Sign of the Times (18 page)

Chapter Twenty Five

Ben arrived early.
 
It was always a nightmare trying to park in Glasgow, but he managed to get a space in Ingram St.
 
Gaby had come in on the Underground
,
so was already there.
 
She stood up, kissed him on both cheeks and hugged him.
 
Was it his imagination, or did she hug him a bit longer than usual?
 
When she released him from her bear-like grip, he stepped back and looked at her.
 
She looked a bit peaky.
 
Had she lost weight?
 
Could she be anorexic?
 
Was he worrying about nothing?
 
Something was definitely bothering her.

They shared a pleasant lunch. The tapas bar had many dishes which were generally exquisite and definitely moreish.
 
They had the usual patatas bravas, gambas a la plancha, calamares and tortilla del dia.
 
They ordered two of some dishes, as, being tapas, the portions were small.
 
Ben tried to subtly wheedle out of his sister what was wrong, but to no avail.
 
Whatever was bothering her was either no longer an issue, or she was hiding it well.
 
He told her about Jennifer.

“Just watch yourself, Ben. You know how you get into things too quickly,” Gaby admonished.

“I know.”

“Take it slowly.
 
It’s not been long.
 

“I know.”

“Does this girl know that technically you’re still married?”

Ben looked surprised. “No. Why would I tell her?
 
It’s in name only.”

“Yes, but Ben, you’d be amazed how a woman views a wife, separated or not.”

“But that’ll just spoil our evening.”

“Well, if you don’t tell her now, you’re storing up trouble for the future.”

“Do you think so?”

“I guarantee you.”

They chatted about everyday events, although Ben thought afterwards that really they’d talked more about him.
 
Gaby had an uncanny knack of being able to deflect attention from herself.
 
He’d wanted to eke out of her what the problem was and yet all that had happened was she’d milked him for information.
 
How do women manage it?
 
After lunch, he offered Gaby a lift home, which she refused, saying she had some errands to run.
 

“Take care, won’t you.”

“I will, you too” and she turned and marched away in the direction of Buchanan St Underground.
 
Ben went back to Ingram St to retrieve his car and hurried home to freshen up for his date with Jennifer.
 
He couldn’t really get dressed up.
 
They’d be climbing walls and skiing down slopes.
  
He’d already borrowed salopettes, gloves and the like from Forsythe, whose eldest daughter was about the same size as Jennifer.

Ben arrived at Jennifer’s house at four fifty two.
 
Eight minutes early.
 
He didn’t know what to do.
 
Women didn’t like men being early, as they invariably weren’t ready.
 
He debated driving around for a bit or pulling into the next street and sitting there for a few minutes, but just then he saw Maggie at the window.
 
He parked the car and surreptitiously checked his hair in the rear view mirror. Thank goodness he always kept the inside of his car clean, if not the outside.
 
It was always filthy from driving up and down the A82.

Jennifer opened the door just before he got the chance to knock.

“Hi. I’m ready.”

“OK. Let’s go then.”
 
He obviously wasn’t going to be invited in.
 
She didn’t trust him enough yet to meet her mum and that was understandable. With some concern, he wondered if she’d trust him even less after he told her he was still married. When would be the best time to tell her?
 
She looked radiant, even in a pair of faded blue jeans, brown leather ankle boots, an off-white wool, roll-neck jumper and a blue felt coat.
  
Now was the not the time.
 
He’d find a better opportunity.

When they arrived at X-Scape, Ben insisted on paying.
 
He knew Jennifer didn’t have much money and it was pretty expensive, but he figured it was money well spent.
 
They practised on the climbing wall first.
 
That was good, as Jennifer could get used to the type of equipment she’d hopefully be using in the future, crampons, pitons, ropes and grabbers.
 
She also genuinely seemed to be having a good time.
 
She kept laughing and he loved her melodious tinkle.
 
Ben taught her how to
snowplough
, showing her how to put her skis together towards each other in an A shape.

“I can’t stop!” Jennifer spluttered, as she zoomed down the slope towards him, after her first unofficial lesson.
 
Laughing, she careered into him, as Ben stretched his arms out to her, his legs at right angles, to better absorb the impact.
 
