Friends or Lovers Read online

  Friends or Lovers

  Commissioned by Social Exchange Ltd

  Rory Ridley-Duff

  Libertary Editions

  Seattle WA

  2010

  Copyright © Rory Ridley-Duff, 2009

  Rory Ridley-Duff has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Acts 1988.

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Inquiries about additional permissions should be directed to: [email protected]

  Social Exchange logo designed by Natasha Ridley-Duff

  ISBN 978-0-9841786-9-8

  DISCOUNTS OR CUSTOMIZED EDITIONS MAY BE AVAILABLE FOR EDUCATIONAL AND OTHER GROUPS BASED ON BULK PURCHASE.

  For further information please contact [email protected]

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2010939464

  Acknowledgments

  The people who made this book possible are numerous. Firstly, I’d like to thank Caroline, my wife, for the enormous patience and support she has given to my writing aspirations. It is every author’s dream to have someone with whom they can freely discuss ideas, draft chapters, propose story lines, and who will also check their manuscript for errors and support them through lean times. For these and many other reasons, you are still my dream woman.

  To family members and life-long friends who did not spare my feelings in their feedback on early drafts, you have my enduring thanks. Your comments were invaluable and I trust you will spot your influence in the end result. To my children, Natasha and Bethany, you have been a constant source of inspiration and the best antidote to loneliness that any writer could ask for.

  This book tackles a sensitive subject and I am indebted to many research participants and work colleagues for the insights they have provided over the years (whether intended or not). This book is fiction but without undertaking a series of workplace studies, this text would never have seen the light of day or come close to the reality of working life in early 21st Century Britain.

  To my muse in business, Poonam, I thank you for helping me find moral courage when everyone around me thought I was mad or hopelessly naïve for writing this novel. Our conversations about the human condition will remain with me always.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Friends or Lovers

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Also by Rory Ridley-Duff

  Chapter 1

  “So, Mike,” I said, “why have you been bothering Elona?”

  He looked so unconcerned that it made me slightly irritable, but that is not something that you show in this job. Calm, confident, concise – look him in the eye.

  “It’s nothing, just a misunderstanding. She wanted to discuss something private so I asked her if she’d like to go for a drink. She said ‘no’. End of story. It’s no big deal.”

  “Not to you, maybe. There’s been a complaint.”

  “She’s never said anything about it. If she felt uncomfortable, she never showed it. And yes, we’ve been close at times, and sometimes I think she’s tried to flirt with me, but I’ve always been careful.”

  Mike looked uncomfortable now. His eyes looked around the floor. The frown on his brow was more pronounced. Time to give him a push.

  “Bit of a tease, was she?” I said with a laugh.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m not making out she was ‘up for it’ or anything crude like that. I just never got any sense that she didn’t like the way I behaved.”

  Yes, Mike was traditionalist all right. To him a ‘bit of fun’ probably included the occasional trip to a lap-dancing bar or shagging in the toilets. To Elona, it was a different matter. Still, Mike was moderately bright, had worked his way up through the ranks, landed himself a regional sales management job and probably felt he was enjoying the best years of his life. He was married and fancied himself a bit too much, if you ask me. He prided himself on being ‘friendly’ but I just found him a creep. He was 50, one of those ‘pretty boys’ who does not realise that they are past it. God, was he past it! He had aged well, I guess, but too old for me – definitely! And he really irritated me when he shared dirty jokes with his friends but never with me. I could see right through him. He was certainly not my type. Not my type at all.

  I’m fairly new here. Nine months into my first job as Head of Personnel. In my previous job I’d been fast-tracked to deputy director but came up against the glass ceiling. To progress I had to move. I guess the sexual revolution has helped a bit. Twenty years ago this company would not have contemplated me in this position. Many of my management colleagues are women too. I can see that men have it harder in some respects, but the patriarchy seems alive and well. Mike is proof enough of that. I would not call myself a feminist, but I’m not averse to a confrontation with the occasional unreconstructed man, particularly in the company of like-minded female friends. It can be quite a laugh making a sexist-pig squirm.

  So, here we are. Mike the macho, sales rep of the year four years ago, now leading a successful team but getting angry when one of his administrative staff won’t go for a drink with him. Married with children, probably bored at home, still wanting to resurrect his youth and put it about. Not quite as straightforward as some situations I’ve faced because he has a good reputation and is well liked. I think, perhaps, I’d better check with my boss before I do anything here.

