‘Mike?’
She was staring at me again. I glanced up, then away, not wanting to encourage her.
‘Mike? You still with us?’ There was the faintest edge to Dennis’s voice. I rose from my seat, shuffling my notes. ‘Yes,’ I said. And, more firmly, ‘Yes.’ I raised a smile for the row of Vallance Equity’s flint-eyed venture capitalists around the table, trying to convey some of Dennis’s own confidence and bonhomie. ‘Just – ah – mulling over a couple of points you made.’ I took a deep breath and gestured across the room. ‘Tina? Lights?’
I took hold of the remote-control device for my presentation, and as my phone vibrated again, wished I had thought to remove it. I fumbled in my pocket to try to turn it off. Unfortunately, glancing up through the dimmed light at Tina, I realised she thought this had been for her benefit. She responded with a slow smile, her eyes dropping to my groin.
‘Right,’ I said, letting out a breath and refusing resolutely to look at her. ‘I’d like to show you lucky gentlemen a few images of what we modestly consider to be the investment opportunity of the decade.’ There was a low rumble of amusement. They liked me. There they sat, primed by Dennis’s raw enthusiasm, ready for my sonorous list of facts and figures. Receptive, attentive, waiting to be reassured. My father often said I was ideally suited to a business environment. He meant business in the grey-suited sense, rather than the hyper-sexy mega-deal sense. Because, although I had somehow ended up at the latter end, I had to admit that I was not a natural risk-taker. I was Mr Due Diligence, one of life’s careful, considered deliberators, who researched everything not just to the nth degree but several degrees beyond.
As a child, before I spent my carefully saved pocket money, I would spend hours in a shop, weighing up the benefits of Action Man against his compatriots, fearful of the crushing disappointment that came when you made the wrong choice. Offered a choice of puddings, I would pit the potential infrequency of lemon meringue pie against the solid comfort of chocolate sponge, and double-check that raspberry jelly wasn’t among the options.
None of this meant I was unambitious. I knew exactly where I wanted to be, and had long since learnt that taking the quiet path was the key to my success. While colleagues’ more incendiary careers crashed and burnt, I had become financially secure, due to my dogged monitoring of interest rates and investments. Now, six years into my tenure at Beaker Holdings, my promotion to junior partner apparently nothing to do with my engagement to the boss’s daughter, I was valued as someone who would accurately assess the benefits of any choice – geographical, social or economic – before making it. Two big deals and I would be senior partner. Another seven years until Dennis retired, and I would be ready to step into his shoes. I had it all planned.
Which was why my behaviour that night had been so out of character.
‘I think you’re having your teenage rebellion late,’ my sister Monica had observed, two days previously. I had taken her to lunch, in the smartest restaurant I knew, as a birthday treat. She worked on a national newspaper but earned less per month than I spent in expenses.
‘I don’t even like the girl,’ I said.
‘Since when did sex have anything to do with liking someone?’ She sniffed. ‘I think I’ll have two puddings. I can’t choose between the chocolate and the crème brûlée.’ She had ignored my look. ‘It’s a reaction against the wedding. You’re trying unconsciously to impregnate someone else.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I almost winced. ‘God! The thought of—’
‘All right. But it’s obvious you’re bucking against something. Bucking.’ She grinned. My sister’s like that. ‘You should tell Vanessa you’re not ready.’
‘But she’s right. I’ll never be ready. I’m not that kind of bloke.’
‘So you’d rather she made the decisions?’
‘In our personal life, yes. It works well for us like that.’
‘So well that you felt the need to shag someone else?’
‘Keep your voice down, okay?’
‘You know what? I’ll just have the chocolate. But if you have the crème brûlée I’ll try it.’
‘What if she says something to Dennis?’
‘Then you’re in big trouble – but you must have known that when you copped off with his secretary. Come on, Mike, you’re thirty-four years old, hardly an innocent.’
I dropped my head into my hands. ‘I don’t know what the hell I was doing.’
Monica had been suddenly buoyant. ‘God, it’s nice to hear you say that. You don’t know how cheering it is for me to know that you can c**k up your life just like the rest of us. Can I tell Mum and Dad?’
Now, filled with a sudden picture of my sister’s triumph, I forgot where I was and had to glance at my notes. I breathed out slowly, and looked up again at the expectant faces around me. It seemed to have become uncomfortably warm in the boardroom. I let my gaze settle on their team – no one was even remotely flushed. Dennis always said that venture capitalists had ice in their blood. Perhaps he was right.
‘As Dennis has explained,’ I continued, ‘the emphasis in this project is on the quality end of the market. The consumers we’ll be targeting in this development are hungry for experiences. They are people who have spent the last decade acquiring material goods, which haven’t made them happy. They are possession-rich, time-poor, and are searching for other ways to spend their money. And the real growth area, according to our research, is in their sense of well-being.
‘To that end, this development will not just offer accommodation of a quality that will ensure it a slot at the top end of the market, but a variety of leisure opportunities suited to the surroundings.’ I clicked the remote control, bringing up the images that the artist had only delivered that morning, leaving Dennis turbo-charging what barely remained of his blood pressure. ‘It will have a state-of-the-art spa, with six different pools, a full-time therapeutic staff and a range of the newest holistic treatments. If you turn to page thirteen you will see the space itself in more detail, as well as a menu of the kind of thing it will offer. And for those who prefer to get their sense of well-being from something a little more active – and, let’s face it, that’s usually the men . . .’ here I paused for the amused nods of recognition . . . ‘we have the pièce de résistance of the whole complex – an integrated centre devoted entirely to watersports. This will include jet-skis, waveboards, speedboats and waterskiing. There will be game-fishing. There will also be PADI-trained instructors to take clients on tailor-made diving trips further out to sea. We believe a combination of top-class equipment with a highly skilled team will give clients a never-to-be-forgotten trip and offer them the chance to learn new skills.’