(This is a much-revised version of a story I wrote several years ago that I though worth reworking. There will be others to follow.)
Chapter 01: Shula
The first time Tony met Shula was the day he went to the Yorkshire office to look over his new position as Development Manager. The Sales manager was a charismatic guy in his late thirties with strong aquiline features. He'd seen life as a cattle drover in the Argentine for a couple of years and never let you forget it. One of the great survivors of this world. His name was James and he had a blonde secretary called Shula. Their relationship was a constant topic amongst his staff who would invent what they didn't know.
Shula was a single career woman in her early thirties and worked hard to give the impression of sophistication, professionalism and efficiency. When there was a bit of a panic on, this veneer slipped and a worried confusion took over. She had a caustic tongue when the mood took her and could be very belligerent at times, particularly to the other secretaries; she swore at them a lot.
Shula protected her boss from unwanted visitors or phone calls with firmness; it often took a long explanation before you could get past her desk into the inner office. She bowed to James's every whim. She filled his car with petrol and bought his cigars. She reminded him of birthdays and anniversaries and laughed at his jokes. Since Tony was a personal friend of James and not responsible to him, he enjoyed a less formal relationship with Shula and, when on their own, he could pull her leg and share silly rude stories, which made her giggle. She also kept him up to date with company scandal and the latest gossip about the scandals amongst the staff of which there were several. 0n those occasions she was just a giddy blonde passing on gossip with a silly giggle. They got on well.
Shula was not a conventionally pretty woman. Her sensible blonde hair-do, normally carefully arranged, had a habit of becoming slightly dishevelled when she was in a panic - her mood was often to be judged by the state of her hair - and she had pale blue eyes. A slightly twisted and upturned snub nose with a somewhat protruding lower jaw gave her a pugnacious, almost bull-dog look. Shula always dressed smartly and wore perfume with an expensive tang to it. Her figure was that of a young boy, really, with few discernible curves. She was about five feet seven inches tall.
To compensate for her lack of traditional femininity, she had developed a forceful personality with men, sharing jokes with them when appropriate and drinking halves of best mild beer. She had no boy friend that anyone knew of and no admirers that anyone had noticed; she just wasn't that sort of person. In those days, proper ladies didn't swear in front of men, but Shula did. Often! She was just one of the lads, in spite of her sophistication. Her male colleagues called her Angel-tits Shula behind her back. In fact, they had pet names for all the secretaries; Sexy Sheila, Ravishing June, Big Bum Barbara, Fornicating Fiona, and so on.
Shula drove a red mini. Her reputation was that of being one of the worst drivers of all time; no-one willingly sat in the passenger seat when she was at the wheel. She was mad. She drove with the same professional aggression she used in her office, keeping up a loud stream of verbal abuse hurled indiscriminately at other road users.
Each year, the Sales Division had a conference which ended with a dinner dance and booze-up. It was usually held in at a four-star hotel in the different sales centres each year. It was timed to take place near Christmas with the senior executives and top marketing managers invited to join in the annual fun and games. There would be about fifty people altogether. Shula had the responsibility for making the arrangements the organising the conference.
It had become the custom for the staff of each sales office to take part in a cabaret with some of the pieces - monologues, sketches or songs - specially written for the event. A friendly rivalry had sprung up between the offices for providing the best entertainment. This took place after the dinner when early drinks in the bar and wines during the meal had loosened up the atmosphere. By that time, the guests could be relied on to laugh at anything silly. And they did. They were then expected to decide which office had provided the best entertainment by gauging the volume of cheers for each office effort at the end of the entertainment. Only fifteen minutes were allowed each for office to perform.
Tony was usually drafted in by the Sales Director to prepare the material for the Yorkshire office and to organise rehearsals. That means that he was always invited to the annual do's and was given Shula's help to type out the scripts and copy them. The last conference was hosted by the Midlands office. A comfortable hotel in spacious grounds had been chosen for the occasion. Tony had produced some good material that year. Certainly, James was delighted with it and was looking forward to the evening.
Tony travelled alone to the hotel so that he could get back in his own time rather than have to rely on someone else. It was a cold day and getting through Wakefield proved a bit tiresome. When he finally reached the hotel it was already dark but there was time for him to settle into room number 9 (with private facilities), order a cup of tea from room service, run a hot bath and switch on the radio to hear the latest news. At half past six he went down to the wood panelled bar and said hello to a few colleagues who had already got their faces behind pints mugs of bitter ale. There was noise and laughter as they swapped the latest dirty jokes and company gossip. Or argued about who was behind the shooting of Kennedy or the merits of the Beetles latest hit.
The room was festooned with lots of cheerful Christmas decorations and a large log fire was burning in the old fashioned grate. There was cigar smoke hanging in the air. That smell always reminded Tony of Christmas. It was all very cosy and welcoming. He felt at ease and relaxed. Ian and Bill were standing to one side of the fireplace. He pushed through the others to join them, exchanging hellos and nodding greetings to others in the room. Ian was the Sales Manager of the Midlands office and Bill his senior technician.
"Hi Ian; Bill. How's things?"
"Wey-hey! It's ol' blue eyes himself. How's it going?" Ian teased.
"Fine!" Tony said, shaking his hand.
"What y're having Tony?" was bellowed from the bar counter "I'm just getting them in." He called for a pint of bitter.
"Well?" asked Ian "Good journey?"
"Bloody awful! It gets worse!"
"Wait 'til the new by-pass opens. Be OK then."
"Have you got some good sketches for us this year?" asked Bill.
"Wait an' see!" Tony grinned. "And are you both in good voice?"
"Wait an' see" laughed Bill. Arthur squeezed through holding a tray of four foaming pints. They were taken thankfully and immediately lifted to the lips.
"Hey! I say! Ravishing June's looking extraordinarily bloody ravishing tonight," Arthur said "I'm going to chat her up and see if owt's goin' - who's that she's with over there?"
Tony looked across to where Ravishing June was laughing with her mate Sexy Sheila with a middle-aged chap."That's Ferguson from the Marketing Research Centre. Have you not met him before?" Ian asked.