  “Mike. Leave it with me for the next 24 hours, I’ll look into this and get back to you. In the mean time, steer clear of Elona. She’s a bit sensitive at the moment. Boyfriend trouble, I think. Come see me tomorrow and we’ll wrap this up.”

  Mike did not look relieved at these comments and mumbled something I could not hear. He shook my hand. His eyes met mine and he fixed his gaze for just a second then looked away. He had never struck me as a formal sort before.

  Chapter 2

  “He’s done what?” asked Dave, my director.

  “Not complet
ely sure, but it clearly looks like he’s got the hots for Elona. I hear he’s not been a paragon of virtue in the past. This does worry me. Elona’s upset. I can’t let this rest.”

  I liked Dave. Unlike most men, he engaged with women as equals and was sympathetic to many of the problems they faced. I could happily spend time in his company in the office or away on business. He enjoyed working with me but was careful never to overstep the mark or make me feel uncomfortable. He was not much older than me, and I knew that he was ambitious too. We shared a professional ethic and modern outlook.

  “Well, this isn’t easy. Mike’s good – his team like him. But I agree we can’t let this pass. Zero-tolerance and all that! What’s right here, Penny?”

  I was not sure whether the question was rhetorical but as no more words were forthcoming I gathered my thoughts.

  “As far as I’m aware this is the first such complaint against Mike. I don’t think he should be sacked, but we should move him. It’s fair to Mike and it‘ll send a strong message to the rest of the company that it won’t be tolerated.”

  Dave looked at me thoughtfully for several seconds.

  “Do it sensitively, Penny. Okay?”

  I nodded.

  * * *

  Innovation Centre Ltd was modern and dynamic. Dave was ‘Director of Business Development’ and spent his time seeking out creative types and developing relationships with them. He found inventors, got them to commit their products to us then helped them obtain development grants. Over the last decade, the Innovation Centre – or IC as we call it in-house - has created a network of 60 inventors and a catalogue of wonderful gadgets.

  As for me, I did the ‘women into business’ thing a few years back. They were dishing out bursaries to encourage graduates into management. I thought I may as well get myself an MBA - couldn’t see what harm it would do - and now I understand all that talk of returns on investment, net present values and can put together a business plan. I still prefer the ‘relationship’ thing, however, and decided to specialise in human relations work.

  Dave has a penchant for that too. He looks smart, speaks well and is incredible at building trust. He mentors me and I appreciate that. Of course he’s taken – most guys like him are – and he now has a young child that he rarely sees. I remember that he wistfully joked once that IC not only wanted its pound of flesh but also insisted that you hand it over with a smile. Much as I like him, he is ‘strictly business’. I’ve read my share of self-help books, but avoid the ones called ‘How to Find the Man of your Dreams at Work”. They’re fine for those who want to give up work when they find their prince, but for me they’re a heap of crap.

  My friends joke that I am a model of the Cosmopolitan revolution – vibrant, smartly sexy, intelligent, able to live independently, but go out on the town and get a shag if I want to. I have my share of paranoia about my looks, but even so I am a bit of a man magnet when I wear black. I’ve worked hard for my career. Workplace relationships might put that at risk. Most men are bastards anyway, interested only in sex, football and drinking. I do boyfriends, but only until they want me to cook them a ‘special’ meal or wash their clothes. I lived with a guy once but soon felt like his mother. I dumped him. Since then, I’ve taken my pleasure carefully and on my own terms. It seems to work for me.

  * * *

  “Thanks for dropping in, Mike,” I said showing him to a chair. “I’ve had a chat with Dave and Elona about the situation and I’ve a suggestion for you.”

  Mike looked at me and nodded to indicate he was ready. I can’t say that I like this side of my job, but it goes with the territory and you have to harden yourself to it.

  “We think it’d be a good move for you to join Direct Marketing. Same salary, same status. It’d mean travelling more, of course, and working with a new team. They’re a bit wet behind the ears, so we want someone with lots of experience.”

  Mike looked blankly at me for a moment. “Carry on,” he said quietly.

  “It’s a new project. Another feather in your cap.”

  “Cut the crap, Penny,” Mike interjected, “I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m taking the flak for Elona, aren’t I?”

  “Well, we need a solution to that too, and this provides one.”

  “And what if I don’t take this position?” he asked.

  “That’d create a problem,” I said firmly. Our eyes locked and his hand moved up and rubbed his chin, then around the side of his head as he pinched his ear-lobe.

  “Can you give me until Monday?” he asked.

