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Polly forced out a tinkly laugh while slapping her hand to her chest to close down any gaping at her neck.
‘Seriously, after this, I know a very nice hotel in Leeds if you’d like me to continue filling you in. I think you know what I’m saying.’ Richard winked and picked up a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Polly tried not to shudder.
‘Let me do my presentation over coffee and then we’ll see where we are,’ she said, standing and signalling to the waiting staff that it was time to bring out the Yorkshire Wensleydale, cafetières and Betty’s best mints while she made some quick amendments to her script.
Coffee and cheese were served up, as were more revelations. Richard Pound seemed to be under the impression that the more he thrilled Polly with gossip about their dirty deeds across the whole county, the more chance he had of getting into her pants, and she didn’t exactly tell him he was wrong. She could still feel his hand on her knee minutes after she’d removed it, coyly but firmly.
Finally it was time. The lights dimmed, the screen dropped from the ceiling and Polly took her place by her standing desk from where she would control the PowerPoint on her laptop.
‘Good afternoon, or should I sayCiao.’ A titter of laughter. ‘Welcome to BS, and you are very welcome to it. In the course of this presentation I hope to prove to you what Ciaoissimo can expect from the future, what I can make happen, giving you everything I think you as a company deserve.’
She pressed a button and the screen was filled with the first page of her research. A company profile. Then another: a drilling into their finances, growth, gross and net profits and what the potential could be. It all looked very exciting. There followed photos of their establishments and several bullet-pointed slides that highlighted all their ‘best practices’: the extensive choices on their menus, the functional cheap furnishings, the zero-hour staff contracts and masterful corner-cutting at every turn. The most BS that it was possible for an employee of BS to drum up.
Then the next slide: a photo of the road in Shoresend where the new Ciaoissimo-in-the-making and Teddy’s restaurants were situated.
‘Both restaurants at a push could co-exist,’ said Polly, as James Stirling made a boo noise. ‘But we all know that is not going to happen: one has to be kicked to the kerb for the trash it is.’
Polly moved to the next slide: Teddy’s restaurant. ‘This one has to, of course… stay.’
Richard Pound guffawed, presuming it was a joke.
The next slide: James Stirling’s formal council photo.
‘Councillor James Stirling’ – she pointed to him – ‘There he is. We do need to address your undeclared interest in the Ciaoissimo chain. I mean what’s going on with the proposed compulsory purchase of the Teddy’s restaurant car park? Manipulation of rules for personal benefit. Or fraud, I think it’s better known as. And of course let’s not forget the sexual harassment claims from council staff which have been made to disappear with a combination of threats and hush money paid from council funds.’
It was amazing how many people couldn’t stand James Stirling and yet they had no chance of complaining if theywere to keep their jobs because the head of HR was a puppet on a string for him too. People couldn’t wait to dish the dirt once they realised it might actually lead to the toppling of his statue and not the loss of their pensions.
‘What the…’ Polly heard his cry, but she ploughed on regardless and put on her next slide: a choice selection of the duff restaurant reviews.
‘All false,’ she said, ‘a targeted attack to close Teddy’s restaurant in Shoresend. However, for every clever fake reviewer who thinks they’re untraceable, there’s an expert computer genius who can trace them. And guess what… I have a source address record of where every single one of these was sent from which makes for very interesting reading.’ She looked pointedly at Nicholas de Massey, whose stunned expression was priceless. It was a bluff on her part, but it didn’t sound like it.
‘Polly, can I have a word please,’ said Jeremy, getting to his feet.
‘In a moment, Jeremy. When I’ve finished. You did want me to get right to the heart of Ciaoissimo, so that’s what I’ve done. My, what a tale of skullduggery, deception, sabotage, insider trading, blackmail, sleaze, fraud, second families living in French vineyards, adultery, bullying, sexual misconduct, intimidation… I could go on but I think that’s quite enough for now. I know all my findings will be most welcomed by the community of Shoresend and far beyond. Fleet Street in particular.’
She pressed her final button and hoped she’d cued the sound up correctly. Out of all of this despicable crew, she wanted Stirling to be rattled the most. Richard Pound’s voice came through the speakers at deafening decibels.
‘Well he can’t be seen to have a vested interest, can he, being acouncillor. Shh. It’s all in the name of his daughter. My, the power that man wields, everyone calls him James Stalin, not Stirling. They’re all terrified of him, with good reason. He makes up the rules as he goes along and he’s got some dirt on the leader of the council so he’s untouchable. Pushing people higher up on the housing list for a blow job sort of dirt.’
‘No way.’
‘Oh yes. And old Jimbo isn’t averse to a little fumble for favours either. Do you know when you lean towards me I can see right down your top.’
Polly bowed. ‘Thank you for your time, gentlemen. I do hope you’ve enjoyed my presentation. I look forward to your downfall and I know I won’t have a long time to wait.’
‘You fucking bitch,’ said Richard Pound, putting a very brave face on a very rattled body.
‘Ciao,’ said Polly, then she swept up her laptop and handbag and strutted out of the door.
Chapter 56
Polly opened the door to Chris’s house and her own loneliness rushed out at her with the quiet. For the past months, since she had woken up in hospital, she had been guided by her feelings and instincts; they were her steer through the seas of uncertainty in which she found herself. If common sense had been her only pilot, she knew she wouldn’t have done what she did today and she was rather glad it had been forced into a corner and told to shut up. She hadn’t exactly handed in a formal resignation but she reckoned there would be no future letter asking her to have a meeting with HR because there could be no excusing this time what had just occurred. She hadn’t just blotted her copybook, she’d ripped it up and chucked all the pieces on the fire, but she’d sleep more soundly in her bed for doing it. Not the little bed upstairs; she wasn’t sure which bed she’d be in tonight but she’d spent her last night in this house, and this time she wouldn’t be back.
She’d picked up the hire van on the way home after dropping off the hire car she’d been using. She arranged for the swap to happen today, to follow the throwing of Ciaoissimoto the wolves, for the people she loved. Now that was done, she was free to help herself. It hadn’t taken her long to pack up her things, just as she had done twelve weeks ago to the day. It felt a lifetime away, because it was really. So much had happened in those three months; both bad and good, but she’d had to be lost to be found.
When Chris came in from work that night, he wondered whose the white van was parked outside and why Polly’s blue hire car wasn’t in its spot. She was in though, thank goodness, because it always put him in a bad mood if there was no one home before him. The light was on in the kitchen and she was sitting at the table with a jacket on. He couldn’t smell any food cooking and he thought that if she was going to announce they were going out for dinner, she’d be sadly disappointed that he wouldn’t be joining her.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked. He dropped his bag on the floor in that same place and if ever a single, tiny, lingering doubt remained that she was doing the right thing, it was snuffed out there on the spot.
