Mad world…

So close that I can’t see what’s going on…

Number twenty four. The buildings all look the same. From the back of the cab, Neil tries to read the numbers.
All the houses are white, large pillars and black doors.
Elston Villas. Knightsbridge.
The taxi slows and they’ve just gone passed the house.
The house isn’t all hers, from the file that Hugo had shown him, it’s a very large ground floor apartment.
He has a few hours with her, she’s flying out this afternoon to Washington D.C. Business, she’s a very busy woman, according to Hugo.
There’s more information about her company than there is about the woman herself, as if she’s all front and nothing behind. Like she’s showing you her company, but not her.
Intriguing, Neil’s word, the taxi stops. Outside twenty two.

Hugo did say that if Neil didn’t want to do this, he wouldn’t offer it to anyone else. Neil owes Hugo a few favours and although this is different to what he would normally do, the fact that this is different is a good enough reason.
No politics in this. Just her.
The article is for London Business Today, she and her company have been nominated for a business award. Neil pays the driver and pulling at his tie, takes a short walk.
He stops at the black front door, thinking that perhaps he should have brought Brewster. Then again, he’s better off without. If he takes over the woman’s settee, she’d probably have some burly bodyguard to chuck him out. A slight smile and he presses the door bell. It’s a bloody loud one too.
Almost expecting Lurch to slowly open the door, but instead, he’s met by a woman holding a tea towel. She smiles at him and he’s seen that smile before.
Standing at around five feet ten, long chestnut hair, that seems to be wavier the longer it gets, hazel eyes that are so bright, a light pink blouse and a pair of blue jeans, bare feet with unpainted toenails, but Neil is drawn to her smile, a gorgeous, warm smile, looking at the curve of her mouth, her thin nose and just as thin eyebrows. Her complexion is slightly tanned, as if she’s been away on holiday and it’s just starting to wear off. Neil pulls at his jacket, almost apologising for staring.
He can’t help it.
She’s so much like…
“Asda.” She says, stepping away from the door.
“Sorry?” Neil’s startling look and a surprise in his voice.
“Is your dog okay?”
“Er, yeah, thanks. He is.”
“Do you want to come in? I’m having a bit of tidy up before I leave.”
Neil steps forward, looking at a very tidy little hallway.
“I’m Helen. You must be Neil. Hugo phoned and told me you’d be calling.”
“Oh, that’s handy. Yeah, I’m Neil Douglas.” He says, extending his hand and she takes it without hesitation, so business like.
“Do you want tea or coffee? Kettle’s just boiled.”
She walks in front of him, soft footsteps on the dark coloured carpet.
“Tea, please.”
The kitchen is quite large, cream painted walls and all the equipment is stainless steel and chrome, small three spot lamps are mounted on the ceiling, the cupboards are a teak colour, very strong looking against the pale walls.
Helen reaches up into a cupboard and takes down two mugs, “Would you like some biscuits? I’ve got some cake if you’d like that.”
She seems so composed, and speaks so directly, but there is a gentle way with her, a natural friendliness, not aloof at all, remembering who she is.
There weren’t any photo’s in Hugo’s file, she doesn’t like them.
She is the managing director of Barnard and Graham, a legal affairs company, one that she’d inherited six years ago, taking it from bankruptcy to very busy like in almost no time at all.
“Please sit down, Mr. Douglas. Unless you want to leave.”
She says that with another smile, popping tea bags into the mugs, taking milk from a massive fridge.
“Thank you. Would you mind calling me Neil, I just happen to think it makes me less stand offish.”
“Okay, Neil. You can call me Helen. Please don’t refer to me as Mrs. Graham. That’s just a little unwanted.”
Her tone sounds slightly sharp, but she turns back to making tea.
Neil unbuttons his jacket as Helen places the mugs on the large table.
“Would you like sugar? Sorry, I forgot to ask.”
“No, no, this is fine.”
Helen sits opposite, picking up the tea towel and throwing it towards the sink, “So, you’re here to do me for LBT. Those people are nothing but a pain in the backside.”
“Well, Hugo asked me. Not LBT.”
“Yes, I am aware of that. Hugo called. He said he had a noted journalist to come and talk to me, I have read some of your work.”
“And what did you think?”
Helen smiles at him again, “I thought you were a little over the top, I’m not one for politics, I’m up to my neck in that most days of the week, but I did like what I’d read.”
Neil picks up his mug, looking at Helen again. She scratches at her head, a quick glance at him. He drinks his tea, thinking that isn’t going to be as straight forward as he hopes.
Helen then gets up, “You know, I haven’t had a man round for tea in ages. Did you want some biscuits? I have got some, I don’t know what you like.”
“Could we just do this interview and then I’ll leave you to get on.”
“Neil, I’m yours until one o’clock. That gives us three hours. Don’t be in such a rush, I’m not in the office now and there is no deadline for you either. Biscuits?”
Neil drinks his tea. She’s told him and there is a slight nervousness about her…and him. Feeling like he really has put his foot in it with her, but she doesn’t seem bothered at all.
Helen has the cupboard door open, “Right, I’ve got fruit shortcake and custard creams. Do you like jammy dodgers?”
Neil laughs, he came to see a business woman and all she wants to do is feed him with biscuits, “Custard creams will be fine, thank you.”

