CHAPTER 80
We had other issues to think about just then, as Ish was navigating the sudden complications of primary school. There had been the usual sequence of birthday parties throughout his time in what I still thought of as ‘infants’ school’, but now he was in what my memories called ‘junior school' things were changing, as boys did their traditional dance of realising that girls were not only different, but actually distasteful which is not exactly the best process for continuing our species. His size and balance were both a little above the average, the latter no doubt helped by his emerging love of climbing, and that meant he avoided the old school horror of being ‘last pick’ for games, and THE local game for Perth was ‘footy’

.

It's an odd game, Aussie Rules, and to my eye it comes across as a mixture of rugby, American football, basketball and a street brawl, played on a cricket pitch. You can’t pass the ball as in the first two, as only punching or kicking (of the ball, that is) is allowed, you have to dribble it by bouncing it on the ground every few strides if you’re running with it, tackling is, um, enthusiastic, and while the pitch is huge, it’s played by teams of eighteen. In what amounts to their underwear---vests and shorts. Plus socks and boots, of course, but they’re basically in gym kit, or what I would wear at the climbing wall.

Oh yes: there’s no offside, and blocking is allowed. I suspect a game would leave me injured, if not dead from over-exertion---it’s very fast-moving.

So that was our son, making his own social circle, which relieved me. His love of reading was the sort of thing that can leave a boy in isolation, or trigger bullying, of all types, but Ish was now scoring ‘jock points’. As a result, especially during school holidays, one of us would drop him off at a series of juvenile male conclaves, usually at a schoolmate’s house, or at a public barbie site, in return bracing ourselves for the return match in our back garden.

I added extra bracing to the back of his little wall after the first time I had to call a total of five lads down. I didn’t want to think about the injury liability issues, so the next time we played hosts, I covered it with a tarpaulin, and that move resulted in one of the last real tantrums we got from Ish, which Maz handled far better than I could have done. I don’t mean some innate magic maternalism; she just seemed to be able to be far stricter with our son than I could ever manage.

All in all, considering my little twitch at his comment on her dress, we most definitely had a boy, and for a while one with a cast on his left forearm following a greenstick fracture sustained in his ‘footy’ when he fell the wrong way. I suspect the school expected us to sue, but that would never be our style. Our boy gathered a lot of signatures, so we had to find somewhere to store the cast when it was removed.

Had I been like that when I was young? I’d never actually broken any of my own body parts, even though I had been compelled to play rugby at school. I’d been far more interested in building and maintaining off-road motorbikes and getting out into the hills than team games. Ish was turning out rather more rounded in character than I had managed, for while his evening recreation was almost always reading, he was still a team player at school, in all senses. All in all, things could have been a lot worse for us, but as I watched him asleep on my way to our own bed each night, I couldn’t imagine things being better.

Sheffield were on the ball regarding Bobby’s project, or rather the idea that had been neatly snatched back by his big boss. We arranged a series of video conferences, and I found myself feeling profoundly intimidated when the first person signing in on the initial call was Mr Charteris, our Managing Director. We had set up in a rented conference room, complete with all the extra gubbins that none of us quite understood, with Bets logged in from Sydney, and as it was around seven in the evening our time, and a steady 36 degrees outside, our dress style wasn’t so much ‘office casual’ as ‘trying not to sweat too much’, and that of the management was most definitely suit and tie.

The boss was straight to the point, like his dress sense.

“Can we have a quick round of introductions from you all, please? I’d like to put faces to all the names”

We did our obligatory classroom register thing, and Mr Charteris was off and running, introducing two other directors as well as a very new face indeed.

“This is Alex Beaton, people. He is from DIT, the Department for International Trade”

Beaton waved a hand.

“Well, strictly I’m with the FCO---er, Foreign and Commonwealth Office. They all blur into one. I’m based at Great Charles Street, and the other lot are up at the Admiralty, but as I’m an old Singers hand, it’s sort of fallen into my lap. This is potentially a very useful door-opener for us”

The MD was quick to interrupt, without actually seeming to do exactly that.

“People, we are looking to arrange some discreet funding from Mr Beaton’s people, and in essence it will effectively be an extension to your entertainment budget. We won’t be hooking the big fish by taking them to the local chippy. I have heard that Perth is a rather relaxed place, but the countries we shall be dealing with are, or can be, a little on the formal side. Short form, okay? We are looking at establishing an advisory office, but there will be… There will be help and assistance offered via the FCO”

Kul murmured “Minders”, and Charteris nodded.

“While we have a commercial opportunity here, there are political ramifications we are unable to ignore”

Kul, as ever, was still on point.

“What does this mean in practice, sir? We, our sole premise here, is setting up business links. Are there issues we need to know about?”

Charteris humphed, then surprised me by grinning, suddenly losing most of his stuffiness.

“My turn, Alex. Time to bring this one back to our strengths, okay? Kul, the even shorter form. There are a lot of heavy political undercurrents here, particularly with regard to future trade agreements. That’s what Alex worries about, not me. Not us, as a company. Our duty is to deliver a decent return for our shareholders, and that is it. We do that best by not pissing off either HMG or the locals. What we are asking is simply that you continue to show the strengths you have as both individuals and as a team, while avoiding exactly that urinary issue. Maryam?”

Maz looked a little surprised at being singled out, but recovered well.

“Yes?”

“For very obvious reasons, you are the lead choice for this venture. Are you happy to undertake such a role? I am never happy doing the press gang stuff”

Maz looked to me for reassurance or clarity, whatever, so I just raised my eyebrows and nodded ‘Go on’.

“Mister Charteris, we have already had that discussion among the team”

“I assumed you would have done exactly that, Maryan”

“Indeed. It’s how we work here. I just have a husband and a son to consider”

‘Alex’ raised a hand.

“May I interject here?”

Charteris nodded, and Beaton grinned, in an oddly happy way.

“We have a long history in Singers, for obvious reasons, and we still retain certain assets there, some of which are former military properties, including some civilian houses. We have a couple of rather nice properties we can set up for you as a family. One is in Chip Be, the other in the Wessex estate”

Maz burst out laughing at that.

“Sorry, but my…”

A couple of seconds went by before she continued.

“Gentlemen, I am a widow, just to clarify things. My first husband… Alan’s dad was a Forces child, and he actually lived in the Wessex estate. May I ask which address is yours?”

“Weyhill Close, number fourteen”

“Their address was number ten. I am… Mr Charteris, yes. Mike and I have discussed this already, and we have done so as a team, so I can give an agreed answer. Yes. What more do you need from us?”