The Anonymous Widower

Time to Spare, Go by Air

Simon did not like flying to America. Or in fact anywhere else long-haul for that matter.  And especially when he was alone. 

In the time that he had been building the company over the last ten years or so, he must have been about thirty times to the United States.  He began to hate the trips more and more, as he felt that the hours wasted in the air could be better spent productively at his computer in Cambridge.

As it was a Sunday, his wife, Carol, had taken him to Heathrow and dropped him for a lunchtime flight to New York on British Airways.  This time was different though, as after months of difficult and intense negotiations he was on the point of signing his company away for a large number of millions of dollars.

He had decided it was time for the sale. So perhaps the trip would be better.

The programming system that he had designed and helped to program to handle one of the intimate communications problems of the emerging Internet had been hugely successful.  The company had developed into a world leader in the underpinnings of the Internet.  Now, one of the Internet giants and one of his company’s largest customers was determined to add his much smaller Cambridge-based concern Cambridge to their portfolio. 

He had resisted their strong but fair overtures for some time, but now as the Iraq war and Blair government had added uncertainty to his plans, he had decided it was the best time to bow out gracefully.

The deal he had extracted was very good for him and meant that he really wouldn’t have to work again at the age of sixty.  He doubted he would take that route, as the inactivity of retirement had killed and destroyed his father.  So perhaps, taking a more robust approach would mean he might achieve slightly more immortality.

The deal was also good for his dozen or so employees, in that the purchasers had agreed to keep the Research and Development of his company in Cambridge.  They had also decided to use his company and its local knowledge as a hub on which to form a European arm for their own research.  That proposal, which had come in their initial approach about a year ago, had really been what had persuaded him to sell.  Especially, as they wanted to use him as a consultant for three years!  Already, his employees were squatting in a new and luxurious building on the Cambridge Science Park owned by the purchasers. They were a lot better than the previous ones above a Building Society in the Hills Road.

It was the classic offer that no-one in their right mind could sensibly refuse.  He’d thought about refusing, but only for an hour or so.

—————————

This flight was different though.

For years, he’d always insisted on a certain amount of fairness in the company.  Although, he was the major shareholder, with about eighty percent of the issued shares, most of the other employees also had holdings that on sale would set them up well for the rest of their lives.  He’d always insisted too that money was best kept in the company and frivolous expenses were not allowed or even thought of.  If challenged he always quoted Lindbergh, who when asked about taking a navigator across the Atlantic, said he’d prefer to take the fuel.

Business and first-class air travel was usually on the banned list, along with plush offices, taxis and expensive company cars, but this time he had been persuaded by the purchasers to take a first-class flight to St. Louis at their expense.  He would be changing planes in New York.

It was about eleven, when after checking-in he found himself in the comfortable first-class lounge in Terminal 4.  As Carol and himself had been to a film and had a late-night curry in Cambridge the day before, within a few minutes, he found himself fast asleep, with that day’s Sunday Times in his lap.

‘Excuse me!  Sir!’  He was aware of being awoken by one of the staff in the lounge.  ‘Are you on the one-seven-seven to New York?’

‘Yes!’  Worriedly, He picked up the boarding pass to check.  ‘Have I missed it?’

‘No!’  A pleasant woman in the dreadful BA uniform reassured him.  ‘It’s just that the plane will be off a bit late, as the incoming flight has suffered a delay because of very high winds.  It looks like you’ll take off about three o’clock.  I’m sorry!’  She even appeared to be so.

‘Oh!’  He thought about his travel plans from New York.  ‘I have a connection to catch for St. Louis.’

‘We’ve already booked you on a later flight!  Sir!’  She continued to smile at him.

‘Thank you!’  He laughed to himself as he remembered the old adage.  Time to spare, go by air!

—————————

He looked up from the paper and the lady sitting opposite caught his eye.  She smiled at him.  ‘It seems we’re both on that delayed New York flight.’  She was about his age or perhaps a bit younger, blonde, striking rather than beautiful, very well-dressed in a dark brown leather suit with probably a very expensive designer name, what looked to be a cashmere jumper and very highly-polished stiletto-heeled boots in a colour to match the suit.  Her heels were far higher than any Carol would ever think about, let alone wear.

