1975 - Believe This You'll Believe Anything Read online

  ‘Do that, will you, Joe?’

  The steaks arrived.

  ‘Let’s forget about business,’ Harkness said. ‘Let’s concentrate on these fine looking bits of bull.’

  We ate for a while, then he said, ‘When are you going to give me a game of golf Clay?’

  ‘If you’re really looking for a beating, how about Sunday?’

  He grinned.

  ‘Then let’s make it early. Nine o’clock?’

  As Rhoda didn’t get up until midday on Sundays this would give me time to get back to prepare a late brunch.

  Rhoda had no idea how to cook and refused to learn and as I refused to go to the coffee shop on Sundays I got landed with the brunch and supper.

  After coffee, we parted.

  As Harkness got in his car, he said, ‘Any other little thing you want to know about Vidal give me a call.’ He shook his head. ‘Man, I’m sorry for you. I really mean it.’

  He drove away leaving me feeling slightly uneasy.

  * * *

  Back in my office, I put a call through to Humphrey Massingham, the A.T.S. district general manager who was located in Miami. I told him about the Vidal account.

  ‘That’s an account I have had my eye on for some time Clay,’ he said, his voice excited. ‘I never thought he would move from the American Express.’

  ‘Harkness is happy to see him go,’ I said. ‘Could be we’re getting ourselves a headache.’

  ‘Two hundred thousand! I knew it was big, but not that big! We can take a lot of headaches for that amount of scratch.’

  ‘You mean I can.’

  He laughed.

  ‘All part of the job,’ he said airily, ‘but you’ll need extra help. I’ll want you to concentrate on Vidal’s account. I’ll look around. We can afford additional staff now we have Vidal.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure you have him.’ I went on to tell him Vidal’s likely terms and what Harkness had said. This damped his enthusiasm a little.

  ‘Yeah . . . well, maybe we had better wait to see how you make out. You don’t know he’ll insist on those terms with us.’

  ‘You can bet Dyer will try to screw us for even a bigger discount.’

  ‘Five is our limit. Be firm with him.’

  ‘I’ll wait his first move. In the meantime, we should check the references, shouldn’t we?’

  ‘Oh, sure, but Vidal is big: one of the biggest. I’m sure there’s no problem from that angle. I’ll handle the references.’

  ‘You might query the Credit Rating people. Bankers’ references don’t mean much.’

  There was a pause, then he asked, ‘Is something bothering you about this?’

  ‘I’m not all that enthusiastic. I don’t know why. Harkness said he was sorry for us and he meant it. I don’t like Dyer.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean the money isn’t sound. You leave it to me,’ and he hung up.

  As I replaced the receiver Sue came in with the estimate and schedule Dyer wanted. We went through it together As usual with her work I couldn’t find faults.

  ‘Fine, Sue.’ I dictated a letter to Dyer, adding that formalities for opening the account were in hand and I would be writing him again. ‘Mail it right away, will you? Let’s show him we are on our toes.’

  We spent the rest of the afternoon with routine work. We were kept busy until around 17.40. At the approach of cocktail time, inquiring tourists dropped away and gave us the chance to clear our desks. At 18.00 Sue said good night and hurried off home. I went along to the Trendie Miss to pick up Rhoda.

  She was completing a sale so I hung around in the corridor until she joined me.

  ‘God! My feet!’ she moaned as we walked across to the parking lot. ‘It’s fine for you, sitting all day, but I never get a chance to sit down.’

  I didn’t remind her she had been sitting down reading a magazine when I had cancelled our lunch together. I was used to her moans. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

  ‘Want to go to a movie tonight?’ I asked as we got into Plymouth.

  ‘There’s nothing worth seeing. I looked.’ She settled herself and kicked off her shoes. ‘This humidity drives me nuts. Put the air conditioner on for God’s sake!’

  I put it on. At this time of the season the heat and humidity was bad but not so bad as in Miami. As I drove out of the lot and headed home, I said, ‘Ever heard of Henry Vidal?’

  ‘Mrs. Vidal was in yesterday. She bought belts and slacks. Our other lines are too young for her.’

