so on top of her job—she double-and triple-checked out every fine detail. But, galling though it was, Sayre Baxendale had been right! In the light of this other plan, her client had been very badly advised! How could she have made such a dreadful mistake? Normally she was so clear-headed.
Astra thought back to the time when her negotiations with Ronald Cummings had started to take shape. And then she realised how her normal diligence with regard to her work must have slipped. It had been around that time that her much loved cousin Yancie had been involved in a car accident. Yancie hadn’t been seriously hurt, but neither Astra nor Astra’s equally much loved cousin Fennia had known that when they’d dropped everything and in a terrified panic had raced to the hospital.
They had barely recovered from that fright when Yancie had announced that she was getting married and, because neither she nor Thomson had wanted to wait very long, her two intended bridesmaids had to drop everything and help her out! What with having to take time off for rushed dress fittings and everything else, Astra now realised that for the first time ever she hadn’t given full attention to her job.
It was no good blaming it on the excitement of Yancie getting married, or, Astra realised, to make the excuse that surely she was entitled to a little time off. There was no excuse. Nor could she use the excuse that Ronald Cummings had changed his mind so many times, there was every probability that she had put forward the better proposal but that he had rejected it—she didn’t have a note of it. And anyhow having clients who were unsure what they really wanted was all part and parcel of the job. It was her job to help, to advise—and she had fallen down very, very badly.
Astra took a deep breath, and, the facts staring her in the face, she accepted what she had to do. She picked up the phone and rang Norman Davis’s extension. ‘Is it convenient to see you straight away?’ she enquired.
‘Rather!’ he answered jovially—and to Astra it seemed as if her boss had been sitting there just waiting for her to get in touch to tell him how her meeting with Sayre Baxendale had gone.
Armed with a sheaf of papers, Astra left her desk knowing that she was going to have to own up to negligence. There were thousands of pounds at stake here—it was up to her to put it right.
Norman Davis was on his feet when she went into his office, a beaming smile on his face. He was not smiling ten minutes later.
There was a lot he could have said, but, although he seemed as shaken as she felt when Astra had told him everything, all he did say—and she silently thanked him for it—was, as she had supposed, ‘Leave everything with me, Astra—I’ll double check it all myself. But if there has definitely been a mistake it will have to be put right. Perhaps you’ll come and see me in the morning.’
She left him and went straight home. That evening, knowing she had no alternative, Astra wrote out her resignation. She did not sleep well but even when she had so much else to think about one tall, black-haired, dark-eyed man whom she had met that day—and oh, she so earnestly wished she hadn’t—seemed to return to her mind again and again. Oh, clear off, she fumed, punching her pillow; but for him and his interference, she might have got a decent night’s sleep. Well, one thing was for sure—she was glad she was never going to have to see Sayre Baxendale again!
Astra still felt very much shaken by what had happened when she presented herself at Norman Davis’s office in the morning. He was not a happy being, she could tell; she knew the feeling. Clearly his checks had shown the same results as hers—she had fallen down extremely badly on the job.
Before she handed him her resignation, however, Astra informed him that she personally would make financial reparation to their client—only for her offer to be refused. ‘Yarroll Finance will take care of that,’ Norman Davis insisted, letting her know, if she didn’t already, how worthy the company was of its highly esteemed reputation. She had sold the plan in the company’s name; the company would, therefore, take care of compensation.
There seemed nothing else to do but to hand him her resignation. Norman Davis didn’t look any happier but, as she had seen no alternative but to resign, she knew he had no alternative but to accept her resignation.
‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’ He took the words she had been going to say out of her mouth. ‘Your work until now has been exemplary. You were tipped for much higher things.’
‘I’m sorry I let you down,’ Astra answered quietly, this, the whole nightmare of it, a bitter pill to swallow. They shook hands and he walked to the door with her. ‘Will you write to Mr Baxendale?’ she felt honour-bound to ask—she didn’t want to have to do it, yet, for the sake of the company, it couldn’t be ignored.
‘I’ll clear up the Cummings end first, then drop him a line thanking him for his interest and letting him know the matter has been settled to Mr Cummings’s satisfaction,’ he answered, and warmed her down-on-the-floor feeling by giving her arm an affectionate fatherly squeeze before letting her go.
Norman Davis had let her off working out her notice, so Astra went home and tried to put it all behind her. It was not that easy. Apart from the humiliation of having to resign, she was used to hard work, enjoyed hard work, and without it she felt bereft. She couldn’t settle to do anything. To pick up a book and try to bury herself in its pages was beyond her.
She thought of phoning Yancie, but her cousin would be upset for her and, given that it looked as if Yancie was going to be visited by a coven of mothers, Astra didn’t want her newly-returned-from-honeymoon cousin to be upset on her behalf. Her other close confidante, Fennia, was still on her honeymoon.
When Astra’s inner disquiet got too much for her, she telephoned her father in Barbados. ‘How’s my best dad?’ she asked him brightly.
‘Wanting to see his best daughter,’ he answered his only child. ‘When are you coming to see me? You can’t work all the time, you know, sweetheart.’
‘As a matter of fact…’
Her phone call to her father lasted about twenty minutes. As a parent he wanted to slay all her dragons. As a former businessman of high integrity, he appreciated that Yarroll Finance had taken the only course they could: to indemnify their client, and to accept her resignation.
Astra went to bed that night trying to pin her thoughts on something other than the ghastly happenings since she had yesterday walked into Sayre Baxendale’s office, introduced herself and held out her hand.
She now knew why he had refused to shake hands with her—oh, didn’t she just! He’d made no bones about stating he thought she was more interested in her fat commission and it was hard luck for any poor sucker of a client who came into her orbit. Sayre Baxendale…
Oh, get out of my head, do, Baxendale. Now, should she go and stay with her father for a while—if he had his way she would go and live with him—or should she look around for another job?
She felt very pulled towards going to visit her father, but felt too restless to lounge around in Barbados doing nothing. Yet she shied away from the idea of looking for another job—should indeed any firm in the same line of business want to employ her after this!
Fortunately she was in a position where she didn’t have to work. But the loss of the job she had loved and had strived so tirelessly to be perfect at was too new for her to be able to contemplate working in any other field, just yet.
Her feeling of being bereft was still with her the next morning. It seemed odd not to have to go along to the study and make a few business phone calls. She decided to pay her mother’s half-sister