‘Yes!’  He stood up and gathering his briefcase and the Sunday Times, he moved the couple of metres to sit beside her.  ‘I’m Simon from…’  He looked at his ticket.  ‘Seat 4A!’

She looked at her ticket.  ‘Snap!’  She declared.  ‘Well almost!  I’m in 4B!  Maggie and pleased to meet you!  If I’m very nice to you can I sit in the window for a bit?’  She smiled and there was almost a hint of a flirt.  ‘I’m like you with a connection.  I’ve got to be in Pittsburgh tonight to meet my husband.  Supposedly tonight!’  She shrugged her shoulders.  ‘I doubt I’ll make it!  Do you know anything about Pittsburgh?

‘The first part of the name used to say it all!’  He smiled.  ‘I went there in the seventies and it was like Sheffield without the breathing space of the moors. All steel and most of it rusting! Now, it’s much cleaner and virtually completely rebuilt. It’s healthcare and financial services now.  I was there two years ago and it was good.’

‘Sounds much better!  Romantic even!’  She shook her head.  ‘I’ll be there for two weeks!’

‘So you won the second prize!’

‘Second prize?’  She didn’t understand him.

‘First prize was only a week in Pittsburgh.’  Maggie laughed at his very old joke.  ‘As you’ll be in the United States without London’s good food and wine for a long period, why don’t I take you for a really good lunch?’

—————————

‘It’s not the best restaurant is it?’  Maggie was laughing as she tried to make the best of a burnt gammon steak and some greasy chips.  ‘Self-service really isn’t my scene.  You’d think there’d be something better!’

‘No!’  Simon laughed back.  ‘But this wine will be better than anything in Pittsburgh.’  He raised a class of something red.  ‘Only Houston has worse wine cellars.’

‘Glad I’m not going there!  I went once and it was awful.  No walking or anything interesting!’  She paused.  ‘I’ve told you what I’m doing in the States.  Why are you going to St. Louis?’

‘It’s a bit of a wake really!  I’m selling my company to the Americans.’

‘Is that good?  It saddens me that all our best companies seem to be being bought by overseas companies.’  She frowned.  ‘But at least my husband and his company is redressing the balance.’  She smiled.  ‘They’re buying a mortgage company in Pittsburgh and he wants me to do the entertaining and generally play the beautiful woman.’ He perhaps saw a glimpse of a cynical expression.

‘It looks like we’re both going to have fun!’  He smiled.  ‘We’d have had much more fun if I’d sold my company to your husband’s.  What business are they in?’

‘Financial services, insurance… That sort of thing!’  She shook her head.  ‘It’s all a bit high powered for me!  They just seem to move money around to make money.’

‘It’s all legal money laundering!’  He laughed.  ‘We provide boring backbone stuff for the Internet.  We’re selling out to one of our biggest customers.’  Simon thought for a moment.  ‘I suspect, they’ve worked out what they’re going to buy from us in the next few years and reckon it’s better to buy the company.’

‘Is it a good price?’

‘Let’s put it this way!’  He smiled broadly.  ‘It’ll keep my wife and myself in champagne, caviar and first class travel for a good few years.’

—————————

‘Hello!’  The steward stood beside them.  ‘Are we together?  Or have we just met?’  He offered two glasses of champagne.  ‘Would you like a glass of BA’s best bubbly?  And some pretzels?’

‘Yes!  Please!  I will!’  Maggie answered.  ‘We are together now, as we met in the lounge.’

‘BA tries to please!’  He smiled in the way that only a British Airways steward can.  ‘We’ll be setting up a dating agency next!  Would you like some?  Sir!’

‘Yes!  But I’ll skip the pretzels!  Have you any nuts?’

‘Sorry!’  The steward was fiercely apologetic.  ‘It’s the problem with allergies.  We don’t have nuts on our flights.’

‘I can understand that!’  Maggie replied.  ‘My niece has a serious nut allergy.  She carries a loaded syringe at all times.’

