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It takes a moment for me to recognise the scream in my bedroom as my own. My hair is drenched; my vest is soaked. I grip my throat as I wait for my panting to subside. I want to shower, but I don’t dare go to the bathroom. Instead, I switch on the lamp in my bedroom and head to the lounge, switching on every light in the apartment as I go. It’s only five in the morning, but there’s no chance of me going back to sleep, so I make myself a strong coffee and set up my laptop on the dining table.
I’m going to win this tender. I’m going to win for my dad.
I work through my bid document, taking on board the comments Arthur emailed to me late last night. As the morning progresses, I receive more thoughts from various members of my board. I add those I think are valid, making adjustments to the document where necessary to strengthen our pitch. By the time I head to the office, around lunch, I more hope than know that we have a decent bid.
“Hey, how was last night? Did your speech go well?” Rachel takes my wet umbrella from me as I shake off my coat.
“The speech was okay, thanks.”
“Yet that’s not a happy face,” she says, plonking herself on the sofa in my office.
“Just the same old story. They’re not exactly the kind of people I’d choose to dine with.”
“Are you referring to Clark or the other men at your table?”
I scowl at her. “You knew where I was sitting and you didn’t tell me?”
“You know I get the table plans in advance, Dayna, and you didn’t ask if I knew. Plus, what was the point in stressing you out? Clark was supposed to be on his honeymoon, remember? He was only added to the table on Wednesday, and I couldn’t get you moved on such short notice.”
“Did you try?”
She purses her lips and drops her head towards her shoulder. “Did you speak to him?”
“Only as much as I had to. He gave me the whole I’ve changed line.”
Rachel sits forwards. “Why would he tell you that?”
I shrug. “Because I caught him practically fornicating with Finnoula O’Hara.”
“Fornicating? What is this, the thirties? Still, he wouldn’t need to defend himself unless he was worried about your opinion of him.”
For a split second, I wonder if he might be interested. Then I remember. “He’s been interested twice before, Rach, but he only wanted one thing from me.”
She slaps her thighs as she stands. “Would that be so bad? I mean, it’s been a while. If you keep it casual…”
I’d be angry at her flippancy, but Rachel only knows as much as I tell her about my past with Clark. She knows he was an arsehole, but she doesn’t know how he crippled me with pain in the weeks after he left. How when everything fell apart around me, I only wanted him to hold me and whisper in my ear that everything would be okay, but he didn’t even call. I played it like I always do outwardly, like he was just something that got me a little upset for a few days, nothing more. The truth is I only have myself to blame. I knew Clark’s ways with women before I met him, and Teddy made damn sure he reinforced Clark’s reputation for casual bedroom antics when he realised I was falling for him. And there were other signs, like his reaction to staying in, behaving like a couple might. But I was either too ignorant, too naïve or too delusional to see the truth.
“Can we not discuss this, Rach? I have work to do.”
“Fine. Your meeting with Marketing is in your office at two, and Douglas White is calling you between one and one thirty because the haulage drivers for the Portsmouth terminal are threatening to go on strike. Again. He’s panicking. Again.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ve finished the tender submission for the Bahraini well. Could you work through the submission requirements this afternoon and send in the bid documentation? We need to submit corporate documents as well as the proposal. If you contact—”
“—the Company Secretary, I’ll be able to get hold of the documents. They’ll need to be certified before they’re sent. Did I mention I need a pay rise?”
“I gave you a pay rise, but I deduct a grand every time you use irony, sarcasm and just general bad attitude.”
She heads out of my office on a grin and calls over her shoulder, “So I’ll be quids in if I can prove that I’ve changed?”
I laugh and tell her to close the door behind her. Despite the fact she finds it amusing to wind me up, working with Rachel is one of the best things about SP. She was already earning a reputation as a good PA in the City when I became CEO. I wasn’t sure she would accept my job offer. But I couldn’t be more pleased that she did, most of the time. Surprisingly, I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve nearly come to blows since she’s been in the role. Even then, our grumbles don’t tend to last longer than a day. Usually, one or both of us will end up suggesting conciliatory coffee and cake.
My direct line rings just as I’m finishing a salad that Rachel picked me up for lunch. Well, a sort-of salad; I’m not sure it sits neatly in the classification when it’s loaded with couscous and feta.
“Dayna Cross.”
“Dayna, its Mum. I’m calling to remind you it’s Anna’s birthday tomorrow. You will be there, won’t you?”
“Hi Mum.” I’m fine, thanks for asking. “Have I ever missed Anna’s birthday?”
