Angus was sure he had the best marriage out of the three brothers but, given the competition, he didn’t think it counted for much. He and Tessa were considered the most stable couple by default: conscientious, dutiful, and ever so slightly dull. But, for most of the time, Angus did not mind. Decency, discretion and stability might have become old-fashioned but they were still virtues worth preserving. He had provided for his family consistently and without complaint. What was the alternative?
He and Tessa had lived in the same house on the south side of Edinburgh for years. They drove a car that never broke down. The mortgage was almost paid off, and they were sure of their friends. It had been a life of few surprises. Then Angus lost his job.
He had no warning. He was told by a man who was twenty-four years younger in a room without windows. The firm was redirecting its focus towards new initiatives in China and India. Angus was ‘one of the casualties of the shake-out’.
The man from human resources was called Tim. He had the largest nose Angus had ever seen and sweat stains under his shirt. He was clearly frightened of making a mistake. Perhaps he was worried the same thing might happen to him in a few years’ time. He spoke as if he had learned some kind of script and argued that the company was doing Angus a favour. They would provide for a lawyer, make sure Angus’s pension was unaffected, and offer him a severance payment.
Angus listened and said little. He could not believe the nerve. The company had simply spat him out. Even as the man spoke Angus knew that he was unlikely to find equivalent employment. He did not have the transferable skills necessary for what Tim was referring to as ‘a portfolio of career opportunities’. But he felt far from retired, redundant, finished or whatever the word was for the outspat.
One of the senior partners who had been party to the decision even said that he was envious. Now Angus was free from all the hurly-burly of the rat race. He could do anything he wanted.
As the man spoke, Angus almost suggested that they swap places. Perhaps the senior partner might like to see what it was actually like to have his financial and social status removed without warning. Angus only just remembered to retain his dignity. Edinburgh was a small city. It wouldn’t help to fall out with people.
He did not want to see his colleagues ever again. He had drifted into financial services as his rugby-playing days ended and had stayed there ever since. He didn’t think he’d ever actually enjoyed it. Every time he had taken Tessa to one of the firm’s social functions they had felt excluded by the rapacious nature of the conversation: how to pension commercial property investment; the need to raise commission rates; how inheritance-tax planning could extract more money from elderly relatives.
The only person he would miss, he decided, was Janice, his personal assistant.
‘She’s paid so little we’re keeping her on,’ his boss told him. ‘It doesn’t make much difference.’
Janice looked appropriately guilty (Angus was sure she must have known in advance) and told him that her working life wouldn’t be the same without him. She said she thought they had let him go because he had been ‘too nice’.
Although he wouldn’t miss the work Angus recognised that he would have to find another way of describing himself. He had been defined by his employment. How would he introduce himself now?
At first he thought he might behave as if he still had his job. He would put on his suit and leave home, pretending that nothing had happened. Then he would read the financial pages in the library before doing something adventurous with all the other men who had been discarded in their mid-fifties. He would go to a gym, work on his golf, spend more time at the Rotary. He would need to work out the details, of course, but he reckoned he could keep up the pretence for a couple of years until the redundancy money ran out. Perhaps he would shave off his beard and buy a new wardrobe in an attempt to look younger.
He tried to contain his resentment. His life had been dominated by the pressure of work and he had given the firm over half of his life. He had spent years on his computer and on the phone, tracking stocks, and making what he considered to be shrewd investments. He was proud to have set up one of the first ethical funds in Britain, visiting smaller companies all over the country, avoiding arms, tobacco, gambling and nuclear stocks. He was a well-regarded manager but a cautious investor and his moral stance meant that he sometimes missed out on easier profits. His funds began to lag. They were described in the papers as ‘solid’ but ‘lacking sparkle’. It seemed to sum up his life.
Tessa would have to be the first to know; then his children and, finally, his parents. It had been so different for them, he thought. His mother had inherited a house and his father had secured a job for life. As far as he knew they had never had to worry about money or redundancy or their marriage breaking down. At least Angus had managed to avoid that. It was about the only area in which he felt superior to his brothers. He was convinced he had the best wife.
Perhaps they could go away and live somewhere else, Italy perhaps, and forget all about Scotland and the struggle to keep up a cheerful face and a decent home. They would probably have enough money.
