advertising-for-love by Rakhibul hasan (mobi reader android .txt) 📕

Branson continued to look at Tizzy and then suddenly looked around as if searching for something. Pulling a sheet of butcher’s paper off the table he cupped it into a ball and taking it over to Tizzy commanded “Breath into this. Breath!” The voice was stern but strangely soothing to Tizzy. She did as she was told. “Now sit with your head tucked between your knees and breathe slowly. Very slowly.” She did that too.

Five minutes later Tizzy sat up. The colour had returned to her face and she looked better

“Ttthaank y..ou.” she whispered.

Branson’s eyes welled up with tears. Grant was shocked to see a grown man get so emotional. Branson’s action to wipe the tears away did not go unseen either.

“Peter Branson.” Stretching out his hand, he introduced himself.

Grant recovered from his shock and made the formal introduction “Peter this is Tizzy McKenzie. Tizzy, Peter Branson.”

Tizzy shook his hand and was embarrassed by her clammy ones. Branson did not seem to mind but when he hadn’t released them straight away, Grant noticed that Tizzy actually pulled hers back.

“I will leave you gentlemen to talk. I have some work to do in the printin..g department.”

Without another glance she walked away towards the coffee room leaving Grant and Peter staring after her, noting her unsteady gait.

The two men recovered as soon as she was out of view.

“Sorry Grant. I guess I should have waited in your office”. Branson apologies but his tone said ‘I am glad I came’.

“That is all right. How did you know what to do?” Grant questioned.

“My daughter had the same problem.” He answered as they began to walk towards Grant’s office.

“You have a daughter? I thought you didn’t have any children. Didn’t you say your wife and you blamed each other for not having a child?”

“No, we blamed each other for losing our child.” Branson whispered

“I am sorry” Grant did not know how to proceed further.

“She left home when she was seventeen. We rarely heard from her and then one day the police knocked on our doors. It was too late for everything by then. Too late to say sorry. Too late to make amends. She was our only child you know. Margaret and I blamed each other for her death. The pressure of it took its toll on our marriage and we both decided to go our separate ways. How old is Ms McKenzie?”

“I am not really sure” Grant acknowledged.

“Does she have a family?” Peter continued.

“She wears a wedding ring and I have seen her with two children.” Grant replied finding his answer strangely dampening. Suddenly he realised where Branson’s questions were going.

“Peter, is she your daughter?” Grant asked looking straight into Peter’s eyes.

Peter was stunned by the question. “No Grant, as I said my daughter is dead and even if she was alive, she would have been in her early forties. Ms McKenzie looks a lot younger than that.”

They reached Grant’s office and were soon immersed in work. The meeting went off really well and Peter was extremely happy with the progress. He asked for a couple of changes, Grant took them back to Tizzy and the changes were successfully made within minutes. They agreed to meet on the Friday to see the final product.

Grant bid Peter goodbye and returned to his desk to take a call. The conversation was brief. Another corporate company wanted T & G Mallaby to take over their advertising campaign. Grant first instinct was elation but reality soon brought him back to earth. He had a major problem on hand, one that would need his urgent attention. Becky’s replacement would have to be found quickly as she would commence her maternity leave in a few months. That would leave Tizzy as head of the department. He had seen her go to pieces this morning. There was no way she would be able to cope with the additional requirements. The success of his company depended on the happiness of both the clients and the staff.

Though worried, he had to admit that he was intrigued by Tizzy’s past and her problems. He told himself he would need to speak to Becky. If anyone knew anything about Tizzy, it was Becky.

Picking up the Branson file he walked back in the direction of the Art’s department. As he took the turn he stopped dead in his track. There behind the protection of the room divider stood Branson, quietly observing Tizzy at work. Grant stood a moment longer and then went back to his office. He called the Human Resources department and asked for Tizzy’s file to be brought to him. He assured the HR Manager that there was no problem. That due to the expansion of the business he was looking at suitable staff to take over some additional work and as Becky would be going on maternity leave he wanted to check out Tizzy’s credentials. The explanation sounded plausible and Steven, the HR Manager was in Grant’s office within ten minutes.

Grant felt guilty at his little lie but he really needed to know if there was a possibility that she could be Peter’s daughter. Peter had declared her dead but then why was he so interest in Tizzy.

