TGI Chronicles Pt. 2 Ch. 05

We turned back to Tim, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

And he explained how he had inherited a vintage Bentley, that now sits in the garage under his apartment. I don't know why, maybe because I know him so well, but I didn't quite believe the story, it didn't quite ring true. Then I remembered something, not that I could see how it related, "Didn't that next door neighbour of yours have an old Bentley?"

"Yes, he did." Tim was glancing at Drew and then back to me.

I recognised the signs, "Anyone fancy Round Two?" I stood up with my empty glass.

"Not for me, thanks Dave. I will owe you one, Drew. But I think I'll get back now." Tim said, and he stood up and left, patting my shoulder as he went.

"Well, that leaves you and me, Drew. How about you?"

Drew looked slightly uncomfortable, "No, thanks, Dave. I think I'll leave it as well, if you don't mind?"

"No. No. No obligation. I'm sure there will be other nights. Don't worry, if you've got somewhere where you've got to be. See you in the office tomorrow."

I bought myself another pint, and sat there wondering how Tim came to have his wife's ex-lover's Bentley, and why Drew didn't fancy drinking with me. Not that either issue worried me, I was feeling good.

The rest of the week passed smoothly. Drew came to see me once about the project manager's job, but I dodged that by telling him that I was waiting for Personnel to announce a new procedure for transfers and promotions, which was now imminent. The transfers bit was true.

Davinia saw me as much as her Regency Player's commitments would allow, not that that was much. But she stayed over on Tuesday night, and on Thursday and Friday nights. So I wasn't complaining, we really were beginning to be very comfortable in each other's company.

On Wednesday evening Lucy phoned me to tell me that Pete wasn't coming home as expected, in just over a week, but that he'd put it off for a week. I wasn't really that interested, but I hoped it would work out for her. I hoped that this Pete would be decent about it, go off to Edinburgh and live happily ever after with whoever he's got up there, and leave Lucy to get on with her life down here. She deserved a happier life and a chance to start again

The Friday night's drinks went smoothly. Davinia spent a lot of it standing at my side, with her hand around my waist. How's that for PDA'ing? It was a pity Drew wasn't there, apparently he had somewhere else to go.

On the Saturday, Davinia spent most of it at Regency Players, but I insisted that she would come out with me in the evening. I think she felt a little bit guilty, but I like to think it was just that she wanted to spend some time with me, but she accepted and we agreed the time for me to pick her up.

We went to the theatre, to see Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman. I'd never seen it before, and I loved it. And then afterwards, we found this nice Thai restaurant near the theatre, and had a wonderful meal. And we talked and we laughed and everything was wonderful. And then we went back to my place.

Sunday was the TGI Race Day, and we were under orders to be at the Dewbury Race Course at eleven o'clock. We got there and parked two cars away from this huge black vintage Bentley. So Tim and Beth had arrived. There were three or four other couples around it, talking to Tim. Beth stood on one side just waiting. Then Alice arrived, by herself. She went straight to Beth and greeted her. Myself and Davinia wandered over, and there were greetings all round. Then I looked at the car, as were most of the guys, but only a few of the girls, most of the women just stood at the back, near a rear passenger door. I joined them to chat, and Tim came across.

"What do you think of it Dave?"

"Very nice. Not exactly my cup of tea, but I admit it has style. It looks in great condition." I opened the rear door to look inside. The rear passenger compartment was immaculate, the leather shining as if it was brand new, except for two odd scuff marks on the rear of the front seats. I stopped to look at them more closely, they were nothing serious, a little renovating leather polish would probably remove them, "They're odd." I said to Tim, pointing them out.

Alice looked in at them, as I said "I wonder what caused them. Have you been carrying anything big in here Tim?"

"They look like the scuff marks that a woman's high heeled shoe would make," said Alice, "Don't they, Beth?"

Beth giggled and pulled Alice out, Tim sort of flushed slightly. Alice had obviously hit on it. How come she can spot the marks of back seat passion when I don't? I pride myself on that sort of thing, I've had enough practice.

Other than that, the Race Day went off without a hitch. It was full of polite conversation with other men's wives, but with enough wine poured, slowly the atmosphere softened to more of a party. Alice dragged me over to be introduced to a few people, introducing me as the 'new star' of our insurance development team.