Helen finishes her tea, putting the mug down, “Is this going to be all business? I get that seven days a week, you’re not going to be one of those, are you?”
There’s the soft note in her voice again, Neil has a mouthful of custard cream and really struggles to swallow, “I wasn’t given an agenda. As far as I know, it’s a four page article on you.”
“You can get all the company details from Google. I only really agreed to his because of Hugo.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Oh, about four years. I met him at Grace Davenport’s and she’s not exactly fully with it either.”
Neil looks at his empty mug. He’s known Hugo for almost twenty years, He was best man at his and Janet’s wedding.
“Helen, I don’t really want to get personal just for a piece for LBT. I’m not sure if that’s how you want to do this.”
Helen shrugs, “I don’t know what they want. I mean, what is there to tell? I’m thirty seven years old, I run a company that was fast heading down the toilet and we managed to save it. It wasn’t just me, Neil, although some of the hours I put in were horrendous, but the real point of this is that we did keep going and I’m off to America on business, which isn’t as exciting as it sounds. Would you like some more tea?”
“No. No thank you.”

Just taking flight…

Neil is looking at her ring finger. Thinking that it’s rude, but there are two rings there. He can also see a silver watch, a thin strap and a couple of moles by her wrist.
“I’m hungry. Would you like some lunch?”
Neil looks at his watch, just after twelve, “I should let you get ready. If you’ve got a plane to catch.”
“I’m only having soup, I’ll have some of that plastic food crossing the Atlantic.”
“Airline food isn’t that bad.”
Helen shrugs, “No, I suppose not.”
Now, things go just a little quiet. That nervousness that was evident earlier is back again. Neil should go. Let her sort herself out. Leave her and almost a regret that if he goes, he might not see her again.
Helen gets up and takes the mugs with her, “I saw you looking. I’m not married. I was, I just haven’t got around to taking the rings off yet. Does that make me a bad person?”
“No, not at all. I’m sorry for looking.”
“That’s okay. My husband and son were killed in a car crash almost three years ago. You know, sometimes it feels like it only happened yesterday. I often think that the front door will open and they’ll be there. Funny how that happens.”
“Yeah, I’m the same. My wife died just over a year ago, she got leukaemia, and she died and what can I say? Like you, I wait for that door to open and she’ll be standing there, or she’ll be talking to Brewster and it just won’t happen again. That’s gone and I can never have her back.”
Helen stands with her back towards the cooker, “Do you think that this is all some sort of ploy by Hugo to bring us together?”
Neil laughs, “I don’t think so. Hugo is a lovely fella, but I don’t think matchmaking is part of his make up.”
“Perhaps not. Would you have some lunch with me. Please?”
“Soup is it?”
“I have some fresh rolls as well and a nice little white wine.”
“In that case, how can I refuse?”
Helen smiles at him, he starts his tears again, quickly wiping his eyes. Helen stands next to him, her hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay, “ She says softly, ”I know how you feel.”

The table is cleared, soup, rolls and wine. With Helen and it was very nice.
She looks at her watch and pulls a face. Time is ticking away.
Neil picks up his jacket and puts it on.
“I’m away until Sunday. Could I call you when I get back?”
“Aren’t we about done? I’m not sure that we’ve anything else to go into.”
“Ah, so this is goodbye then.”
Neil nods, moving towards the door, “I’ll get this written up. Do you want me to send you a copy?”
Helen suddenly smiles, “Why don’t you come with me?”
“What?”
“We can get Hugo to look after your dog. You can grab your passport on the way, come with me. Let’s do something crazy.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not? You and I can talk on the plane and we can get to know each other better.”
“No, but thanks anyway.”
Helen nods, walking towards him, ”Okay, but I will expect you to buy me dinner when I get back.”
“Yeah, that’s fair enough.”
“Good. I’ll call you on Sunday night.”
Helen takes his arm, leading him to the front door, “Thank you.”
“Thanks for what?”
“For talking to me. Your company.”
Neil smiles at her, “It was a pleasure, Helen. Thank you.”
“Do you know, that’s the first time you’ve called me Helen like that. Until Sunday Neil.”
“Bye. I’ll mail you a copy.”
“Save it. I can read it when we meet.”
Another goodbye at the door, Neil slowly walks away. His pace doesn’t quicken, he’s thinking.
Maybe Hugo did set this up. Maybe, the old bugger did plan this, with a smile on his face, Neil hails a taxi, Sunday then, three days from now…