‘Really!’  Simon was surprised.  ‘I didn’t know nut allergies were that bad.  When I was a child, it was thought I had an egg allergy, but luckily I grew out of it.’

—————————

‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen!’  The steward had come to the front of the cabin.  ‘I’m afraid we’ve got a problem!’  There was a rumble of discontent.  ‘It seems that some selfish woman has decided that she doesn’t want to fly to the USA with us today. We all want to go don’t we?’

‘What does that mean?’  Several passengers asked the same question.

‘We’re trying to persuade her to get on!’  The steward waved his hands in a gesture of hopelessness.  ‘If she doesn’t we’ll have to unload the plane, check all the bags and then start again.  I’m so sorry!’

As he finished, the pilot came on the loudspeaker in the cabin.  ‘This is Captain Harris.  I’m afraid the worst has happened and we can’t persuade the lady to board.  We’re all going to have to disembark.’  There were groans all around.  ‘The worse news is that as we are now so late, I’ll be out of hours and we’ll need a flight crew change.  So I suspect, that you’ll all be on your way about seven.  On behalf of British…’  The rest of his statement was lost in the groans of discontent in the cabin.

—————————

‘We’re getting to know each other quite well!’  Maggie giggled as they settled back into their seats in the 747 again at around seven that evening.  ‘Only six hours late!  By the time…’  She paused to correct herself.  ‘Or should I say if we get to New York, it’ll be the longest I’ve been with another man alone, since before I was married.’  She thought for a moment.  ‘That’ll make it for twenty-five years at least!  How long have you been married?’

‘Carol and I got married in 1968 on the only dry Saturday in a very wet summer.’  Simon replied.  ‘I seem to remember the next week, friends didn’t!  A lot of Guildford, where they were getting married was knee deep in water!’

‘Where did you get married?’

‘Why do you ask?’  Simon was surprised at her question.  ‘It was Cockfosters in North London.  Do you know it?’

‘That answers my question.’  She smiled.  ‘You were Simon who lived at number seventy-three.  I thought you were vaguely familiar!’

‘And you are?’ 

‘Now that would be telling!’  She was being as secretive as possible.  ‘You went to Minchenden in Southgate, whereas I was at the County with your sister.  Wasn’t she called Joan?’

‘Yes!’

‘You still don’t remember me!  Do you?’  She opened her handbag and took out a pair of glasses, which she perched on her nose before giving it a sound wiggle.  ‘Does that help?’

He paused and turned towards her.  ‘Not really!  I can only remember a very fat little girl called Margaret or Margery, with terrible glasses and pigtails!’  He put his hand across the seat.  ‘I think she came to tea one afternoon!’

‘I’ve changed a bit!’

—————————

‘At last!’  Simon sighed as the plane took off.  He looked at his watch.  ‘Just on eight!  I reckon we’ll be there at well after ten.  I won’t get my connection to St. Louis.’

‘Still at least we’re on our way!’  Maggie was optimistic.  ‘It looks like we’ll both miss the connections.  Some years ago, we had a disaster and got stuck for about twelve hours in Bombay airport on the way to the Maldives.  It was hot, humid, the food was non-existent and the toilets didn’t work.  I’m told it’s better now!’

‘It is!’  Simon replied.  ‘We did the same thing last year.  No problem at all.  Let’s hope things have improved for good.  We loved India!’

‘We didn’t!’  Maggie laughed.  ‘But then all we saw was the airport.’

‘Have you seen this?’  Simon removed his watch and held it upright.  ‘See it’s eight in the UK!’  Now he turned it upside down.  ‘See!  It’s one-thirty in India as they are five and a half hours ahead!’

‘That’s clever!  Let me see!’  She took his watch and turned it first one way and then the other.  ‘I like that!  Why does it work?’

‘I suspect that the British in India used to keep their watches to UK time!’  He took the watch back and put it on.  Then they made India five and half hours earlier, so that they could turn their watches upside down to get the local time.  Or it could have been that India wanted to snub the British!  But then we always insulted each other and turned them into compliments!’

‘Whatever it is, it’s very neat!’

—————————

They continued in a similar vein swapping tales for the journey. 

