Chapter Twenty-Five

Nigel Wentworth was sitting at his desk, looking over the signed agreement that Ginnie had presented him. The Odyssey Property Company were offering to sponsor a six month advertising campaign with billboards, posters, radio and print advertisements. They had also agreed to cover costs of all male neutering in that period, plus fifty percent of female. Tiggles was to become the main information point, and recipient of a healthy monthly donation for the following year.

‘Congratulations,’ he said without enthusiasm, his mind in a state of turmoil. What had been looking for in the document, some huge flaw? Some major drawback which would hinder the deal? And why? Didn’t he and Ginnie want exactly the same things? Why couldn’t he just be happy for her achievement?

‘Is there something wrong, Nige?’

‘No, no, I’m impressed, that’s all,’ he said evenly. He looked up at Ginnie. ‘Congratulations on a job well done.’

Ginnie smiled but was puzzled. How could he not be as ecstatic as she was? This meeting wasn’t going the way she’d planned. Ginnie was standing behind the chair opposite Nigel’s desk. She’d expected him to flick through the document, then to jump up, rush round to her side and give her a big hug. She thought he might call Trisha in, suggest they go out for lunch. Instead, he seemed rather cold.

‘You’ve shown me up, Ginnie,’ Nigel continued, though now there was a edge of resentment in his voice. ‘I should have been doing more all along. You’ve shown that this sort of thing, corporate sponsorship, is possible.’

‘But Nigel, it’s not as if you’re not doing things as it is, I mean, you run this place, you look after all the animals - you set the whole thing all up, after all.’

‘Yes, but it isn’t enough, is it?’ Nigel snapped. ‘We’re still struggling, Ginnie. We haven’t really made a difference.’

‘I disagree.’ Ginnie felt winded. She couldn’t believe that such a positive event could be having such a terrible effect on her boss. ‘We make a difference every day. Look at Grace. Last week she was out on the street, going through the bins. Now she’s in her own enclosure, she’ll soon be having her kittens and then she’ll be spayed and re-housed. That’s a difference, Nigel. That’s a huge difference.’

‘Yes, congratulations again,’ Nigel said tersely. ‘Another one of your success stories.’

Ginnie plonked herself down on the chair opposite him. ‘Nigel, what is this? What’s this all about?’

But Nigel couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t bring himself to admit how much he wished he was the type of person who could go to a meeting, make a compelling presentation and get exactly the deal he wanted. He couldn’t tell her that, as much as he enjoyed the quiet life, looking after the cats and keeping a meticulous eye on Tiggles’ finances, a major part of him felt like such a failure.

Everyone at work had known it. There was that meeting once, where he’d had to stand in for the regional director, and when it was his turn to speak his whole chest had contracted, and he’d delivered the year end financial statement between gasps and gulps. It had been a humiliation his company had ensured never happened again. The next time his boss had needed a stand-in, he’d chosen the smarmy Trevor Whitcroft instead.

Nigel knew his limitations alright, but that didn’t stop him resenting them.

‘Look, shall I just proceed with this?’ Ginnie tried. ‘Briefing the advertising agency, getting the copy right and all that? I mean, I’ll consult with you the whole time, of course. You’ll have the final say as far as Tiggles is concerned, but would you rather I just got on with it?’

‘That’s only fair. It’s your project, after all, Ginnie.’

‘But I’ll consult with you all the time, of course,’ she repeated. Why was he making this so difficult?

‘Yes, I’d appreciate that,’ Nigel said, gathering himself. ‘I’d like to have the final say on everything.’ Just saying those words made him feel important again.

‘All right. I’ll leave you to it then,’ Ginnie said awkwardly, getting up to go.

‘A website link,’ Nigel said suddenly. ‘There’s nothing in that contract about a website link. They should link our website to theirs, we’ll get more hits that way. And you can tell them I’m upgrading ours, that’s another thing. Adding a few features that’ll make it more attractive. Will you see to it that they know?’

‘Yes, of course I will, Nigel. I’ll get on to them right away.’

As Ginnie closed the door behind her, Nigel tapped furiously on the keyboard. He felt as though she was depleting him of his power. He had to get in control again. He flicked the screen over to his secret new project. Advertising campaign, indeed. It was only a six month deal - a short term fix at best. Nigel had other ideas, and soon he’d be putting them into place.

***

The worst thing, Anna decided, about emailing old friends, was receiving their endlessly smug replies. With Roger’s annual bonus they were buying a farmhouse in the Dordogne. Little Charlie was doing exceptionally well at school and had become a gifted pianist. The Lawsons had just spent a month in Asia, staying in five star resorts. Sophie had got a huge promotion and bought a sports car. Nick and Amanda were building a conservatory off their living room, adding enormous value to their property. Lucas might only be two, but he was already showing impressive numeracy and literacy skills.

Until The Singapore Negotiations, as they were now known, were complete, Richard had forbidden Anna from telling anyone about his career prospects, for fear they might jinx them. Anna loathed her paltry news: Richard continues to flourish at the bank and I’ve happily become a struggling writer, but drew satisfaction from imagining the revelation during the party, and the looks of envy on all their faces.

This was going to mean a lot to Richard, she told herself. Roger, Nick and Chris were the three who’d taken him to Amsterdam while Anna and the girls had indulged in pampering sessions and champagne at Claridges. It would be good for him to see them again, she thought. He’d become too isolated in Cyprus. It was time to put whatever had happened that weekend behind him.

This party might well prove to be a deliverance of sorts.

Pleased with her work, Anna carried on making lists and emailing people with details of their arrangements. As she was trying to decipher a phone number in her address book, her own phone rang. She picked it up, expecting it to be either Sophie or Amanda returning her call, but instead, the voice she heard made Anna’s blood run cold, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

‘Anna darling, is that you? It’s mummy here.’