Later that day Bernice was called into Martin's office. When she entered, she noticed that there was already somebody there. He was in his mid-twenties, of middle height and well-built. His dark hair was thinning on top, leaving just a few curly wisps, and he had what looked like a short ponytail at the back: this was the first time Bernice had ever seen a man with a ponytail outside pictures of popstars back in the sixties and seventies. She also noticed that he was slightly cross-eyed, and yet despite this - perhaps even because of it - he had an undeniably sexy charm, something he was clearly aware of and which he often maximised with a very sly grin - such as his face wore now as she entered.
"Ah, Bernice I'd like you to meet James Slide, James, this is Bernice Stuart. James is our new ad manager - perhaps you could tell your staff when you go back - the advertising team will be told by me at the same time when I introduced James." Since Martin did not say any more about her to James, she assumed the latter already knew by now.
"But what happened?" she couldn't resist asking. Had someone told Martin about Bob's 'carpetting' of Becky - whom Chris had baptised the 'Ceiling Woman' in honour of her activities, which were apparently well-known within the company.
"Er, well I'd rather not go into details," said Martin, hating the sordid business of firing staff, "But let's just say that Bob was guilty of gross misconduct sufficient to warrant his instant dismissal."
Wow, thought Bernice, heavy stuff. She wanted to know more, but she was too delighted by the replacement of Bob to be upset that Martin wasn't more forthcoming. Besides which, she understood that his code as publisher forbade him from discussing such intimate details about a peer: that was only allowed at the next level up among fellow publishers. But she was sure that the old Wright's rumour mill would be working overtime on this one. She looked forward to passing reception tomorrow morning.
In fact she didn't have to wait until then.
She had gone back to her office to tell them the good news. Bob Percival was widely disliked there: people like Kate and Terence made no bones about that. So she was delighted to be able to pass on the news of their recent acquisition.
"He's here now, did you say?" asked Dave concerning Mr Slide. "Interesting."
"Why?" asked Bernice, wondering what she had missed in the situation.
"Well, if you think about it, that means that Martin has been planning this for a while: ad managers can not be conjured up from thin air - there's notice periods etc to be negotiated. Something in particular may have provided the occasion for the heave-ho of Bob, but it had been some time coming."
Dave's analysis, as ever, was spot on. Martin had been exasperated by Bob's appalling performance for some time, and had convinced Charles that they needed a super salesman to save the project. He had come across James Slide several years ago when the latter was working as a junior salesman on a rival title to one of Martin's. Since then, Martin had half followed his career against the day when he might be able to use him. Certainly his track record was impressive: a steady progression through more and more senior jobs on bigger and bigger books. This meant that although James was very interested in Martin's proposals - he said it was 'time to move on' from where he currently was - he was not cheap. His bonus scheme in particular was stratospheric, and Martin needed to get explicit approval from Charles.
A little while after Bernice had made the announcement, James himself came in to the editorial office - something that Bob had done only once or twice, preferring to use the phone or send Becky - and was introduced to the team.
"This is Peter, our Ass - I mean Assistant Editor, sorry Pete," Bernice said as Pete scowled and flushed at this public use of a nickname he had never been very happy with. "This is George - "
"Pleased to meet you, sir," said James, pronouncing 'sir' with a wonderful ambiguity that might have been deeply respectful or very slightly mocking. He offered his hand and shook George's heartily. Taken aback by this warmth George responded automatically but not without a certain feeling.
Bernice cocked an eyebrow as she carried on with the introductions. "Yasmeen, our News Editor - "
"Hi," James said in a silky-smooth voice that sent shivers down the spines of all the women, almost despite themselves. "Oh, hi," replied Yasmeen, unsure how to respond, suddenly looking like a gawky schoolgirl - and rather fetching.
"This is Dave, Chris, Terence, Wobs - " Bernice moved round the team, and noted the cool appraisal James gave the men in the office. Their responses varied enormously. Dave grunted and got on with his work; Chris raised a quizzical eyebrow, Terence rose, strode across and offered a firm handshake, while Wobs just waved merrily from his corner.
"And last, but by no means least, this is our very wonderful Janice," said Bernice smiling.
"Hello," his voice dropping in both frequency and volume to send a few more shivers around the room. He took Janice's hand and shook it ever-so gently. Bernice was impressed not only by the variety of his responses, but also by his attention to Janice - she hated seeing secretaries ignored by managers, and so was prepared to forgive Mr Slide quite a lot if he continued acting civilly to her.
