Five O'Clock World (CH 4)

           **FIVE O'CLOCK WORLD** 

⏰No one could face London traffic without being extra guarded.  It was the scourge of any beautiful day, driving from the clean air of the outskirts and into the manic and pollution of the city.           Every morning Neil drove himself to work at Balfour Enterprises. His day, as always, finished at 5pm on the dot, and didn't really care if anyone else's did.  Complete your quota and you were outta there with him - tough if you weren't. Perks of being the boss.

   His usual morning hit of caffeine came in the shape of a drive-through large cappuccino to help tackling the traffic. Had he ever paid any attention to his car-rantings, he would have driven his own self round the bend. And now a quick right turn had just helped to spill coffee from his polystyrene cup onto the passenger seat. Had it hit his suit, he'd have gone turnaround and straight home to change. Image carried utmost importance for him and his staff, presenting a whole, not-a-hair-out-place affair - if you excluded his own, unruly waves - of which singularly, he could.  But dried in map-like stains on silky suits, simply wouldn't do. Entering the car park, Mark, his chauffeur and attendant, wished him a good morning and opened his door for him. 

   'I'm afraid there's some spillage, a dodgy coffee lid. Could you see to it for me?'

   'No problem, sir.'

   Neil swung open the doors to the building, giving his usual 'here-we-go-again', sigh. Even being as fit as he was at 57 years old, he always took the elevator. Although he rented out many of the floors in this building, he was happy to be nearer the top. A twenty-three floors ascent is still one heck of a climb, and he wouldn't risk a sweat-on. 

   The floor from which he ran his businesses, that dealt mostly with property and overseas building sites, (now his architectural days were behind him) had his own office incorporated within it. A room within a room, if you like, big enough to just host him and a secretary.  It was dubbed 'the greenhouse' (which he found quite amusing) as it consisted of four sides of eight feet high windows, with a light polycarbonate roof.  Each and every window, on each and every side, hung top to bottom venetian blinds.  That gave him the scope to shut his employees out, or keep one very keen eye on them. With one turn of the head, he had the peripheral view of the whole office and workers, although most staff desks were adjacent to his. 

   On entering the pristine room, he gave his usual morning greeting to all as he weaved his usual route to get to his space. One sit down and quick check around from his uncluttered and orderly desk (the exact way he expected all desks to be) he was appeased to see heads down going at it.  There was at least two inches of paperwork per person, materially enough to his satisfaction. Yesterday had been a bank holiday, so there was a lot of catch-up in play!  He had a stolid approach to the efforts of his staff, and generally viewed him comparatively to fireworks - still safe in it box if all was well, or a sudden explosion if you sparked his wrath!

   This morning was rather warm for the time of year and the heating system was still on, so within ten minutes his jacket was off and hung up. Jacqueline, his private secretary of ten years, who typified the whole secretary look, (cardigan, glasses and hair up in either a no-nonsense bun or ponytail) knocked twice and came into the greenhouse to start her day too.  Usually she gave him a percolator coffee and an hour before approaching him with anything, but she knew this couldn't wait. Slowly, she crept over to stand at his desk. Trying to mask his annoyance, he spoke as pleasantly as he could.

   'Jacqueline ... what can I do for you?' Said without looking up.

   She licked her lips. 'It's regarding Friday's mail?'

   'Something need signed?'

   'No, it's just ...well, a letter arrived for you and I think you need to take a look at it.'

   'Can you or Robert not take care of it?' he asked, his focus still downcast.

   'Not really.'

   'I'm trying to get the Carter contract away in time, so I don't need this right now, we've a day to catch up with.'  A hint of irascibility started to pinprick its way through, with a hefty sigh on standby.

   'I appreciate that, Sir, but it's rather personal ... from a Beverly?' 

   His pen stopped dead and his head jerked straight up. Beverly was an old flame, or rather a former partner who had long fizzled out. She was more or less his first serious girlfriend, but he hadn't heard of, or thought about her for nigh on thirty years. There was no other Beverly he knew, so in all likelihood it was her. How strange.

