The Spirit of Ecstasy

"Would you care to take my arm as I guide you down the steps and direct you to my car, Ma'am?" as we passed through the entrance doors to the outside.

"Thank you," she said with a smile as she placed a hand on my offered forearm, "Please call me Gina, Harry, otherwise we sound far too stiff and stuffy to be able to relax and enjoy our meal together."

"Yes, it does sound much more friendly. Is Gina short for anything?"

"Yes, Virginia," she laughed, changing her overarm grip of my arm to tuck under my arm and hold my upper arm against her breast, "my older brother was three and couldn't say the whole name when I was newly arrived from the maternity hospital, so I became Gina to him and it stuck."

"It suits you, it has a more cheerful, even exotic, Continental ring to it."

"And you're a Harold?"

"No. My father's best friend was a Harry, so I'm just plain Harry. Here we are."

The car was only a short way from the entrance, a gleaming two-tone paint job, silver on navy blue, parked in the Managing Director's designated spot, as I had admitted earlier, and it looked like it truly belonged there.

"It's beautiful," she breathed in admiration.

"Yes, she is," I smiled proudly as I unlocked the passenger door and waved her inside.

"Very nice, Harry, very nice indeed. It has that freshly polished leather smell."

I closed the door on her with a soft click, before scooting around to the other side.

"I'm glad you like it. I always feel special every time I get into her and effortlessly drive anywhere."

"I know what you mean, it turns a simple journey to a restaurant into more of an occasion."

"Exactly." I beamed, "No matter where I go, the drive getting there is never a chore, always an indulgent pleasure."

"So, for you, Harry, this is mixing business with pleasure?"

"Oh, I'm all business, Gina, but I do have to eat, so why not take pleasure in the little interludes in between work?"

"So no ulterior motives, Harry?"

"None of course, Ma'am ... Gina."

Now single, I had once been married for nineteen years, to Mavis Rowbottom, my childhood sweetheart. We were engaged shortly before I started my National Service and, after I resumed work on the factory floor, we married after a two-year engagement, which was usual in the 1950s. We had two children, Gerald, who appeared on the scene just eight months into the marriage, and Sophia Elizabeth following twenty-one months after that. Gerald had gone onto university, studying history and was now teaching mathematics in a grammar school, engaged to be married in a year or so. Daughter Sophia Elizabeth had married a stockbroker and lived in Solihull in a nice suburban house and had just announced that she was pregnant with my first grandchild. My marriage to Mavis ended seven years earlier but took a whole year to go through the divorce court.

Working hard on my sales, and travelling the road from early Monday morning, and sometimes departing Sunday night for those weeks I visited the West Country, and not getting home until very late Friday evening or sometimes Saturday lunchtime, had proved a strain on our relationship. After our two children became teenagers and more independent, Mavis felt my absences even more and so she decided to take a lover. After a two-year affair she felt she was more in love with her lover than she was with me so, under the new divorce laws which made divorces so much easier to obtain, she petitioned for a divorce.

As Mavis had never worked, I had to allow her to live in the family home while the children were still in school or further education, and pay her a monthly allowance for housekeeping and generous personal use, for two years after the divorce. I must confess that I resented the payments, especially as Mavis's boyfriend moved into my old home with her immediately and, as they never married during that time, the alimony continued until it had fully run its two-year course.

Being such a stranger to my family over the years, the price I paid for being absent for so much of the children's lives, was that they both sympathised with their mother and told me directly to my shocked face that I was the one at fault for having a career that they believed contributed to the failure of our marriage. So I immediately cut himself off from my family. I never heard again from Gerald for years, except for twice briefly, but Sophia Elizabeth still sent occasional letters addressed to my works office as I no longer had a fixed address that I could call "home". Sophia Elizabeth had persuaded me to give her away at her wedding four years earlier, but seeing that Mavis was there with her boyfriend on her arm, I only walked her down the aisle and briefly attended the reception after the ceremony, even though I paid every single penny spent on it. Mavis still wasn't working a full time job, so she didn't feel she should contribute a penny towards the costs of the wedding. I left before the wedding breakfast was served and missed the meaningless cycle of speeches which promised the couple a long and fruitful marriage.

