Jilly Cooper - Octavia

A tremor of sycophantic laughter went through the room.

Gareth stood for a minute, looking cool, almost indifferent, but his left hand was squeezing the back of a chair so hard I could see the whiteness of his knuckles.

‘I’m looking forward to working with you,’ he said softly, ‘but I’d like to add that I find it impossible to breathe or conduct business in a taut, patched-up regime; so you’re either for me, or against me.’

And except for Xander, who was gazing blankly into space, and Tommy Lloyd, who was still looking livid, everyone seemed to be eating out of his hand. For a minute he glared at them grimly, then suddenly he smiled for the first time, the harsh, heavy features suddenly illuminated. The contrast was extraordinary; you could feel the tension going out of the room, as though you’d loosened your fingers on the neck of a balloon.

‘I’m sorry I’ve been so blunt, but these things had to be said. You’re in a hell of a mess, but frankly, I wouldn’t have taken you on if I didn’t think you could get yourselves out of it.’

When he sat down there was even a murmur of approval.

Ricky rose to his feet, oozing satisfaction like an over-ripe plum.

‘Thank you, Gareth. I’m sure you can count on 100 per cent support. Now gentlemen, I believe that will be all today.’

There was a shuffling of feet. Everyone started to file out looking shell-shocked.

‘I’ll leave you then,’ said Ricky. ‘Again, many congratulations. We’ll talk later today.’

I was dying to tell Gareth how great he’d been. But Annabel Smith was already doing it, speaking in an undertone, smiling warmly into his eyes, the predatory, self-possessed bitch.

Oh please at least let him say goodbye to me, I prayed, as I started towards the door.

Gareth turned. ‘I want a word with you, Alexander, and you, Octavia,’ he said shortly.

‘Oh dear,’ sighed Xander, ‘I was afraid you might. Are we going to get a thousand lines, or is birching the only answer?’

As the last person shut the door behind them, Xander very slowly counted Mrs Smith, me and Gareth with a shaking finger. Then he looked down at the long polished table.

‘If we could find a net,’ he said confidingly, ‘we could have a ping-pong four.’

I giggled. Gareth and Mrs Smith didn’t. Xander pinched another of my cigarettes and went over to the window. We could hear the clunk of his signet ring as his fingers drummed nervously on the radiator. Gareth looked worn-out. I realized now what a strain the meeting had been.

‘I wonder what’s happening in the Test match,’ said Xander to Mrs Smith. ‘You don’t like cricket? Perhaps you had to play it at school like I did? Terrible for breaking one’s finger nails.’

‘That’s enough,’ snapped Gareth. ‘I want to talk about your expenses.’

Xander and I sat quite still, not looking at each other. The temperature dropped to well below zero. My stomach gave a rumble like not so distant thunder. I’d only drunk cups of coffee since yesterday.

Gareth took a bit of paper from Mrs Smith. ‘We’ll start with you, Alexander. Your UK expenses for the last month alone were well over two grand,’ he said.

Xander removed his chewing gum reflectively, and parked it underneath the table.

‘Arabs are dreadfully expensive to amuse,’ he said.

‘What Arabs?’ asked Gareth. ‘Not a single order has come from the Middle East to justify expenses like this.’

‘Well it’s in the pipeline,’ said Xander. ‘These things take time, you know.’

‘I don’t,’ said Gareth brusquely. ‘In most of these cases, initial meetings were never followed up, some of them never took place at all. Mrs Smith has been doing a bit of detective work. You claim to have taken a certain Sheik Mujab to the Clermont three times, and to Tramps twice over the past two months, but he says he’s never heard of you.’

‘He’s lying,’ blustered Xander. ‘They all do.’

‘And Jean-Baptiste Giraud of Renault’s’, Gareth ran his eyes down the page, ‘appears to have had nearly £400 spent on him during the last four weeks, being wined and dined by you and Octavia.’

‘Octavia’s a great asset with customers,’ said Xander.

‘I can well believe that,’ said Gareth, in a voice of such contempt I felt myself go scarlet with humiliation. ‘Unfortunately for you, Jean-Baptiste happens to be an old Oxford mate of mine. It took one telephone call to ascertain he only met you once over lunch at the Neal Street where he paid, and he’s never met Octavia at all.’

‘He must have forgotten,’ said Xander.

‘Don’t be fatuous,’ said Gareth. ‘I don’t hold much brief for your sister, but she’s not the sort of girl an old ram like Jean-Baptiste would be likely to forget.’

I bit my lip. Annabel Smith was loving every minute of it.

‘And so it goes on,’ said Gareth. ‘God knows how much you’ve cheated the shareholders out of — old ladies who’ve gambled their last savings, married couples with children who’ve hardly got a penny to rub together, and all the time you two’ve been treating the company like a bran tub, helping yourself as you choose.’

Xander started to play an imaginary violin. Gareth lost his temper.

‘Can’t you be fucking serious about anything? Haven’t you any idea what an invidious position you’ve put Ricky in? He can’t give you the boot because you’re his son-in-law, but at the moment you’re about as much good to him as a used tea bag.’

He walked over to the window, squinting at the traffic below, his huge shoulders hunched, his broken nose silhouetted against the blue sky, black and silver badger’s hair curling thickly over his collar. I suddenly felt absolutely hollow with lust.

We all waited. As he turned round his expression hardened.

‘I don’t suppose I’ve ever come across a more greedy couple,’ he said, speaking with swift curious harshness. ‘I guess Massingham let you get away with it. I gather he was quite a fan of Octavia’s.’

‘Don’t you dare say a word against Hugh,’ I hissed. ‘He was worth a million of you.’

Xander slumped in his chair. Suddenly to my horror I saw the tears pouring down his face. I put my arm round his shoulders.

‘It’s all right darling,’ I said.

Once again Gareth changed tack and, with one of those staggering volte faces, said very gently,

‘You were fond of him. I know. I’m sorry.’

Xander pushed back his hair and blinked two or three times.

‘He was my friend, faithful and just to me,’ he said slowly. ‘But Ricky says he was incompetent. And Ricky is an honourable man, so they are all honourable men. Oh Christ, I should have had breakfast,’ he added in a choked voice, groping for a handkerchief.

‘Can’t you leave him alone?’ I screamed, turning on Gareth. ‘Can’t you see he isn’t in any state for one of your bawlings out?’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Xander. ‘When people call me Alexander, I always know they’re cross with me.’

Gareth opened the window and threw out his lighted cigarette, seriously endangering the passers-by in the street below. Then he slammed the window shut and said to Xander in a businesslike tone,

‘As I see it we have two alternatives. We could send you to prison for what you’ve been doing, or we can cart you onto the Board, which’ll give you more money and enable you to start paying back some of the bread you’ve borrowed from the firm. It’ll also mean we can keep a closer watch on your activities. You’re bloody lucky you’ve got a rich and loyal wife.’

‘The son-in-law also rises,’ sighed Xander. ‘I don’t think I can accept your offer.’