The Room on the Second Floor (17 page)

‘You do, that you certainly do.’ He then gave Roger the self-same wink that his accountant had produced only a few days earlier. Roger couldn’t for the life of him work out what was going on. A sudden thought crossed his mind. Maybe the two men were Freemasons? He had heard of secret signs exchanged between members. Maybe that was it.

‘Well, thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.’ He backed out of the office and made a run for the lift before the VC started rolling his trouser leg up, or whatever it was that Freemasons did.

Chapter 28

Duggie followed Tina’s suggestion to the letter. He managed to find the new manager in record time. He placed a carefully worded advert in the local paper. Within a week, the list of potential candidates had quickly whittled itself down to just one. She was not exactly what he had imagined but, as he told Tina later, she had the great advantage of being able to start immediately.

Tina voiced concern that such an apparently well-qualified person was not already in employment.

‘So how can she start at once, Duggie? Surely if she’s any good, she’d already have a job?’

‘There was a disagreement with her former employer. From what she’s told me, he sounds like a total swine.’

Tina wasn’t convinced, but she could see how desperate Duggie had become. He pointed out to her that this candidate also had one other very important USP. She had not batted an eyelid, when he had, very hesitantly and tentatively, revealed the true nature of the Salon’s trade.

‘I couldn’t ask for better. She can start on Monday and she is quite relaxed about managing a brothel. These two facts alone make her perfect for the part.’

‘Whatever you say, Duggie.’ Tina gave up. As long as the new manager kept Duggie feeling and behaving like his old self once more, she was a happy girl. ‘So what’s her name?’

‘Rachel Turner.’

‘Where’s she from?’

‘Erm, I’m not sure. There’s a London accent lurking back there somewhere, but I don’t seem to recall any details of her background.’

‘At least, what was her job before? The one where she had a swine of a boss?’

‘Erm, I’m not sure I got that information at the interview.’

‘Well, what did you talk about at the interview, then?’

‘Erm, to be quite honest, Tina, she did most of the talking. I didn’t really follow everything she said.’ He sounded puzzled.

Finally, Duggie had to admit why he found Ms Turner so hard to understand. She spoke a form of transatlantic management-speak that defied translation. Indeed, he had been left speechless at the interview when she had launched into it.

‘Working here will involve a paradigm shift for me. But, by leveraging our resources in a seriously proactive way, we should be able to provide value-added for our clients.’

He had been so pleased that she could start straight away, that he had let this wave of bullshit wash over him without questioning it. However, over the course of the rest of the interview, he had been battered by a veritable tsunami of it.

‘We will want to conform to current best practice. Some organisations are less at the leading edge than others. Some are not always in the ballpark of adding value to best practice. Very often the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing, because the goalposts are moving.’

He failed to see how moving goalposts could have an effect upon hands, but he made no comment.

‘We need to think outside the box, if we are going to fast track to a win-win situation.’ Was this another football metaphor possibly? Or maybe it was ‘box’ in the cricket sense? ‘This will involve strategic fit and synergy so, as movers and shakers, we must sing from the same hymn sheet.’

Duggie emerged from the interview moved and shaken. He had no idea where the hymn sheet was, or indeed, if the Salon had one. One thing was for sure: it was unlikely to be ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’. Nonetheless, he was deeply relieved to have found somebody who was prepared to take on the job. The verbal battering was a small price to pay.

He led her up to meet Mo and the girls straightaway.

Rocky was sitting in his usual place in the reception lounge, doing some knitting. He smiled cheerfully as they passed. Duggie avoided looking too closely at what he was knitting. A willy-warmer for a friend, maybe? The new manager couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She’ll find out
, Duggie thought to himself. A moment later, he spied Mo coming out of her office.

‘Mo, this is Rachel Turner, the new manager of the Salon. Rachel, this is Maureen, our personnel officer.’

As first meetings went, it was not auspicious. Rachel Turner barely nodded at Mo, before turning sharply towards Duggie. Her tone was terse and business-like, to the point of insolence.