After two years, I was able to stop paying the alimony and insisted that the family home be sold, as both the children had moved out and lived elsewhere, so it was no longer a family home with my children. There was resentment and tears from Mavis and tearful pleas from Sophia Elizabeth to stay the auctioneer's hammer, but to no avail. And the only other time I had spoken with my son Gerald since his sister's wedding, was him pleading with me to not sell the house until their mother reached retirement age. I exploded his stance, I was still more than twenty years away from retirement and pointed out that I needed somewhere to live too. Gerald retorted that as I was away from "home" five or six nights a week anyway, what was the point of having a "home" lying empty most of the time, after all, hadn't I lived in boarding houses or hotels for the past three years since the divorce proceedings started?

I insisted on the sale, Mavis had no right to hold onto it without children in education. But I noted what Gerald had said about not needing a home base. As a single man I really didn't need a house that stood empty four or five nights out of seven. From the five thousand pounds I got as my share for selling the family house in a nice area of Brum, I would find it difficult to get much more than a two-bedroom flat with a small mortgage and that would be left empty most of the time. No, I had to admit that I spent more of my time on the road, so it would make sense spending the money on a better quality and more comfortable car. If I could've got away with parking a large motor home outside my customers, I might have considered that option!

xxxXxxx

"You really can only hear the clock ticking," Gina marvelled, as the car joined the ring road and motored smoothly up to 60. "I thought that was just the tongue-in-cheek advertising campaign."

"No, it is a lovely smooth ride, with a powerful six-and-three-quarter litre V8 engine, it automatically glides through the gears."

"Not economical, though, surely?"

"Twelve miles to the gallon, compared to thirty in a smaller economical car, but, hey, where's the fun in those uncomfortable thirty miles to the gallon?"

"So does your firm pay all your expenses?"

"Not really, I've negotiated a weekly average which pays my board and lodgings and contributes towards my fuel and servicing costs closer to what an underpowered and rather tinny Ford or Vauxhall would cost them."

"And does that include wining and dining customers and potential customers?"

"Again, not totally, but I do have a basic allowance for that purpose which has grown more generous over the years as my sales figures have improved, thanks to the tempting influence of the Roller."

"How long have you had ... her?" she smiled and I knew she was remembering me referring to the Silver Shadow as a 'her'.

"Oh, she's definitely a 'she', a perfect female, demanding looking after, expensive even, but in return she purrs like a kitten. I've had her for four years, she is seven years young."

"So you didn't have any qualms about taking on a ... used model?" she smiled, and I imagined if that question had mixed meanings.

"Salesmen always steer clear of that word 'used', Gina. The young daughter of a friend I once gave a lift to told me that this car had always been loved, that we love her now and she was clearly loved before I had her, so she described her as having been 'preloved'."

"'Preloved', that's sweet."

"I agree, 'used' sounds like it has been all used up, that its present status is lower than it once was. No, this car was already a classic when it was new, will always be a classic and will always be cared for and loved by its passengers and drivers no matter how old she is. She was loved, she is loved, she will always be loved. Don't you agree?" I took a moment to glance at my passenger.

Gina smiled as she returned my sidelong glance, "Totally. Sitting here I feel like a duchess."

"I think they only serve meat and two veg at the pub restaurant, Gina, not duchesses, deeply fried or otherwise. We're here."

I checked all my mirrors and signalled a right turn, turned into and parked up in the pub car park. We were early, the normal lunch trade from the industrial estate nearby had not arrived yet, so I was able to park quite close to the entrance to the bars and restaurant.

"Wait there," I instructed, "I'll open the door for you." I strode quickly but unhurriedly around the car on my long legs and helped her step down. I closed the car door with a soft click and locked it with the key, before turning to face my lunch guest with my offered arm and engaging smile. She returned my smile with a brilliant one all of her own before tucking her arm comfortably into the right angle of mine.

Inside the pub, which had a bar off to the right and the restaurant area to the left, I said, "Just wait here a moment, Gina, I need to speak to the waitress about upgrading my original single booking."

