The Colour of Sunday Afternoons Read online

  The line clicked.

  Jane put down the phone.

  For a long time, Jane just sat there, stunned, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Someone she knew was dead, just like that. It didn't seem real. But it was real. Jane's head hurt.

  She was so tired, so confused, it was a mercy that sleep came to her in a few minutes. She slept, fretfully, right there on the sofa.

  She didn't cry.

  The world seemed very far away to Jane's sleeping mind, as she lay on her sofa. The television still burned. As the hours passed, a dream began to form in her slumbering thoughts. Jane dreamed she was standing in a large white room. Someone was in there with her – it was a woman, with a voice as hard as steel, dressed in a business suit, pacing back and forth, muttering.

  In her dream, Jane considered the impressive figure, the impeccable suit, the diamond bracelet, the commanding walk. It had to be Christina. Yes, she thought, it must be Christina, but her back was turned to Jane, and her face was out of sight. The figure was spitting criticism, all the while pacing, never standing still. "Worked himself into the ground! Burned himself out! And just when we needed him most. Typical."

  Jane dreamed she spoke back. "You mean Michael? But Michael’s dead. What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

  The businesswoman, angry and uninterested, continued as if she had not heard Jane speak. "The new accounts have to be reported. Head Office is going to flip! And he goes and loses it. Well, that makes sense. He always was a loser, after all. Never made it to New York. Stuck out here in the boondocks."

  "Hey!" Jane shouted in her dream. "What are you talking about? Michael is dead. Don't you know that? He's dead!"

  The woman turned to face Jane. She yelled, furiously. "Of course I know he's dead! What did you expect? He worked himself into the ground. SO WHAT DID YOU EXPECT? You people never learn."

  Jane tried desperately to wake up.

  Her heart pounded wildly. Sweat trickled down her face as her sleeping body tried to wake itself from the dream. Jane lingered painfully on the uneasy knife-edge between sleep and life. It wasn't what the figure had said that frightened her; it was the face, the angry, steely face.

  Suddenly, Jane splashed out of sleep.

  She was awake all at once, relieved to see the familiar room around her. She breathed heavily, still shocked by the nightmare. It wasn't Christina that she had seen in the dream. It was herself. The angry, steely face that had made Jane’s blood run cold was the face of Jane Hamilton, her own face.

  Jane sat there, shivering, for a long time.

  Where was her guardian angel when she needed him?

  Chapter 10

  When Monday morning finally came, Jane was still looking grey from the shock of Michael's death. The programming room at Infosolve was strangely quiet. Jane walked over to Steve's desk. "Hey, Speedy."

  Steve looked up. "Hey, Jane. You know, I almost feel guilty – all the things I said about Michael. It's hard to believe he's dead. He seemed indestructible, always pushing harder. I thought maybe he'd break us, but I never thought he'd break himself."

  “I know,” said Jane.

  "What really gets me is his wife and kids: one minute they have a dad, and the next minute he's gone."

  Jane agreed, in silence.

  "Is that what's going to happen to us, Jane? Is that the road we're on? I've been thinking about all the nights I've spent sleeping under my desk in that old sleeping bag."

  Jane shrugged. "You know you shouldn't do that, Steve. It might be trendy, but what's it doing to your life?"

  "I know you're right.” Steve sat quietly for a moment. “But what about you? It's you they’re going to promote, Jane, not me. And it's you, just as much as me, who works herself to the edge. Isn’t it?"

  Jane looked down at the floor and then back up at Steve. "I've been thinking about that all weekend. I had this dream: it was me, only it wasn't me – this angry woman. It really shook me up. And there's something else. I've met this chubby little guy who says he's my ..."

  "Yes?"

  "My ..." Jane thought twice about discussing her guardian angel, imitation leprechaun suit and all. She realised it would sound crazy. "My ... second cousin. Never knew I had one."

  Steve pulled a face at her. "Your second cousin?"

  "Uh huh."

  "Oh. Great ... I guess. Are you feeling okay, Jane?"

  "I'm just a little upset, that's all."