He went flying backwards.
 
They both collapsed in fits of laughter, once they got their breath back.

“Oh, that was brilliant,” Jennifer beamed at him.
 
“I haven’t had so much fun in years
.”

Ben examined her more closely.
 
She was flushed, face scarlet despite the cold, but she looked beautiful.
 

“Do you want to do it again?”

“Absolutely,” she grinned.

An hour later Jennifer was exhausted, but trying not to show it, so Ben decided to put her out of her misery.

“You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Do you want to grab a pizza or something?”

“Sounds good.”

They changed, gathered up all their ski clothes and headed out. The pizza place was just across the road and glancing at his watch, Ben realised it probably made sense to go there, rather than waste precious time driving around Glasgow looking for a restaurant.
 
Besides, they weren’t exactly dressed for fine dining.

“Pizza Hut OK for you?”

“Yes. Let’s go. I could eat a horse.”

Ben chuckled at this.
 
He liked a woman with a healthy appetite.
 
Kathryn only ever seemed to eat lettuce, celery and carrot sticks. Occasionally she would push the boat out and have some grilled chicken, but that was about it.

 
They were seated at a table for two and ordered some garlic bread, to satisfy them until their main meal arrived. Ben joked, “Well, if we’re going to be kissing later, so long as we both reek of garlic, that’s OK.”

“Yeah, but if we were to wake up next to each other in the morning, it wouldn’t be such a good idea,” Jennifer then seemed to realise the significance of what she’d said and tried backtracking.

“I mean, because it oozes out of your pores next day,” she stammered.

Ben smiled, “I know what you meant.”

They ordered, lasagne for Ben and fettuccine alfredo for Jennifer.
 
They chatted throughout the meal, dissolving into hysterics every now and then. She was so dainty, Ben thought, although obviously able to look after herself. He wanted to be able to help her, take care of her.
 
She’d been caring for her mother for so long, but who looked out for Jennifer?
 
They talked about their respective families and he felt angry at her brother and sister who had left her to cope with their mother.
 
Jennifer deserved a life too.
 
Somehow he didn’t mention Kathryn and then it was time to take her home.
 

They kissed in his car before leaving the complex.
 
He felt like a giddy teenager again, but he was a grown man and kissing wasn’t all he wanted to do.
 
He wanted to take her back to his place, but knew that was out of the question. They drove back to Ayr, where Ben dropped her back in Mill Street, at the flat she shared with her mother.
 
He felt a bit self-conscious, on her behalf, about kissing openly in front of her house, and in view of the neighbours, so restrained himself to a rather chaste kiss.
 

“I’ll see you soon. I had a great time.”

“I had a really nice time too. Thanks.”

“Thanks for dinner,” Jennifer had insisted on paying, even though she didn’t have the money.
 
She’d borrowed it from Maggie and recent events had spurred her on to want to do something, no matter what, anything to earn more cash.

“Thanks for the company,” Ben looked deep into her eyes, trying to indelibly engrave her image in his mind.
 

Jennifer ran lightly up the path, put her key in the door, waved to him and was gone. Shaking his head, but still smiling, Ben put the car into first and drove away.
 
He must be a saint. He’d wanted to make love to her so much.
 
As he drove home, he realised he never did tell her about Kathryn.
 
Damn!
 
He’d tell her next time.

The weeks that followed were blissful for Ben and Jennifer.
 
Although they couldn’t quite establish a routine, they saw each other at least once a week and Ben called her at least three times a week. They went to
Sarti’s
in Bath St for dinner. They lunched at
Café Mao
in the Merchant City, they went to Arran and climbed Goatfell and they finally went abseiling, initially at a quarry just outside of Glasgow, just to practise.
 
Jennifer was apprehensive but exhilarated at the same time, but Ben knew she trusted him implicitly.
 
This was what he did.
 
This was what he was good at.
 
She loved descending, bouncing off the quarry walls and for someone who’d initially seemed so scared, she was completely fearless, just as she’d been as a child.
 

“So where did you go abseiling before?” Ben asked her, one day a few weeks later, as they sat sipping coffee in Princes Square. He’d recently been invited to a friend’s wedding, but hadn’t yet asked Jennifer if she could come with him.
 
