Entertaining at Large Ch. 10

'See you tomorrow and thanks again for bringing my bike.'

'S'OK, I suppose. With any luck the bugger will have pushed off by the time I get back. He'll have us vacuuming the offices and sweeping the yard next.'

Simon cursed silently and turned into the rain muttering.

'I'll be going to the union if he tries it.'

I waved at The Boy as I drove in to work the next morning. Nothing. It was as if I wasn't there. I was in the car in order to restock my locker with office clothes. I should have known there was something going on as soon as I entered the place. There was a definite buzz of excitement; well at least amicability. Normally the first morning after the Xmas break is taken up with whispered conversations as people who have not seen each other for ten days or so swap tales of disappointing – or spectacular – presents, the precise degree of epic-ness of their hangovers on New Year's Day and other social trivia like death, divorce or, more rarely, proposals of marriage.

I was bade good morning by almost everyone I passed on my way to the locker room. As it was the preserve of the manual staff – I had been admitted to their circle only after discussions with the chief shop steward – that was unusual. Stranger still one of the younger men offered to carry my armful of suits and blouses for me; unprecedented. As I moved over to the offices the greetings became warmer and one or two people tried to stop me for a chat. As I approached my own section I had to push through a positive gaggle to get in through the door.

I was immediately surrounded by my staff. As I had stopped off at Adriano's for cakes, I could have been forgiven for assuming that some sort of famine had broken out overnight. But there was only one question on their lips: "what's going on?".

At first I wondered what the fuss was about, but as soon as the crowd broke a little I could see that on every desk in the room there was an expensive bunch of flowers. Proper expensive. Real bouquets; they had obviously been ordered from a florists not picked up wholesale from the nearest garage. Each one was individual and wrapped in cellophane with one of those internal water reservoirs to keep them fresh. I knew that because there was a puddle of water next to the desk of one of the more junior staffers – male, of course – who had clearly no idea which end of a bunch of flowers was up.

I had still not moved more than a couple of feet from the door, but before I could get further I was confronted by my assistant. Jade is a really sweet woman. She's efficient, intelligent, has a great sense of humour and an unerring ability to choose losers when it came to men. She was on a par with Scarlett in that department. She was holding a card in her hand and was visibly upset.

'It says, "Thanks for all your hard work, best wishes Charles". I don't know anyone called Charles. My boyfriend will kill me if I take those home.'

I almost smiled but stopped myself just in time. I was sorry to see that a couple of the older women – women I knew to be married or in long-term relationships – were nodding sympathetically. I held up both hands to get some quiet. Muhammad took the bag of cakes from me and retreated to the coffee area. Everyone else stopped muttering and looked at me expectantly.

'Charles is the CEO of the company; the big cheese. I'm a bit surprised you don't know him, but be sure to say thank you from all of us if you bump into him on your way to the executive rest rooms.'

There was laughter and everyone looked a little more relaxed.

'Yesterday I submitted a report on the work you all did over the holidays. Though I tried to take all the credit for myself he clearly saw through it and this is his way, and the firm's, of giving us all a pat on the back. I must say I'm a little disappointed. I did try to hint that if they were minded to acknowledge your efforts hard cash or dates with the celebrities of your choice would hit the spot. It seems we'll just have to make do with a few blooms. You can't win 'em all.'

People were smiling now.

'Before we all get back to work, one last thing. If any of you think you're going to have problems at home because of the flowers feel free to get your spouses, partners, children or household pets to call me. I shall be more than pleased to back up whatever cockamamie yarn you've been spinning them. Obviously I'm excluding Michael from that.'

Michael, one of the better looking men in the place, was a serial philanderer who had tried it on with a number of women in the office. That is until one of them complained to me and I gave him a verbal warning and a significantly long lecture on appropriate office behaviour.

I rather expected that there would be more laughter when I finished and then dispersal back to their desks. In truth I was a little miffed. I was their manager after all, a little sycophancy would not have been out of place.

