Jonathan Taylor: Meyer-Hofmann AG

“I doubt that!”

Jo reached over the table and took her friend’s hand.

“Don’t worry, babe—who knows, this could be a great opportunity!”

Lisa looked up at Jo and tried a forced smile.

I am not going to cry,’ she told herself.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the urge to scream back down and looked around for a waiter. A young man in a crisp white shirt and blue jeans caught her eye and immediately made his way to the table. Lisa never had to wait long for service, not when the service was male.

“What can I get you ladies?” His voice was like chocolate, and Jo waited for the usual response from Lisa, a wink followed by a kick under the table, but neither came.

Jo still had half of a large cappuccino in front of her, a size of coffee cup brought to England by the American franchises, in which you could drown a small cat. Jo, now getting concerned about her friend, held up her hand and made a stop sign.

“I’m fine,” she said, at the same time trying to make a face that told the waiter it was not his fault.

“I’ll take a Gin and Tonic and a chocolate croissant,” Lisa snapped.

On any other day, she may have flirted with him. Lisa was an expert flirt and knew that some part of her business success could be put down to her ability to make men feel good about themselves, but today, her anger and frustration blocked the habit.

“Michael will never buy it. He has been working so hard, and SAP offered him a job in London last week. That was our plan. Shit, what am I going to do, Jo?”

At that moment, the man from the street shuffled into the booth next to them and opened a copy of the Times newspaper. He had been at the bar for five minutes or so, but found it impossible to hear what the women were saying. It was a very animated discussion, and it did not appear as if Mrs Jarvis had taken the news well.

Maybe the strategy had been wrong. They should have left her alone or offered her big money. But PricewaterhouseCoopers was a big company, and you can’t just change their internal wage policies, however good a customer you are. He consoled himself.

Jo smiled at her friend.

“Shit, if you don’t want to go to Germany, just tell them to stick their job. You could easily get another one!”

“But I have invested so much energy into that company. I know all the management, and I was sure they were going to offer me a junior partnership in the New Year.”

Jo let go of Lisa’s hand as the Gin and Tonic and croissant arrived, the waiter making a point of looking Lisa straight in the eyes as he delivered it.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, thank you.” She snubbed him and turned back to her friend abruptly.

“What do I tell Michael?”

“Oh, forget Michael; he’s not the problem. You just have to decide if you are going to take the job, then tell him your decision. Michael loves you; he won’t make a fuss.”

“Do you think so, Jo? Oh, I do hope so!” Lisa smiled warmly at her friend. “I’m just so pissed off. I’ll talk to Michael about it; he’ll know what to do.”

“Who knows, this could be your big break. I would love to go to Munich!”

Lisa debated this and took a large gulp of the Gin and Tonic. She felt herself calming down. Looking up, she motioned again for the waiter and, kicking Jo under the table, ordered a second drink, tapping the glass. As he left the table to get the treat, the conversation continued.

“He is so hot!”

“I am happily married, but you could have him.”

“Ooh, I would, but I fear he is too sweet for me. I’d kill him!” Both cracked up laughing, the morning’s tension released by the bad joke.

Their laughter signalled a change in their spirits that caught the attention of the man in the booth next to them. Finishing their drinks, Jo ordered herself a Gin and Tonic, and they caught up on her latest antics in the Leeds single scene, before heading their separate ways, leaving the man in the bar talking intensely into his mobile phone, in fluent German.

The Jarvis home was an end terrace in Guiseley and typical for the area. Only five miles from Leeds City Centre, it was perfect for Lisa’s commute. The old Yorkshire stone buildings had blackened over time, but the sooty walls gave the houses character, which only added to their charm. The couple had been enchanted from the first moment they saw it. Since purchasing the house five years earlier, they had totally renovated the property. Lisa fancied herself as an interior designer, and there was not a wallpaper manufacturer she did not know, or a DIY centre she had not visited. The house was on its second round of refurbishing after the Laura Ashley phase had quickly lost its shine; she was now looking for a more “shabby chic” look. Whatever that meant, Michael let her get on with it; the house always looked good, so he had long decided not to complain. He made the right sounds at the right times, showed interest in all her ideas, and accompanied her around the endless furniture stores. The only room in which she had no say was his study, which resembled a University Library. The main wall had been converted into a bookcase, holding a mixture of textbooks, autobiographies, and modern fiction. A large red, deep pile rug filled the centre of the room, with two light brown leather studded chairs and his desk in the bay window. A new iMac sat proudly on top of the desk, next to the mandatory iPad and iPhone. He had tried to resist the temptations of Steve Jobs’s company for years, believing him to have sold his soul for profit, but in the end, he had bowed to the practicality. Now he found himself being drawn to the same flame of financial security and personal wealth as Jobs, a warmth he had already decided he could get used to.

As the study door opened and Lisa entered, he lifted his head and smiled warmly at the open space, ready to greet her. But from the expression on her face, it was clear that something was wrong. Lisa was the light of his life and a happy soul; her example had done much to help him fight his personal demons. She was the first person he had ever completely trusted, and she had never let him down. With Lisa, he could be himself, no acting required. Since their marriage, he had found it easier interacting with the world around him. With her, he had learnt to take chances and live with life’s ups and downs. He could honestly say he was happy, and life was good. Looking at her standing in the open door, he feared that could all be in jeopardy.

“Whatever is the matter?”

She tried a smile.

“Hi, darling. Oh, I had a terrible day. The company wants me to move.”

His expression changed to one of concern.

“What? Where do they want you to go, for heaven’s sake?”

“Germany.”

He frowned at that and picked up his job offer.

“Where in Germany?” he asked, his voice distrusting.

“Munich.”

With that, he leant back in his chair and shook his head.

“No, they wouldn’t. Why do they want you to go to Germany?”

“They want me to work for some big company there. Meyer-Hofmann.”

He held the letter up for her to take. “It’s a small world. This might explain it.”

Lisa looked down at Michael quizzically before deciding to take the letter from his hand and read it.

What was he talking about? It took her a while to digest the implications of what she was reading.

“It’s a stitch-up,” she said finally, handing the letter back to him.

“You’re damn right, and if they think I’m working for them after this, they can take a long walk!”

Lisa slumped into the chair opposite the desk and stared back at her husband, before bursting into laughter.