Concealment Read Online Free PDF Page B

hundred thousand a year pay rise with a twenty thousand lump sum. That’s it—I’m definitely leaving.’
    She knew better than anyone that I had no slack in my schedule to commiserate with her, and left without saying another word.
    When her turn came, Isabelle trotted in laden down with JJ files, showing off her multi-tasking ability in her usual irritating manner. Most of our files were electronic, but these went back a few years—I cursed her for cluttering up my office.
    ‘I’ve brought you these, so you can review the revised tax computations for JJ before they go out.’
    Unaccountably, conscientious types like Isabelle invariably assume the partner wants to scrutinise everything in minute detail. We don’t—we employ battalions of clever people like her precisely so we don’t have to triple check everything ourselves.
    ‘Lisa said she was too busy,’ Isabelle explained, perhaps picking up on my annoyance.
    I thanked her for dealing with it so promptly, although I could have thumped the stuck-up cow. And then I gave her the good news.
    The little creep made all the appropriate noises, as you’d expect. She gushed on about how grateful she was for all the opportunities she’d been given, blah, blah, blah. But the more she said, the more hollow and insincere she sounded. Mystified, I choked her off sharply for the sake of my timetable.
    I zipped through the next few staff. Smithies hadn’t discussed these with me, because I’d arrived at the “right” answer without his intervention—I’d held them all back. They were disappointed, I sympathised, and they slunk off, no doubt to stick pins in a wax effigy of me.
    Then came Ryan.
    I’d sacrificed him like a pawn in a game of chess. Now, as he stood in my doorway, the multiple reflections of his sheepish grin filled me with guilt. It was as if he anticipated the impending disappointment, but believed that by putting on his best behaviour now, he might magically change the outcome.
    Physically, Ryan was essentially an unfinished version of his older brother Greg—his asymmetrical features moulded by a less accomplished sculptor. To compound his physical imperfections, he wore his clothes sloppily, so that even a designer suit looked scruffy on him. But his troubles ran deeper still—his attitude was flawed too. Whatever Greg’s faults, he had quickly identified that the nebulous quality of “gravitas” was essential for an Irishman to progress in life, and worked tirelessly to cultivate it. By contrast, Ryan basked in his role as the team’s cheeky buffoon.
    ‘No promotion—no pay rise?’ he said, plaintively echoing what I’d told him. The news must have been hard to stomach, especially if he’d already heard that his girlfriend had scooped the jackpot.
    ‘I’m afraid so, Ryan. If it makes you feel any better, there are plenty of your peers in the same position.’
    ‘It doesn’t make me feel better.’
    ‘And in your case, the decision was extremely marginal.’
    ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘If it was so marginal, why didn’t you let me through?’
    ‘I’m sorry, Ryan, but you fell the wrong side of the line.’
    ‘I hope this isn’t your way of getting back at Greg.’
    ‘What?’
    I was astounded by this suggestion. Smithies had pretty much accused me of nepotism, and now here was Ryan claiming I was biased against him.
    ‘You heard.’
    ‘Ryan,’ I said sighing. ‘Do you seriously think I can’t view your promotion objectively because I was once married to your brother?’
    ‘Well, there’s something behind all this I’m not getting.’
    ‘For the avoidance of doubt,’ I said, taking refuge in the protective mantle of Smithies’ jargon, ‘it has nothing to do with Greg. Even if I minded about Tiffany, which I don’t, it wouldn’t affect my judgement.’
    Ryan seemed doubtful, maybe because he somehow recognised that Greg’s remarriage did in fact rankle.
    ‘So it’s because I puked on your shoes?’
    ‘You’re