I waited a moment, but no one moved. I started forward myself until I noticed that everyone seems to be staring over my shoulder at the door. Something about the way Muhammad, standing at the back of the room, was performing callisthenics with his eyebrows made me turn. Charles was standing there smiling indulgently. He looked like he had heard the whole thing. He was accompanied by his executive assistant, a surgically-enhanced ice maiden who looked like she was the product of a breeding programme jointly organised by executives at Playboy and Revlon. She was giving me her version of the laser death stare.

'Good morning, sir, thank you for coming down. We were just holding an impromptu team meeting before knuckling down to the tasks in hand.'

He shook my hand with a wry grin and stepped forward. He was clearly intent on speaking too.

'My name is Charles Pemberton. For my sins I am the chief executive officer of the company as well as being a major shareholder.'

He turned to look at me. He was expressionless, but didn't need to be more expressive to let me know he had heard my entire speech.

'I wanted to come down to the department to thank you all personally for the excellent – nay, outstanding – work you have done over the Xmas period. You did more than keep the machine ticking over. You kept us moving forwards and put us in a position where, now, at the start of the working year, we can move seamlessly into top gear.'

There was a small ripple of applause.

'The company and I thank you for those efforts and we would like to show our gratitude more tangibly. To that end, on Thursday there will be two mini-buses leaving the car park outside at eight thirty. The first will be taking all the men to Silverstone for a day playing with high-powered cars on the country's main racing circuit. The second will take all the women to a spa day at Selvey Manor which, I am assured by my wife, is the best in the country. It is certainly one of the most expensive.'

The applause now was genuine. Even the most stoic were sharing excited whispers with their neighbours.

'Overnight accommodation is included. If any of you have caring responsibilities which will cause you problems, please contact Ms Stanley here, and she will do everything she can to make arrangements for you.'

He waved an arm towards his assistant. She looked appalled.

'I was going to leave her here to distribute envelopes with tickets etc to all of you. But having caught sight of the excellent-looking cakes Muhammad is so heroically trying to hide, and having heard that her virtue might be at risk from Michael, I think I had better stay.'

There were one or two good-hearted sniggers at the reference to Morgana's virtue (yes, she really is called Morgana Stanley, talk about being branded from birth). She is one of those women who treat all she considers beneath her with contempt. On the other hand, word in the Ladies was that she wore tights with reinforced knees and had sucked every cock in the boardroom. I enjoyed her grimace as she she was engulfed by my eager colleagues. I was left standing next to a smiling Charles. He was looking benevolently at the melee.

'Thank you very much for that, sir. I'm sure we'll all have a wonderful time.'

'You're not going. We have work to do. I need a quick word if you don't mind.'

Any disappointment I may have felt – and I wasn't sure there was going to be all that much – was put on hold by Jade's arrival. She was carrying a tray with a cup of coffee on a saucer, a small matching jug containing milk and a small bowl of sugar. A piece of chocolate and pear cake rested on a serviette on the side plate with the same design. I list them because I had no idea my department owned any of those things. Did I mention she was efficient?

'Thank you, sir, for the flowers and everything.'

'You've earned it, Jade isn't it? I hope you enjoy yourself.'

He took the tray from her and turned towards my office.

'I'm going to steal Susan away for a minute or two. Would you do me a favour and ask Muhammad to join us? He could perhaps bring a teaspoon with him.'

She scurried away, a woman on a mission. And completely oblivious to her oversight which had been so delicately raised; she would have been mortified had she realised. On entering my sanctum Charles placed the tray on my desk next to a bunch of exotic blooms and, refusing my executive chair, settled himself on one of the mismatched uprights in front of the desk. There was a gentle knock and Muhammad let himself in handing me my own mug and putting the spoon on the saucer. I tried to hide the "Keep Calm and Keep Pedalling" logo from my boss. We both looked at him expectantly.

'First things first. Muhammad. These are for you.'

He drew a large envelope from an inside pocket of his suit. I was impressed that something of its size could be carried without spoiling the lines of the well-tailored garment. When he insisted Muhammad open it a set of car keys bearing an Audi logo fell out.

'They're for your new company car. It's in the car park. Just press the toggle and it'll let you know which one.'