  “No, Mike, I’m away in France next week. I can give you ‘til 4 pm. If you need to talk to your wife then take the day off, but I don’t want this hanging around while I’m away.”

  “She’s working.”

  “Can’t you call her? Meet her for lunch?”

  “I’ll try. Penny...” he hesitated. He was trying to say something, but I could see that he was struggling to find the words.

  “What is it, Mike?”

  “This…” his eyes looked up at the ceiling then down at the floor. His awkwardness was palpable but no further words came out.

  “If that’s all, Mike, I have to go.”

  I got up from my seat and felt his eyes burn a hole in me. He was not a happy man.

  Mike called me back later that day and accepted the new job. It is never easy giving someone a sideways move but it has to be done sometimes. The hardest thing is protecting someone’s dignity while sending a message that some behaviour is unacceptable. In some ways, I feel sorry for Mike, but the world is changing and the type of behaviour he is responsible for is no longer acceptable to either men or women. I do have a conscience. I was able to protect his income. He can’t really complain. His family is still safe. The problem is sorted and Elona is protected. I get a small amount of satisfaction that I can contribute to changing the values of society and make the world slightly safer for women. If I have to clip the wings of a man who sets a bad example then it feels like a job well done.

  Chapter 3

  France was fun, but hard work – a two-day conference. If I go to these events with Dave I feel obliged to spend time with him, but this time I was on my own and had the chance to really let my hair down. If there is one thing I enjoy about going away on business it is the freedom I have in the evenings. At home I might bump into a neighbour or colleague from work. But abroad, I can either lock myself away in my hotel room and read a good book or slip on a sexy outfit to indulge myself at conference parties.

  This time I did both. First night I snuggled down with a Bernice Rubens novel. The second night I decided to dress up and take my chances at the conference party. After relaxing in the bath, I shaved, moisturised myself with assorted oils, and applied a dab of Clinique near my ears, wrists and breasts before setting off to await the chat up lines. It was a dull evening.

  The best approach I got all week was not at the conference. He must have been at least ten years older than me and at the boarding gate I saw him reading what looked like a textbook. Our eyes met briefly a couple of times. He was casually dressed in jeans and a black top. I studied him. He had dark brown hair with touches of white. I guess he was around 45 but still had a hint of the handsome features of his youth. He had definitely aged well. His eyes were brown and there were wrinkles stretching from the outer corners across both temples. Clearly he was a person used to smiling and laughing. They were nice eyes, kind but sexy. When he cast them in my direction, I could feel them undressing me. Usually that pissed me off, but not today. He was not bad, I thought. A pity he had not been at the party the night before.

  When we boarded the plane, I manoeuvred myself into the queue just in front of him. My bum looks good in jeans so I ensured that he got a good look at it by bending down to tie a (non-existent) shoelace. It seemed to have the desired effect because five minutes later I was in a window seat and he sat down next to me. He continued to read his book until the plane took off but then started to look across me out of t
he window. As the plane rose higher and higher, he continued to gaze at the buildings and roads below.

  “Flying always makes me feel humble,” he suddenly remarked. “You look down there and you realise just how insignificant you are.”

  He looked straight into my eyes and held my gaze for a second, and then he smiled. All the lines at the corners of his eyes creased. Definitely nice eyes. I instinctively smiled back. He held my gaze long enough to let me know he liked the way I looked, then without another word he resumed reading his book. From then on, I noticed his every move. He was reading intently, underlining phrases that caught his imagination. Sometimes he would sigh, and at other times he frowned. After a while he let out a laugh.

  “A comedy?” I asked.

  He turned to me again and smiled.

  “Of sorts,” he remarked showing me the title of an article he was reading. I obliged by reading it out.

  “The impact of sexuality on group dynamics: a symbolic interactionist perspective.” I paused for a moment and then quipped, “Some comedy!”

  He looked carefully at me and nodded in agreement.

  “Penny,” I announced, “thirty-something manager from Warwickshire.”

  “John,” he responded, “forty-something consultant from London.”

  There was that smile again. This time I held his gaze for a little longer to let him know I liked the way he looked.

  “A consultant, eh! In what field?” I enquired.

  “Behaviour,” he responded.

  “Are you in my line of work?” I asked, hoping to dig a bit into his background.

  “And what line is that?”

  “Employees. I’m an HR manager.”

  “Partly, I guess. I sometimes work with HR people. I would guess they read my work sometimes….”

  “You’re a writer?” This was getting better and better.

  “Well, I write, but I’m not a writer. I mean I don’t write for a living; writing is a by-product of my living.”