see."

"Leave the business plan with me and I'll adjust the figures accordingly."

"Okay."

"Are you sure there's no way you can stay with Sheridan's?"

"I doubt it."

"It's just interesting to note that their published accounts have shown a dip in growth this year."

"I doubt that's anything to do with me. There's a recession on."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm just thinking aloud." He stacked the sheets of my plan and filed them away in his desk. "I'll give you a call in a few days."

I returned to work. A client had just cancelled an order, citing lack of support on a previous contract. Angered at such complacency, I located the project manager responsible and asked him for an explanation. He'd only been taken on recently and dismissed my criticism with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

"They were a right pain in the arse, moaning about every trivial little detail. What we delivered conformed to the spec so they have nothing to complain about. They signed it off and we delivered exactly what they asked for."

"And we won't be getting any more work from them," I added.

"Ninety per cent of our profit comes from a dozen clients. It makes more sense to concentrate our efforts on them rather than support less profitable accounts."

"Who's to say that a small client won't grow to become a major one?"

"That's not really my problem. I just have to make the best use of the resources at my disposal."

I shook my head and walked away, suddenly glad that I wouldn't be staying much longer if his attitude was typical of the new middle-management.

Jenny was busy cooking dinner when I arrived home. Pleased to see me, she cuddled up and gave me a sizzling kiss.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Just a bit bored, being in by myself all day. I need to find something to do."

"Have you written any more job applications?"

"A couple, but I've not heard back from any of the ones I sent out recently. Toby promised to forward on my mail but I rang him and he's seen nothing."

"How is Toby?"

"He's going to the hospital with Stella later this week. She's got her first scan."

"That's great news. It's good to see him taking an interest."

"He's surprised me. I expected him to run a mile."

"It just goes to show," I confirmed.

"How did it go at the bank?"

"Simon's promised to send my proposal on to head office with a supporting letter."

"Isn't there a risk that it'll all go wrong and you'll lose the house?"

"I know I can do this. Have a little faith."

I fumbled my way through the next few days, hopeful that soon my destiny would be purely in my own hands.