them, and he couldn’t remember ever having seen Dad coming down out of the roof with secateurs or a pruning saw, let alone bits of amputated tree.
Still. It couldn’t be important, could it? He’d lived with it this long and nothing had come of it. There was probably a perfectly rational explanation that he alone was too stupid to see, and he’d only embarrass himself by admitting his ignorance.
Colin went home. Dinner, telly, bed. When he was asleep (he snored) his father, quiet as a little mouse, crept up to the top landing, opened the loft-flap, pulled down the folding aluminium ladder and climbed up it. Over his shoulder was an empty sack.
CHAPTER THREE
‘Ms Schwartz-Alberich,’ the stranger said, with a patronising grin. ‘Come in, take a seat. Thanks for your time.’
Connie folded herself neatly into the small, straight chair on the other side of the desk, and put down the buff-coloured file she’d brought in with her.
‘Your time, actually,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Anyhow, what can I do for you?’
The stranger’s grin didn’t increase or diminish, but its curvature shifted slightly. Good, Connie thought, I’ve annoyed him. She was a great believer in Potter’s Law (the first muscle stiffened is the first point won). ‘First,’ he said, in that salad-dressing voice of his, ‘I’d like to make it absolutely clear that there’s nothing at all sinister about this. We’re not looking to make any compulsory redundancies or anything like that -‘ he lifted his head, and the morning light glanced off the steel rims of his glasses ‘- at this stage. This is purely a routine exercise to help us to get to know you, and vice versa. Are you okay with that?’
Ah, Connie thought, threats. Threats I can handle. ‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘What a very good idea. Fire away.’
‘Now then.’ The stranger looked at her, blinked like a lizard. ‘You’ve been with the firm for let’s see’ Glance down at dossier open on desk. Connie could, of course, read upside-down words almost as easily as right-way-up ones, a skill she’d learned long ago when she first began attending meetings with colleagues, clients and other enemies. ‘Gracious,’ the stranger said, ‘thirty-two years.’
‘Thirty-four,’ Connie replied. ‘Look, it says on your bit of paper, nineteen seventy-one. Two thousand and five take away one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-one is thirty-four.’ She smiled pleasantly.
‘Thirty-four years.’ The stranger moved his sleeve to cover the dossier. ‘Quite a long time, then.’
Connie shrugged. ‘Actually, I’m a relative newcomer, compared with John or Dennis or Cas.’ Dropping the first names of the ex-partners was a tactic that she’d been planning to save till later, but since the hostility level was escalating rather more sharply than she’d anticipated she thought that she might as well deploy it straight away. It only takes one trick, as her whist-playing aunt used to say. ‘And Benny Shumway’s been here, what, forty-seven years, and Peter’
‘Quite.’ The stranger frowned. ‘I see that you’ve spent most of your time at the San Francisco office.’
‘Seventeen years,’ Connie replied promptly. ‘And I was sorely pissed off when young Dennis ordered me home, trust me. Still, I can’t blame him, what with all hell breaking loose.’
‘Ah.’ The stranger looked at her again. ‘You liked it out there.’
‘Well, I was more or less running the office, wasn’t I?’ Connie said. ‘Sure, Kurt Lundqvist was nominally in charge most of that time, being a partner and all, but of course he wasn’t doing any work, or anything else much.’
‘You liked being your own boss?’
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ Connie replied. ‘More a case of being able to get on with my work without people interfering. Much more efficient.’
The stranger nodded. His dossier obviously told him how successful and profitable the San Francisco office
Still. It couldn’t be important, could it? He’d lived with it this long and nothing had come of it. There was probably a perfectly rational explanation that he alone was too stupid to see, and he’d only embarrass himself by admitting his ignorance.
Colin went home. Dinner, telly, bed. When he was asleep (he snored) his father, quiet as a little mouse, crept up to the top landing, opened the loft-flap, pulled down the folding aluminium ladder and climbed up it. Over his shoulder was an empty sack.
CHAPTER THREE
‘Ms Schwartz-Alberich,’ the stranger said, with a patronising grin. ‘Come in, take a seat. Thanks for your time.’
Connie folded herself neatly into the small, straight chair on the other side of the desk, and put down the buff-coloured file she’d brought in with her.
‘Your time, actually,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Anyhow, what can I do for you?’
The stranger’s grin didn’t increase or diminish, but its curvature shifted slightly. Good, Connie thought, I’ve annoyed him. She was a great believer in Potter’s Law (the first muscle stiffened is the first point won). ‘First,’ he said, in that salad-dressing voice of his, ‘I’d like to make it absolutely clear that there’s nothing at all sinister about this. We’re not looking to make any compulsory redundancies or anything like that -‘ he lifted his head, and the morning light glanced off the steel rims of his glasses ‘- at this stage. This is purely a routine exercise to help us to get to know you, and vice versa. Are you okay with that?’
Ah, Connie thought, threats. Threats I can handle. ‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘What a very good idea. Fire away.’
‘Now then.’ The stranger looked at her, blinked like a lizard. ‘You’ve been with the firm for let’s see’ Glance down at dossier open on desk. Connie could, of course, read upside-down words almost as easily as right-way-up ones, a skill she’d learned long ago when she first began attending meetings with colleagues, clients and other enemies. ‘Gracious,’ the stranger said, ‘thirty-two years.’
‘Thirty-four,’ Connie replied. ‘Look, it says on your bit of paper, nineteen seventy-one. Two thousand and five take away one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-one is thirty-four.’ She smiled pleasantly.
‘Thirty-four years.’ The stranger moved his sleeve to cover the dossier. ‘Quite a long time, then.’
Connie shrugged. ‘Actually, I’m a relative newcomer, compared with John or Dennis or Cas.’ Dropping the first names of the ex-partners was a tactic that she’d been planning to save till later, but since the hostility level was escalating rather more sharply than she’d anticipated she thought that she might as well deploy it straight away. It only takes one trick, as her whist-playing aunt used to say. ‘And Benny Shumway’s been here, what, forty-seven years, and Peter’
‘Quite.’ The stranger frowned. ‘I see that you’ve spent most of your time at the San Francisco office.’
‘Seventeen years,’ Connie replied promptly. ‘And I was sorely pissed off when young Dennis ordered me home, trust me. Still, I can’t blame him, what with all hell breaking loose.’
‘Ah.’ The stranger looked at her again. ‘You liked it out there.’
‘Well, I was more or less running the office, wasn’t I?’ Connie said. ‘Sure, Kurt Lundqvist was nominally in charge most of that time, being a partner and all, but of course he wasn’t doing any work, or anything else much.’
‘You liked being your own boss?’
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ Connie replied. ‘More a case of being able to get on with my work without people interfering. Much more efficient.’
The stranger nodded. His dossier obviously told him how successful and profitable the San Francisco office
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