Old Dogs, New Tricks. Linda Phillips
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eat a whole horse.’
She studied the menu more closely, but she’d already made up her mind. She called out her order to the barman – whom they both knew well since they spent at least two, and often three, evenings at the country club – and sat back looking around.
Oliver grew more disgruntled at this blatant lack of attention. ‘You do know who Benson is. Philip Benson. Remember? I told you all about him. He’s one of the London mob. A rather significant one.’
‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’ Jade looked faintly put out. ‘Well, I beg your pardon, Olly, but I can’t be expected to remember everything. My head’s full of company law at the moment.’ But she was wasting her breath. It was no excuse, as far as Oliver was concerned, that her law exams were less than a year away and that there was such a lot to cram in: she should have remembered who Benson was.
Oliver had made a lot of fuss about Spittal’s restructuring plans over the past few months. He had been fully counting on promotion to sales director in place of Platt, who was retiring. Instead, although yet to be officially confirmed, it looked as though this bloke Benson might be coming down from London to take the job and Oliver would have to stay put as his assistant.
‘There’s no justice in this world,’ Oliver complained into his glass of lager before tipping the contents down his throat. ‘No justice at all. I mean, he’s fifty, for God’s sake. Why would they want to keep on an old wrinkly like him?’
Jade decided it would be prudent not to speak her mind. It was obvious that the powers-that-be thought Benson the more able man.
‘You know what your MD’s like,’ she reminded him. ‘He’s hopelessly old-fashioned. Moralistic. Stuck in his ways … He’s bound to go for an older man, isn’t he? One of the old school.’
‘Well, I only hope he knows what he’s playing at, bucking current trends. And how the hell did I come to be lumbered with an anachronism like that? I tell you, Jade, if I’d known what the set-up would be like I’d never have joined this firm.’
‘Your time will come, Olly.’ Jade put out a comforting hand.
‘Oh yes. When I’ve one foot in the grave and no teeth.’
Jade hooked one side of her hair behind her ear. ‘I suppose …’ her blue-green eyes flickered over Oliver’s face ‘… I suppose this Philip Benson’s a married man?’
‘How the hell would I know? Though come to think of it maybe he is. There was a discussion in the office as to where he might live, and someone suggested that one of those big new houses on the Brightwells estate might suit him. Personnel are sending him the details, anyway.’
‘God, no!’ Her eyebrows arched. ‘Not that hellhole. He’d have to be out of his skull.’
‘Yeah!’ Oliver managed a smile; it amused him to think of his new superior, whose guts he already hated on principle, coming to live with the plebs. True, some of the houses were quite desirable if you liked that kind of thing; but the ambience was all wrong. Brightwells was nothing but a huge town over-spill. Accommodation for the masses. A sprawling nonentity hastily thrown up to meet the ever-growing demand for executive-type housing.
Oliver dragged at the cigar and blew the smoke over their heads. ‘So I suppose he must be married,’ he concluded, ‘if they think he needs a place like that. What difference does it make, anyway?’
‘Well … I was just wondering. Perhaps it helped him get the job. I mean –’ she hurried on ‘– it might count with your MD, mightn’t it, whereas … now don’t look at me like that, Olly, I’m not advocating that you and I should be married, even after your divorce has gone through.’ She flushed, tossing her hair again. ‘You know I’m not.’
Olly regarded her carefully. Did she really mean that? You never could tell with women. Most of them couldn’t be trusted. They would swear blind they didn’t want something, when all the time it was the very thing they did want. Like babies. Goodness me, no, they’d protest. Whatever would I do with one of those? And half the time they’d be glued to the Mothercare window. Same with marriage. Who’d want to be married these days? they would claim. It’s a perfectly meaningless institution. Only a piece of paper … oh look, what a gorgeous ring! And I just love white weddings, don’t you?
Jade, to be fair, hadn’t been like that so far, and they’d been living together for nearly six months. But then, he had made things crystal clear to her from the start. Since his first shot at marriage had been such a failure, he told her, he believed that ‘open’ relationships were a safer bet, and had gone on to explain exactly what he meant by that. He was nothing if not honest.
‘I love you, Jade,’ he’d said, ‘but to be perfectly frank with you I can’t promise to be completely faithful. I’m not that kind of man. I need to feel free to – er – engage in other relationships from time to time. Nothing permanent, mind. Just the odd fling. I’d always come back to you …’
Seeing Jade’s startled expression – the involuntary parting of her lips, the narrowing of her cat-like eyes – he had hastened to reassure her. ‘Of course, it would work both ways. You’d be free, as well, you know. To go with other guys.’ Jade said nothing.
‘And if, on the odd occasion,’ he blustered on, since he appeared to have blown his chances and had nothing more to lose, ‘if on the odd occasion the opportunity of a swap came up – you know, at a party or something – well, it could be great. Really. It would. I mean – have you ever tried it? Afterwards you compare notes. And that’s the best part of it, you know, telling each other about different experiences – in bed – and – God,’ he’d wound up, hastily adjusting his trousers, ‘I’m getting horny just thinking about it.’
Two plates of venison arrived and Oliver stubbed out his cigar. ‘Our not being married hasn’t bothered H J up until now,’ he told Jade.
‘H J?’
‘Holy Joe. Big boss. Jocelyn Hemmingway-Judd.’
‘Oh, him. Well, no, maybe not, who knows?’ She shrugged, so that her baggy cotton sweater slipped to one side revealing a naked shoulder. ‘But it might have affected your promotability without your realising it. In his eyes –’ she made her own goggle ‘– I presume, we’re living in sin.’
Oliver waited while the barman finished glugging wine into their glasses. ‘Living in sin,’ he muttered in disgust. ‘What a load of cock. It’s the job that counts, surely? The way you do it; the results you achieve.
‘Cheers, Tony,’ he dismissed the barman, and began to attack his food. But his mind was still with H J.
‘Perhaps this new guy’s not married,’ Jade said in an attempt to lighten his mood. ‘He could be gay, you know. H J wouldn’t be happy about that.’
Oliver considered the matter. He would like to think it a possibility, because Jade was right: H J wouldn’t be able to stomach that. ‘Now how am I supposed to know whether Benson’s gay or not? I’ve not even met him yet. If it’s anything to go by, word’s come down from London to the women in our office that he’s quite fanciable. The secretaries are wetting their knickers in anticipation.’
‘Really?’ Jade grinned. She had become inured to Oliver’s coarseness. ‘I thought you said he was old.’
‘Not too old for that, apparently. Even you might fancy him.’ Oliver chewed, emptied his mouth, and stabbed the air with his fork. ‘Hey, that’s not a bad idea!’
‘What?’ Jade had a quick brain, but couldn’t follow his thoughts on this occasion.
‘Well, how about –’ he began to chuckle at his idea ‘– how about we invite him over to dinner when he moves down here and that you get on rather well with him – follow my drift? And then, when he’s nicely drooling over you and making a complete arse of himself, it’s somehow spread around the office that he’s been pestering