Chapter 9
At five minutes to five, on his final day at work, David Lutman decided that
was enough. He switched off his mobile, removed the memory card, and inserted a
new one that he had purchased during his lunch break. This was a new telephone
number, and so there was no chance of anybody or anything to do with work
calling him while he was away.
He cleared the top of his desk in fifteen seconds, shoving everything
into its two drawers. His boss had not been anywhere near him all afternoon, so
he would be very surprised if he showed up now. With little else to expect, he
simply just sat back and waited for the rest of the working seconds to pass by.
But that momentary bliss of completion proved somewhat premature, as the
phone on his desk rang. Again. For what seemed like the hundredth time today.
‘Eff off!’
The phone duly ignored him. ‘Will
you just -!’, and when this was followed by the inevitable and very audible
profanity, all the surrounding partitions suddenly went silent. Heads were now peering
out from behind those padded walls. It was a shock to Lutman that he even
swore, let alone doing this so loudly. In public relations, self-control was
all important in all pressure situations: he had to be cool when it came to
dealing with all kinds of individual and the media, whatever the circumstances.
He had always prided himself in that self-control. Even so, he could still barely
contain himself as his superior, alerted by all the attention he was getting,
made an appearance.
The phone continued to ring. ‘You’d better answer that,’ his boss said
darkly, giving Lutman a hard stare.
Lutman picked up the receiver. ‘Yes?’ he said tonelessly.
‘Oy! What’s up with you then?’ It
was a friendly, but rather surprised, familiar voice, ‘your mobile doesn’t
seem to be working.’
‘Oh, hello,’ he said cheerily, thankful it was Jeannie bringing him back
to earth. He turned and looked up at his superior, forcing a smile. But his
boss refused to reciprocate and stood there, staring, refusing to move, waiting
to see how he was going to handle the call. ‘Yeah…’ said the voice at
the other end, ‘it’s only me. Listen, fancy meeting up after work to quickly
sort out tomorrow’s plan?’
‘Oh yeah, right, I’ll buzz you when I’m ready,’ Lutman said quietly.
‘Oh, right,’ said Jeannie’s voice,
surprised.
Lutman put the phone down and looked up at his boss. ‘Well, Mr. Lutman,’
said the tall, unflinching figure, his tone low and dangerous, ‘I can see it’s
almost time, and you’re about to leave us for a couple of weeks. I wouldn't
like to delay you any further, but we’ll be discussing this little matter and
your conduct on the Monday you get back. You understand?’
‘Yes. I understand,’ Lutman replied neutrally. He was not going to make any
excuses.
His boss turned and walked away. Lutman immediately grabbed his jacket
and case, and left the building.
He felt almost certain he would not be coming back.
*
The Dog & Gun public house
was only five minutes walk away from the office. Being Friday afternoon after
work, there were several other individuals who had also made it inside, all
equally relieved that the weekend was upon them, although a large number stayed
outside as smoking in public places was forbidden. This meant that Jeannie easily
found a free table while Lutman bought the beers.
‘So Meade wasn’t happy with you then?’ she said jovially.
‘Complete arsehole, as far as I’m concerned,’ Lutman replied testily, ‘and
to be frank I don’t really care any more. I feel I’m done with the council.’
Jeannie spoke between several sips of lager. ‘Good for you.’ She then
added, ‘Well, I’ve think I’ve got everything.’
Lutman lightened up, the incident now largely forgotten. ‘Oh yea?
Passport, tickets?’
‘Of course!’ she snapped back. ‘And you too?’
He laughed. ‘What d’you think?’
She laughed back. ‘You know, I just thought of something.’ She had a
slightly mischievous look in her eye. ‘We’re going together, right, and therefore we’ll arrive at the hotel on our
first night together.’
‘Yeah?’ Lutman sat up slightly. ‘So?’
Jeannie leaned forward, softening her voice slightly. ‘Look, I’ve got a
little idea. Let’s see how they react if we jokingly say we’re checking in as
Mr and Mrs Smith!’
Lutman grinned. He was relieved she
was her old self again. ‘Nice idea! Mind you, the joke will be over rather quickly
when we have to show the front desk our passports.’
‘Show our passports?’
‘Yeah, hotels in the States always want identification on your arrival.’
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