I could feel Gina watching me as I stooped to speak with the young waitress who was almost a foot shorter than I was. The girl made an alteration in her reservation list and confirmed the request back at me with a nod and a sweet smile. I spun on my heels and returned to Gina.

"Any problem? she asked.

"No, I was booked in as a table for one at one o'clock. I needed to bring it forward three-quarters of an hour and turn it into a table for two. They are ready for us now, or we could have an aperitif in the bar first, if you prefer."

"I think we should go through to the restaurant. I don't want to drink too much as I will have to concentrate on doing at least some work this afternoon, so a single glass of wine with the meal will be fine."

"A refreshing change," I smiled, "compared to some other purchasing managers I know," as we walked towards the girl. "Some of my customers have to be carried from the car and need to sleep it off in their offices before going home."

The girl picked up a couple of menus and waved us through to follow her with a smile.

"This way, Mr Crabtree, Mrs Tremblett, there's a table by the window overlooking the garden. It's quieter for conversation over here." She dropped her voice as she leaned into Gina, "we put the usual lunchtime crowd from the industrial estate in the front closer to the road noise, as they usually tend to be a little boisterous anyway. The soup today is Brown Windsor."

"Thank you, Ruthie, dear," Gina said. "How's your sister? Not had a chance to walk around the works yet today and speak to your mum or even see if she was in today."

"She was back to school in this morning, Mrs Tremblett." The girl Junie turned to me, "My sister Tina came up in a rash on Friday and Mum thought it was the chickenpox, but the Doc said it was only an allergy. He gave Mum a cream to put on after her bath and again in the morning before she was dressed for school."

We sat down and checked over the menu after ordering a glass of house white for Gina and half a best bitter for me.

"What main meal do you recommend?" I asked Gina after agreeing that she only wanted a light one course lunch.

"This place is famous for its pies. My father loves his meat so if you are a meat eater then the steak and kidney pie is his favourite here, with mash and peas. I am not so fond of red meat, so I will go for the breaded cod with a baked potato."

I nodded to the waitress who was hovering within earshot, "We'll go with those two choices then, thank you."

"Thank you, Sir," Ruthie replied cheerfully, gathering up the menus.

After the waitress clacked away in her heels on the polished wooden floor, Gina turned to me, "So, tell me Harry, the story behind that magnificent car. Why did you buy it to use as your main working vehicle?"

"Well, I won't tell the long story, but after my divorce and the division of assets, I had enough liquidity to buy a tiny flat for one person or buy the car; one or the other, not both. I had the opportunity to buy the car and I took it."

"A step above the average salesman's car, even though you have made yourself technically homeless?"

"Indeed, the company supplies a Ford Escort Popular two-door saloon to its basic salesmen, with a 1.1 litre manual shift engine, costing about £1300 new, with between £2 and £3 service costs every month and are expected to last for around three years of heavy mileage. It was uncomfortable, noisy and tiring after a long journey through our crowded English roads, and awfully underpowered and exhausting to drive on the new motorways."

I added, "I firstly managed to negotiate a package deal of expenses on the premise that I used my own car and this was eventually agreed. So I looked around to see what car I could get. After looking at dozens of cars I settled on this Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow 6.75 litre V8 in silver and midnight blue, just three years old with very low mileage. I have no idea why it was sold so soon, because it was in immaculate condition. It's a beautiful car, sublime to drive and I feel like a millionaire wherever, whenever, I reach my destination. And this car, properly serviced, will last virtually forever. When I retire, I know that I could sell this car for more than I paid for it."

"You mention 'divorce' yet you still wear your wedding ring, Harry, have you remarried in the meantime?"

"No. I have not remarried. I wear the ring to give the impression that I am still married."

"Once bitten, twice shy, can't quite get over losing the love of your life, or some other reason?"

"No, not the first two," I shifted a little in my seat and decided honesty was always the best plan. "Look. You're a young married woman, and I might take the liberty to say an extremely attractive one, so you must get 'hit on' all the time, I believe that is modern parlance for being 'chatted up'. Your expensive engagement and wedding ring set are prominent deterrents which I'm sure keeps all bar the most determined of the wolves away. My plain wedding ring similarly helps keep all bar the most determined vixens at bay. And before you say it, it's not me that's a magnet, but definitely the car that attracts them, like moths to the flame."