He waved away Muhammad's protests and gratitude. He reached into the other pocket and brought out another, slimmer envelope.

'Your first job will be to take Susan to this address. You have an appointment at one o'clock. Please don't spoil the surprise by telling her where you are going until you arrive.'

Muhammad opened the second envelope and glanced at the contents. He smiled broadly at me before secreting it in his own, less-well designed jacket.

'I want both of you to stay away from the office for today and tomorrow. There are high political manoeuvres going on and I don't want the executives or board members contacting you before a meeting on Thursday morning.'

We both murmured our confused assent.

'I shall be emailing you each a copy of a report I have prepared to your home systems tonight. Could you just confirm that these are correct.'

He opened the diary he had been using the day before and showed us a page. We both nodded to acknowledge the details. I was a little surprised. I had changed my email address after Dave left and was not certain I had let Personnel know.

'Feel free to discuss it between yourselves, but otherwise it should be treated as strictly confidential. I shall enclose my personal account address; contact me if you have any questions. I shall need your full support at the meeting so, please, if you have any problems with anything in the report, let's discuss it together before we go public. Questions?'

He gave us a moment to stare blankly at him and each other before he stood declaring this meeting closed.

'I shall have to go and meet the others, and possibly rescue Morgana. I presume that is Michael?'

I glanced through the glass partition to see Michael – for it was he – chatting casually to the ice queen as he sat on his desk. Inexplicably she seemed to be giggling and blushing slightly.

'One other thing. Morgana has a new phone for each of you. I don't understand why you haven't been issued with business phones already. Once you have transferred your contacts etc, please switch your own off for the next couple of days. The numbers are in the office directory and I want to keep you completely under the radar. At the moment your personnel files are locked in my desk so no one can trace you through your home addresses.'

He left the room and Muhammad and I stared at each other in silence. I almost pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

'I guess we just do what we're told and go off and enjoy ourselves for a couple of days. I'll have a word with Janice about taking charge and have Jade tell anyone who asks that we're both down with stomach bugs. OK?'

Muhammad nodded. He was staring at the Audi keys. I softened my voice.

'Where are we off to exactly?'

'Good try boss.'

'Send in the two girls will you? Might be best if we lock our phones in my desk once the new ones are up and running. OK? Give mine to Jade. I'll meet you in the car park in thirty minutes.'

I knew when I was beaten.

The two women sat patiently taking notes whilst I issued my instructions. I was impressed that they accepted my bare-faced lies unquestioningly and noticed they both unconsciously steeled themselves when I told them they may have to fend off enquiries from some of the most senior people in the firm. I wrote a memo to both of them advising them to contact Mr Pemberton's office if they needed to and copied in both Charles and Ms Stanley. Once Jade had corrected my cack-handed attempt to transfer my data, I locked both old phones in my desk, pocketed the keys and, after kissing both of them, walked to the car park.

Muhammad was sitting in his new car speaking excitedly to his wife by hands-free phone. It was one of those which looks like a cross between a family-oriented people carrier and an off-road leviathan capable of pulling a plough or transporting a platoon into a battle zone. In other words, ideal for the suburban streets of our small town. I let myself in and sank into the leather seat beside him. When I yanked on the door expecting it to slam, it sort of hissed and then clicked. I felt I should start devising an escape plan in case it decided it was not going to let me out again.

'Susan's here. She'll tell you.'

'Hi Werd. Happy New Year.'

'And to you. Has Muhammad been drinking alcohol? He's babbling on about being given a company car.'

'I doubt he's on the booze. I certainly can't smell any. The part about the car is correct.'

I laughed. There was a deep sigh at the other end of the phone.

'Oh dear. I do hope this isn't all going to his head.'

'It has little televisions in the headrests. The girls will be able to watch stuff while we drive.'

'Yes darling.'

She sounded less than enthused.

'Please keep an eye on him Susan, he doesn't sound at all himself.'

I looked across at my colleague he was excitedly pressing parts of the screen display and whistling at the results.

'He most definitely isn't. Hopefully he will have returned to Earth by the time he gets home.'