‘Right, Mr Scott. I will take over now. There is no need for you to stay. Maureen and I will discuss the synergies together.’ She turned back towards an apprehensive-looking Mo. Duggie realised he had been dismissed. With a weak smile in Mo’s direction, he left them to it. As he went down the stairs, he was hoping hard that Ms Turner would mellow in time.

However, above all, as far as he was concerned, responsibility for the Salon had been lifted from his shoulders. The sensation of relief he felt at being able to distance himself from the second floor, was immense. It would all work out fine now, he was sure. So sure, in fact, that he neglected to take up any references with Rachel Turner’s former employer. With hindsight, that might have been a good idea.

Chapter 29

Roger wasn’t quite sure what to make of the new manager of the Salon when he met her for the first time. She was smart, albeit a bit overweight. She drove a nice-looking Mercedes, albeit a bit old. She spoke with a nice accent, albeit occasionally reverting to something closer to Cockney. She claimed to be very well qualified, albeit with HR qualifications, which meant little or nothing to him. At first, he wondered if all the talk of HR referred to Hormone Replacement. Although her age would probably have taken her into that bracket, he had been at a loss to see how qualifications in the subject could be valuable in a management position.

As usual, his beloved Linda quietly explained the difference between hormone replacement and human resources. The lady was confident and presentable, with a handshake to crack bones. He did not talk to her much. Holding a conversation with her proved to be far from easy.

When first introduced, she quickly established her linguistic eccentricities.

‘Rachel Turner. I’m here to leverage the old paradigm and grow the Salon, going forward.’

Slightly bemused, he nursed his crushed hand and attempted a response.

‘So does that mean you have encountered problems?’

‘There are no problems. Yes, we have issues and challenges, but, by thinking outside the box, we will deliver a win-win result.’

‘Oh…good.’ He tried again. ‘And so you see a rosy future for the Salon?’ He wasn’t at all sure she had said that, but it was worth a shot.

‘Ah, Professor Dalby, only if we have core competencies, can we action the key deliverables for the relevant stakeholders.’

He later confessed to Linda that he found Old French more understandable than her version of English. So he wished her well, albeit with a vague sensation of disquiet. He was later to refer to it as a sensation of impending doom. But, then, hindsight is a wonderful thing.

After their return from Japan, and the boisterous reunion with Jasper, Roger had thrown himself back into the study of his favourite subject with renewed energy. Even the unresolved threat of somebody trying to kill him was not able to stifle his burgeoning optimism and happiness. Henri quickly spotted and identified his new
joie de vivre
. For a Frenchman, the reason for it was clear. Paddy, too, had not failed to notice, and was quick to diagnose.

‘Sure and the beneficial effects of regular coitus upon his nucleus accumbens, and his whole limbic system, have resulted in this renewed vigour. It’s all due to an outpouring of endorphins, so it is.’

‘And,’ added Stan, ‘it’s put a twinkle in his eye.’

‘And in her ladyship’s.’ Henri was nothing if not observant.

The police had been in regular contact with Duggie while Roger was away. They had not, however, reported any significant leads. Before leaving for the Far East, Roger had spent the best part of a morning at the police station. He was introduced to Chief Inspector Cocker ? Neil to his mother and father, but Joe to everybody else. He had led Roger gently, but thoroughly, through the whole affair. Roger told him all he knew about Uncle Eustace, the inheritance, McKinnon Marine, old Mr Jennings and his son, Kevin. The inspector asked him to rack his brains, to see if he could think of anybody else with a grudge against him, past or present.

Coming up with the name of somebody who might hate him sufficiently to want him dead, had proved impossible. The fact that he remained unaware of the true nature of the Salon on the second floor, further restricted his imagination. The chief inspector had even delicately mentioned former lovers or their partners. But still nothing and nobody had sprung to mind.

‘You are a good-looking fellow, professor. Might there be some poor girl out there whose advances you have spurned?’ Roger looked as blank at the compliment as at the idea of some girl bearing a grudge. As they shook hands at the end of the interview, Cocker assured Roger that his men would do their best. However, it was clear that they had precious little to go on. Maybe it had been a freak event, some kind of aberration, and nothing more would ever happen.

