‘The partners saw my point, of course,’ Peter was saying, ‘but nevertheless…’
Mark guessed what was coming. He had sensed weeks ago now that the promotion he had originally been promised when he’d joined the practice was not going to be forthcoming.
‘I’m sorry, Mark, but it won’t be for very long. Charles will be retiring at the end of next year, and then of course naturally you will be in charge of the two combined sections, and in the meantime with both sections under his overall supervision that at least will free you to have more time to search actively for new business…’
Mark stared at him. His heart was pounding heavily and sickly; he could feel the pressure building up inside his stomach, the nausea and tension. His skin felt hot and cold at the same time, burning one second and then clammy with the ice-cold sweat of dread the next.
‘Are you saying that my section is going to be amalgamated with Charles Sawyer’s?’ he managed to ask.
Peter was avoiding looking directly at him. ‘The senior partners felt it would be for the best. As I said, it will at least free you to——’
‘I’m an accountant, not a salesman!’ Mark exploded.
This was far, far worse than he’d expected. He had come into Peter’s office prepared to hear that the promotion he had been promised would not be forthcoming, but to learn as well that he was effectively being demoted, control of his own section taken away from him, and to be told that he had to go out and get new business… He could feel his face, his whole body burning with the humiliation of it. No wonder Peter couldn’t look him in the eye. He felt like a pariah… a leper… a failure… and it was all Ryan’s doing. Ryan, who… He had to get out of Peter’s office. If he stayed any longer he would only say something he might later regret.
Like telling him to tell Ryan what he could do with his job? Was that perhaps what they… Peter, Ryan, the senior partners… actually wanted? Did they—were they deliberately trying to humiliate him so much professionally that he did leave? After all, with his section combined with Charles’s, what real need did they have of him?
More time to get new business… and just how the hell was he supposed to do that?
‘I really am sorry, Mark,’ Peter was saying. ‘But, as I said, Charles will be retiring soon, and of course there’s no question of your having to take any reduction in salary… It’s just as well Deborah didn’t join you on this side of the business. I believe she’s doing very well, by the way. Ryan was singing her praises to the senior partners. They weren’t too happy about his intended promotion of her to take charge of this liquidation, but he assured them that she’s up to handling it.’
It was five o’clock when Mark left Peter’s office. The room he shared with the others was empty; after all, what need was there for any of them to work late? He frowned as he read the message on his desk. ‘Deborah rang 4:00.’
He picked up his telephone receiver and then put it down again. It would be just as easy to walk over to her office.
* * *
The door was open and she was speaking to someone on the phone when he walked in. As he waited for her to finish he mentally compared the office she shared with her colleagues with his: it seemed lighter, brighter; the very air seemed to breathe energy and enthusiasm. There were flowers on her desk and half a dozen fat files.
He could feel something painful and bitter twist in his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself as she replaced the receiver and smiled at him. How could he be jealous of Debs? He loved her…
‘Mark…’
She stopped speaking, her attention switching from him to Ryan as he strode into the room, pushing back the door with arrogant disregard for anyone standing close to it.
‘Sorry, Mark,’ he apologised insincerely. ‘Didn’t see you standing there.’
‘I just came to see if you were ready to leave yet,’ Mark told Deborah curtly, ignoring Ryan.
‘Sorry, Mark,’ Ryan repeated before Deborah could speak. ‘You’re too late; Debbie already has a date at the wine bar—with me…’
Debbie… since when had Ryan been calling her Debbie? She hated anyone calling her that. Mark could feel his hackles rising and his face starting to flush with anger and resentment. He knew that Ryan was deliberately trying to rile him and make him feel small and that the last thing he should do was to let him see that he was getting to him, but, coming on top of the humiliation of his interview with Peter, it was too much for his self-control.
‘Ryan wants to go over a few points with me about this liquidation,’ he could hear Deborah saying, but he wasn’t really listening to her or focusing on her; instead he was watching Ryan, watching the wolfish pleased-with-himself smile curling on the other man’s face. He was enjoying this, Mark knew; enjoying putting him down, making him look small, and Deborah was helping him do it… Couldn’t she see that? Couldn’t she see what Ryan was doing? Was she totally blind?
Abruptly his emotions changed shape, anger suddenly dominating them—anger against Deborah for the way she was letting Ryan manipulate her… use her… to get to him.
‘Don’t keep her up too late, will you?’ he heard Ryan laughing as he turned to leave the office. ‘She’s going to have a very busy day ahead of her with this case.’
As he turned into the corridor Deborah followed him.
‘Mark, I’m sorry…’
‘Sorry for what?’ he demanded bitterly. ‘Making me look a fool in front of Ryan? Well, so am I, and——’
‘What… what are you talking about? I was just going to say I was sorry I hadn’t managed to let you know I’d be working late… How did your meeting with Peter go?’
‘Working… in the wine bar? Come off it—you know as well as I do what he’s up to… and he must think he’s in with a damned good chance otherwise he wouldn’t bother wasting his time, would he?’ Mark accused her angrily.