Charles was at work, in the satisfying position of having delegated instructions to others to deal with the bank’s latest IT crisis, when Davey Saxton rang.
“Let’s have a drink after work,” Davey said.
Charles knew better than to expect a blokey chinwag, but he wondered at Davey’s agenda. It was a bit late to ask about Charles’ intentions towards his sister.
Davey must have really wanted to meet him, because he agreed to see Charles at Canary Wharf. He insisted on a bar with good beer, which suited Charles fine.
“How’s life at the bank?” Davey asked, when he’d bought their pints.
“Okay,” Charles said.
“Are you getting a bonus for the investigation you did on us?”
“All in a day’s work,” Charles said. In truth, he suspected the incident had done more harm than good. Alex was even less inclined to trust him. “Look, Davey, I could do with a cigarette.”
“We’ll sit outside,” Davey said.
Charles picked up his pint, even more puzzled. The tables outside were packed, but just starting to empty as drops of rain fell. They found a spot under a large umbrella. Charles lit a cigarette. “I suppose this is about Deirdre?” he asked.
Davey seemed surprised. “My sister’s private life is none of my business.”
Charles drew on his cigarette. The nicotine began to calm him. He decided to be straight with Davey. The man would find out soon anyway. “I assume you’re aware,” he said, “I’m moving out of Deirdre’s place. I’m not saying we won’t see each other, but I feel I got too serious too soon. I’m looking for a flat in Surrey Quays.” It was time to step off the merry-go-round of parties, drinks, frequent holidays and wild sex, at least for a while. He needed time to breathe.
Davey caught his eye. “Are you sure about that?”
Charles prepared himself for an impassioned speech urging him to stay with Deirdre, but Davey merely said, “Be careful. In my experience, my sister usually gets what she wants.” He looked around, obviously checking if anyone could overhear what he said to Charles, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “I suppose you’ve heard that Alana Green will be CEO of the merged company?”
“No,” Charles said, truthfully. He hadn’t heard, although it was the outcome Alex had predicted. Charles had been rather sceptical, given that Alana had been promoted to lead Bishopstoke less than a year before.
“There aren’t too many female CEOs in the FTSE100 and she’s young, black and American – she ticks a lot of boxes. The fund managers love her. Our generation is seen as pale, male and stale, I’m afraid.”
Charles nodded. He was too aware of the contempt that Alex displayed for forty-somethings, seemingly ignorant that another decade would see him hit the big four-oh himself.
“However,” Davey said, “There’s life in this old dog yet. I’ve secured funding to set up a new insurance venture. It’s very niche, dealing with certain risks for high net worth individuals. Kidnapping, business interruption, life insurance; that sort of thing. I’m taking young Ross with me. He’s smart. What I want to know is, can I count you in as my IT Director? I can pay you twice what the bank does and you’ll have an equity share as well.”
“So you’re offering me a job?”
“If you’ll take it,” Davey said. “You might want to think again about living in Surrey Quays. It’s convenient enough for Canary Wharf, but I’ll be taking office space in the City, in the Heron Tower.” He laughed. “Poor Deirdre. She waited twenty five years for you. The cool guy of the school. Captain of the football team. What I can’t understand is why you went into IT?”
“I was good at it,” Charles said. “And I wasn’t going anywhere with the soccer. I sat on the waiting list for a trial with Charlton for a few years. I needed to be earning some money, especially marrying young, as I did.”
“Charlton’s loss is my gain, then,” Davey said. “So you’ll accept?”
Charles gathered he had some bargaining power. “The bank gives me a cheap mortgage,” he said. “It’s a stable career too. I could sit it out until retirement.” As he said it, he realised he couldn’t bear the thought. Working for Alex was already driving him to distraction. How much worse to do the same job year in, year out, as successive waves of young idiots like Alex were recruited to manage him.
In the end, they agreed that Charles would triple his salary. “Welcome on board,” Davey said, clapping Charles’ shoulder. “Another beer?”
Alex texted while Davey was at the bar. He wanted another early meeting next morning. Charles took great pleasure in replying that it was not convenient, and he would see Alex at nine as usual.
Inevitably, Alex was scowling and fidgeting when Charles strolled to his desk at one minute to nine, his nicotine levels boosted and a smile on his face. “I’m late for my next appointment,” he complained.
“Hadn’t you better go, then?” Charles said. “We can catch up later.”
“No, I’ve been thinking outside the box,” Alex said. “Alana’s kicked David Saxton into touch and he’s setting up a new company. The bank’s raising funds for him.”
“Aren’t we working for Bishopstoke?” Charles asked.
“Nothing to stop us doing Saxton’s corporate finance work as well,” Alex smirked. “Double the money, double the fun. Saxton’s going to need help with IT, and he likes you, doesn’t he? We could second you for a fair fee.”
“What might that fee be?” Charles asked.
Alex named a sum ten times his salary.
“I see,” Charles said. “Well, you’d better ask him.” He resolved to email Davey at once for a formal job offer. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Alex’s face when he resigned.