Page 17 of One Summer Weekend
I hadn’t the heart to say that I’d already watched a similar video on the company website. In any case,he talked over it – mainly about Jack. It seemed that his appointment as Chief Exec had marked a turning point in the company’s fortunes. Investment for the latest technology in deep draw stamping? Jack had got the Board’s seal of approval. More aggressive management of key customer accounts? Jack had master-minded the plan and secured the funding to implement it. Better community relations? Jackhad offered the old company football field to the local youth teams and was now raising money for its maintenance and improvement.
‘Makes you wonder why he needs a coach,’ I said drily, when I could get a word in.
‘Oh, don’t get me wrong – he’s got plenty of faults. And some of the managers resent him like hell. But he’s given the lads here hope, and that’s an achievement in itself.You see, Jack started on the factory floor too—’ He looked over my shoulder. ‘Shit! Looks like Maggie’s in trouble, I’d better go down there and sort her out.’ And he dashed out of the viewing gallery before I could ask him who he was talking about.
I turned to scan the factory floor, but I couldn’t see anyone remotely like a Maggie. Anyway, hadn’t Nick just told me that all the female employeeswere office workers? And then Jack strode into view, loosening his tie and collar, rolling up his sleeves, listening intently to a smaller man at his side who was half-running to keep up. When they stopped at one of the machines, Nick joined them and they stood for a while, deep in a discussion punctuated by occasional gestures at various dials and displays. Finally Jack reached up and wrencheda lever, bracing his body to increase the force. I stared down at him, absorbing every detail.
What was it he’d said earlier about making manufacturing sexy? Take a well-built man, shirt half off, applying himself to a physical task with power and purpose … Job done.
He glanced up, caught me looking at him and grinned; I blushed like a teenager and swivelled my chair away from thewindow. When the viewing gallery door opened a few minutes later, my gaze was fixed on the TV screen – although I had no idea what I was watching.
‘Sorry, Alicia.’ Nick’s voice, slightly out of breath. ‘Maggie’s a bit temperamental—’
‘WhoisMaggie? I didn’t see her—’
He chuckled. ‘Yes, you did – she’s our new sixty-three-tonne power press. No one can pronounce the name of thecompany who built her, so we call her Maggie for short. She cost God knows how much, produces components twice as fast as the old one and I’ve already suggested to Jack that he moves in with her. Can’t keep his hands off her, I think he’s programmed her to go wrong deliberately.’
I risked a look back through the window, but Jack had gone. His performance today intrigued me: one minute eloquentand visionary at the union meeting, the next hands on and practical in the factory. It made me wonder which man I’d be spending the weekend with …
The video rolled on, and Nick continued his voiceover. There were no more insights into Jack Smith, however, and I found it difficult to concentrate on the technical detail. As soon as we reached the end, I thanked him for his time and asked himto show me the way back to Jack’s office. I felt exhausted, and anxious to get the journey to the Lakes under way; if there were any unpleasant surprises in store, I wanted them over and done with.
But Jack’s office was empty. Swallowing my disappointment, I retrieved my laptop from my bag and sat down, intending to distract myself with my emails.
The interconnecting door with Betsy’sroom was, as usual, slightly ajar, and I could hear her taking a succession of phone calls. For each one, she went through the same routine: no, Jack wasn’t available; yes, she would pass on the message. As her tone grew noticeably less patient, it dawned on me that all these calls must be from the same person.
And then I heardhisvoice, asking if something or other was ready, and Betsysaying, ‘Fat chance, what with the phone going non-stop all afternoon. I gave up on writing down all the messages – basically, Karina wants you to call her.’
Emails forgotten, scruples ignored, I leaned towards the door so that I didn’t miss a single word.
‘Did she say why?’ He sounded wary – or maybe cautiously optimistic?
‘Just that it’s urgent. But then it always was withher, wasn’t it?’ A pause. ‘Jack, I’m worried. I don’t understand why she’s calling you at the office, out of the blue.’
Her concern was palpable. I noted the shift in her manner, from work-based camaraderie to a display of personal loyalty, however understated. For some reason, I thought of Nick’s words earlier – ‘he’s given the lads here hope’. And I realised that Jack Smith had deeperqualities than I’d originally thought.
Next door there was silence for a moment; then he said quietly, ‘Because she can’t get me on my mobile. I changed my number, remember?’
‘No, I mean why’s she calling younow? It’s been over for a good six months, and you were so sure your “Karina campaign” was working.’
He cleared his throat. ‘We saw her last night, at Corleone’s. She wasin a bit of a state, I had to take her home.’
‘Oh,Jack.’
‘What else could I do?’
‘I know.’ A loud sigh. ‘You’d better ring her back, then – hadn’t you? I expect you won’t want to use your mobile. You can call her on my office phone while I pop along to Accounts and get those reports you’re after.’
Was that just a ruse to give him some privacy? Maybe I should have donethe same and brought my eavesdropping to an end; but I couldn’t tear myself away.
Another silence; then I heard him say, ‘Hi, it’s me.’ An economy of words that spoke volumes; I found myself closing my eyes, as if to shut out their intimacy. He continued, ‘Feeling better? … That’s good … Yes, it was … No, it didn’t matter at all … I know, but … Well, if that’s what you want … Tell him, then… I can’t, I’m away for the weekend … Yes, staying with Bill and Mitch … You never did, did you? … No, Karina, that’s not a good idea.’
It was easy to imagine the other side of the conversation and fill in the gaps: she would be seeking reassurance about last night, suggesting that she dispensed with Henrik, asking to see Jack again this evening. What a shame – for both of them – that he’dmade other plans. I smiled grimly to myself; he obviously couldn’t bring himself to mention that his plans included me.
Then it seemed that one of them – I’d have loved to know who – hung up on the other. My eyes fluttered open, and I made a determined effort to appear engrossed in my inbox.
Jack breezed into the room a few seconds later. ‘Right, time to set off.’ His tone was lightand cheerful, as if nothing had happened. ‘I told Bill we’d get to Threlkeld by six o’clock – let’s hope we have a clear run.’ In a show of reluctance I kept my eyes fixed on my laptop screen for a little longer, before slowly lifting my gaze. With a flicker of surprise, instantly masked, I found him standing too close. He was dressed differently, more casually than before, an open-necked shirtand chinos. There was something about him – a freshness, maybe – that made me feel too hot, too formal.
‘Should I change my clothes too?’ I asked, hesitantly.
