‘I would feel better if you were still there, though.’
‘Believe me, so would I.’
‘Yes, well. I have to go now.’ I could hear his voice cracking, almost as though he were about to cry. I had never seen my father cry.
‘Bye, Dad.’
‘Goodbye.’ And he was gone, leaving me feeling angry, sad and very, very guilty.
I met Ingrid that evening in a pub round the corner from my flat. She smiled broadly when she saw me, and kissed me quickly on the lips.
I checked my watch. A quarter to six. ‘Coming in late. Leaving early. What will people think?’
‘They won’t know what to think. Anyway, I don’t care. I was eager to see you.’
‘Likewise,’ I said.
‘And...’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a small brown package. ‘I bought some coffee.’
I smiled. If having my coffee insulted was the price of Ingrid staying another night, I was quite prepared to pay it.
‘Did you manage not to resign?’ I asked.
‘I did. In fact, I hardly spoke to Guy all day. He seemed rather preoccupied.’
‘I’m not surprised. No news from Torsten?’
‘Not that I could tell. But Owen came into the office.’
‘You’re joking!’
‘No. He spent most of the day on his computer. But he talked to Guy a bit.’
‘Watch out for him, Ingrid. You know how dangerous he can be.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll avoid him.’
‘Do be careful. Please.’ I was surprised how apprehensive I suddenly felt. I had lived with the persistent threat of Owen’s violence for the last six months. I didn’t like the idea of Ingrid putting herself at risk as well.
‘I will be,’ she smiled, grateful for my concern. ‘Also, Mel was there.’
‘Mel?’
‘Yeah. I thought Guy had had enough of her. But obviously not. She didn’t seem very pleased to see me.’
‘I’m sure she wasn’t. What was she doing?’
‘I don’t know. She was sitting at your desk doing it, though. It was kind of weird.’
‘It sounds it.’ The idea of Mel sitting at my desk was uncomfortable. But it made sense. She would be able to do as good a job as anyone in picking up my work. She might have other clients at Howles Marriott, but if Guy said jump, I was sure she would jump.
‘No luck with Silverman or Orchestra, then?’ Ingrid asked.
‘No. Guy has got to Silverman. Clare was harassed and was happy to follow his lead.’
‘Oh.’
‘But I’m seeing Anne Glazier next week.’
‘Do you think she’ll be able to tell you anything?’
‘Probably not. But I have to try.’ I drank my beer, feeling the disappointment crowd in on me from all sides. ‘What now?’
‘I don’t want to just give up,’ said Ingrid. ‘Sit by and let Guy screw it all up.’
‘Neither do I. But if neither Silverman nor Clare will listen to us I don’t see how we can get Guy to cut back on costs.’
‘And you’re quite certain Torsten won’t come up with the cash?’
‘Positive. I’m sure Guy is convincing, but that doesn’t mean anything. When Guy wants to believe something, he can make other people believe it too. You know that. Torsten will flake and Ninetyminutes will go under.’
‘What about Champion Starsat?’ Ingrid said.
‘I thought you voted against the idea of selling out to them?’
‘I did then. But this is now. I’m not sure we have a choice.’
‘Guy would hate it if I went to them behind his back.’
‘Guy fired you yesterday.’
I took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. I’ll call them tomorrow.’
This time I didn’t meet Jay Madden at the Savoy. This time I met him in his large corner office on the South Bank with a view of the river. Madden sat behind an impressive desk; I sat opposite.
‘Now, David,’ said Madden with a friendly smile. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Firstly, I should tell you that I’ve left Ninetyminutes. Guy Jourdan and I had a disagreement over strategy.’
Madden raised his eyebrows. ‘And does that disagreement over strategy have anything to do with Champion Starsat?’
‘It does.’
‘You know the market’s changed since we last spoke. So have our plans. We’ve started up our own site. We don’t need Ninetyminutes any more.’
‘Ninetyminutes has the best site on the Internet.’ I was surprised at the pride I felt as I said this. Whatever Ninetyminutes’ problems, that was the truth and Madden couldn’t deny it.
He didn’t try. ‘Running out of cash, are you?’
‘If Ninetyminutes is to make the most of its potential it needs investment. Serious investment. You can provide that. The markets can’t.’
Madden thought for a moment. ‘It’s true you have an excellent site. Probably even better than ours. But, as you point out, we have the cash and you haven’t. And that means we’ll dominate the space. You’ll fold soon. Goaldigger have a bit more funding than you, so they’ll last longer. But we’ll win. You know that.’ His tone was matter-of-fact, not aggressive, which just made what he said sound even more credible.
‘You may be correct. But at the right price it would be worth your while to incorporate our site into yours.’
Madden smiled. ‘I take it Guy Jourdan doesn’t know you’re here?’
‘No, and I’d rather he didn’t.’
‘Is this a way for you to get your old job back?’
‘No. Absolutely not. But I think it would be good for Ninetyminutes. I’m still a shareholder.’
Madden picked up a pencil from his desk and tapped his chin with it. ‘If we were to make an offer, what makes you think Jourdan would accept it?’
‘He might have no choice.’
‘Are you suggesting I call him?’
‘No. Call Derek Silverman. And please don’t mention my name.’
‘All right,’ said Madden. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, and left, feeling guilty as hell.
38
Without Ingrid, the weekend would have been unbearable. With Ingrid, I found it extremely bearable. She worked on Saturday, but we went to see a film together that evening. We spent Sunday morning in bed, getting to know each other, ambled down the street to a local café for lunch and wandered round Hyde Park during the afternoon. Summer had come early, the air was hot and heavy, the grass inviting. Then Ingrid returned to her own place to sort out the week’s domestic loose ends.
I didn’t see her again until the following evening. She came straight to my flat from work. I was anxious to hear what had happened at Ninetyminutes: we had agreed not to communicate while she was at the office. With Owen there, you never knew.
I was also anxious just to see her. At this stage of our relationship a day seemed a long time, especially when I had nothing to do but stew.
She kissed me, and tucked herself under my arm on the sofa.
‘Well?’ I said.
‘Well. Interesting day, today.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Guy was in a worse mood than usual this morning. I’m pretty sure he’s ignoring me, but maybe he’s just ignoring everyone. Anyway, I asked him about Torsten. He looked pissed off and said he would handle it. I demanded to know whether Torsten had come through with the cash: I am still a director, after all. Guy admitted he hadn’t.’
‘What did I tell you? So Torsten’s father said no?’
‘Torsten wouldn’t admit that to Guy, but that’s what Guy thinks. Guy was furious. I thought he was going to jump on a plane to Hamburg and kill him.’
‘Don’t say that,’ I said.