He almost felt a voyeur looking into her life. Her bio data was neatly typed. Her name was Trizella McKenzie. Her date of birth was 09 May. The year of birth made her just twenty-eight years old. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved to discover her age or if he was even more intrigued at Branson’s action. He read on but apart from details about her education and qualifications, there really wasn’t anything revealing in her Bio-data. She had done her schooling in Western Australia and obtainer her degree in advertising in Sydney. It was company policy not to ask if people were married and she had not volunteered the information either. Becky had been named as her contact in the case of an emergency. From here he was back to guesswork. He noticed Steven looking at him. To make the situation look realistic, he got up and photocopied her bio-data, flicked through her reference and certificates and returned the file. There were no references before that first job in Sydney.

Steven left taking the file with him. Like everyone else he knew Tizzy was a brilliant worker but he also aware of her many drawbacks. He could not understand how Grant could consider her as a suitable applicant. In his view, Grant would be better off getting someone new. Tizzy could not even greet him without stuttering. Meetings and public relations would be out of the question.

Grant walked in the direction of Tizzy’s office. Branson was no longer there and Tizzy was not at her desk either. Blast! He had to return the file. Forced into leave it on her desk along with a note, he walked up to it. As he placed the folder down, his eyes fell on the photograph. It was of the children he had seen with her. He noted that both children resembled their father.

“Was everything all right?” Tizzy’s voice broke through.

Grant turned “Yes, actually better than all right. Branson was very happy. Didn’t he come back here?” he queried.

“No. Did he want something?” Tizzy gave a puzzled reply.

Grant noticed that the two sentences had been said without a stutter.

“I must have been mistaken. He seemed to have been heading this way.” Grant replied

“He didn’t come to this office.” she said and then after a moment’s hesitation inquired “Grant did you want to speak to me about the Branson file?” She noticed the file lying on her desk.

Without answering her question Grant remarked “They are beautiful children. How old are they?”

“Ff.ii.ve and four” she stuttered back. Grant noted that she was also fidgeting, a sign that she was nervous.

“Who looks after them when you are at work?” he could not help asking

“Their father, I only get them on alternate week...eeends.” she replied.

“And you are happy with that arrangement?” he inquired

“More that hap..py. Every minute I get with them is a bonus.”

There was no bitterness in her voice. Grant wondered at the kind of marriage she must have had and was curious to know as to what had ended it? Had she wanted it to end? And why had the father got the custody of the children? But he knew these questions were too personal to ask at this moment. As these thoughts were doing nothing to uplift his spirits, he decided to get back to work.

Realising that he was still holding the photograph in his hand, he quickly placed it back.

“I’ve left the file on your desk. Let Becky know that Branson will be in on Friday to finalise things.”

With that he was gone. Tizzy had a few sips of cold water. She had worked so well for the past five years but now suddenly she could not be in the same room as Grant without feeling nervous and shy. She again reminded herself to stay in her safe world. She recalled that Grant could not wait to leave her car and now he had rushed out of the office. That was the reality and she would do well to remember it.

Half an hour later she was once again busy working at her desk. An hour later she had not moved. Two hours passed and she had completed one more job. She looked at the end product with pride. She knew the clients would be happy. After the first couple of jobs, the company had made it a pre-requisite that Tizzy do their work. She knew once again she would not disappoint them.

So engrossed was she at looking at her work that she failed to notice Grant walk by. He looked straight ahead. Only those watching closely would have seen him glance at Tizzy. He was now acutely aware of Tizzy’s presence, just as she was of his. He did not miss her standing by her desk inspecting her work, nor the smile that had touched her lips. ‘She should smile more often’, he thought. And take those hideous glasses off. Surely she could find a frame that would be more complimentary to her looks.

‘What a pity that the outer package did not match her inner talent’ he thought. She would have been an ideal replacement for Becky’s position. Tizzy knew what the clients wanted. This was an amazing feat for she never spoke to the clients themselves. Becky and Tizzy’s partnership was brilliant. What a great pity it was all going to change!

Chapter 5

Becky arrived after lunch. The morning sickness had taken its toll and she was barely able to drag herself around and raced to the toilets every time someone walked by with coffee or food. Never the less she remained at work and struggled through the morning. By 2 p.m. she could barely sit up at her desk. Still she refused to go home knowing what that would do to the three meetings that were scheduled for that afternoon. At 2.10 p.m. she walked into Grant’s office to

discuss the Branson and Henderson files. Grant took one look at her, marched her out of the door and asked her to head home. Her concern about the meetings was totally ignored. Tizzy noted Grants actions with both pride and dismay. Pride at the