If they moved abroad Angus would not have to bother being polite to those friends and acquaintances who had no difficulty in hanging on to their jobs until their proper retirement age.
He was fifty-four. It was hardly old.
He began to practise how to tell people what had happened.
‘I’ve lost my job. I’ve been made redundant. I’ve taken early retirement. I am now retired.’
The sentences were too defeatist. He had to learn how to take the initiative.
‘I’m setting up a new venture. I’m going to do something different. We’re leaving Scotland.’
Angus knew that he had to preserve his self-esteem. It was the emotional quality that mattered most, he decided; but it was also the one most vulnerable to attack. He had seen it disappear from the faces of friends whom the NHS, the National Trust, local government and the BBC had all ‘let go’. Employers that liked to see themselves as providing a nurturing, training environment soon lost interest when members of their workforce hit fifty.
There was his friend Roger who was made redundant while he was on sick leave; there was Anne who was removed because her employers told her they were sure she would not mind; and there was Tom who was dispatched between his mother’s death and funeral. The man doing the sacking had begun with the words, ‘I know this isn’t a good time…’
No one had said thank you or good luck or given them any indication that the work they had done had been worthwhile. As a result they had lost their confidence. Angus was determined not to feel the same. He would not let his former employers destroy him.
He began to watch property programmes on television and conducted secret relocation searches on the Internet. He wanted to approach Tessa with a series of possibilities, he decided. They could carry on as they were, downsize, or move abroad. He preferred the last option but thought that he had better not sell it too hard. He would have to keep his nerve.
The thought of living abroad began to take hold. He started to think of a future life in Italy. He began to hope that Tessa might be glad to get away from Edinburgh, to go somewhere warmer and escape the demands of his family in East Fortune. He had noticed how she had already begun to mother his parents.
He would do something mad: buy a vineyard. Viticulture. He even liked the word. That would finish off his former colleagues. And if he managed to achieve this he decided that he would show no signs of stress or failure. He would take his revenge by being happier than the people he had left behind.
He confessed in the middle of a picnic in the Botanic Gardens. It was such a warm day, Tessa had said, and they so rarely did anything impromptu. Why couldn’t they just pack a hamper and a cool bag and enjoy the day? She had bought bread from the Italian delicatessen together with Parma ham, melon, panforte and home-made lemonade.
The gardens were already crowded with keep-fit enthusiasts who had decided to ignore the No jogging signs and toddlers escaping their mothers. Angus was reminded of their children, Imogen, Sarah and Gavin. How innocent they had seemed, all those years ago, with their tricycles and scooters, their little crash helmets and their games of rounders with friends. Every time he saw a grassy bank Angus was reminded of their childhood roly-polies down the hill. He wanted to take off his glasses and do one just for Tessa – to show that he could still be young.
They found a spot by a large eucalyptus tree and unpacked the picnic together.
‘Isn’t this lovely?’ said Tessa.
‘It was such a good idea to come. I love this place.’
‘It’s extraordinary we ever find time for each other,’ Tessa was saying. ‘There’s always a child to worry about or a relation to visit. But I suppose that’s what retirement is for.’
‘Yes,’ said Angus. He poured out the lemonade.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course I’m all right. Why do you ask?’
‘You just seem a bit different.’
‘How am I different?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps you are keeping something from me.’
She appeared to know already.
‘Why would I do that?’
‘I’ve no idea. Butyou’re up to something. I can tell.’ Tessa began to lay the Parma ham and the slices of melon on a plate. ‘Would you like some black pepper?’
‘You’ve even brought that?’
‘Of course.’
She was not going to say anything more.
‘Well?’
Angus took a bite of the melon and the ham. If he closed his eyes he could be in Italy. He finished his mouthful. Tessa was waiting for a reply. He took a sip of lemonade.
‘I’m leaving my job.’
‘Oh.’ Tessa broke off another piece of bread and began to butter it.
Angus waited for her to say something more but nothing came.
‘I’ve quit.’
‘I see. Would you like some more ham?’
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t you think we should have discussed this?’
Angus tried to retain the authority he thought he needed.
