21 – Passion Means “Pass I On”

Yesterday the fear of homelessness was in my head. Overnight it seemed to filter down into my body and, this morning, I felt like swearing at God, yelling, crying and getting all those fearful emotions out of my body. I was not just thinking about it, I was impassioned. I was also angry that I had got myself in this mess and that God didn’t seem to care – either I’m doing things right and so I should be “rewarded”, or I’m not and he’s not telling me what I need to change.

The change was me – I stopped sweetly sitting in the lotus position, being spiritual and pretending everything was alright. I stopped that and told God I’d had enough, e-bluddy-nough, mate!

And then it started. Firstly, I got an amazing and uplifting email from a friend in New Zealand. Then a friend in Australia suggested it was time to go back to Australia – nice invitation, thanks! Then two friends in NZ suggested I come back to NZ – another nice invitation, thanks. Then a recruitment agent rang me with a (VERY well paid) job I’d love to do – still have to have interviews and all the drama to go but that filled me with hope. And, lastly, I get an international award for a story I wrote – More Bloody Words! You can read it here.

In martial arts, you don’t block your opponent; you use their energy and deflect it against them. Similarly, you cannot steer a boat unless it’s moving. Maybe God’s a bit like that – he needs our energy, our passion and, whatever direction we’re flailing about in, he can then get steerage on us and get things moving for us … perhaps!

Your thoughts?

And now, the story of Mary Colling continues from yesterday ...

"So Mary, the position you're looking at is Assistant Manager but, really, you'll be the manager here," said Sam Lord as he settled back into one of the three deep leather chairs around the coffee table in a corner of his office, "because I've recently become Director of Government Liaison which means that I'm actually part of a head office team and I'm not here all the time." Sam had obviously chosen the chairs to fit his large frame but, for Mary, a foot shorter, it felt like being engulfed in a leather cloud - very comfortably - but she wondered how she's lever herself out again. She was relieved that she'd remembered to wear a long skirt today, given the awkward chair and Sam's frequent, flitting looks at her legs during their previous interview, before she'd left for bonny Scotland … bonny Scotland, it seemed a whole world away now and she'd only just returned from there two days ago.

"So that's partly why the great salary," said Sam as Mary smiled. She'd never imagined such a large income this soon in her career. "We're going to have to be gentle with each other." Sam smiled impishly.

"We are?" asked Mary, wondering what direction this conversation was taking as her knees squeezed themselves together in automatic reflex.

"In a manner of speaking!" said Sam, laughing at her coy reaction. "I'll need to show you the ropes as best I can, when I'm here and you're going to have to learn them when I'm not. You won't always be able to get hold of me so we're going to have to trust each other and you'll need to be making some decisions without me. This is all new for both of us - both with new jobs and it being a bit tenuous at times - but I know you are very capable of thinking independently. That's what you got fired for from your last job, wasn't it!"

"Yes it was," said Mary, ruefully. "So I'm being promoted here for what I was sacked for at Commonwealth Insurance?"

"Absolutely!" said Sam, laughing as he flicked back his blonde cowlick with his hand. "I … we need someone who is not afraid to take a stand but we also need someone who understands the framework. You'll be at a higher level than you've been before and different rules apply now." Sam's smile had vanished.

"Oh, what sort of rules?" asked Mary as an uneasy lump formed in her stomach. She leaned forward, knowing she must not miss anything he was going to say now.

"Look, let's go through them as they arise," he said, leaning back with an uncertain smile. "Let me introduce you to a few of the chaps across town at head office, this afternoon, and, in the meantime, we'll get your office set up how you like it, make sure you have lists of who's who and how to access the system and then I'll introduce you to some of the team downstairs."

"Right, OK," said Mary, with so many questions needing answers. The foreboding lump in her stomach hadn't moved.

"Then I'll shout you to lunch so you can grill me on what you've learned this morning and I can update you on some of the head office team before you meet them," said Sam. "Does that sound like a grand plan?"

"Oh, gosh, that would be nice," said Mary, settling back while feeling a lightness enter the room. Her lump dissolved a little.