  Jane left Steve and went to see Gary, who was standing at the far end of the programming room talking to Janette. Both were uncharacteristically morose. As Jane approached, she overheard their quiet conversation.

  "It’ll be okay, Janette," said Gary. "Everything will work out fine."

  Janette was distraught. "I ... just can't believe it."

  Jane interrupted them. "Hi. You guys okay?"

  Gary smiled weakly. "I’m fine. Janette's just heard the news."

  Janette looked grim. "Something like this had to happen, sooner or later. It's just I've been lucky: no one I’ve known has ever died, except my grandparents. It’s going to take a little getting used to. But, anyway, I’d better get back to work. The world doesn’t stop, right? See you at the meeting." Janette walked off and left Gary alone with Jane.

  "Meeting?" Jane asked.

  "Yeah,” said Gary. “Christina’s called a special meeting at ten. So we'd better look lively. She's been on the phone to New York all weekend."

  “Okay,” said Jane. “I’ll be there. But first, I'm going to go check on Albert. Have you seen him?"

  "Yeah. He was talking with Grace and Nira, out at reception."

  "Thanks." Jane walked to the entrance corridor. When she reached reception, she found Grace talking to Albert and Nira, who were standing quietly like two sad children being consoled by a favourite Aunt.

  Grace waved at Jane. "Hello, Ms Deputy State Manager!"

  "We all think it's great," Albert added.

  "Yes ... great," Nira said meekly.

  Jane frowned. "What are you all talking about?"

  Grace looked seriously at Jane. "Jane, I know everything that goes on in this firm, and in most of our competitors, too. What do you think I do out here all day? Type? No point being coy. You know what I'm talking about. Someone’s being promoted."

  "Grace! Please – someone just died! How can you talk like that?" Jane looked genuinely upset with her.

  "Look, Jane. I’ve just been explaining, to the young folks here, how this company works. Crying in our cornflakes about Michael? It’s right to be upset, but you have to keep moving around here, or you’ll get run over by the wheels of progress. Do you suppose the company’s going to declare a day of mourning for Michael? Do you think anything is going to stop? You must be joking! Everything goes on, Jane, right now."

  Jane had never seen Grace like this before. "But, Grace, really ..."

  Grace held up her hand. "Really, nothing! You may think I'm being hard. I'm just being realistic. There are no tears being shed for Michael in New York. There'll be a few memos, tastefully written, and that, Jane, is that. Christina’s already been promoted into Michael's position."

  Nira spoke up. "I ... didn't like Michael. He treated everyone badly. But I can’t believe he’s gone. It’s horrible."

  Albert continued for her. "Nobody liked him. But Grace has a point. We’d better not get caught napping. Things are going to move quickly around here."

  Nira, uncharacteristically, spoke up some more. "I've been listening to Grace. I think she’s right. I'm sick of being pushed around. I ... we ... think you could do a better job than Michael did. We're glad about your promotion, Jane."

  Jane looked at each of them in turn, speechless.

  Grace spoke. "In thirty minutes, in Christina's meeting, you, Jane, will be promoted into her old position, now that she’s got Michael's spot. Wait and see."

  "New York has decided that Christina won't actually be based here,” said Albert. “She’s going off-site. You'll
be our new leader here. Things could change, Jane – we're all counting on you. If they don't change, this company is going to start losing people, and I don't mean the way they lost Michael."

  Jane didn't know quite what to say. "Well, I ... I'll do my best."

  Nira held out a floppy hand for Jane to shake. "We know you will, Jane. Congratulations. We’re all pleased for you."

  Albert patted Jane on the back.

  Grace just sat behind her reception counter like a wise sage. She had seen it all before. To her, it was just another story in the big corporate book. Times changed – that was just the way it was, the way it always would be.

  A few minutes later, Jane was on her way to the meeting, striding down the corridor which led to the conference room, when, without warning, Christina's voice came suddenly, a sharp bark from behind.

  "Jane!"

  Jane looked around. Christina had been following her.

  "Jane, could you step into my office for a moment?"

  "Sure."

