"The reunion"
[KIRK ATTWOOD]
LONDON:
'Ahh Curtis my boy. So glad you could make it.'
Patrick was stood outside waiting when we pulled up in the prearranged taxi. The time just after seven in the evening. The sky was a lovely pale blue and the air was warm.
He smiled as we approached. I glanced up at the tall building with its many floors and thought how imposing it looked. It even had pillars either side of the entrance which was fronted by a set of revolving glass doors.
Cheryl had chosen an off the shoulder black dress. It was silk, low cut and her figure moved effortlessly in unison within it. I, on the other hand, was in a tuxedo borrowed from one of our neighbours.
Pat moved forwards and shook my hand enthusiastically.
'So how are you Curtis my boy? Glad you could come. Sorry you missed the show last night, lots of screeching for me but then I never do understand Opera.'
We walked inside to what could only be described as a scene of immense colour. Long lines of thin multi coloured lace trailed off every object and fell from the ceiling and all around I could see engine parts, huge pictures of drivers with their racing cars while against oak panelled walls racing flags hung of all the famous car manufacturers that had ever raced in the worldwide market that was formula one.
'Are we going into racing?' I asked dubiously.
'Spot on!' Exclaimed Pat. 'Bravo. Quick thinking Curtis my boy and Vickie Wark - do you know her?'
I shook my head stunned.
'Young girl,' said Pat scanning the floor for any sign of her. 'Won the French Rally the other week and came first in her class last year, very good by all accounts and she wants to get into Formula 3000.'
I was impressed. I had watched numerous races of both saloon cars and formula one but never had I been so close to so much of the real thing. I could actually taste the engine oil and smell the exhaust fumes.
I asked if this was a celebration of a new sponsorship deal only to have my Director of personnel laugh in my face.
'Oh Curtis my boy. Nothing so common. No no no - we own her dear boy, we own her. She will be racing for us next season under our very own banner. We are opening our own building in Redford and running another car in partnership with a Japanese firm. Something we need to talk about later but all very exciting stuff and who knows if the young lady is good enough then maybe we will sell her on to one of the big boys.'
So this was an example of the type of acquisition he had been talking about. Not entirely what I had expected and I hinted as much when I questioned whether you could actually own a person.
It produced an all knowing smile.
'Curtis my boy you have so much to learn.'
'Yes he does.' Cheryl raised her voice just loud enough to halt all conversation. She looked first at me and then at my boss. 'It's called manners! Something my husband tends to forget from time to time.'
I swung round red faced. 'Oh I'm so sorry darling. Pat may I introduce my gorgeous wife Cheryl.'
Pat creased a warming smile as he held out a hand.
'Delighted my dear; positively delighted and quite right too. Where would the world be without manners eh Curtis my boy?'
He moved back so we could all absorb the full splendour of what tonight was all about and the word opulence was probably the only word I would have used. I doubt this event had been put on for less than ten thousand pounds and I could only imagine that it was one of a dozen or so organised every year with no expense spared. Everyone was dressed for the occasion in smart tuxedoes and glittering ball gowns with waiters and waitresses mingling amongst every one of them with trays of wine or champagne.
The building was a hundred years old. In fact listening to Patrick its anniversary was in two days' time. Maybe a little extra money had been spent on that fact alone. It had been a government building until the sixties when it became an office block taken over by Stamford Enterprises eight years ago.
Pat extended a sweeping arm.
'It was Josie's idea about the bunting, all the colours of the current racing teams apparently and she took the idea of the furniture from a documentary she saw, excellent woman; a marketing genius if you ask me, a great acquisition.'
Cheryl eyeballed me quickly as Pat's attention was drawn to the various items of engine parts on a long table next to a wide sweeping staircase. She had the same expression I had on the day of my interview here in London; a feeling of complete bewilderment.
'Mr Stamford's not here tonight of course on account of work but Jenny is here somewhere.' Pat moved his eyes in all direction and finished with a shrug. 'Anyway and so is Michael one of the other directors.' He lowered his voice. 'And I've a few more contacts to talk to in regard to what you said. Still bemused by the whole affair my boy but I'm sure all will be revealed. In the meantime,' he chirped 'mingle away, it's a three course meal followed by a dance later on. Don't worry. I'll come and get you later and then Cheryl; if you will excuse us, we will have to talk shop I'm afraid. I will see if I can find Jenny, she'll keep you company or if I can't find her then I'm sure I can find someone else. Anyway if you need anything you know where I'll be.'
And that was that.
I lead Cheryl to a quiet area and when the next waiter passed I took a couple of glasses of the house Champagne. The last few days hadn't exactly gone according to plan and so I lifted up my glass in a way of an apology.
