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ARTHUR STANDS BY my office window, hands in his pockets, and I sit in my desk chair, facing him.
“So you don’t think we have a chance of ranking in the top three?” I ask.
“I didn’t say that. I said your bid is too low to win, in my opinion. These are big players with a lot of money, Dayna, and they’re ruthless. They won’t be budgeting as much for emergency and preparedness planning as you have. They take the risk that in the event of a disaster they’ll get off the hook or have enough insurance to cover it. If they don’t, the hit won’t kill the company.”
“Like it did SP.”
He looks at me, his grey hair thinner than I’ve noticed before and darkness beneath his eyes. “You are the only reason SP still exists. You’ve rebuilt this company with integrity.”
“But?”
“This industry is founded on deceit and corruption, not integrity. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. You know that.”
“If I win the well, fair and square, they’ll have to live with it. More than that, they’ll have to accept that SP is back.”
He smiles, but it only turns one side of his mouth. “Let’s see, kidda.” He presses his palm to my shoulder before leaving the office. He doesn’t believe I can do this. That, or he doesn’t want me to. I know this industry is black, but I’m here, with my family’s name to defend, and I’m damn sure I’m going to do that. SP won’t be seen as the weakest link any longer, and getting this well is the first step towards change.
I resume looking over the CVs of candidates for the new Head of Trading post and pull up my calendar to give Rachel potential dates for interviews.
“Ah, Rach, why is my calendar showing that I’m out of the office Friday and Monday?”
She appears at the door. “Because you’re not in the office Friday or Monday.”
“And why is that?”
“I told you on Saturday. I’ve arranged a birthday surprise for you.” She flashes me a coy look and ruffles her hair.
“I thought you just said that to get my mother off my back?” At first, I giggle, unable to contain my excitement. No one ever surprises me. “What are we doing?” Then reality dawns on me. “I can’t just take two days out of the office last minute.”
She walks into the room and plants herself on the arm of my sofa. “To your first question…” She taps her index finger against the side of her nose, which makes me laugh again. “To your non-point, we’ll have Wi-Fi, and you don’t have any meetings scheduled.”
“The tender bid results are due back on Friday. And I’m at the crude conference in Dubai on Monday, I’ll need to—”
“Relax. You can pick up the results on your phone or laptop, it won’t change where SP ranks, and I’ve booked your return flight straight to Dubai on Monday morning.”
I take a moment to absorb that. Okay, she’s thought of everything. I know she’ll have it all covered. And I’m taking a break! Mentally, I do an excited jig. “Soooo we’re flying somewhere?”
She shrugs and stands on her skyscraper heels to leave the room. “Oh, you should probably pack your ski gear. And be ready to go to Heathrow at five on Friday morning.”
As she closes the door behind her, I allow my feet a short, giddy dance under my desk before I get back to work. At twelve thirty, I see Rachel has turned on my automatic email replies, and I pack up my things.
“Rach, I’m heading off now. I’ll be back online after three-ish, but I’ll be working from home.”
“Say hi from me,” she says with a gentle smile that forms a lump in my throat. I nod.
Duncan is waiting outside the main entrance.
“I’ve picked up the bouquet for you, Dayna; it’s in the back.”
“Thank you.” I dip into the Mercedes and sit next to the large arrangement of white flowers, boxed with water and covered in cellophane to protect the petals from the harshness of the late-November weather. “They’re beautiful,” I say to no one in particular, inhaling the scent of a lily.
I take a small bottle of brandy from my handbag and hold it, with the flowers, on my lap until we reach the cemetery.
“Take as long as you need. I’ll be here,” Duncan tells me as he helps me out of the car.
I walk the long tarmac path of the cemetery. My father’s headstone rests next to my grandfather and grandmother’s. The two plots sit beneath a large willow tree, now leafless under the grey sky.
I set down the flower box and brush fallen autumn leaves from my grandparents’ grave then lay a plastic carrier bag on the grass in front of my father’s stone and sweep the foliage from him too.