  Soon, Jane was seated in front of Christina's desk, admiring the huge sales chart which took pride of place on the far wall.

  "What can I do for you?" Jane asked.

  "Slow down, slow down." Christina looked as if she were sizing Jane up. "Jane, I know you're upset about Michael. We all are."

  "How’s his wife? How are the kids?" said Jane.

  Christina paused. "Not well. Marie had to be sedated at the hospital, on Friday. I didn't want to tell you. The kids are staying with friends. Marie's still in hospital – the psychiatrists don't want her unsupervised. It's all pretty grim."

  "Oh, my God.” Jane was horrified.

  "I've spoken to Tom, in New York. Michael's company life insurance will be coming through. They'll all be well provided for. Not that it matters much, right now, but at least they won't have to worry about money. I'll go see Marie, tomorrow. But there’s something else I need to talk to you about."

  Jane shifted uneasily in her chair. "Oh?"

  "I'm sure Grace has told you. She never could keep a secret. You're being promoted right away, Jane. That is, if you think you’re ready. I'd like you to take my old position: Deputy State Manager. I'll be moving to Regional Headquarters. That makes you the manager on-site. You’ll be in charge here, if you want the position."

  "But ... it’s so soon."

  "Don't worry. We'll send you to a private management school of your choice, when things settle down. In the meantime, I can help you. We'll be in touch with each other."

  "Well, I do want the promotion. It's just, under the circumstances ..."

  "You mean Michael's death?" Christina’s eyes narrowed.

  "Well, yes. I don't feel good about it."

  Christina waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "You're a good person, Jane. I respect you. New York respects you. You’re popular with the staff. I know you feel awkward about the circumstances, but this would have happened anyway. Michael was due for promotion. We've had it all planned for some time. You are, plainly and simply, the best person for the job. So, are you up to it?"

  Jane thought for a moment. She spoke slowly, remembering her conversation with Steve after the last monthly meeting, remembering her promise to do things differently if she ever swept into power. "I’m up to it. That’s a yes. But I'd like to make a few changes. Will I have the power to change our methods a little, providing we get results? I don't want to manage if my position is just symbolic."

  Christina was a little surprised by Jane's candour, but then, she thought, she'd always known Jane had guts. "Jane, if you get results, that's all that matters to me. You'll have my support. Just remember: Head Office can overrule me any time they like. It's no picnic up here. But I think you’ll do well. So, do you want it?"

  Jane stood up. "Thank you. I accept."

  Christina walked around her desk to Jane's side. As they both paused by the door, she shook Jane's hand. "Well then, let's go tell the troops.”

  Jane corrected her boss. "You mean, tell the team."

  Christina raised an eyebrow – obviously Jane was an idealist. She wondered how long Jane would last in the slippery arena of corporate management, with all of its politics and back-stabbing. Maybe, she thought, Jane might just make it.

  Minutes later, Christina surveyed the quiet occupants of the conference room. Albert sat at the far end of the long table, next to Jane. Gary was on Jane's other side. Janette looked pale, Steve, impassive, and Nira seemed on the verge of tears.

  Rising from her chair, Christina called the meeting to order. "Good morning, everyone. Well, we've had some sad news. There isn't anything I can say to do Michael’s memory justice, so I’m not going to make some shallow speech. Better we all reflect on what’s happened in our own time."

  Steve grunted, obviously unimpressed. "We all know there isn't anything we can say. It's shaken us up pretty badly. But we've heard different rumours from Head Office. What's really going on? What’s going to happen next?"

  Christina paused. "I’m glad you asked, Steve. It may seem harsh, but we need to get organised, ASAP. We're juggling several big accounts, right now, and we can't afford to get behind. So, I want to announce the new changes."

  There was a knock on the door.

  Grace poked her head in and waved a manila folder at Christina, who motioned for her to come in. Grace handed the file to Christina. On her way out, she winked at Jane.

  "Good," said Christina. "I was waiting for these papers. Well, I may as well give them straight to you, Jane."