"Surely, it's not just the car, Harry. You appear to be a well-dressed, handsome gentleman, charming and very sociable, a gentleman comfortable in any company. I assure you, if you are hit on at all, it's not just about the car."

"Well, I will admit that my distinguished looks and trusting demeanour are what gets me in the door at potential customers in the first place, but I also know the nuts and bolts business from the ground up, and that's what actually gets me the business deal once we get down to brass tacks. The car helps give clients the impression that I am a much more successful salesman than I probably am, and purchase managers are often on the look out for Christmas boxes, bonus test match tickets, and free golf games before giving you a chance. Well, I don't do any of those bribes, my company won't allow it and won't do it, but I do offer unique rides in a 'Roller'. I believe you are the very first Lady I have ever taken out to lunch in her. Ninety nine percent of the time, the decision makers are men of around my own age and they are simply interested in the car. If only I had five bob for every time I have to open the bonnet!"

"So your looks and your car are more inclined to attract middle age men, eh?" Gina suggested with a laugh in her voice and a twinkle in her eye.

"Shall we just say that the procurement managers that I meet are comfortable in my company. I'm no threat to them, or their wives. There are those clients that I've known for many years who even invite me into their homes to share a decent home-cooked meal with their families while I am on the road. I love company. I love the company of men or women. I'm particularly enjoying present company, as this luncheon date has been an unexpected pleasure, but I'm really no 'lady's man', far from it. I do many business lunches and go out with friends in the evening, but I've not been on a romantic date with any lady, other than my ex-wife, for well over a quarter of a century. I was very much in love with my wife and I respected her trust in my fidelity throughout my marriage. It was a shock to me when she decided to end it and I discovered that she had conducted an affair for over two years without me having an inkling. I even respected her right to dump me in favour of her boyfriend and we really only had a dispute after the court rulings had run their course and the family home quite properly had to be sold."

"Polly described you as a gentleman when she called me from Reception and, when I asked her if SHE would go out to lunch with you in your Roller, she told me 'yes, in a heartbeat', she said,"

"Mmm, I find that hard to believe. Still, Polly did declare that you were lovely, sympathetic, kind and generous. And I have to say that this is the most I have enjoyed a luncheon date for a long time."

"Well, thank you, Harry, for inviting me to join you here. They do a lovely chicken and leek pie when leeks are in season, which is my favourite. Just a hint, next time you call on King's. And, Polly can be very friendly and sweet and I appreciate what she said about me, I suppose she was referring to her Gran?"

"Yes, she was very touched by your sympathy and understanding when she had to go through that ordeal." I admitted. "Now, tell me about yourself."

Gina told me she was a qualified accountant and had worked for her father as assistant manager at King's since her only son Giles had started boarding at prep school when he was only 7, something Mr Tremblett had insisted on as a family tradition. Eric Tremblett was Chairman of the Tremblett Group, of which King & Son were but a small part. Giles was now 13 and due home for a week's half-term holiday in October. The Kings and Trembletts were near neighbours and old family friends and she had been courted by Eric Tremblett since she was 18, after having had a teenage crush on him for years. She married him as soon as she finished her history degree at Oxford University at Somerville College, fourteen years previously. She lived with her husband in a village about eighteen miles away, but he was in a coma following a motor accident four months earlier and she didn't want to say any more about that, as it was clearly distressing to her. For convenience she was staying with her parents who lived only ten minutes away from her work. Her father was covering for her husband by running the head office of the group of companies, based in London, and I was informed that I was invited to join them for dinner that night at 7 o'clock.

I said that I needed to sort out digs for the week before joining her for dinner. I had a couple of phone numbers from the local paper to try, that I had seen in the library as soon as it opened this morning. That newspaper had led me to King's. The boarding house I usually used when I was operating in this area of the Cotswolds was unfortunately full this week. Gina said she knew of a vacancy and got up and used the pub's phone to call them on my behalf. She got back to the table to confirm that I was expected at the digs she'd found at 6 o'clock sharp, so I could get washed up and changed ready for dinner with her family, no formal evening wear, just smart jacket and tie.