'Well, lovely to speak to you, but some of us have work to do. See you tonight sweetheart.'

The phone clicked off before Muhammad's mumbled response reached her. He seemed entranced by whatever the car computer system was telling him. He turned to me with the look of a man about to deliver a lecture on automotive excellence.

'Don't know, don't care. Please, please don't start on the qualities of this wonder machine. Let's just drive. I'm sure I'll pick up all I need to know as we go. Want me to map read?'

He looked a little deflated but that soon disappeared as he repositioned himself in the seat, gave one last glance at various mirrors and touched various parts of the steering column and dashboard. He was almost reverential. A gentle voice emerged from somewhere as he reversed. It sounded like it belonged to an old-time BBC announcer. The types who wore evening dress to broadcast.

'At the entrance turn right.'

'You don't give up do you?'

'A girl's got to try.'

The journey introduced me both to a Muhammad I hadn't seen before and a new type of driving. I had always thought of him as rather steady. Sure, he was an excellent and able colleague. His family were delightful and he clearly doted on them. I just sort of assumed that being a Muslim meant that somewhere in the background there was a rather rigid code which precluded enjoyment of the trivial things in life. I was clearly wrong. Whilst I was grateful that he resisted the temptation to share his discoveries of the wonder-machine's inner workings, I did take pleasure from observing him as he did so. He was like a small boy entranced by an electric car-racing toy. It was a look I remembered from my virginal, adolescent boyfriends when I finally deigned to let them enjoy their first sight of a pair of tits.

The car soon became like a reliable friend. We were discretely directed through town to the motorway from where we headed to the nearest big city. The dashboard screen gave nothing away as to our final destination. We were, however, gently reminded of speed and direction as we headed there. On arrival warnings about traffic snarl-ups and the availability of parking were inserted into our consciousness by a series of short announcements and screen shots. I almost waited for the in-flight stewards to appear.

When we eventually settled in the vast car park of one of those out-of-town shopping complexes which promise much but deliver little Muhammad handed me a sealed envelope. I had to admit I was a little disappointed; he gets a new super-car and the best I could hope for, I thought as I looked around, is a new kitchen. I tore open the envelope with some difficulty and pulled out the stiff letter inside.

"Dear Susan,

"Cecil, you probably know him as 'The Boy', tells me you are something of a fanatical cyclist. He says you have the making of a decent club racer, whatever that is. I consulted him about an appropriate gift for you and he suggested we send you here.

"Apparently one needs to be fitted for a new cycle these days, hence the appointment.

"Everything is paid for and they have been instructed to invoice me for whatever extra equipment you may need. Do not stint.

"Of course, if you would prefer a company car along the lines of that provided for Muhammad we would be happy to accommodate you.

"Best wishes,

"Charles"

I let out a squeal as Muhammad handed me a print out of the appointment email from the Specialized Mega Store. He held up a warning hand.

'Don't know, don't care. Come on, let's get this over with.'

He let himself out of the car and walked round to open my door. It was good that he did. My own attempts at egress resulted only in the window opening and closing several times and a variety of electronic warning noises from the panel. I skipped behind him as he strode to the store. I stopped stock still inside the entrance, overwhelmed by the glories on display. It was bike-nerd heaven, everything looked like it had been polished up just for me. Muhammad bumped into me from behind. He had been reading something fascinating in the Audi manual. He shooed me deeper into the store where we were approached by an incredibly cute blond.

'Susan? I'm Adam. You're a little early, but if you'd like to come with me, the studio is at the back.'

He turned on his heel; the ass was as tight as I expected it would be. Normally I would take a moment at least to enjoy the view and contemplate possibilities of further explorations. Today was different.

'I haven't got a thing to wear.'

Pathetic, I know. Adam took my moan in his stride and diverted to the clothing section. He touched my shoulders and looked me up and down. I sort of knew he was assessing my body size but that didn't stop me pushing my boobs out a tad. He handed me a shirt and a pair of bib shorts before moving on to the shoe section where he asked my foot size. I was suddenly holding just under a grand's worth of clobber.