The Reunion (15 page)

“Gank oo. Go I neeg to cun gack?”

“Pardon?”

“He’s asking if he needs to come back.”

“No, we’ll write to his GP and a visit there will
suffice.”

By now David had become aware of a further embarrassment
– he was drooling. Saliva was gushing out his mouth and down his chin, to be
soaked up by the bottom of the bandage.

Standing by the door to the cubicle, the doctor turned to
look at David. “You’re a lucky man,” he said. “With a good woman like this to
look after you, you’ll be fine.”

The good woman took him home in a taxi and spent time
explaining to Rachel and Sam what care would be needed. She then ordered a
second taxi to take her home.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, David. Look after yourself.”

“Gank oo, Gigget. Solly agout togite.”

By the time he woke she had googled ‘diet for dislocated
jaw’ and David entered a kitchen that resembled a food factory. She had been to
the supermarket. Orange juice, soda water, yoghurt, bouillon cubes and a large
container of straws were lined up on one of the counters. The liquidiser stood
on another work surface. Fortunately this was not one of the items Jane had
decided to commandeer because it was to prove very useful over the following
week or so. Next to it were potatoes, vegetables, cottage cheese, apple puree,
two pots of organic baby food, bananas and a large cube of tofu.

“Wow, ganks Gachel.”

“That’s OK, dad. I’ll be an expert before long.” She
lifted up the tofu. “I wouldn’t dream of touching this muck normally, but I
read that you need lots of protein and this is good because it’s soft. We can
invite Bridget and her children round to share it, it’s bound to be one of their
favourites.”

“Very gunny.”

“Seriously though, everything needs to be blended. I
thought for breakfast you could have tea and a fruit smoothie, then maybe
vegetable soup for lunch and mashed spaghetti for dinner.”

She made the tea and smoothie and handed him two straws.

After breakfast David sat in the lounge feeling sorry for
himself. The burnt umber ambience didn’t go well with a thumping headache and a
sore jaw; the painkillers might be helping but not enough.

Mid-morning there was a knock on the front door.

Rachel came into the lounge followed by a policeman and
woman. The hospital had informed the Mill Hill constabulary about the attack
and the two officers had been sent to interview David ahead of writing a report
and opening a crime investigation. The recording process was slow since unlike
Bridget, these two were unable to understand what he was saying. He had to
write down answers to their questions and the policewoman then copied them onto
an electronic notepad. David was of the opinion that it didn’t matter what was
written as the chance of anyone being caught was nil. He was given a crime
number which at least would be useful in making an insurance claim.

Over the next few days the large pack of straws was used
up in the consumption of mushy concoctions. Gradually Rachel thickened the
consistency of the meals and within a week he was able to eat using a teaspoon.
During that time he had visits from Bridget (twice), Jane with Jim (once) and
Jabulani (once).

He was ready to go back to work the following Monday, ten
days after the attack. Rachel provided precise instructions about what he was
allowed to consume. She had been a tremendous help even though he had to put up
with a large dose of teasing.

He’d forgotten this Monday was the date for his annual
staff review. He found an email reminder prefixed by a High Importance
exclamation mark. At 9.55 am he made his way down the corridor to Mary’s
office. Today she was French Sophisticate with a navy and beige hooped jumper,
chocolate brown pencil skirt and hair in a ponytail.

Her office said quite a bit about Mary. At an exact
forty-five degree angle on the corner of the large desk was a framed photo of
herself in ski gear. No children, boyfriend or husband in sight. Her plant of
choice was cactus, a line of five were evenly placed across her windowsill. A
good plant for her, he reckoned – sharp, aggressive, arid. Art work on her
walls comprised of two certificates, her first class degree diploma and a Price
Waterhouse Coopers Employee of the Month award. Books and files were stacked
immaculately on shelves. As he sat down, David had the urge to disturb the tidy
column of A4 sheets in front of him.

She droned on about the purpose of the staff review, how
it gave both parties the opportunity to step back from everyday activity to reflect
on the past year’s achievements and to consider objectives for the following
year. Yes Mary, David thought, I do know all this. I have conducted staff
appraisals for over twenty years.

“Nice cacti,” he remarked when she’d stopped.

“Oh, thank you. But let’s get started. I forgot to mention
something, David. This is very much a two-way process and you’re welcome to
provide feedback about my performance. And everything said is just between us.”

In assessing his effectiveness at work including his
level of enthusiasm and motivation, Mary revealed her two main concerns. She
was unsure whether he was managing his team well and she feared family issues
were impacting on performance. Although furious that his family was up for
discussion, this being totally out of order, David declined to raise an
objection.

His answers were monosyllabic.

Did he think he could improve his team’s awareness of
budget restraints?

“Yes.”

Might it be possible for family affairs to be kept out of
the workplace?

“Yes.”

For instance, were his children able to travel home from
school alone?

This line of questioning was unacceptable for a manager
to ask – he could report her to Human Resources. But what the hell. He plodded
on, responding with indifference.

“Yes.”

And so it went on.

She set his objectives for the following year to include
taking part in a course on interpersonal skills for financial managers and an
in-house training session entitled
Dealing With Awkward Customers
.

Isn’t it more a case of dealing with awkward line
managers David would have liked to ask? “Mary, I’m OK with customers, they’re
never awkward when I speak to them.”

“You’re wrong there, David. Some have insisted on
speaking directly to me because they want access to the head of department. When
I confirm they aren’t going to get the funding they expected they become very
awkward indeed.”

“That’s because we keep changing, or should I say
reducing, what they’re entitled to.”

“That’s beside the point. Irrespective of the reason,
they
are
awkward.”

And so it went on, Mary not accepting any counter
arguments.