It was to be held at Culcreuch Castle in Stirlingshire.
 
It was really an overnight, otherwise he would have to take the car and not drink, but that wasn’t what Scottish weddings were about at all.
 
He prayed she’d be able to make it and they could finally make love for the first time in the romantic setting of the castle.
 
He’d already reserved a room with a four poster bed, the nicest room after the honeymoon suite.
 
It was presumptuous, he knew, but he wanted to be prepared and God knows it was overdue.
 
He felt she was ready and he had been since day one.
 

“So how come you abseiled?
 
It’s not a usual pastime for a seven year old.”

“I suppose not.
 
I was the youngest.
 
It was a community thing.
 
You were supposed to be at least ten, but I was only seven.”

“Was it an Outward Bound programme?”

“Sort of.
 
I’m not sure if it was called that back then, but we did archery and air-rifle shooting and canoeing and all sorts.
 
It was great fun.”

“Air-rifle shooting? At seven?
 
You’re full of surprises.”

“I’m not quite so adventurous these
…”
Jennifer broke off.

Ben gestured at her to finish what she was saying.
 
Instead, she seemed to be staring at a spot just above his head. She looked puzzled.
 
Ben turned around to see what was wrong.
 
The force of the blow snapped his head straight back.
 
At first he didn’t know what had hit him, but then he heard her voice.

“You complete bastard!” Kathryn’s voice cut through him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?
 
That’s my boyfriend you just slapped,” Ben was happy to hear Jennifer defend him.
 
Kathryn looked Jennifer up and down,

“No, you little slut, that’s my husband I just slapped, but you’re more than welcome to him,” and with that she glared at Ben and stomped off.

“Kathryn! Kathryn!” Ben called after her.
 
“Wait!”

Suddenly realising how this must look to Jennifer and holding his jaw, which had already puffed up, he turned to explain about his crazy, soon to be ex-wife, seriously wishing he’d followed his sister’s advice.
 
But Jen was gone.

Chapter Twenty Six

Taurus – OSCAR

Loyal, stable, conservative, practical.
 
Patient, affectionate and good natured.
 
Temper erupts dramatically if pushed too far.
 
Home-loving.
 
Jealous and possessive.
 
Not fond of change, reliable and committed but inflexible.
 
Very attuned to the physical world, appreciate great beauty. Good with money.

“I’m just going over to Byres Rd,” said Oscar to his secretary, Janine.

“Are you coming back or should I close up?”

“No. I’ll be back. Can you make sure the schedules for the Robertsons and the Johnstons, go on the web today?”

“Got it. See you later.”

“OK.
 
Mari, you’re on late tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes, till seven.”

“OK. I’ll be back before then.”

Oscar opened the door and the bell chimed as he went through it.
 
He hated that bell, but it was company policy at National Estate Agents.
 
He took out the key fob for his BMW M3, clicked the car open, then checked he had everything before setting off for Byres Rd to meet the client.
 

Oscar had been with National Estate Agents for ten years.
 
He was now as high up as he could go without taking a Regional Manager role and he didn’t want to do that at National.
 
He saw what Max was like.
 
The part Oscar enjoyed best about his job was dealing with the customers.
 
Max dealt with National’s employees.
 
Oscar’s ultimate aim was to open his own estate agency, but in the meantime he’d have to settle for being top dog in the branch he managed.
 
It made him uneasy sometimes, that his wife, a fund manager at an investment bank, made more money than he did.
 
He knew it shouldn’t matter in this day and age and he didn’t really want to act like a dinosaur over it, but it still irked him that she earned a good thirty thousand a year more than he did and although he drove a top of the range
BMW, she had a Mercedes SLK.
 
She was a remarkably confident and headstrong woman and that was one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with her.
 
She wasn’t like any of the girls he saw in clubs.
 
Gaby had been a completely different challenge. She knew her own mind and was very independent.
 
She was also very intelligent, graduating with a First from Cambridge in History and Business Management.
 
She could happily converse on a variety of topics, from the Shah of Iran, to chemistry
.
 
Often Oscar felt dim by comparison.
 
