The other crease on the surface of his life that needed ironing out was Stella. He felt nothing for her. She had done all that he had needed at the weekend in her role as safety net, and, though it now seemed unlikely that his alibi would ever be checked, he was glad that he had taken the precaution.
Now she had outgrown her usefulness — though, from the odd whispered aside in the office, it appeared that she was unaware of that. She evidently had seen the weekend as the beginning of a relationship. It was a notion from which she had to be disabused.
He could of course just tell her to get lost, but Graham didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Given her proximity to him in the department, that approach could lead to undesirable scenes along the corridors.
No, obviously he had to let her down gently. He managed another wine-bar drink after work, but regretfully cried off the next weekend on the grounds that he was sorting out the children’s final transfer to Islington.
He didn’t want to repeat the physical encounter of the previous weekend. Complete insensitivity to desire had returned after that savage moment of triumph. He was not sure whether any women would be involved in his new lifestyle, but he knew that if he did look for other companions, they would need to be more glamorous than Stella.
So he resorted to the established company procedure for shaking her off. On the Friday afternoon, five days after Robert’s death, Graham went to see the Secretarial Organiser, Miss Pridmore, known throughout the company, with typical office wit, as ‘Head of Secs’. She was a daunting lady of stout moral principles, who ruled her charges like a malign Mother Superior.
He took great pleasure in telling her at least an edited version of the truth. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Pridmore. I’m sure you’ve heard this sort of tale before, but mine has a rather nasty twist. No doubt most executives are worried that their wives will discover about their liaisons with secretaries. In my case I’m afraid it was because of my wife’s death that the liaison started. I’ve been in a very confused state since it happened and. .’
He was good. He knew he was good. As he shed more and more of his real emotions, the ability to manufacture convincing imitations increased.
Miss Pridmore was of course disapproving, but also sympathetic. She could understand the anguish he must be going through. And yes, of course, it would be advisable to have the girl in question transferred to another department. No, it wouldn’t be done straight away. And yes, it would be done discreetly. Of course.
And so, following the anti-feminist convention that still rules in most offices, Graham’s inconvenience would be removed.
Robert Benham’s funeral was scheduled for the following Monday. This delighted Graham; he knew it meant there had been no awkwardnesses at the inquest.
The ceremony was in Rugby and a contingent of half a dozen from Crasoco attended. Tara Liston was there, attracting a couple of local newspaper photographers, and Robert Benham also proved to have had a mother, father and two sisters.
Like Merrily’s, the ceremony was a cremation and, as the velvet curtains did their dramatic close, Graham couldn’t help wondering how much of the body was left to cremate. He felt better than at any other time in his life.
On the train back to London, most of the time was spent in the buffet. At one point, Graham found himself alone over a drink with David Birdham.
‘Know I shouldn’t really talk business at a time like this. .’
‘Business doesn’t stop, Graham. It goes on, whatever happens.’
‘Yes. Well, just to say there’ll be a report on your desk tomorrow morning. A model, a sort of blueprint for the future of Personnel Department over the next decade. Some of it’s quite strong. There’ll be people who don’t like it.’
‘Who’s done it?’
‘Well, obviously, the computer boys have helped out on the figures, but. . the thinking’s mine.’
The Managing Director smiled. ‘I will read it with interest, Graham.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
The next day Graham didn’t wear a tie to the office. At lunchtime he went out and bought a dark brown leather jacket, cut on casual lines. After work he had fixed to join George Brewer for a drink, but he stood his boss up. Instead, he had an estate-agent-guided tour round a new block of service flats just off Sloane Street. A one-bedroom studio cost almost exactly what he had been offered on the Boileau Avenue house. The flats appealed to him. Without furniture, with bare polished floors and newly white walls, they appealed to him a lot. Hotel-like, uncluttered, anonymous.
When he got back that evening there was a message on the Ansaphone from Charmian. She sounded extremely angry. It was ten days since he had last seen Henry and Emma and since then he hadn’t even phoned to check that they were still alive. What kind of father was he? Had he no interest at all in his children?
The final question was easily answered, but there seemed little point in ringing Charmian to tell her. Instead, he wrote to his bank manager, arranging the agreed monthly standing order into his sister-in-law’s account. After that, he felt he had fulfilled his paternal duty.
It was on the Thursday that the summons to David Birdham’s office came through. Terry Sworder’s report lay on the Managing Director’s desk.
‘It’s good, Graham, bloody good. Pulls no punches. Lot of redundancies, though. Many people won’t like that.’
Graham shrugged. ‘You can’t make an omelette without cracking a few eggs.’
‘Oh, sure, sure. And I could nominate a few eggs in Personnel Department who are ripe for cracking. What I’m saying is, it’s one thing to produce a report like this, it’s another to put it into practice. Whoever does it is going to have to work very hard and be prepared to make himself unpopular.’
‘I’m sure it could be done.’
‘By the right person, yes.’ David Birdham toyed with a paperknife. ‘Management has known for some time that this sort of shake-up was needed. We’re not daft, you know, we do notice things. But, though he’s been a brake on progress for years, we wanted to hang on till George went. Not just sentimental, we could easily have put him out to grass even earlier, but we didn’t want any half-measures. Which was why Benham was appointed. He seemed to have the right thick-skinned qualities for the job. It needed a blunt instrument and he fitted the bill. We all felt that you. . were too much of a traditionalist, too tarred with George’s brush. .’
Graham was silent, waiting.
‘And then you send me a report like this.’ David Birdham tapped the papers on his desk. ‘It is exactly what is needed, and I won’t say I’m not surprised that it came from you. You always seemed to follow George’s line.’
‘I suppose that was out of. . what? Loyalty?’ Graham poised the word diffidently.
‘Loyalty can be dangerous in business. Lost you the job the last time around.’
‘Yes.’
David Birdham rose from his chair and walked across to the window. He spoke with his back to his junior. ‘Listen, Graham, I want you to take over from George next week. I’ve spoken to most of the board and most of them’ll accept any recommendation of mine. May have a bit of a problem with the Staff Association over the job not being properly advertised, but we can ride that. Thing is, these are exceptional circumstances, with the Heir Apparent dying before the old King goes, and in my view a quick decision is needed. Nothing like an interregnum to get a department out of hand. And since there’s no doubt you were runner-up last time round, I think you should definitely have the job. What do you say, Graham?’
He had done it. The failures of the last two and a half months had been wiped away and he stood where he had hoped to stand. But his position was so much stronger; three murders had elevated him way beyond his prosaic former hopes.