Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 CareSpan threw us a party.  Well, we'd identified changes to increase their
capacity by 15% within existing resources - and a variety of ways for them
to leverage future investment.  OK, so, obviously going native with the
corporative speak, here, but what I think that means is that we'd found
ways of multiplying future funding so that a 5% increase in money coming in
might result in a 10% increase in 'product'.  The nice thing about working
for people like CareSpan was that they didn't automatically think that this
was a good excuse to cut the original budgets - whether the same good sense
would apply in the corporate world remained to be seen - and, instead, had
thrown a party.

   And quite a party, too.  Somehow they'd hired a river boat on the Thames
- just for us - and seemed to have supplied copious amounts of alcohol.  I
was really impressed when I noticed a couple of casks of proper beer from
London's best microbrewery, being attended to by a couple whose ancient
T-shirts and pallid complexions identified them as actual brewers.  Talk
about pushing the boat out ...  ho, ho.

   I'd been amongst the first to arrive - and that was before I knew about
the beer - and quickly found May [CareSpan's Chief Executive] to
remonstrate about the extravagance.  May, of course, was far too busy to
talk - arguing with what appeared to be a chef, in this instance - and
simply smiled gnomically.  "Extravagance ...  well ...  maybe ...  if we'd
paid for it ...  "

   And then she was off, and I got caught up in a flood of new arrivals. 
Most were from CareSpan, of course - there were a lot more of them than
than us - but a fair amount from PCW and a few just friends of mine, people
I'd met through previous consultancy work or just ...  friends.  I did have
some.

   Naz and Seffi arrived - together, I wasn't remotely surprised to note -
and ensconced themselves conveniently close to the bar.  I got to talking
to a couple of people from a London charity - about politics, since you ask
- and started in on the ale.  It took me some time to notice that Debbie
wasn't about ...  and that the boat was about to ...  I don't know ... 
sail?  Cast off?  Get under way?  I found May in a hurry, not quite sure
why I thought she'd be able to help.  She could, though, simply asking,
"You haven't checked your mobile, have you?"

   I hadn't.  I did.  And, yes, there was a message from Debbie ...  she
would be joining us at the next pier, for whatever reason ...

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   When we got to Blackfriars, I was waiting by the gangway, as you might
expect.  As soon as the boat came into the pool of light around the pier, I
anxiously scanned the waiting ...  people; hardly a crowd.

   Nonetheless, I noticed three things, pretty much at once.  Debbie looked
stunning, instantly, in a pale green chiffon dress with what might be
emeralds around her neck.  Then, Debbie was standing beside a guy in a
powered wheelchair, apparently controlling the thing via a small keyboard
under his right hand.  And, thirdly ...  standing behind Debbie was ... 
Carla.

   Well ...  I suppose I could have been blown out of the water - as a
small part of my mind suggested, maliciously - but my main thought was,
bizarrely, that it was nice that Carla had finally met Debbie ...  and vice
versa ...

   Then, of course, they were coming aboard - see, nautical stuff comes
naturally after a while - and I was being hugged by Carla, peculiarly aware
that Debbie was simultaneously passing by with the guy in the wheelchair -
or should that be "the wheelchair using bloke".  Whatever ...  Debbie
squeezed my arm as she passed; I sort of twisted in Carla's arms to smile
at her ...  but she'd passed by.

   Carla stepped back out of the hug and looked at me - and, over my
shoulder, at Debbie.

   "Lovely woman", she said, "Very bright, capable ...  excellent choice,
if you don't mind me saying so." I didn't, but then I didn't know what she
was actually talking about.  Choice?  As colleague?  Life partner?  And
where the fuck did the life partner bit come from?  Ah, well ...

   I shook myself, tried to re-engage with Carla, but an awful lot of my
mind was still thinking stuff around ...  'I'm sort of involved with
someone ...  or not involved ...  but still a bit entangled ...  and he's a
nice guy'.  Words Debbie had said to me not so long ago.

   Meanwhile, Carla was sort of demanding my attention - in a nice way. 
Actually, she was hanging on to my arm, looking round the party, obviously
impressed.  And it was impressive - not too many people (which was good)
but wonderfully subtle lighting, an excellent sound system, superb free bar
...  and what looked like a huge buffet, currently being rolled out into
the room.  I told Carla that it was absurd, CareSpan organising all of
this.

   "Of course they didn't, silly ...", she said, "I did."

