Paul Murray - An Evening of Long Goodbyes

‘Charles?’

I snapped awake. A woman was standing at the end of the curving reception — a tall, regal woman with fine crow’s-feet. ‘Gemma!’ I bounded up to take her hand.

‘Follow me to my cubicle,’ she laughed.

We threaded through a kind of open-plan maze of potted plants, water coolers and cappuccino machines. Everywhere workers talked on the phone or tapped at their computers with an air of quiet satisfaction. Gemma’s cubicle was at the back, by a long window giving on to a well-manicured Victorian spice garden.

‘First of all, Charles,’ she said, motioning me to sit, ‘I want to thank you for coming in to see me today.’

‘That’s all right,’ I said. Her cubicle walls were crowded with more pictures: the Sirius gang at a rodeo, on top of the Empire State Building, at a performance of Cats .

‘Before we start talking about you,’ Gemma said, ‘I’d like to tell you a little bit about our agency, and hopefully convince you that you made the right decision coming here.’ She didn’t seem at all perturbed by my bandages, I noticed; it was as if she were able to see past them, to the man underneath. ‘Why Sirius? Well, as we both know, Ireland is experiencing growth like never before in its history. In fact our economy is the envy of all of Europe.’

Unless she actually liked the bandages, it struck me suddenly, that wouldn’t be beyond the bounds of possibility –

‘Where has this growth come from? The answer is simple: you.’

‘Me?’ I said.

‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘You, and other young graduates like you. You see, it’s Ireland’s highly educated, highly motivated young workforce that’s made it such an attractive prospect for foreign companies seeking to invest. The information-technology revolution is making things happen that a couple of years ago seemed like science fiction, and here in Ireland we’ve been able to put ourselves at the forefront of that cutting-edge technology. Charles, would you like a mochaccino?’

‘Yes, please, Gemma.’

‘At Sirius,’ she continued, stepping over to a gleaming chrome machine in the corner, ‘we’re aware that our employees — our partners, we like to call them — are among the very best in the world. That’s why when Bryan and I founded this company, back in the mid-nineties —’ she gestured back to a photograph of Bryan sitting on the bonnet of a gold Saab with his arm curled around Gemma, outside the graceful grey building — ‘we were determined that we weren’t going to be one of those stodgy places that sends its temps off to Timbuktu for the day to lick envelopes.’ Expertly she worked the machine’s levers and knobs, releasing bursts of steam into the milk. ‘We think of our employees not as automatons to be ordered about, but as creative, talented individuals with flair.’ She handed me a cup and sat down opposite me. ‘We have all kinds of clients. As a Sirius partner, you could find yourself designing the website for an indigenous start-up, or working on e-solutions for the Irish branch of a huge multinational. You could be creating a 3-d simulator for an oil-drilling concern — or customizing the software for a top recruitment agency!’

We both laughed, although I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. ‘The one thing I can promise you is that you will never be bored here, Charles. We want you to develop your talents to the fullest — because that’s when you make us look good, and we all make more money!’

We laughed again. ‘But seriously,’ she uncrossed her legs and sat forward, ‘what I’m saying is that without you there is no Sirius Recruitment. So, although I’m the head of the company, I like to say that I’m working for you.’ Gemma sipped her mochaccino and licked away the foam. I pictured myself having an affair with her, Bryan weeping desolately in his Saab. ‘Some people might think that that’s no way to run a business. They might call us naïve, or utopian. But we say to them, the future is utopian. And we’re in the business of making the future. The changes we see around us in the city now — the new cars, the new hotels, the restaurants and sushi bars — owe their existence to the technology revolution — to people like you and me. Soon, we predict that everyone will be doing things our way.’

She tossed back her sleek dark hair and folded her hands. ‘But that’s enough self-promotion. Tell me, Charles, what was it that attracted you to us?’

‘Hmm? Sorry?’

‘Why did you choose Sirius Recruitment?’

‘Oh…’ I had been busy wondering what I would do when the beautiful receptionist found out about Gemma and me; it was a hell of a bind. ‘Well, mainly because of the things you said in your ad. The whole rat-race, you know, I was getting pretty fed up of it.’

She nodded encouragingly, motioning me to continue.

‘Well, I mean, the fact is…’ I began. ‘The fact is…’

The fact was, I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her; but then I looked into those cool grey eyes and everything just came spilling out: Mrs P’s stowaways, Bel’s theatre group, Mother giving away my room, Boyd and the air hostesses, moving into Frank’s. ‘But I mean Frank is one thing,’ I told her. ‘This fellow Droyd is another matter entirely. Yesterday, for example, he dried his washing in the oven even when I quite bluntly asked him not to. Now the whole apartment smells like socks. It’s utterly intolerable. If I don’t find somewhere of my own I don’t know what I’ll do. I mean I’m already getting hives. So you see it really is important that I get my slice of the pie right away.’

Gemma considered this in silence. Then she said slowly, ‘Charles, those are all good reasons. Because you can’t separate your work from your life, can you? How can you be expected to do justice to your individual talent and flair if you’re sleeping on somebody’s floor?’

‘This is what I ask myself,’ I said.

‘Okay,’ Gemma said. ‘Well, the important thing is not to panic. We have literally thousands of companies begging us for bright young computer-literate people like you. It’s simply a matter of matching your history with the business profile that best suits you. So let’s not waste any more time, and we’ll…’ She flicked open the application form then flicked it back again with a concerned expression. ‘Charles, you did know that there were actually four pages to this booklet, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Because I’m noticing that a lot of the sections have been left blank here.’

‘I didn’t need to bother with most of it,’ I explained.

‘Oh,’ Gemma said. ‘Okay. Really there’s no reason why you should have to fill out some boring form, is there, we can just… okay, so it says here that in college your primary degree was in Theology.’ She looked up. ‘That must have been fascinating!’

‘Yes,’ I said vaguely. ‘Actually, it was Father’s idea, you see it was the only course in Trinity I was able to get into, so the plan was to take it until Junior Soph and then hopefully transfer into Law.’

‘Law, ah, I see. And then…?’

‘Well, then Father died.’

‘Oh…’ Gemma shrank back minutely. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry…’

‘It’s perfectly all right,’ I assured her. ‘But that put paid to Law for the time being.’

‘Yes,’ Gemma nodded gravely, ‘so instead you…’

‘I left college at that point,’ I said. ‘I felt I needed time to think.’

‘Okay, good, and then you…?’

‘Actually, that takes us right up to the present day,’ I told her.

‘Oh,’ Gemma said. ‘Oh.’ She lowered her eyes, as if to scrutinize the blank pages of the application form. ‘So since then you’ve been… thinking?’