  ‘What is she like?’

  Rhoda glanced at me.

  ‘Why the interest?’

  ‘Her husband opened an account with us worth two hundred thousand a year.’

  ‘Wow!’ Rhoda was always impressed with big money. ‘Are you getting a rake-off Clay?’

  ‘No, he is. Did you see him?’

  ‘She was on her own.’

  ‘What’s she like?’

  Rhoda sniffed. I’ve never known her to praise any woman or consider any woman to be as smart as herself.

  ‘All right, I guess, providing you like them slinky and dark. She knows how to dress. I’ll say that for her.’

  ‘All right to deal with?’

  ‘I guess. She doesn’t throw her weight around if that’s what you mean; not like most of the hags who drive me nuts.’

  ‘Pay cash?’

  ‘She has a charge account.’

  ‘Prompt payer?’

  ‘How do I know? Who cares anyway? Do hurry it up Clay. I can’t wait to get under the shower.’

  An hour later, Rhoda was lying on the balcony that overlooked the canal, a martini in one hand and a magazine in the other. I had taken a shower and now mixed myself a Scotch and soda. I joined her on the balcony. I knew I wouldn’t get a word from her until it was time to go down to the coffee shop for dinner. I would have liked to have talked to her about Vidal Enterprises, to tell her about Vernon Dyer, but I knew she wouldn’t be interested. She was interested in little else except magazines and clothes.

  Sitting opposite her, I thought how completely unlike Valerie she was.

  Valerie had always been interested in anything I had done.

  She had a shrewd, intelligent mind and I had always discussed my business problems with her and she had always come up with useful suggestions.

  Valerie!

  Six years ago. I had become manager of the A.TS. office in the Statler Hilton, Boston. Roy Cannon, the outgoing manager (he had been transferred to New York) had met me at the airport. I had flown in from Cincinnati where I had been running the A.T.S. office at the Terrace Hilton. We had stopped in at the airport bar for a drink and to get to know each other.

  ‘The one thing and the only thing that gripes me leaving Boston,’ Cannon said as we propped up the bar, ‘is losing the best secretary I’ve ever had. My loss, your gain. She’s priceless and I’m not kidding. Never a moan if we work late, gorgeous to look at, terrific memory, fixes everything for you . . . you can’t imagine. . .’

  Although I didn’t believe Cannon’s eulogy, I quickly discovered he hadn’t been exaggerating. Valerie Dart was everything he had said she was: tall, with long, raven black hair, big blue eyes and a wide generous mouth: she was a beauty and her efficiency was unbelievable.

  Within a few days I was in love with her, but although she was friendly, there was that little coolness that warned me not to rush my fences. We worked together from 09.30 until 18.00 which meant I saw more of her than I would have done had we been married. She had her own car and when we left the office, she would give me a smile and a wave and drive away. I had no part of her private life. She never discussed what she did in her spare time. Her coolness and her correct behaviour kept me at a distance.

  Finally, with thumping heart, I asked her to have dinner with me. She had looked startled, and then had smiled.

  ‘Thank you: that would be nice.’

  I took her to a good seafood restaurant and between courses, we danced: still the cool
ness and I was on my best behaviour. It became a regular thing to take her out to dinner every Friday night, but when I suggested a movie on Wednesday night, she politely refused.

  By then I had her in my blood like a virus. I knew there could be no other woman for me. She was the one, and even if I had to wait and wait, she would still be the one.

  I stepped up the pace by giving her flowers and candy. I made the excuse it was my way of expressing appreciation for the way she helped me in the office.

  Then one Friday night, some three months after I had met her, while we were dancing, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

  ‘Val,’ I said. ‘I’m in love with you. I think you must have guessed it by now. Could you think of marrying me? It’s what I want more than anything else in the world. I just know we could be happy together. Tell me how you feel about me. Have I a chance?’

  She rested her head against my shoulder so I couldn’t see her face and we continued to dance for a few minutes, then she looked up and smiled at me. That smile made my heart leap.

