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The work was dull, but there were hundreds of tiny, neglected jobs which needed doing and as many which had been done twice because no one person had clearly defined responsibility for them.
Better still, a new software program on which the business depended needed constant legislative research if it was to remain applicable, which meant that I was undertaking relatively academic – if not exactly intellectually daunting – work once more.
And, best of all, I actually got to leave Basingrad from time to time. Admittedly, this meant trips to places such as Felixstowe and Wembley, which are on no-one’s list of top exotic destinations, but oh, the joy of donning the war-paint again and boarding my pumpkin on rails, of seeing unfamiliar faces and buildings and hearing unfamiliar traffic and buskers, of selling ideas to a board of attentive people…!
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Weight started to drop off me. I jumped out of bed in the morning, intent upon the next project. If Tony had real cause to be jealous now, it was of my new commitment and enthusiasm. It infected the company’s Managing Director, who decided that it would be a good idea if he started taking me to certain functions to help him to woo clients. I like to think that it was my intellect and my in-depth understanding of the company which he considered valuable, but in truth I would have been thrilled rather than insulted to learn that it was my charm and sexual allure which made me popular. I was trying out my atrophied powers again like a pubescent girl flirting with old men, and I was delighted to find that those powers remained intact. I do not deny – why should I? – that self-esteem, or want of it, plays a large part in this story. It may be considered a weakness that I derive so much reassurance from the approval and desire of others, but, to be honest, who amongst us does not?
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