After a pointless forty-five minutes she concluded. “So I
am
putting down this training session as an action. I want you to do
it.” She was taking notes as she spoke; she didn’t look up to gauge his
reaction. “Well, I think that’s about it, David. Thank you.” There was an
obvious candidate in the room for a course on interpersonal skills for
financial managers and it wasn’t him.

Her handwriting was neat, tiny and jet black, in sharp
contrast to the turquoise swirls and loops on the get well card that Bridget
had sent him. It had a picture of a person swathed in bandages; only the left
foot was exposed. Even the face was covered bar tiny gaps for mouth, eyes and
the base of the nose. A doctor was standing by the side of the bed, speaking to
a nurse as they gazed down at the foot. ‘Good to see so much improvement in only
a week.’ Bridget had written
To David, my hero – but perhaps best not to
take on a mugger next time! Love Bridget.

Mary was talking. “David, are you listening? I said I nearly
forgot to ask. Is there anything you’d like to discuss about my performance?” She
glanced at her watch before turning to her computer screen.

“Yes there is, Mary. To be truthful, it’s awful. You treat
me like an idiot and are more patronising than I would ever dream of being to
my own children. I know you’ve been on lots of management courses because
you’re forever telling me. I’m just surprised that with all your training you
don’t recognise that you can get more from your staff by motivating rather than
trying to terrorise them.”

Mary was pleasantly speechless. David continued. “I’d
like my comment recorded in your notes, please.”

“Yes I will. And thank you for your frankness, David –
I’ll reflect on what you’ve said. If I appear forceful it’s only because there’s
so much needing to be done here.”

To David that comment confirmed her failure to listen –
her attitude was ingrained. He stood up and extended his hand. “I’ve enjoyed
the discussion, thank you for your time, Mary.” He grabbed the hand coming up
to meet his own and deliberately shook it with considerable force.

He went straight into the small kitchen to make a cup of
coffee. Once there, he took a plastic bag out of his jacket pocket and
extracted a digestive biscuit. Rachel had allowed him to bring these on
condition that he dunked them to make them softer. He used to keep his biscuits
in one of the cupboards in the room, but they got pinched at an alarming rate
so now he stored his regular supply in a desk drawer in his own office.

Jabulani entered and strode towards him, grabbing hold of
both of David’s hands. For a man who always had a broad smile, this one was
gargantuan. “My news is wonderful. I’ve been waiting for you to come out of
your meeting, I can’t sit still.”

“What is it?”

“My brother is alive! We received a call yesterday
evening from France.”

“Fantastic. What happened?”

“It was all solved with money. The prison guards were
bribed by some of my brother’s colleagues at hospital. I’m so very glad, but
for others it was terrible. The police had to produce a body to fool their
officers so someone else was brought into custody and murdered with the
pretence that it was Farai.”

“My god! How awful to kill for that reason alone. Great
news for you, but unbelievable that things like that can happen.”

“I’m ashamed that that is what goes on there now.”

“What will your brother do?”

“He’ll soon be in England with his family. He worked with
an English doctor in Zimbabwe and the man has told him he can organise a work
permit for the hospital where he’s based. It’s in London, Stepney, so we’ll be
neighbours.”

“Stepney to Queensbury isn’t quite neighbours.”

“No, but it is more neighbour than Zimbabwe to England or
heaven to earth.”

Jabulani talked about his love for his elder brother,
reminiscing about their childhood in happier times, how they both sang and
played guitar and now they would be able to make music together again.

As David reached his desk his mobile rang. It was
Bridget. There was a showing of the reworked Brief Encounter at the Phoenix in
East Finchley and would he like to go on Saturday. Both of them had identified
it as one of their favourites when they’d talked about films at the Greek
restaurant. They agreed to meet outside the cinema then chatted on. David had
mentioned Jabulani and the trip to Harrods and now he was able to give her the
good news about his brother.

“And wasn’t it your staff review today?” she continued.

“Yes, ‘fraid so.”

“Didn’t it go well then?”

“I decided to tell her what I thought, I reckoned what
the hell. I’m restless here Bridget and if I’m forced to leave then so be it. I’m
going to investigate this idea I have about opening a café.”

“They can’t kick you out because of what you say in a
staff review. Must go, a customer’s come in. We can talk about it on Saturday.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Daft aren’t we.”

“It’s powerful stuff.”

They left the cinema, crossed the road and stepped into
The Five Bells. It was noisy and young so they did an about turn and walked on.
They reached The Alexandra which was also crowded but quieter with an older
clientele. Bridget grabbed a table by the window that was in the process of
being vacated while David got the drinks.

Bridget was the first to speak. “My two are out tonight.
A rare invite to a party for Andy and an even rarer acceptance, and one of
Kay’s friends has got a sleepover.”

“Mine are out, too.”

“Then you could invite me round to see the new colour on
your walls.”

David considered whether his principal long term
objective, two if the flippant repeat one was included, was about to be
achieved. Excitement and nervousness surged.

“With pleasure, I’d love to.”

They had a second drink then walked to East Finchley Underground.
They’d chosen public transport to get to the cinema having decided to go for a
drink after the film. The journey to Mill Hill East was just a few stops on the
Northern Line. Bridget took hold of David’s hand as they sat on the platform
waiting for a train.

The carriage they entered was near empty; it was too
early for the young pub goers to be heading home. Almost opposite them sat a
shabbily dressed old lady. She had a large, paisley handbag on her lap and they
watched with curiosity as she rummaged through the plentiful contents. She took
out a buff coloured envelope and extracted a letter written on matching paper. She
began to read it. David glanced at the neat, old-fashioned script. There were
three sheets which she no more than skim read before folding them carefully
inside the envelope and placing it back in her bag. Then she pulled the letter
out again and re-read it, this time more slowly. As she did so she sighed then
began to cry.