‘Wedding dresses? Keith?’
Mack laughed. ‘I know. Sounds pretty unlikely, doesn’t it? But he’s got this contact over in Russia or somewhere – some guy he used to play golf with I think, who’s gone back to the motherland. Anyway, he makes these really high-end wedding dresses – they’d retail for a few grand here – and Keith can get them at a good price. He’s been flogging a few on eBay recently and they’ve gone pretty well, but he wants to start bringing them in wholesale, selling them on to retail places. That’s where I come in.’ He flashed a grin. ‘Now, go on, admit it. Am I not the perfect guy to do that job? These shops are all run by nice ladies of a certain age. I don’t think I’m flattering myself to suggest I do have a certain way with nice ladies of a certain age. I think I’ll be able to turn their heads in the direction of Keith’s bridal gown range pretty successfully.’
Jazzy had to laugh. ‘I suppose you’re right. I can’t think of a better person to do that job. Is that going to be the name of the company then? “Keith’s Bridal Gown Range”?’
Mack laughed too. ‘No. It’s not really called anything at the moment, but I think he’s going to call it “Anastasia”. Can’t really call it “Russian Brides”, can he? Might give off the wrong impression.’
Jazzy had tried gently to nudge Mack away from the idea of working for Keith. Although the wedding dress thing did not sound screamingly, actively illegal, it could surely not be entirely above board either. But Mack would not be moved. He gave his notice at the anti-static flooring company and, a few weeks into the new year, he became the regional sales rep, national sales rep, director of sales and deputy director of sales for Anastasia Ltd. ‘I’m desperate,’ he confessed to Jazzy on the only occasion when he had expressed anything approaching doubts. ‘I know it’s a cop out, taking a job from an old family friend.’ (That was how Mack always referred to his and Keith’s relationship if anyone asked.) ‘And I know Keith’s not exactly man of the year at the Inland Revenue or anything. But he’s promised me this is legit, and I believe him. Anyway, I’ve got to get out. And this ought to be a laugh. Come on, women’s clothing? I was born to do it.’ His laugh had been a little too hearty, Jazzy thought, his enthusiasm a little too full, and when Jazzy looked into his friend’s eyes, behind the chilly blue he could see absolutely nothing.
A few weeks after that, Jazzy’s redundancy was confirmed. He had started looking round for something else as soon as the redundancy was mooted as a possibility, but the task seemed overwhelming. His job at the bank had been the only proper, grown-up job he had ever had. He had liked working there and he had been good at his job, but nevertheless that did not leave him with much confidence that he would be equally successful anywhere else. He and Petra could live pretty comfortably on her salary for the foreseeable future, and she was keen that he didn’t rush into anything. ‘Wait,’ she kept telling him, ‘find something that really feels right.’ But after a few months, the novelty of being at home all day, of getting up when he wanted, going to the pub or the shops or the library in the middle of the day, cooking elaborate meals for Petra that they would eat together when she finally got home, usually well after seven in the evening, began to wear off. The longer Jazzy was out of work, the more impossible seemed the task of not only finding another job, but actually doing the job once he had found it. He was beginning to doubt himself, to suspect that the strengths and abilities he had taken for granted in his old job may have deserted him altogether. Petra noticed it, of course, and Simone noticed it too, the pair of them fussing over him, encouraging and cajoling and transparently leaving print-outs of job ads all over the house. But Mack noticed it too, and he was the only one who offered any kind of concrete solution.
‘We could do with someone at Anastasia,’ he had said, ‘to look after the IT side of things. We need a decent website, we might start selling direct online too if we can make it pay. All the files need computerising too. Nothing too taxing, but we’d pay pretty well and you’d be as good as your own boss.’ Jazzy knew a charity hand-out when it was shoved under his nose, but by this time Petra was pregnant with Rory. They were due to get married in the summer. Petra taking anything more than the minimum maternity leave was out of the question, financially speaking, but even so the fact that they would need an extra income was now unarguable.
He had agreed to take on all of Anastasia’s IT-related work on a temporary basis until he found something more suited to his strengths, or at least that was what he told himself. In fact, once he had started working there, he had realised that he might find the light workload, flexible hours and pretty reasonable hourly rate hard to let go of. This was particularly true once Rory was born; the perks of earning a full-time wage, albeit a pretty modest one, for what was very much a part-time job, suited him and Petra very well. The thought of both of them leading the long-hours corporate lifestyle that her job forced her into was enough to keep him from browsing the job ads in too much depth.
Jazzy shivered in the morning chill and pulled his scarf up to his chin as he fumbled with the office building’s keypad, hastily shoving the crumpled letter into his pocket. Could it be that Mack was paying a heavy price for his keenness to take the easy option when Keith proffered it? And could it be that he, Jazzy, may have to do the same?
Jazzy had not expected anybody else to be in the office yet. If the place was fully staffed, there was only ever him, Mack and Keith, and Mack was away on sales calls more than half the time, while Keith tended to leave the office side of things to the other two. Keith took care of the import/export part of the business, wheeling and dealing with Russian tailors and Latvian freight companies, and the unspoken deal was that as long as the goods and the money kept flowing, neither side of the business would ask too many questions of the other. But as Jazzy approached the office from the communal stairwell, he noticed a light in the office Jazzy and Mack shared.
‘Hello?’ he called out as he unlocked the door and turned on the lights in what they called, in a rather grandiose manner, the reception area.
‘In here.’ It was Keith.
Keith was rising from Mack’s desk as Jazzy entered the room. He could tell from the whirring of the computer’s fan that it had only just been switched off.
‘Everything OK?’ Jazzy asked.
‘Yeah, yeah, fine.’ Keith was dressed like an archetypal middle-aged businessman on his day off – perfectly ironed slacks, a V-necked mint green jumper over a checked shirt, and beige loafers. ‘Just called in to catch up on a few emails. Our internet at home’s on the blink.’
‘Right. Bit of a way to come isn’t it?’
Keith held Jazzy’s gaze for quite a lot longer than normal people found comfortable, then drew his neck back in such a way that Jazzy could not help but construe it as a gesture of aggression. ‘Had some other stuff to do up this way, didn’t I? My brother-in-law wants me to look at a car with him over at Palmers Green, thought I may as well pop in here first. Not a problem is it?’
Jazzy shook his head. No matter how many times he swore to himself not to allow Keith to intimidate him, the guy always somehow managed it. ‘No, course not.’ He could hear himself estuarising his accent, blunting the cultured vowels. He hated himself for doing it, but he could not stop himself.
‘Anyway, I’m off now, soon be out of your hair. Young Joe not here today?’ Keith always called Mack by his first name, even though to Jazzy’s knowledge no one else outside his immediate family did so.
‘Er, no. Actually…’ Jazzy thought about what Mack had said in his letter. He was reluctant to disobey his friend’s wishes, but if something was wrong with Mack, then Keith was probably his best hope of getting to the bottom of it. He decided to hedge around the subject as best he could. ‘I was actually expecting him back by now. You’ve not heard from him have you?’
Keith’s face was expressionless, his mouth narrow. ‘No. Not a sausage.’ Keith picked up his phone in its leather case and put it in his trouser pocket. He winked at Jazzy. ‘Probably found himself some young lovely while he was away, taking a little bit of French leave, you know our Joe. Got to go. See you.’
As