He told how he had gone to Liverpool University to read electronic engineering and she told how she’d been to Nottingham to read English.  They talked of their families, children and various careers.  To both it made a change from the normal lonely flight that they had often experienced.

‘Do you think we’ll ever meet again?’  She asked Simon as the captain announced they were about to descend into JFK at New York and the steward prepared everybody for the landing.

‘Probably not!’  Simon reached in his wallet and gave her a card.  ‘Send me an e-mail!  All my details are there!’

‘I might!’  She sighed.  ‘Well!  I might if I could send an e-mail!  But I probably won’t even if I could as we live in Bournemouth which is a long way for you.  My husband is also very jealous!  He’ll want to know all about you and how we met first.  I suppose I could say about your sister.  How is she by the way?  I don’t think I’ve seen her since she left school after the Fifth Form.’

‘I’ve no idea!’  He paused.  ‘I haven’t seen her since our father’s funeral, twenty years ago.  There was a bit of a row!’

‘I’m sorry!’  She put her hand across and held his.  ‘It’s rotten when families fall out!’

‘But if you ever find yourself in Cambridge, give us a call.’

—————————

Simon felt a bit down as he said goodbye to Maggie at the baggage reclaim.  He then walked straight through to queue for his new ticket for the morning and a hotel room for the night.  Perhaps he should have done more to persuade her to come to Cambridge.  He wondered if he had felt real fear in her voice as she had said goodbye. 

But then he had also heard of her husband’s business methods, about how he bullied his employees and didn’t care too much about the sensibilities of anybody.  And especially those that said he was wrong!  But judging by his wealth in The Sunday Times Rich List, he was certainly in the top league.

But what had Maggie’s husband really created? 

Simon could lay claim to have been one of the movers and shakers of the technology that would propel the world into the twenty-first century.  Her husband may have created a large and highly profitable financial empire, but what had been invented and what would it bring to the world?

Simon liked his work and it brought him true fulfilment.  He knew that he would go on to do other things, but his part in the creation of the Internet could never be taken away from him.  He was perhaps being cruel, but he didn’t think that Maggie’s husband would be remembered in twenty years.  It was unlikely he would be either, but one day someone would write a book about his part.  And if no-one else did it, he had all the evidence to write that history.

The queue at the desk was going slowly.  Simon just needed a bed, but many in front of him at the queue wanted compensation, specific requirements and assurances that their flights in the morning would not be full.  He’d already phoned his new boss at home in St. Louis and he had received a very relaxed reply, to the affect that if he was a day late, they would get a little bit more interest and he would get a little bit less.  The last thought from his new boss had been to enjoy himself and charge any loose women, but not their diseases to the company.  Simon had laughed, as it was probably the last thing on his mind.

At last he reached the front of the queue.  ‘I’m sorry to have kept you Sir!’  The attendant was pleasant despite the abuse she’d had for the last hour.  She took his ticket, punched a few buttons on her computer and a new ticket was presented.  ‘You’re leaving at 11:40.  I’m sorry it’s a bit late, but we’re very busy!’

‘That’s OK!’  Simon smiled.

‘Thank you very much!  Sir!’  She smiled back at him.  ‘I’ve had a very bad day.  ‘I’m just fixing you up with a room!  You’ve no exception to one of the special luxury rooms we reserve for those who don’t give us any aggravation!’

‘Of course not!’

‘Would it be a double or a single?’

Simon was just about to answer when a hand grabbed his and Maggie’s voice spoke.  ‘We’d like a double.  Thank you!’

—————————

Simon never ever spoke to Maggie again after they passionately kissed goodbye at JFK in the morning. 

But he did get immense pleasure every time he saw her sitting submissively with her husband as he took the plaudits at awards ceremonies, gave lectures on how to make business work or presented prizes at the horse racing at Newmarket.

Simon couldn’t avoid a wry smile, when the financial empire, that Maggie’s husband created, crashed in the credit crunch of late 2008. It wasn’t fraud, but it was all an illusion of junk bonds, worthless investments, optimistic forecasts and outrageous payments for dubious services.