  ‘Yes, Clay, you have a chance, but I don’t want to get married yet.’

  I led her off the dance floor, out of the restaurant and on to the jetty, dimly lit by the moon.

  ‘Are you telling me I mean something to you, Val?’ I couldn’t believe it.

  ‘You do mean something to me.’ She kissed my check. ‘But don’t rush me. Let’s wait a while. If I marry you, I would want to run your home. I don’t want to give up the office for a while. Please be patient with me.’

  I was too happy to sleep that night.

  The following morning, I had a call from head office. Vice President John Ryner wanted to see me. Wondering what it was all about, I left Val to take charge of the morning stint it was Saturday and we closed at 13.00 and flew down to New York.

  Ryner received me cordially and came straight to the point.

  ‘Clay, it’s time you took a look at the European scene. We’ve arranged for you to work at our branch in London for six months and in our Paris branch for another six months. Take the chance to polish up your French while you’re in Paris. More and more people are visiting London and Paris, and for you to be efficiently helpful you must know the up-to-date scene. I’m putting Bill Olson in your place at the Statler Hilton, but the job will be waiting for you on your return with a fifteen hundred raise. When can you get off?’

  I did some quick thinking. The last thing I wanted was to be parted from Val, but she had told me she wanted time before we married and I knew she wouldn’t be rushed. With a fifteen hundred increase, we could live pretty comfortably.

  I said I would go when he wanted me to go.

  ‘Tuesday?’

  ‘Okay.’ It was rushing it, but the sooner I left, the sooner I would be back.

  ‘Fine.’ I could see he was pleased. ‘Olson will be up on Monday. Miss Dart can show him the ropes.’ He looked at me. ‘She’s a damn good secretary, isn’t she?’

  ‘The best.’ I wondered how he would react if I broke the news that the agency might be losing her.

  Before leaving New York, I called Boston and just managed to catch Val as she was shutting the office.

  ‘I’ll be back at four, Val,’ I said. ‘I must talk to you. Can you meet the plane?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  I had an hour before my flight. I went to a nearby jeweller’s shop and bought an engagement ring: two emeralds and a diamond. I had it gift wrapped, then took a taxi to the airport.

  Val was waiting for me. As we walked together to the parking lot where she had left her VW, she asked, ‘What was it all about Clay?’

  ‘Big deal,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘Let’s drive to Franklin Park. Now tell me about your morning. Anything happen?’

  She could see I didn’t want to talk until we could be somewhere quiet so while she drove she told me of the morning’s activities. Business had been brisk and she had finally persuaded an elderly couple to go on a world tour.

  They had been nibbling at the bait for some tune and I had almost given them up.

  We left the car and walked through the rose gardens in the park until we found a deserted bench. We sat in the sun and I told her what Ryner wanted me to do.

  ‘I hate leaving you, Val’ I said, ‘but this will give you the chance to make up your mind. I’ll be away a year. When I get back, I hope you’ll be all set to marry me. I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t for the raise. An extra fifteen hundred will come in handy to set up home, won’t it?’

  She looked searchingly at me.

  ‘I’ll miss you Clay.’

  I gave her the ring. When she had unwrapped it and opened the little box, she caught her breath, then looked at me, her eyes scared.

  ‘I can’t accept this Clay. No . . . it’s too binding. Please. . .’

  She thrust the box at me, but I wouldn’t take it. ‘It’s sweet of you, but anything can happen in a year. I think I love you, but I do want to be sure. I don’t want to feel tied.’

  I was disappointed by her reaction, but I didn’t show it.

  ‘You won’t be tied. Wear it on your right hand to please me. When you have made up your mind, put it on your left hand. What’s wrong with that as an idea?’

  ‘It’s a beautiful ring.’ She regarded it for a long moment, then took it from the box and slipped it on the third finger of her right hand. ‘There . . . does that please you?’ She leaned forward and we kissed. ‘Now, I am going to cook dinner for you,’ she went on. ‘I want you to know I’m just as efficient in the home as I am at the office.’