He loved his wife, he truly did, but she was at the pinnacle of her career and everything she touched turned to gold, whereas he felt as if he was plodding.
 
Feeling like this made him hate himself.
 
It felt so disloyal and Gaby never brought up her higher salary.

Parked outside the block of sandstone flats, Oscar locked his BMW and focussed on the task in hand. Properties in the West End virtually sold themselves.
 
The Kilbrides had moved out two weeks before as they were moving down south and BT, the employer, had put the flat in National’s hands.
 
As Glasgow University and the Western Infirmary were in the immediate vicinity, it stood to reason that the property would sell quickly.

Oscar liked to arrive before the clients to make a few last minute checks, ensure the property was warm enough, if the owners were no longer residing there, or air the rooms if it were the height of summer.
 
Entering the flats, he stopped on the second floor and opened the storm doors, so the decorative inner door with its green and yellow leaves in stained glass, could be seen, as soon as viewers came upstairs.
 
The entry hall was spacious and square, with feature cornicing and a high ceiling.
 
The long galley kitchen with pearwood units was to the right.
 
Cobalt mosaic tiles, granite worktops and brushed stainless steel appliances added to the kitchen’s attractiveness.

The vast lounge had large bay windows and the rose centrepiece complemented the cornice around the ceiling edges.
 
The bathroom was brand new, with bidet, bath and shower.
 
Oscar loved old houses.
 
There was so much more room in them, not like these poky little boxes developers tried to palm off nowadays at incredibly inflated prices.
 

The master bedroom was square and benefited from the same high ceilings as the other rooms.
 
The second bedroom was also a generous size and had fitted wardrobes.
 
The impression throughout was light and airy.
 
Oscar knew the flat would go for well above the asking price of a hundred and seventy five thousand pounds, despite current market conditions.
 

Oscar was milling these thoughts over, when the intercom buzzed.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hi, it’s Yvette and Iain Reilly.”

“C’mon up, second floor.”

Oscar went out to greet them. Rule number one
- always enter a room after the client.
 
It makes it look bigger.

Oscar introduced himself.
 
He’d left the inner door closed, so they could see the stained glass window.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” enthused Yvette.
 
Oscar subtly stepped backwards into the tiny porch, so the Reillys could appreciate the full size of the hall.
 
He felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket.
 
It had been doing that all day.

Oscar presented them each room, pointing out the various features and benefits.
 
The Reillys were impressed.

“Does it have parking?” Yvette asked and Oscar knew he had them hooked.

“Yes, two resident spaces.”

“Good. Will it be going to a closing date?”

“Yes. In the West End virtually everything goes to a closing date.
 
It’ll probably be about two weeks away.”

“So, have there already been offers?” Iain asked.

“Yes. We’ve just been trying to get a hold of the seller to set the details regarding the closing date.
 
Well, I’ll let you two have a nosy.”

“That would be great,” and Oscar stepped out into the hallway to listen to his voice messages, whilst the Reillys explored the flat.

“You have a new message,” his voicemail informed him.
 
Oscar sighed.
 

“Message one, received Tuesday at 12.46pm – ‘Oscar, it’s Janine.
 
BT has agreed the closing date of 22
^nd
for Byres Rd.
 
Speak later.’”

Good. Something concrete to tell the Reillys
.

“Message two, received Tuesday at 12.58pm – ‘Oscar, it’s Gaby.
 
What time will you be home tonight?
 
I was thinking of going to the gym.
 
Call me back.’”

“Message three, received Tuesday at 1.12pm – ‘Oscar, it’s Max.
 
I need the projected figures for this month by Thursday.”’

“Message four, received Thursday at 1.17pm – ‘Oscar, hi, it’s Mari.
 
Just to let you know the Armstrongs have signed.”’

Oscar pocketed his mobile and strode back into the flat.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“We love it. We’ll talk to our lawyer about putting in an offer.”

“Great. Just to let you know, I got a voicemail saying the closing date is going to be the twenty second.”

“OK,” Yvette said.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“No. I think that’s it,” Yvette said.

“Great. Here’s my card.
 
Let me know if you need anything.”

They thanked him and Oscar showed them out.
 