  Christina slid the folder across the table. "As of today, Jane is the new Deputy State Manager, my old position. She’ll be our manager, on-site. I'll be moving to Regional Headquarters, so if you have any queries or problems, the person to see is Jane. I'd just like to say that her promotion is long overdue. It’s been planned for some time. The sad thing which has happened has just brought it forward a couple of months. So, Jane, congratulations."

  Murmurs of good wishes came from everyone at the table.

  Steve spoke louder than the rest. "It's about time!"

  Christina interrupted the congratulations. "Well, that’s the main point of business I wanted to raise. There are one or two other things, but they can wait. We may as well get back to work. Anything you'd like to say, Jane, before we close?"

  Jane stood up, feeling self-conscious. "Just thanks, guys, for your support, and I'll do my best not to let you down. We have a good team, here, and a good future. So, that’s all I’ve got to say. Let's go have some coffee!"

  Pleased, and still murmuring with excitement among themselves, the group got up and filed out of the conference room.

  Gary shook Jane's hand as he left.

  Christina was the last to leave. At the door, she spoke seriously. "I have to run, Jane. We'll meet tomorrow and start organising everything. And don't worry about your accounts. I'll be asking Steve to handle the overload and we have a replacement programmer coming in next week. Meanwhile, take a look through that folder. It goes over all the details of your new position. I think you'll be pleased with the salary package and incentives. We can discuss it tomorrow."

  With that, Christina swept out of the room.

  Jane stood alone, feeling numb. It had happened at last. She was a manager. But she looked at the chair at the head of the conference table, the one that Michael used to take, and thought of his wife and kids. Poor Marie. Shamus would tell me, she thought, not to forget what happened.

  Joe sat down on the sofa chair nearest his piano. Maybe he would play, maybe not. It had been a hard Monday at work, and it was getting late – he didn't know if he had the energy. As he pondered this, in his softly lit living room, the telephone rang. Lazily, he reached for the receiver.

  "Hello?"

  "Joe. It's Jane Hamilton."

  Joe perked up – he was always impressed when a woman called him. It was usually a good sign. "Jane! How are you? Did you have a good weekend?"

  "Well, I don't want to burden you wit
h my troubles, Joe, but ... no. There was a death in the company. Our manager had a heart attack. He died, late on Friday. It was pretty horrible."

  "Good grief. I’m sorry.”

  "Yes. Anyway, to cut a long story short, it's been a pretty bad weekend. There was one piece of good news, though."

  "Oh?"

  "I got promoted! Things are changing at the office. They want me to be the new manager. But I don't feel very good about it, with Michael's death and all."

  "Yeah, I can understand that,” said Joe, “but they wouldn't be promoting you, if you didn’t deserve it. You must be the best person for the job.”

  "So they say. It's a great opportunity. I just don't know how I'm going to cope. Things are already pretty hectic, and with this promotion on top of it all ..."

  "Hmmm."

  "So, anyway ..." Jane paused.

  A sad thought flashed into Joe's mind. "I understand. You’re trying to tell me you’ll be too busy to socialise. Don’t feel bad about it. I know you’re busy."

  "Oh no," said Jane. "That's not what I meant. My friends would kill me if I didn't ... you see ... um ... no. I was just calling to say hi. So ... hi!" Jane wondered why she was making such a fool of herself. She hardly knew this guy.

  Joe was convinced he was sounding dumb. Better play it cool, he thought, and not show too much enthusiasm. "Yes ... our friends would kill us if we didn't at least keep in touch, after all the effort they went to, arranging for us to meet. Right?"

  "Right," said Jane, relieved that an excuse had been found.

  "Great," said Joe, relieved that he didn't sound too eager.

  "That's settled, then," said Jane, businesslike.

  "Right.”

  Jane had run out of useful things to say.

  "So," said Joe. "You're pretty hectic at work?"

  "That's the understatement of the century. I just can't seem to get five minutes to myself. The accounts are all urgent, everything has to be done, like, yesterday."

  "I know what you mean, Jane. Lately, I've been getting pretty annoyed with Vikram, our Assistant Manager. He loves to turn the screws on us, to squeeze us a little bit more ... it's all take.”