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   I looked at her for a while in silence and then she pulled me gently
towards the bar - pint of East London Gold for me, an orange juice for her.
Orange juice?, I thought, but then I was being dragged away again, past Naz
and Seffi - the only people dancing, but seemingly oblivious to the fact -
and out onto the deck ...  or whatever ...  outside from the main party,
anyway.  I noticed the South Bank passing, the London Eye.  It was a fine
sight.

   Carla was a fine sight, too - she had a silver threads braided into her
hair, I noticed, a black dress flowing round her, quite unlike the clingy
numbers I'd seen her wear before.  As I said, a fine sight ...  it was just
that so much of my brain remained focused on Debbie ...  and possibly more
of a shame that D was also a fine sight - and sitting just a few metres
away, listening intently to her disabled friend.

   The conversation looked like it would continue for a while; I began to
feel a bit voyeuristic and realised that I was ignoring Carla.  I turned to
find her grinning at me.  "You've got it bad, haven't you?" I nodded. 
Nothing that I could say, really - or too many things I could say, perhaps.
And this was Carla, without whom ...  She cut off my train of thought by
saying, "Well, good.  She's a fine person - and the way she's supporting
Phil [I assumed this was Debbie's friend] only demonstrates that.  Pretty
good negotiator, too ..."

   This was going places I wasn't overly happy with, so I forced myself
back to reality, back to Carla.

   "OK ...  thanks ...  but, how about you?  I can't say I've been over
impressed with your negotiation skills - or your availability - recently.
Now you pitch up without notice ...  OK pitch up and pay for a party ...  a
very nice party ...  but what's been going on with you?"

   "Hey," she said, squeezing my shoulder, "Nice to have you back for a
while, too.  Me, I'm checking up on my investment, obviously.  Also, I
wanted to talk to you - or you and Debbie - about your business plan ... 
which is a good plan ...  no worries, it just needs a zero added on to some
of the figures.  And, I hear you've been talking to the big boys, thought
you might like some help ...  or support." She paused, with a peculiar
gleam in her eye.  Went on, "And - finally - I won't be flying for a while
...  and I wanted to see you before I went into purdah."

   Things clicked in my brain.  Arthritically, glacially slowly, but the
mechanics ground their way to a conclusion nonetheless.  The voluminous
dress, the slightly different figure, last month's hassles ...  all fell
into place.

   "Bloody hell," I laughed, "You're pregnant ...  congratulations!"

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   Carla was indeed pregnant, Mr Snorey - she snorted at my explanation -
was indeed the father.  She'd laid on some champagne to accompany the
announcement and so we headed back inside to get it - I gave a sort of
complicated wave to Debbie, but I don't think she noticed.  Carla actually
stuck to the orange juice, but when she raised her glass to answer my toast
she revealed quite a large diamond on her finger - well, it could have been
a fake, but somehow I doubt it - and was instantly surrounded by a large
number of admiring women.  Humanity, I sometimes feel, is a strange concept
...  and one that I don;t pretend to understand.

   I found myself on the edge of the melee, for the moment, so I nipped
back to the bar for a couple more glasses of champagne and looked around
for Naz and Seffi to give them to.  I found them sitting on the floor in a
corner of the room, Seff - who appeared to be wearing a bin liner, I
noticed - with an arm round his shoulders, feeding him something or the
other from the buffet.  Naz, however, was - between accepting the offerings
- busily working away on a laptop.  UML diagrams, I saw as I reached them,
disturbing his attention just long enough to hand him a glass.

   "What the fuck," I asked in my best exasperated tone, "are you up to? 
This is supposed to be a party..."

   He did actually look sheepish for a bit, but there was no disguising the
excitement in his eyes.  "Seff here came up with an idea a minute or two
ago ...  just wanted to see if it would work ...  and I think it could. 
Actually, I think it could save us a lot of time and money, in the long
run, maybe make what you're doing a bit more saleable."

   OK - I was interested, so I squatted down beside them, Seffi sort of
leaning into me as we all looked at the mass of figures on the screen.  I
was truly impressed ...  Naz had reverse modelled the whole CastList
concept into UML and so had, in minutes, been able to rough out how the new
idea might fit into the existing structures.  And what an idea: Seff was
'simply' suggesting that we use psychometric data - which pretty much all
corporations collect these days, even if they never do much with it - and
use that as feedstock in populating the "human" side of the matrix. 
Depending on the accuracy of the data and the psychometric models
themselves - and I had severe doubts on both, having done most of the tests
myself at various points - we could clearly significantly shorten the data
gathering side of the process ...  and in a way that would really appeal to
the corporate mind.  We would also, clearly, need significantly more people
to develop the new idea than just Naz.  Whatever - we kind of already knew
that.  We drank the champagne and I gave them both a hug ... 
simultaneously as Seffi was still pressed up behind him ...  and we all
sort of grinned at each other for a bit.