'To us.'
Cheryl tentatively touched my glass with hers and drew a frown as she talked about the scenery.
'A little too elaborate don't you think?' she said. 'And not sure about his use of the word acquisition.'
I nodded. 'Probably just one of their hip words love,' I said hopefully. 'I wouldn't pay any heed to it.'
She lowered her head and I saw that same glint in her eye I saw last night in the hotel room. 'And are you one of their acquisitions?' she teased.
I responded playfully with a raising of my eyebrows, 'Only yours my love. Only yours.'
A spot next to one of the exhibits suited our reserved nature and we spent the next few minutes listening to a selection of light music playing softly in the background. I was miles away singing along to Lisa Stansfield when a voice sounded in my left ear.
'I say. Does anyone know when dinner is?'
The American drawl came from a rather overweight individual in a tight fitting brown herringbone jacket who was holding a large plate in his right hand overflowing with mushroom vol-aux-vents.
I had no idea. 'Sorry. I can't help you I'm afraid.'
He then pointed at the decorations with a disagreeable grunt.
'All rather grand don't you think. A little bit too much for my liking. I think I am more suited to your once a year at Christmas, no frills sort of party, but when the boss says you have to come you don't argue do you?'
He hesitated and then lifted a shoulders before helping himself to another mouthful of puff pastry.
'Geoffrey Whartley.'
Shards of food went everywhere.
'Planning, organising, that sort of thing, small fry really, sort of under manager to the underlings.'
He laughed briefly at his own joke and stopped abruptly when no one else joined in.
'Kirk Attwood,' I said and then, remembering my last mistake with Pat I added, 'and this is my lovely wife Cheryl.'
'Pleased to meet you both.'
He reminded me of one of the characters from Alice in Wonderland, Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee and I was irked by the sudden interruption.
'Between you and me,' he said pausing to look around, 'this is just money down the drain. Never works mixing business with pleasure. Vickie Wark. One lucky win by all accounts and she's the bees knees. It's that Jenny. She has a soft spot for the females. Feels they need a helping hand, that sort of thing. Just like her brother with his silly paddle steamers. All hype and no substance. The building alone in Redford is going to cost us a small fortune. Goes to Monaco for two days and she comes back thinking she can win the world championship.'
He stopped there hoping for some input but I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He huffed a shoulder and continued unabated.
'Graham Sadler. Now he's the best in this company. Not even a director but one of the best managers we have, always coming up with great ideas. The water station near Hyderabad was brilliant, so simple too; using an old petrol station. Just fill her up, only this time it is water and not petrol. Great gimmick and by all accounts could lead to loads more being built.'
I had still not been able to work out whether it was compulsory or not in this company to speak incessantly without drawing breath but as he was in planning; I suppose it wouldn't hurt to listen to him for a little while longer.
'I don't suppose you have heard of the Jupiter?' I asked.
He looked upwards. 'Ah well yes I do in fact. Let me see. Fifth planet in the solar system, largest of them all, Hydrogen gas mixed with Helium I believe,' he then paused. 'and of course it's the name of our new ship.'
Bingo.
'Is your wife with you at all Geoffrey?'
I received a scowl from Cheryl. I knew what she was doing. Never mix business with pleasure but the more I found out about my new or not so new ship the better equipped I would be to understand my next move.
'Er no,' said our new friend head bowed. 'I'm not married. Early days though. I'm renting at the moment but hope to have my own apartment soon. I live out in Compton Heath near the railway embankment, it's only a one bedroom flat but it suits me and the noise allows me to play my music loud. Not that I'm in of course,' he added a little too quickly. 'I'm out most days you see. You know - clubs, that sort of thing and then of course there's work. I never have time I suppose to find out about the goings on of the female sex. Stay in the office most nights; when I'm not clubbing that is. There's always a lot to do when you're in planning. Are you dining with anyone?'
I hadn't even thought about it. 'No one at the moment.'
'Good. I feel as if we've connected somehow. Why don't we all dine together?'
God forbid.
As luck would have it all the tables had place settings to them and we found ourselves next to a Mr and Mrs Nicholson and a Beverly Coaster. We said our goodbyes to our American friend promising to meet up with him later and I had just thanked myself from avoiding a very narrow escape when I heard the unmistakable voice of someone I knew.
'Well fancy meeting you here. Aren't you going to introduce me then?'
I turned round and there standing not three feet away was the woman I knew as Max.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Well, well, well. What is she doing there?
Thanks again for getting this far and I so adore your comments so please keep them coming.
Take care.
JU xx