   'What did it say?'

   'Please sir - read it.'  The reluctance of committing herself to read aloud sparked certain caution in him, as she held the letter out.  He took it from her and she turned to leave the room.

   'No, Jacqueline ... stay, please.'  The nature of how she was handling this told him that she must be aware of some pivotal point or other. No wonder she'd been acting strained.

       

       Dear Neil,

                        I'm not sure if this message will actually get to you, but if it does, I hope it finds you well. I am not doing so good and it's because of this I need to let you know.  This letter was not easy to write and  I wasn't going to send it at all. I do hope I've made the right decision. 

      Neil, you have a daughter.  I gave birth to her months after we split up, and she's almost 27 now. I know this will be a shock, and I apologise for that. All I ask is for a chance to explain. 

      I shall be in London this Tuesday attending a hospital appointment and this could give us the opportunity to meet. I'll be heading to Blazes department store afterwards, which I believe is not too far from your offices. From 1pm, I'll be waiting in the coffee bar section of their restaurant.  If you can't make it or don't get this letter in time, I shall be back for treatment the next again Tuesday (9th). Same arrangement.  If you don't show up for either one, I will wholeheartedly understand.  

                                              Beverly (Reymarr) 

   His secretary never took her eyes off him as he read. Slumping back in his seat, exasperated, and still holding the paper bolt-from-the-blue, she couldn't begin to imagine how such news must feel.  After a short silence, he sat forward, not quite taking all of this in.

   'Did you read it all?' he asked.
   'Yes,' she admitted, 'it was kinda hard not to once I read ... you know.'

   He smiled at her honesty. 'Fair enough. What do you make of it?'
She raised a hand to sit on her chest, and glanced awkwardly around her before holding his gaze again.  It was as if neither wanted to voice their conclusion, despite both surmising the same. She drew in a brave breath. 'Sounds like she's ill with something serious.'

   He nodded and had a stare at his paperweight.  'Anyone else know of this?'
   'Absolutely not. I was the one who opened it. The envelope wasn't marked 'private' or anything, but I thought it odd with the hand-written address, so separated it right away.'

   'That's good'.  Loyalty from her knew no bounds, and he knew he would be lost without her and often told her so.
   Looking at the envelope in more detail, he noticed the postmark from where it was sent was not too far away, and she still seemed to be using her maiden name. Why she added it in brackets kind of puzzled him. Even with the vast passing of time, it was something he'd hardly forget given that both their father's ran a small business together way back. That was how they met.  The handwriting didn't spark familiarity in the least, and there were no lasting embers of romance that some carry with first loves.
   'This can't go any further, Jacqueline.'
   'Of course not, that goes without saying. So ... what are you going to do?'  The big question!  Jacqueline knew only too well that Neil Balfour was a man that very much needed to get things out of the way (usually by 5pm if at all possible). But this predicament couldn't be listed for quick erasure off the to-do list. While knowing the golden rule of never disturbing him at home for anything work-related, (lest the bloody building be on fire) she was now questioning herself if perhaps she should have called him at home over the weekend. But a call over something so startling, she felt, was better disclosed personally.
   Neil rubbed a hand over his chin, his working mind now well and truly addled.  'Not sure, Jacqueline, but at least I've got till tomorrow to mull it over.'
   'It's Tuesday today, sir.' She raised her eyebrows. 'Bank holiday yesterday?'
   The news had thrown him off guard from usually being on the ball. 

   'So it is,' he gave a part-embarrassed smile and tapped nervous fingers on the desk, leaned back and shaking his head at the ceiling, morally stumped. 

   'Why not give yourself till next week, a bit more thinking time?'        

   'Christ, I don't know ... ' he composed his sitting stature. '... you come to work of a morning and you're a father by elevenses!'
            

                                   end of  Five  O'Clock  World...