Greg Dickens of ITP was there, by himself as far as I could see. He looks as if he'd been ill, he had lost a lot of weight, and looked rather drawn. Late in the afternoon, I saw Tim lead him off to another bar, open to the public, rather than the one in the executive entertainment suite. That left me with Beth as well as Davinia as company. But that gave me a chance to thank Beth for arranging her hen party and helping to get myself and Davinia back together. What was nice was that Davinia gave me a squeeze and added her thanks to Beth. Beth responded by inviting us to dinner on the following Saturday, our first invite as a couple, which was rather nice.

At the end of the afternoon, myself and Davinia stopped at the King's Head on the Sheepen road, as did quite a number of other TGI'ers. Some seemed to be drunk already, others seemed intent to get themselves into that state as soon as possible. So, as I was driving, I suggested to Davinia that we just went home, which we did.

As we went into my living room she went over to my DVD and CD collection, probably to check that I had really thrown away a load of my porn collection. But she went through them and chose one of them, "How about we watch this?" she asked.

"I'd rather we just went to bed and practiced the real thing."

And we did. It was pretty vanilla, just fucking in missionary position, after a certain amount of foreplay. But it was great. I truly felt that we were back together for the foreseeable future.

Afterwards, she asked if I was hungry, and I miss understood her completely, answering by working my way up her legs from her toes. She realised the misunderstanding, just before I started it lick her out, for which I was grateful. I'm not a great one for licking out a woman afterwards, but I thought it was what she wanted. She had really meant to ask whether I needed some food? Well, yes, I did. So we showered, which was happy fun in the bathroom, but no fucking in the shower this time. And then we went out to find somewhere to eat.

We ended up back at Not Steinbeck's, which was OK. We chatted happily, and then she implied that she was going home that night, which disappointed me. She explained that she hadn't any clothes for the office in the morning.

"We could solve that. There's plenty of room in the wardrobes in my room. And I can always make more space if you want."

"Are you suggesting that I should move in? Us, together?" she asked, her eyes darkening.

"Well, I wondered. I wouldn't mind. How about you?"

"I wouldn't mind! You're so romantic, Dave. How could I ever resist."

"I'm sorry. That wasn't very well put. I think I really would like you to move in, Dav. I think we could have some fun living together. How about it?"

She sipped her wine, her eyes not lightening. I watched her carefully. Eventually she looked up at me, "No. Not yet. I'm not ready. I don't know whether that's you, or whether I'm still not over Tod, not deep down. I'm sorry, Dave."

I looked away, and sat there just thinking, or just feeling. Then I turned back, but looked at my glass rather than at her, "What don't you know about whether it's me or not? I thought we were getting somewhere."

Her hand went out to mine across the table, "I don't know. I just don't know. I think I have some difficulty trying to separate the image of the playboy Dave Finch that the girls at work talk about, and the man I've been sleeping with. Or maybe it's just too soon over Tod."

I just sat in silence. Logic told me she was being fair, but I didn't feel mollified.

Her other hand came across the table to find my other hand, "Oh! Dave. Tod is the only real comparison that I can go by. And I don't feel the passion I felt for him at the beginning. I know that. But you are a far kinder, more considerate, gentler man than he ever was. I do like that in you. Look, don't you think we've got a good thing going as we are? I'll stay over some nights, and go home some nights. I rather like this halfway house sort of arrangement. Just give me time. Please Dave, just some more time."

There was nothing I could say. I picked up her hands and brought them to my mouth and gently kissed them. "Of course, we've got all the time you need."

And we left it there. I walked her back to her parent's house, still feeling a little sad, even a little hard done by. But she knew that, and held me tight, and kissed me so passionately as we said goodnight.

In work on Monday, Tim called me to his office and asked if I was ready to give him my ideas how I wanted to solve the Drew promotion and Helen transfer problem. I was sort of vague, because I still wasn't quite sure how to lay out a complete departmental reorganisation and make it attractive for him. I just wanted to chat it through, not present plans.

Somehow, Tim seemed to recognise my problem, and sat back in his chair, "Why don't we have a cup of coffee and talk about it?"

I looked at my watch, "Because I've got progress meetings on three projects, back to back, for the rest of the day."