   "Well ...  nothing like a happy team, " said Carla from behind me, "but
are you guys just being antisocial or are we going to be treated to a
display of group sex any time soon?" I jumped in quickly - neither Naz or
Seffi had ever met Carla before and I'm not sure that they quite got the
joke - and explained that we were merely slaving away to increase her
profits like any good wage slaves.  I could feel them both relax at this,
so went on to do the introductions, got them both to explain the concept.
Carla, of course, got it instantly and by the time I found myself on the
edge of the conversation, again, I was beginning to think they were being
pretty antisocial.  Or maybe just working up to group sex ...  * ** ***
**** ***** **** *** ** *

   The party was picking up really well - lots of people dancing, by now,
the buffet a fraction of its former size, the beer tending brewers now in
with the throng, pints of their own product in hand, the bar doing quite
well even if left to its own devices.  I realised that I hadn't so much as
said hello to Debbie all evening and decided to rectify this, hopefully
without causing any embarrassment with her friend.  I did pause for a smoke
in a quiet corner of the deck, though - my mind spinning with questions
about the nature of her "entanglement" with Phil ...  and the nature of my
own "entanglement" with her - before finally going to seek them out.

   They were, in fact, pretty much where I'd left them, only by now they'd
been joined by May from CareSpan - who had her arm around the waist of a
rather beautiful Asian woman I'd never seen before - and a couple of people
I recognised as being from PCW.  Debbie smiled at me as I approached,
introduced me to Phil who said hello in a broad Glaswegian accent [not
Motor Neurone Disease, then, my subconscious chipped in] and caught myself
just in time to not attempt to shake his hand.  May had purloined a bottle
or two of champagne - definitely a natural chief exec, I felt - and quickly
refilled the glass that I'd forgotten that I'd been carrying.  We all
chatted sociably for a while - Phil was particularly interested in the
genesis of the project Debbie had joined me in working on and I did my best
to fill him in.  In fact, I warmed to him - turned out he'd been a
detective, of all things, met Debbie when she'd done some stuff on fraud
with the City of London police, before he got "struck down" (his words)
with ...  well, some sort of cancer, high on the spinal cord ... 
inoperable, prognosis basically ...  grim.  All of which was said in a
completely matter of fact manner, with a calm intelligence that could only
be described as impressive.  I began to understand more about Debbie's
involvement, and appreciate why she'd never told me any of this stuff
herself.  I knew that if she had, I'd have felt sorry for her.  Hearing it
from Phil, like this, I just felt admiration for both of them.  Life had
treated them like shit and they knew it, but ...  well, that was life, the
implication went, so get on with it.  I hoped I could react the same way if
anything similar were to happen to me.

   The really inconvenient part of all this, though, was that hearing the
story had another effect on me, in that it forced me to face up to how I
actually felt about Debbie, perhaps for the first time.  I wasn't just
fascinated by her, I realised, not even extremely besotted.  Actually, I
was in love.  Which was a bit of a bugger, in the circumstances.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   Given that this was supposedly a party for the CastList crew - and that
Debbie was pretty firmly staying with Phil, while Naz and Seff had now
moved on from playing with the laptop to drawing really, really complicated
designs on some of the paper tablecloths from the buffet (oh, good, I
thought, Naz is stoned again), I felt that I really ought to circulate for
a while.  Actually, by the time I did the party was beginning to wind down,
the boat on its way back along the river - we were passing all the
execrable yuppie flats around Wandsworth, I noticed - but I had a few good
conversations, heard a few good - and many bad - jokes and got asked for a
job by a few people.  As one does.

   I ended up sitting on a chair by the wall and it was there that Carla
found me.  She was -well, glowing is the word that springs to mind, face
flushed from dancing, exchanging jokes and hugs with various people (none
of whom she'd ever met before, I realised) as she approached, flopped down
beside me.

   "Well, this turned out OK," she observed, turning to look at me.  "You
had an OK time, given that you're the guest of honour?"

   I agreed that I had, decided not to go into the stuff with Debbie, asked
her how she thought things were going, where she thought we should go next.