‘I thought we could discuss it now. I wasn’t ready before.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘A few weeks ago.’
‘A few weeks?’
‘I’m sorry. I should have said.’
Angus could see that Tessa was being careful not to judge him too soon.
‘Won’t it be hard to find another job at your age?’
‘I don’t need another job.’ The response was firmer than he had intended. It sounded like pique.
Tessa was still calm.
‘But the kids? Gavin’s still at university.’
Angus tried to soften his tone.
‘There’s a good pay-out. We’ll have enough if we’re careful.’
‘A pay-out? I thought you’d resigned?’
He should have taken her into his confidence.
‘Are you telling me everything?’ she asked.
‘Not exactly.’
‘Was it your decision?’
‘It was a mutual decision.’
‘Oh Angus, why didn’t you say? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I should do it on my own.’
She leaned forward and hugged him.
‘Oh Angus, I’m sorry.’
‘No, it’s all right. I’m fine about it.’
He waited as they held each other. He had to sustain his confidence amidst her kindness.
‘It was a bit humiliating at first,’ he said. ‘I had to listen to a load of nonsense about corporate outsourcing and three-hundred-and-sixty-degree roll-outs, but apart from that I’m fine.’
‘I could have helped you.’
‘You didn’t need to help me. I didn’t need your help. I only need it now. That’s why I’m telling you.’
He poured out more lemonade, and unwrapped the panforte. Icing sugar drifted on to his trousers. He tried to show his wife that it did not matter.
‘That stuff gets everywhere,’ he said.
‘What are you going to do?’ Tessa asked.
‘I don’t know. I’ve had some thoughts…’
‘And?’
‘What do you think about living abroad?’
‘Oh Angus…’
‘I thought France, or even Italy. We remortgage the house, use the redundancy money, and buy a little smallholding – a little vineyard even. What do you think?’
‘Italy? You know I’ve never been back.’
‘I know. But perhaps we should go back. Live again. Have an adventure.’
‘Is that what you call it?’
It was the brightest of days. The trees contained a myriad of greens against the blue: olive, lime and emerald. Tessa remembered the Italy of her youth, the accident when she had burned her arm. She thought what it might mean to go back. It didn’t seem possible.
‘And what am I supposed to do about my job?’ she asked. ‘I can’t just give it up.’
‘I know. I haven’t thought that bit through.’
‘We can’t really afford it.’
‘We can if we live somewhere else, somewhere cheaper.’
‘But Italy…’
Angus put his hand over hers.
‘I know, I know…’
‘Are you sure you’ve thought about this properly?’
Angus smiled.
‘Of course I haven’t. I’m just trying to be brave.’
‘And what about the family, your parents?’
‘They can come and stay. It’ll be an adventure.’
Tessa started to clear away the picnic.
‘I’ll have to think about it, Angus. It’s quite a lot to take in. When will you tell people?’
‘When we know what we’re going to do and where we might go. I don’t want to worry anyone.’
‘Or change your mind…’
‘I won’t do that…’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Trust me. I want to start again. I want to leave everything behind; everything except you.’
‘And the children.’
‘Of course, the children…’
Tessa stood up, put the wicker basket to one side, and began to shake out the rug.
‘I’m glad I’ve survived then.’
‘I can’t do anything without you. You know that.’
‘It’s just as well. I don’t think your parents could cope with another of their sons’ marriages collapsing…’
‘There is that…’
Tessa folded the rug and handed it to her husband. Her tone was still jovial but it contained mild steel.
‘You mean you’re only staying with me to please your parents?’
‘Of course not. I love you.’
‘Good. I’m glad we’ve got that sorted out.’ She handed Angus the cool box.
‘Aren’t you supposed to say you love me too?’ Angus asked.
‘Of course I do. I just need to keep you on your toes. I can’t have you taking anything for granted.’
‘Believe me,’ Angus replied, ‘I don’t take anything for granted any more.’
They walked back through the Botanics. Angus began to breathe more deeply. He had told Tessa and now, whatever happened, it was going to be all right.
He could do almost anything as long as she stayed with him. His job was nothing, he said to himself, and his wife was everything. It was his last chance to reinvent his life.