Up to Scratch

Another extract from my novel in progress.

Andrew went from desk to desk on his first morning at Whittaker and Wright, saying hello and shaking hands whenever one was proffered. By the time he got to Sally, she had heard his introduction five times and wondered what version he would offer her.

‘Good morning. I’m Andrew.’

‘Sally Robinson.’ She nodded, but carried on reading the contract she was reviewing. It had to go out by midday.

‘Working on anything interesting?’

‘An office on the wharf. Five year agreement with a one year break clause.’

‘One year? Isn’t it usually...’

‘They’re taking a whole floor.’

‘I see.’ He leaned in to look at the paperwork.

‘What do you see?’ Sally put her arm across the contract.

‘Not a lot, to be honest.’

‘A whole floor is a lot of office space and a big commitment. I negotiated a get-out for my client to give...’

‘They’re lucky to have you on the case. Next time I’m renting a flat I’ll ask for your help...’

‘Commercial only.’ She waved a hand near his face.

‘Sorry, I was only joking.’

‘So was I, but I have to get this done by noon.’

It had taken Sally two months to complete her introductions when she had joined the company. By the time the messenger arrived for her contract, Andrew had worked through all of the office, including the partners and the post room. James Brearley, his fellow new starter, had yet to land at her desk, one week after his first day. He fixed his gaze on his screen and paperwork, and took his lunch at his cubicle. She’d not even seen him take a comfort break. He raised his head when Andrew took a seat at the desk opposite, but ducked before they made eye contact. Nothing’s that important, thought Sally, as James pressed a finger on the document in front of him. Andrew peered over the screen between the desks and shot a hand towards James’s forehead.

‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’ He pulled his hand away, bounced out of his chair and was at James’s side in one step.

‘Uni.’ James leaned forward to get a closer look at his print out.

‘That’s it. Jim?’

‘James.’

‘Jim, James, what’s the difference?’

‘The difference is one is my name.’

‘Fair point and apologies. Great to see a familiar face, James.’

From where Sally was sitting, it was clear that one was in the right and the other was in control of this awkward encounter. A solicitor could not pay too much attention to detail. What if the wrong name ended up on a contract? What if a clause was removed for changes and not put back in? On the other hand, confidence and likeability were crucial. The latter was harder to command than the former and this new chap, regardless of his other credentials, had star quality. He was the kind of person who could get under your skin without you noticing.

When Martin Whittaker asked Sally to mentor James Brearley, she was surprised to feel a hint of disappointment that she had missed out on Andrew Pickford. Even more surprising was James’s determination to outperform his counterpart, despite Sally’s assurances that WW valued hard work and diligence above all else. ‘We’re not that kind of firm,’ she said over and over, but James’s fear would not be quelled.

‘You’ve not seen him in action.’

‘I see him every day. He gets on with his work.’

‘Yes, but you don’t know what he’s like.’

‘I think I know his type.’

‘Swanning around like he doesn’t have a care in the world.’

‘Mr. Whittaker seems impressed.’

‘You see...’

‘Not that he hasn’t said good things about you.’

‘He has? What?’

Years later, Sally would reflect that the first time she had lied for Andrew was when she had told James how the partners had been impressed by the dedication and commitment he had shown from the moment he had taken his seat in the office. It took years to become comfortable, which wasn’t quite the right word, with untruths and evasions; but during those years she perfected her technique. At that moment, though, in the offices of Whitaker and Wright LLP, James did not question her falsehood even though she had paused and blushed when pressed for the words the partners had used.

Andrew, who put so much faith in his ability to work people out within minutes of meeting them, could not get a fix on Sally. This had happened once before, with Nancy, the one person whose presence could simultaneously upset and enthral him. Was he excited by Sally? Not like with Nancy, but there was something about his colleague that put him on guard, made him straighten his back and – this one was as rare as hen’s teeth – encouraged him to be and do good. Why was he so bothered that she had been asked to mentor Jim Brearley? He should have been – he was – pleased that he had been assigned a mentor who was next in line for partnership; but still, why not Sally Robinson? Why was it so easy to impress the person you were meant to impress, but so difficult to catch the eye of a colleague who sat less than ten steps away? For that matter, why did Brearley scowl whenever he walked by his desk? A paranoid person would think they were out to get him, but Andrew, who refused to believe that anyone would take against him, assumed that it was just a matter of uncrossing some tangled wires. He invited James for Friday evening drinks, but James was too busy or had family commitments or a squash game – who played squash? – and he tried Sally instead. She shocked them both when she said yes.

The Craven Arms had come to mind when he had been planning to win over James with a few pints and a game of darts or pool. There was also a quiz machine, which Andrew had counted on to get them out of a hole when the conversation faltered. When he walked in with Sally, however, his knees dipped. This was not a place to bring someone like Sally, who dressed for wine and bread and balsamic and who anyone could tell was not a peanuts and crisps sort of woman. He found a booth that didn’t smell too bad and watched her take a seat. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I have a feeling the wine won’t be up to scratch.’