"OK. But I'm not sure when we'll get another chance. I'm out for a lot of this week. I've got a two day conference in London, plus a sales presentation for Alice and a client meeting with Neil. We'll just have to play it by ear, and grab some time when we can. Are you going to the gym this evening?"

"Probably, but it depends on the theatrical seamstress you keep as a secretary. If she's not sewing, then maybe I won't."

"Well it's Relax with Dance night again, so I thought I'd go."

"Well, as I said, maybe."

As it turned out, Davinia was going to be at the Regency Players that night, so I did go to the gym. Drew was there, but that wasn't a surprise, what was a surprise was that he declined to come to the Black Swan with myself and Tim.

After we got our pints, Tim looked at me and said, "Do we have a problem with Drew?"

"I'm not sure. I know I'm mucking him about a bit on this Project Manager's role. That can't be much fun for him."

"And?" said Tim, knowing there was more.

"And I suspect he is really upset about Davinia and me getting together. Do you remember when we were in here and I'd said that I was taking her out?" Tim nodded, so I continued, "Well, even after that, he tried dating her, when I had expressly told him that I didn't want to see us fight over her. It would have been fair enough if she and I hadn't worked out, but we have. Or have so far, I think."

"Anything else?"

"Well, the other day in the office, he rather accused me of holding up his promotion because he had tried dating Dav. And the other Friday in the pub after work, when Dav was there by herself, and I was sorting my film collection, well apparently even then he checked up on her to see if I had been given the order of the boot. And I've noticed that if myself and Dav go to the pub together, then he makes his excuses and leaves."

"Coincidence or does he have a real thing about her?"

"I don't know. I thought it was just healthy alpha male rivalry for the pretty girl. But, now that you come to mention it, maybe it is more than that."

"Bugger!" said Tim. He took a long draught of his beer and paused in thought, "We could do without this in the office. Has Davinia said anything, is he causing her any trouble?"

"No, I don't think so. She seems to quite like him. But I can't ask too much, it would look as if I'm paranoid about it."

"Which you are, but you don't want her to know."

"Yes, well.. Would you want anyone sniffing around Beth?"

He didn't look happy at that comment. But it wasn't the most sensitive question I could have asked. "Sorry, bad memories. I didn't mean... you know."

"No. It's OK Dave. It's not your fault." He looked at me and tried to smile. "I'll have a word with Davinia, you know, official boss's concern about a member of the team that is off key at the moment."

Now that could be interesting, "Let me know what she says." I asked, as casually as I could.

"I might." he said, into his glass, as he drank.

"Only might?"

"Yes. It depends what she says. I'll respect her confidentiality as I would yours." He looked at me, and I knew he was right. But I really ought to get his office bugged!

"Oh."

"And, anyway, you must sort out what you're going to do with him anyway. And as soon as possible."

"Well, we'll talk about that later, if I can work out what I want to say. What conference are you going on?"

"Corporate Governance. It was Charlie Bullard's idea. In fact, I notice from the advance papers issued that Sir Philip Cochran is chairing it, so that's probably why I've got to go."

"Who's he?"

"Don't you ever read your staff newsletters? He's that retired banker who is now a director. I've met him, he's quite a nice chap. But I guess Charlie or Neil thought that if he's chairing it, then someone from TGI should be there. And I guess my name came out of the hat. So I get two days in a swish hotel listening to people not telling me their trade secrets, when I could be doing some constructive work."

"It's tough at the top. D'you want another one?"

He looked at his watch, "Yeah. Why not?"

We had one more pint, and then I went back to an empty flat.

On the Tuesday morning I went to see Davinia at her desk. She was on the phone talking costumes and theatre when I arrived. Eventually she put the phone down.

"Who was that?" I asked

"Oh! The director. Apparently he isn't happy. Too many of the costumes are cream or gold. He wants Mrs Malaprop to stand out. Well, there's a maroon Victorian ball gown in wardrobe, I've suggested that I could probably do something with that."

"Good. But does that mean I'm going to see even less of you?"

"Yes, probably. I'm sorry Dave. But I did promise that I would help them out before we got together. I wasn't to know. And I am rather enjoying it. It's nice to be back am dramming. But, it means that I'm now meeting the director and the woman who is head of wardrobe and props at lunchtime, and probably meeting Mrs Malaprop with the costume this evening. Sorry."