   "Well - good.  We can go into this in more detail tomorrow, if you've
got some time - I'll be in London for a few days, then I'm off to Frankfurt
before I go home - but I did have a chance to talk to Debbie earlier and
she told me about the plans to relocate, the people you're looking to
recruit and all of that sounds good.  I'm also obviously impressed with
young Naz and Seffi - PCW told me that you'd recruited a couple of druggie
punks, by the way- and they weren't best pleased by the couple bit, either,
come to think of it - but they're clearly good people.  And snatched from
beneath the noses of our corporate partners, too."

   "Well - think about it," I said, only half jokingly.  "That's what
CastList is all about - maximising potential in individuals and
organisations.  And PCW had Seffi running a unregarded backwater while they
took on Naz as a programmer and never let him code.  Not our fault that
they preferred to work for us ...  oh, and, incidentally, I don't think
they were a couple before Seff agreed to join us ...  that all seems to
have happened quite quickly, really."

   "Well, yes, quickly might seem quite an accurate description, in that
case," she said ...  before nodding her head toward the far side of the
room ...  where Naz and Seff had half disappeared under a table.C Hmm, I
thought to myself, reddening ...  our Seffi has pierced nipples, too ...

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   I didn't have to throw a bucket of water over my colleagues, though - a
passing brewer helpfully draped one of the be-diagrammed table cloths in
front of the happy couple (a man with experience in this line, I could
tell) - and Carla and I went on chatting happily ...  like the old friends
we were.  If you ignored the fact that we'd only met a matter of months
before ...  and that for three days.  She told me about her bloke - his
name was Hal, she told me, and he was an economics professor with an
interest in a couple of economic modelling start-ups, which is how they'd
met - Carla had put together a finance package for one of them, in itself
as a favour for an old friend.  Strange the way life works, we agreed,
Carla resting her head on my shoulder as the evening began to catch up with
her.  Companionably, I put my arm round her shoulder and she began to doze.
I just watched the last of the revelries, quite content for the moment.

   Then I laughed quietly to myself.  Her partners name was Hal?  I hope he
wouldn't ever tell me he "couldn't let me do that ..."

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   Not so long later, I did wake Carla as the boat was coming to the end of
the journey and people were beginning to gather their things, settle their
arrangements for the rest of the night.  One group was excitedly planning
to go on to a club someone knew, another to take up a fairly rash offer of
someone's home to continue the party.  May and her friend were chatting to
some of CareSpan's managers ...  and Naz and Seffi were standing off by
themselves ...  possibly looking slightly flushed.  Young people today, I
muttered to Carla ...  who said something rude about our behaviour when
we'd first met.

   I never got the chance to respond, though, as Carla pointed towards
Debbie, who was hovering nearby, clearly wanting to speak to one of us ...
or me, actually.  Phil was waiting patiently on the other side of the room,
greeted me with a nod and a smile when I waved a greeting to him.

   Debbie was matter of fact as she kissed Carla briefly on the cheek and
thanked her for the party, then paused until she was out of earshot.  Then
she gave me a brief hug before holding me by the shoulders and looking me
in the eye.

   "Thanks for being so kind to Phil earlier," she said.  I demurred,
obviously, said I'd really enjoyed the conversation, really liked the man,
but she shook her head and went on.  "I know its not easy ...  I know there
are things I should have told you before ...  I hope you don't think I've
led you on." I shook my head in turn, saw that her eyes were wet with
tears. "Thing is, Dave, I really do care about you ...  and Phil knows how
I feel ...  but it wouldn't be fair to him to ..."

   I shushed her, almost like you would a frightened child, told her it was
OK, that I thought I understood, would have thought less of her if she'd
behaved any other way.  She turned away from me, then turned back, looked
at me, one hand just lightly resting on my arm.  God she's beautiful, I
thought, looking into her eyes.  Then she flushed slightly, tensed for a
moment and asked if I was going to be sleeping with Carla tonight.

   I took her shoulders, this time, still looking at her.

   "No, I don't think I will be - tonight or in the future.  Would it have
bothered you if I had done?"

   "No ...  I don't think so ...  I just wanted to know, I guess.  I'm not
making any claim on you Dave ...  as I can't let you make any claim on me,
so there's no reason for you not to sleep with anyone you want." She
blushed again, said, "Until we're together, of course - then I'd have your
balls if you looked at anyone else .."

   And she was gone, with a brief wave as she hugged Phil.

   Well, I thought, 'until we're together', eh?

   ooo+++ooo+++ooo+++ooo

   Did you enjoy this story?  Hate it?  Let me know -
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