  We drove back to the City, and she bought the ingredients for dinner, then she drove me to her complex. It was a beautifully kept apartment and the dinner was superb.

  We talked long into the night and when I finally left, we arranged to spend the following day - Sunday - at the Salisbury Beach reservation. It was the happiest and most wonderful week end I had ever had.

  On Tuesday, leaving Bill Olson at my desk, Val went with me to the airport to see me off.

  ‘Wait for me, Val,’ I said. ‘It’s only for a year. Then we can set up home.’

  But it wasn’t to be. I wrote every day. She had warned me she was no good as a letter writer and I didn’t get many letters from her. What I did get were affectionate and she seemed happy.

  After six months in London, I moved to Paris. I found a furnished one-room apartment near the office and wrote, giving Val my new address. I hadn’t heard from her for the past three weeks and I was getting worried. A week later, just as I was about to telephone her, a registered packet arrived. In it I found the engagement ring and a brief note:

  Dear Clay,

  I am leaving Boston for good. I hate hurting you, but I must tell you there is someone else There will be someone else for you too. I’m sorry. It happened so suddenly.

  Forgive me and forget me.

  Val

  I was in a pretty bad way for some months. I did my work automatically, resisted the temptation to get drunk every night and led a lonely, miserable life. Finally, I returned to Boston. I asked Olson, as soon as we met, if he could explain why Val had thrown up her job.

  ‘Not an idea Clay,’ he said. ‘I wish I had. She said she was leaving for personal reasons: that’s all. You know how remote she can be. I just had to accept it.’

  Four years drifted by. The ache was continuous. Then I met Rhoda. I wanted desperately to lead a normal life again and to forget Val, but my marriage to Rhoda proved no solution. It was now six years since I received the letter that took the fun and happiness out of my life and the ache for Val was still with me.

  ‘Clay!’

  I started. My mind had been so occupied with the past I had forgotten Rhoda.

  ‘I’m hungry.’ She swung her pretty legs off the lounging chair. ‘What’s biting you? You look like something the cat’s sicked up.’

  ‘Let’s eat,’ I said. ‘Nothing’s biting me.’

  I had never told her about Val. She ha
d never asked me if there had been any other woman before I met her. She just wasn’t interested enough to bother with the past. The present was as much as she could cope with.

  We went down to the coffee shop for the inevitable hot dogs and then returned to the apartment for the inevitable goggle box yawn until bed time.

  Two

  The following morning, as I was going through the mail, Humphrey Massingham telephoned.

  ‘I’ve checked out Vidal.’ he said. His voice lacked its usual breezy tone. ‘The bankers, of course, give a glowing report and so do the brokers. That was a smart idea of yours to query the Credit Rating people. Believe it or not, Vidal doesn’t seem to own a thing! I don’t know if it means anything, but it is odd. The house, furnished is hired, his six cars, including the Rolls and the yacht are hired. He has six TV sets in the house as well as five electronic I.B.M. typewriters all hired. Even his wife’s jewellery is hired from Luce & Fremlin and he changes the stuff every month. The Credit Rating people tell me he has six month’s credit with all these creditors and he pays on the nail when the accounts come due. What do you make of it?’

  ‘A pretty convenient arrangement if you want to skip suddenly,’ I said.

  ‘That’s right. I got the same thought. I queried Mr. Ryner. He’s talked to one of the A.E. directors who admits they are glad to get rid of Vidal’s account because of its nuisance value and the big discount, but says there’s nothing wrong with Vidal moneywise. Ryner also talked to other leading travel agencies. Apparently Dyer has approached a number of them before us but they turned him down. They’re not big enough to carry Vidal for six months, Ryner says if you can talk Dyer out of the five percent discount, we go ahead, but we don’t if Dyer won’t play.’

  ‘Do we give him six months’ credit?’

  ‘I guess so. All Vidal’s other creditors are giving him that. It seems to me we have Dyer where we want him. He either accepts our terms or he is without an agency. We seem to be his last chance for a deal.’

  ‘Fine. Okay, leave him to me.’

  A little after 10.30, Vernon Dyer came on the line.