After the introductions James chatted with everyone for a while, moving easily around the office. He remembered their names and jobs instantly, and they were impressed by his evident knowledge of how editorial functioned, and by his general sharpness. His duty done, James then suggested to Bernice that they might have a quick meeting just to go over basics since he needed to get off to a good start.
She had already held her planning meeting for the January issue and assigned features to her team. These included one on Working Trips Abroad for Yasmeen, another on Planning and Forecasting for herself - she thought she might as well get some benefit from the dratted paperwork she was drowning in - Children and Business for Pete, Press Conferences for Dave and Office Parties for Chris. She was therefore able to leave them to get on with this and to join James in his office immediately.
"Interesting to see that you don't have your own office," said James when they arrived in his.
"Why?" she asked.
"Well, it says something about a manager if they don't show all the signs."
"And what other signs are there?" asked Bernice, already impressed by Mr Slide - but then anybody after Fivepence would seem a genius.
"Well, like smokes," said James, his slightly cross-eyed gaze extraordinarily steady.
"I'm sorry, do you mean the cigarettes you smoke?"
"No, no," he laughed, very softly, caressing almost, "Smoke - jam-jar - car."
"Ah, I see. Well, you'll probably be horrified to hear that I don't have one of those, either," said Bernice, rather enjoying his look of mock horror.
"No, you're kidding?" he said, tilting his head forward and raising his eyebrows quizzically. No, you're not, are you? Very impressive little lady...this could be very interesting, he thought. "But you really should do," he continued, "they're so important in a company. You're not really being fair to your team...." Slide possessed an instinctive ability to read people - especially women - and he had already guessed that one of the buttons to press for Bernice was her staff.
"Why not?" she asked, intrigued.
"Well," he went on, delighted that he had hit his mark, "cars within a company are not just means of transport, they are symbols of power. By refusing one, you are turning down the chance to display your place in the hierarchy. Now, I might guess that means very little to you, but have you considered whether all your team are so happy about have a leader with no standing? - because it means that they too are in a sense out of it." He smiled a very small smile.
It was an intriguing theory, though not one that she really accepted - she was more inclined to see cars purely as phallic. But it was certainly something of a turn up for the book that she found herself arguing about power symbolism with her ad manager; things were definitely looking up.
"Anyway," she said, "let's get down to business, shall we?" He opened his hands and bowed as if in deference. "I presume that in the few weeks you've been talking to Martin" - she paused slightly to gauge the effect of this: he raised his eyebrows slightly, as if in salute to this correct reading of the situation, courtesy of Mowley - "you've been doing some research on the magazine and its market. So perhaps it would be easier if you told me exactly what you want to know?"
"Sure," he said. "But first, I'll tell you what you want to know." He paused, like a comedian waiting to give the punch line, except that he was waiting for her to give it. Eventually Bernice capitulated.
"Oh yes? And are you so sure that you know what I want?" This conversation was becoming truly amazing, thought Bernice.
"I'm always sure I know what women want," he said, his tone changing slightly, and for the worse, thought Bernice, suddenly aware of a darker undercurrent to this banter. "But what you want to know," he went on, returning to his original playful tone, "is about Mr Percival: just exactly what did he do to get fired. Am I right?"
She nodded; yes, right, and very slightly insufferable, Mr Slide.
"Well, it might have been the fact that he was bonking his secretary in the office - but then you knew that" - yes, but how the hell did he know that she knew? - "it might have been the fact that he was over-ordering on office stationery and then selling the surplus down the market on Saturday mornings. It might even have been the fact that he was running a private business on the side selling second-hand cars - and gave his office phone as the contact number on the ads he ran in local newspapers. But rather than any of these, it was probably the fact that the other night our publisher Martin - and perhaps sometime you could explain this thing he has about Mexico - ordered a taxi from one of the local firms - you know the kind, ordinary saloons. And who should be driving the car when it turned up but our Bob, in his company car? Must have made an interesting scene that encounter."
Bernice was conscious that she was enjoying this conversation with Slide rather more than she probably should have been. But then she thought that perhaps she had been rather prejudiced against sales people in the past, and that James might just be the person to set her right.
"But to return to your original kind offer, is there anything I want to know, well yes, lots, but I think we'll have plenty of time to do that over the next few weeks. And in fact there is the minor matter of closing this issue to attend to first. So if you'll excuse me I'll be going in there to get those lazy bastards to bestir themselves and sell a few pages before it's too late."
She was interested to see him become very slightly agitated when he spoke of the current advertising team. He was clearly a professional, this one, and Bernice rather found herself looking forward to working with him - and to attending the ActionPlay™ management development course with him next week.