"Great. I was hoping we could do something this evening. Like see each other!"

"Look, I'll just sort out what's got to be done this evening. I won't start it or anything. I'll come round to your place as soon as I can. I shouldn't be too late. How's that?"

"Will it be in time to eat something?" I asked, still not totally happy.

"Yes, I don't see why not. I should be to you by nine, and I know that's a bit late, but we can eat then, can't we?"

"Yes, of course we can." I smiled. "What's Tim's diary like for the rest of the week? I want him for about two hours I would guess. It's alright, he knows what it's about."

She opened the diary on her desk. "Well, you haven't chosen the best of weeks. Looking at it, I would say that Friday afternoon is probably your best bet."

"Damn! I was hoping for something sooner. But Friday it is then, for him. And late dinner at my place for you."

And that was the way we left it. At eight o'clock I started a leisurely and thoroughly enjoyable evening of cooking, a smoked salmon risotto followed by homemade tiramisu and all ready by nine o'clock. And it was, and the wine was chilling in the fridge. And the table was set with flowers and candles. And she arrived at ten minutes past ten. I was not happy, not helped, I'll admit, by the fact that I had had a glass or two of wine by then.

"I'm sorry, Dave. I got caught up. I hope you've eaten."

"No, I was waiting for you."

"Oh! I thought you would eat as I was so late. You shouldn't have waited. And anyway, I've eaten. She had supper ready when I arrived, and I couldn't very well say no. Sorry."

"You could have bloody well phoned. I've spent the whole evening in the kitchen. And It's all fucking wasted, just because you couldn't be bothered to pick up the phone. Well thank you Dav."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were going to cook. I thought we'd just have a frozen pizza or something. What was it? And if it was so important to you, then why didn't you tell me. How was I expected to know?" And then she caught sight of the table, laid perfectly. "Oh!" was all she said to that.

She looked at me, and then smiled. She came to me, and hung her arms around my neck and tried to kiss me, but I wasn't that easily mollified. On Sunday she rejected my suggestion that we really get together, tonight she puts a maroon dress and her friends at the Regency Players ahead of me. I knew I was seriously miffed.

I unwrapped her arms, "I've got some clearing up to do in the kitchen. You might as well pour yourself a drink, if you want one." And I walked out.

Some five minutes later I was just scraping out the risotto pan into the trash when she appeared at the kitchen door, "What was it going to be?"

"Smoked salmon risotto with herbs, followed by my own tiramisu."

"Oh! Sounds nice. Can any of it be saved?"

"Well, I guess the tiramisu will be OK for tomorrow night. Not as good as it would have been tonight, but OK. But you just saw me chucking the risotto."

"I'm sorry. And I'm sorry, but I can't make tomorrow night. We've got a meeting where we're going to go through all the costumes again."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Don't be like that. I've said I'm sorry. Come to bed."

"I will when I've finished clearing up this bloody mess of two hours cooking for no fucking reason, and certainly for no one who seems to care."

I looked up and stared at her. I'm not sure what I wanted, or what I wanted her to do, but I wasn't happy. She stared back at me, and then she just turned away, towards the bedroom, "Well that's where I'm going."

I finished clearing up, and then I went back to find the rest of the wine. Only when I'd finished that did I clean my teeth and head for the bedroom. As I got in she said, "I'm sorry, Dave. But I have got to see this production through. I've got people relying on me, and I want to do it. It'll all be over in a couple of weeks."

"So soon!"

I turned my back on her and tried to go to sleep. This was a first for me, the first time ever that I've been to bed with a girl I fancy and not had sex. But I was angry, and as I lay there in the dark, I couldn't make up my mind whether I was angry at her for being late, which I knew was just one of those things that happens to all of us once in a while, or angry at myself for allowing a girl to upset me like this.

I felt better in the morning. I guess things were back into a better perspective. And anyway, making up can be the fun part. So I turned to her side of the bed just in time to see her jump out with "I want to get back to Ma and Pa's before I go into the office. I'm sure Ma's got some blue taffeta in the loft that would be the perfect trim for Mrs Malaprop's dress for the second act.

Fuck. Damn and Blast!

Wednesday morning I was incredibly busy. By the afternoon things had calmed down a bit, and I found time to go and see Davinia. Drew was there, and as I came through the door they looked up.