However, in spite of the continuing uncertainty, Roger returned to the Middle Ages with a silly smile on his face. If such were possible, the smile on the face of the lady in the next door office was even bigger. All Linda’s friends commented on her new air of happiness. Even her mother registered the change. Tina summed it up to Duggie the first evening after they got back.

‘Sort of a permanent glow. Next thing we hear, she’ll be expecting. Just you wait and see.’

She was not alone in this observation. Henri had already been heard to wonder if she might be ‘up ze duff’. While Paddy, for his part, had been seen with his nose in a copy of a
Handbook of Gynaecology and Obstetrics
, presumably so as to be up to speed with his contributions, when the time came.

Downstairs on the ground floor, the carpet layers had just finished the reception area and the fitness centre. Both rooms were looking extremely smart and welcoming. The array of machinery around the walls of the gym, designed to hone near-perfect bodies into Olympic athletes, was impressive. It would, without doubt, impress the mostly unfit, overweight, middle-aged clients who would, he sincerely hoped, come flocking to the club upon opening day. And opening day was less than ten days away. ‘Oh, God,’ Duggie thought to himself, ‘it’s Christmas day on Friday.’

‘Douglas, there’s an email for you from Tiger Wood’s secretary.’

Tessa, the new receptionist, was gorgeous, and she knew it. Had he not been a happily sort-of-married man he would, without a doubt, have fallen under her thrall. Most of the other males in the building already had. Instead, he was much more excited at the prospect of a communication from the great man himself: Tiger Woods! He dashed into his office and opened his inbox.

Dear Mr Scott

I am instructed by Tiger to inform you that it will not be possible for him to participate in your planned inaugural competition at Toplingham Golf Club due to the pressure of other commitments
.

However he sends you and all your team his very best wishes
.

Kind regards

‘Great. Just what I wanted.’ He pressed Print. Tessa, who had already read the email, was surprised. She had assumed he would be deeply disappointed at the refusal. Noticing the look on her face, as he picked the message up from the printer, Duggie explained.

‘There was no way on earth Tiger Woods was ever going to come down here to a one-horse nine-hole course, even if it was designed by the same chap who designed Wentworth. What I wanted was a communication from him. And now I have it.’

He beamed at her and laid the message on top of the others already received from a host of famous golfers. All of them were refusing in similar terms but all, for his purposes, were priceless. He explained to her what he wanted her to do. He was pleased to see eager comprehension on her face. She went off to set about her work with a smile. He was impressed that he found himself able to watch her shimmy out of the room without arousing any more than casual aesthetic interest in him. Wow, he thought to himself. He would take Tina out for a celebration dinner that night. No doubt about it, it must be love.

Chapter 30

Linda and Roger had been back home for a few weeks, before natural curiosity took her up the stairs to the second floor. She, like everybody else in the manor, kept on seeing attractive girls going up and down the stairs. She had often wondered just what services the Salon offered. Part of her was keen to see if some of the beauty secrets clearly enjoyed by these lovelies, might be extended to her. Now that everybody, even her mother, knew that she was a fallen woman, she thought joyfully, there was no harm in maybe spending a little on her own appearance. But her quest turned out to be fruitless. At least on the first occasion.

All she found was a comfortable lounge, with a television tuned to a repeat of
Strictly Come Dancing
. A quite monumentally muscle-bound man in a tank top was dancing lightly around. As he saw her, he gave a friendly wave, and flounced over.

‘Hello, darling. How’s your rumba?’

She blushed, and replied hesitantly that she was looking for the beauty salon. She might just have caught a hint of concern on the face of the muscle man, but he collected himself in a flash.

‘Oh, I’m so, so sorry. They’re all in a meeting. There’s a new manager just started and she’s going through things with them.’ A look of pique crossed his face. ‘I wasn’t required.’

‘Shall I come back tomorrow?’

Again that look of caution.