On the Friday, I took Helen to lunch as Tim had asked. I got Davinia to arrange it, just so that she would know it was not me trying to two time her. It was interesting discussion, and I went to see Tim afterwards.
He watched me stroll into his office and sit down, I looked a t him across his desk.
"How was lunch?" he asked.
"Interesting."
"Interesting how?" he waited, patiently.
"Well, she does want to come to us. Apparently you and I have a reputation of being the magic pair. As far as our own teams are concerned, they seem to be full of our praises as the best bosses ever, not that they would say it to our faces, but they seem to tell all their opposite numbers in other departments. Apparently, we trust people more, we give them greater responsibility and we are more sympathetic when they have problems. So Helen, and she reckons a load of others, want to work for us."
"But that means she will turn her back on what? Four years banking experience? And some of them have got a lot more than that."
"Yeah, I guess so. But not Helen, she's a techy, not a banking person. In fact, I think I may have a problem. Her CV is quite impressive."
"Go on."
"Well, if she did transfer, I wonder if she really should be ahead of Drew. I may have painted myself into a bit of a corner there."
"And what are you going to do about it?" he asked, somewhat neutrally I thought. Unlike him to distance himself from a departmental problem.
"I'm going to talking it over with my boss, and see what he thinks." I looked him straight in the eye.
"Bugger. I had hoped you'd sort it out without me, 'cos I haven't the faintest idea what to suggest. Can we put it off for a bit? We don't even know if Charlie Bullard will let Helen transfer."
"Well, Drew is getting a bit itchy, I'm not sure how long I can put him off. And eventually I'll need to actually start the project, customers tend to get a bit upset if I don't."
"Well, let's be resolute in our commitment to indecision until Charlie's back next week."
And that was the way we left it. But, as I returned to my own office, Drew followed me in, "Have you sorted it out with Tim yet?"
"No. I told you, neither of us can do anything until we know what's going on about staff transfers and people allocation, and that's Charlie Bullard's decision, and he's on holiday." I watched him, he was visibly disappointed, "I'm sorry, Drew, I wish I could tell you more, I really do. But you're going to have to wait."
"This is because I made a play for Dav, isn't it? You're mucking me about on purpose."
Now that did annoy me, "No it fucking isn't. If that's how you think I manage the teams, then I suggest you get out of my office and come back when you can think straight."
"What, and wait for Charlie Bullard to allocate my project, because he's always organised projects in this department?" he said, with very pronounced sarcasm.
"Listen, you fucking idiot. I've just come out of Tim's office, after talking to him about it, and he's given me a direct order that it has to wait 'til Charlie's back next week. If you don't believe me, then go and see Tim. I don't really care, as long as you get out of my office."
He stormed out. I was angry, but in truth, not with Drew, but with myself. He had hit a nerve. First I had made him the promotion offer before I had talked it through with Tim, and he had told me about Helen. Second, because I knew I was having a real problem choosing between him and Helen if I was given the choice. Third, because although I didn't think it applied in this case, I knew I would have a problem dealing with anyone who made overtures to Davinia.
I spent the rest of the afternoon hammering away at my keyboard, and when I say hammering I mean hammering. Late in the afternoon, the 'E' key gave up on me. I don't really blame it, I hadn't exactly been gentle. But that finished off my afternoon so well, leaving me with a feeling of absolute zero bonhomie towards the world in general, and TGI in particular.
I was idly tapping away at the 'E' key, in the hope that somehow, it would miraculously come to life, when I became aware that someone was standing at my office door. "Yes?" I barked.
"I was sitting waiting for you to come and find me, so that we can go over the road. But it got later and later, and Tim's gone home, so I thought I'd come and find you. Obviously, it isn't a good time."
It was Davinia. I looked up at her and every ounce of anger and frustration melted away. I sighed, "Oh, I'm sorry. It hasn't been a good afternoon." I looked at my watch, "You're right, we're overdue for a drink."
We went into the pub hand in hand. And I knew they noticed, and Davinia seemed pleased. She gave my arm a little squeeze, "No PDA, remember!" I whispered.
Someone bought me a pint, and Davinia and myself got separated. But I watched her across the room, and she seemed to be animatedly talking to a bunch of girls, mainly secretaries. I chatted happily, and bought a round for those who wanted one, as I got my second pint. By then, I was feeling a bit better, and thought I ought to talk to Drew, to put the relationship back on track. But when I asked where he was, I was told he left very soon after I had arrived with Davinia. Poor lad!
Then I saw Alice heading towards me, "Hi Dave. How are you? More to the point, how are you and Davinia?"
I glanced across to where Davinia was in animated conversation with a group of the younger guys from the office, "We're fine, I think. Thank you, Alice. What makes you ask?"
"Oh, nothing. Just wondering when TGI's resident stud would be available again?"
"Why? Are you offering?" I asked, falling back on flirting mode that myself and Alice had used so often in the past.
"Maybe. But I don't share. Or not like that anyway." She smiled at me, with a half question, half challenge look in her eyes.
What the Hell does that mean? That she does share in some circumstances? The mystery of Alice deepens, I'm just glad I don't have to solve it. And then a thought struck me, "Anyway, who says I'll be going back on the market anytime soon?"
"Oh, don't tell me that Davinia is going to tame the great Dave Finch. She goes up in my estimation." And she raised her glass in a toast towards Davinia. Thank Goodness, Davinia didn't notice.
Davinia stayed at my place that night, but on Saturday morning she went home.
We had a date on the Saturday evening, but she went home late that night. On the Sunday I was invited to family lunch with her parents. It was no where near as bad as I expected. Her father was a bit formal with me, but didn't make me feel to awkward. Her mother was very friendly. She turned out to be a wonderful pastry cook, I got points for praising her pastry on the rhubarb pie, which led to some sort of tentative bond with her.
That led, in turn, to my chatting to her in the kitchen about cooking. But then out of the blue she looked at me, straight into my eyes, "Be careful, David, don't get too fond of Davinia. She's still getting over Tod. You're good for her, but there may not be a future in it."
"I'm not looking for a future. Don't worry about me. But I think you're wrong. She's well and truly over Tod."