As he was closing the door, his mobile vibrated again.
 
It was Janine.

“Hi. I got your message.”

“Good. Are you still in Byres Rd?”

“Yes, why?”

“I’ve a lady who’d like to view it.”

“Can she come now?”

Janine asked the client if she could go straightaway.

“Yes, she’ll be straight over.”

“Remind her it’s second floor, right.
 
I’ll keep an eye out for her.”

Oscar washed his hands and ensured he was still presentable. It was amazing how dishevelled you became in this job and presentation was everything.
  
At thirty seven, a good eight years older than his wife, he was still trim, but the overtime he put in didn’t allow him to get to the gym as often as he’d like.
 
He still had a full head of hair, even if it was more grey than brown these days.
 
Oh well, it brought out the colour in his eyes, so Gaby told him.
 
All in all, he wasn’t in too bad shape, although there were too many business lunches for his liking. He spent a lot of time entertaining corporate accounts.
 
Sometimes it felt like whining and dining.
 
At five feet ten and thirteen and a half stone, he’d be happier if he could just edge that additional stone off.
 
He checked his reflection in the mirror, adjusted his glasses and ensured he had nothing stuck between his teeth.
 

The second viewing completed Oscar locked up the flat and set off for
Pret à Manger
to buy a much needed chicken wrap.
 
He had a meeting at three o’clock at the University of Glasgow with the head of relocation.
 
He was always on the run, but that was part of the fascination of his job.

“So, to summarize, I think over the two year period we could save you ten to fifteen percent,” Oscar concluded.
 
If they weren’t impressed by that, he didn’t know what he’d do.

“Yes, that could be of interest to us,” the Finance Director eventually said. “We will of course have to discuss this further.”

“Of course,” said Oscar.
 
These guys were old school, stuffy and expected to be treated with respect.
 
You couldn’t enjoy a bit of light hearted banter with them.
  
He thanked them for their time.

After the meeting he was exhausted, but had to go back to the office, to talk over the forecasts with Mari.

“Hi Mari. How’s it been?”

“Usual. Too many punters in the branch, not enough staff, phone ringing off the hook. Did Janine tell you about the new signings?”

“She told me about one.”

“Well, we have the Armstrongs and then the Wildes who Chris spoke to last week, when they were originally thinking about letting.
  
Four bed detached with very large garden in North Kelvinside.”

“Oh good.
 
That was quick.
 
What changed their mind on letting?”

“They saw how much the property will probably sell for.”

“Ah, works every time.
 
Listen, have you started work on next month’s figures?
 

“Yes.
 
It looks like my department will be about ten percent up on last month.
 
The McDougall sale on the Newton Mearns property helped.”

At eight hundred thousand pounds, Oscar thought it probably had.

“Good, well you know how it goes. We keep slogging it out until the end; see what we can milk out of the cash cow.
 
Dear God, sorry for sounding like Max!” Oscar ran his hands through his hair.

“Don’t worry. We won’t slack off, not yet, but if we get to the twenty eighth and we’ve made target, I’m not going to push those last two days.”

“Let’s see how it goes,” he said noncommittally.

“OK,” Mari knew he was being evasive.

“You going to be much longer?”

“No, I’m just finishing off.”

“OK.
 
I need to go and work on those figures.
 
See you in the morning,” and he went into his office and closed the door.

Oscar mucked around for a while with the figures.
 
He glanced at his watch.
 
Shit. It was five past nine. Gaby would be cracking up. He lifted the phone.

“Gaby.
 
Hi, I’m really sorry.
 
I’ve just noticed the time.
 
I’m still at the office, but I’m leaving now. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.
 
Have you eaten?”

She had. “OK, well, I’ll grab a Chinese on the way home.
 
See you soon,” he rang off.

“Chicken breast curry, chopped, fried rice and prawn crackers and can I have a won ton soup as well please,” Oscar looked out of place in the Chinese takeaway he’d stopped at.
 
He’d been thinking about the stats and had driven straight past The Golden Fleece, his usual haunt.
 
As he waited, he picked up a newspaper, rather than look into the eyes of the local teenagers.
 
Some of them were rather menacing looking, either punch drunk, or off their faces on drugs.