Sam really didn't seem to know his junior staff very well, or much of what they did. "Oh, they get on with what they need to do. I sign their assignments off and stay out of their way. Justin Talbot always saw to the details," he said at one point. He did, however, know the senior staff well and had left her with Stephen Lawrence, the Finance Director, a round, florid man with a fluffy, ginger moustache and little hair above it. Stephen took her round and stiffly introduced her to the staff on his, the sixth, floor. He suggested they have a guided tour of one floor a day. Very logical and systematic … just like an accountant, she thought.

Justin Talbot, Mary assumed, was her predecessor and she determined to find out more about him and why he left.

"Ah, the silly sod," said Sam, as if reading her thoughts, after he had returned as she was rearranging her office, "had his hand in the till, so to speak … taking backhanders from claims. Quite unsavoury."

'Unsavoury? Unsavoury!' thought Mary, 'it's illegal and bloody immoral!'

"That's why I need someone I can trust," said Sam evenly. "Been quite shaken by the twerp's underhand tactics and why I've had the research done on you."

"Oh," said Mary, knowing it was a compliment that she passed his close scrutiny but, all the same, felt queasy at the thought of an undercover team filtering through the life she held so privately.

-----------------

As they entered the Executors Club for lunch, it was quite a different story. Sam asked Andrej, the doorman, how his son was getting on with his rugby (something he was obviously proud of) and asked Henri, the Maître d', how his wife was recovering and, it turned out, she had the plaster taken off her leg yesterday.

Mary felt quite special, escorted in by the two men - the swarthy, dapper Henri in front and the blonde, pink Sam behind, in pinstripe suit, pink shirt and florid, multi-coloured tie. She tried to take it all in, walking as gracefully as she could across the thick, green carpet, feeling cossetted by the old oak panelling, several chandeliers and the expensive shine of silverware and glassware. Sam's hand touched her shoulder lightly, several times, giving her assurance as he exchanged restrained greetings with diners already there - mainly, it seemed, men in pinstriped suits with shirts and ties that clashed absurdly.

'Perhaps their parents had had servants to dress them,' Mary thought, knowing how estate duties had lost many of the landed gentry their mansions and lifestyles, 'and now that their children, acting so very grown up, have to do it themselves, never having learned how to dress themselves and how to coordinate their clothes properly.'

Their table was in an alcove in a distant corner of the dining room and, she noticed, it had a thick, red curtain to the side - able to be pulled across for very private chats and trysts. Mary declined alcohol, determined to keep a clear head for the day, while Sam was served whisky and water. Obviously his 'usual'. She enjoyed the entrée of caviar - the first time she'd tried it - and Sam recommended the grouse, which was in season.

Mary didn't watch television much but, as she looked around discretely, she fancied she saw some faces she'd seen on the small screen.

"Yes, you might recognise a few faces here," said Sam, as he tucked into his grouse enthusiastically.

Mary looked at him and smiled uncertainly. The blasted man just seemed to know what she was thinking!

"Let me know if there's anyone you'd like me to introduce you to," said Sam. "In their own environment, with their chums, they're generally quite friendly."

So Sam was chums with these movers and shakers - it fitted with his role as Director of Government Liaison.

"But I've put the flag up so we won't be disturbed," said Sam, obviously enjoying his meal. "So what do you want to know from this morning?"

"Put the flag up?" asked Mary, becoming aware of a whole new set of behaviours and customs in this new world.

"Ah, yes, the candle's on the front of the table," explained Sam, smiling. "If we put it back here, we're bound to have some visitors wanting to inquire about my new guest! Now, what questions do you have?"

Mary was interrupted by a waiter taking their dishes away. As he left, Henri materialised to ask how their meal was. Mary noticed a small piece of paper pass to Sam. He unfolded it on the table to read while Henri inquired of Mary's first impressions of the club.

"Yes, that's fine, Henri," said Sam, folding the paper and putting it in his coat pocket. Henri smiled, bowed subtly and moved away. "Now, Mary, if you will indulge me a moment, I would like to help a fellow traveller on his way."

"Oh," said Mary, mystified. "Should I leave you for a moment?"