The Players And The Game Read Online Free PDF

director before finance became shaky and Bob Lowson was brought in to reorganise, had danced twice with her. He had said to Paul, ‘I congratulate you, Vane, on having such a beautiful young wife. You make a fine couple.’
    Beauty, she thought, beauty. The word rang like a bell down the years. As she remembered it, that had been the best time of her life, a time when she had recovered from Anthony’s death and had been entranced by Paul’s good looks, when she herself had been beautiful and perfectly happy. Her parents had disapproved of Paul, who as her mother had put it was far from being out of the top drawer, but Alice had not cared about that. It was a long time, though, since they had made a fine couple. ‘I am beautiful,’ she said, and went on muttering it like an incantation until she had reached the bathroom, and the glass there gave her the lie. This strained pale creature, still with fine bones and delicate features, but with wild greying hair and something strained about the eyes, was certainly not beautiful. She tore up the photograph at the dance into four pieces, wept a little, carefully stuck the pieces together again with a postcard backing. With these concessions made to sentiment she became again her practical self. She did her face, put on a dress that was rather too smart, and went out shopping.
    In the High Street she met Penelope Service, who told her about the puzzle of the missing Anne Marie. ‘She’s really a bit odd,’ Penelope said to Dick that evening. ‘Do you know what she said when I told her about Anne Marie? She said–’ Penelope gave a giggle sharp as a hiccup – ‘“I wonder if my husband’s seduced her? He doesn’t like me much now, but he’s fond of young girls.”’
    Dick nodded. As a psychologist he was professionally unsurprised by anything.
    ‘And then she said. “Don’t take any notice, I’ve been having an afternoon in the past, do you ever do that?” I felt rather – sorry for her, she seemed quite–’ Penelope’s sentence faded into total extinction. ‘So I asked her back to tea, and she’s going to join the – bridge club.’
    ‘Fine. What are we going to do about that damned girl?’
    ‘I don’t think I want to have another au pair. They’re more trouble than–’ Another sentence faded.
    ‘I suppose we’d better send her things back to her family.’
    ‘I’ll do it tomorrow.’
    ‘The police seemed pretty sure she was having it off with some fellow in London. She didn’t seem to me quite that type, I must say.’
    Penelope Service had heard enough about Anne Marie. ‘I don’t know, darling, and frankly I don’t care. All I know is that she was a rotten au pair, and I’m – glad she’s gone.’
    ‘It would be funny if Vane really had got her tucked away in a love-nest somewhere. Rather a dish, isn’t he?’
    ‘Not my type. I don’t like men his age pretending to be teenagers. He looks as if he might dye his hair.’
     
    The office door said Paul Vane in gold lettering, and Director of Personnel beneath it in black. The position had at one time been called Personnel Manager, but the word Director was thought to add prestige. It did not carry with it a position on the Board, but Paul was entitled to use the wash-room and luncheon-room which were used also by Board members. Such marks of distinction were important. They showed how far he had come since joining the firm as a junior member of the Personnel Department.
    A week after the move to Rawley he found a memo on his desk. It said that next week a small luncheon-room was to be opened on the top floor for the use of directors, selected senior staff and their guests. The room would be used only when guests of importance were present. Appended below was a list of those entitled to use the new luncheon-room, after giving prior notice of the guests who were being entertained. His name was not on it.
    He read the list of names a second time. It was headed by the Chairman, Sir