by Martin Howe
“You didn’t fall out with him, did you David, and not tell us?”
Barely able to hold back his tears, David shook his head and mumbled something about not being bothered.
“Grandad probably had a good reason to leave it to this boy.”
“That’s bollocks. He didn’t give a damn about anyone else but himself, he just wanted to have a final pop at his family after he’d gone. He’ll be up there laughing at us now.”
Freddy snorted.
“You mean down there, don’t you bro?”
The two brothers nodded grimly, in agreement for the first time in many years. Helen blew her nose and glanced at the solicitor, who at that moment was staring back at her thinking that she was a very attractive woman for her age, with her short curly ash-blond hair and ruddy cheeks. Wasted, married to this oaf. Anthony had always sung her praises, never said much about his sons and he now understood why.
“Mr Evans, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry my dear, these occasions are often very emotional.”
Helen responded to the warmth in his voice, sniffed a couple of times and then smiled weakly.
“The second case you mentioned, Mr Evans, you’re sure that’s nothing to do with all this?”
It was his turn to smile.
“Mrs Coxon-Dyet that was a silly prank that went wrong. Anthony admitted he had made a mistake and paid a small fine. There was nothing more to it.”
“Oh come on, who are you kidding.”
Freddy was becoming increasingly irritated by the solicitor’s glib tone, and frustrated by the fact that once again he couldn’t understand his parent’s actions, that for a final time his father had put one over on him, had missed the opportunity to make amends, to recognize him, to acknowledge his sons.
“He was a laughing stock. What was that notorious headline? God I’m embarrassed thinking about it – “Vicar: I didn’t drive with boy on my lap” – can you believe it?”
“What’s going on? Did you know about this?” Daniel whispered to David.
“Shhhh, keep quiet. He’s going to tell us.”
“Mr Coxon-Dyet, the loc…”
“Call me Freddy, for God’s sake.”
“If you insist. Freddy, the local paper made a big deal of it as they do with such things. Always looking for the sensational in everything. They had it in for him, if the truth be told. The case itself was, in my opinion, one that should never have been brought to court, but we had a stand-in constable that summer and he was keen to make an impression and not so concerned with local sensibilities as old P.C. Sanders would have been. The evidence was not strong, the police claimed Anthony was driving his car with a boy sitting in his lap and not exercising proper control over the vehicle. Your father denied this of course, but because he couldn’t remember the particular incident in question he pleaded guilty, on my advice, because technically if anyone else is touching the steering wheel while you’re driving then you are not in proper control of the car. And your father did admit to having boys in his car on a number of occasions, as part of his care responsibilities of course. So nothing particularly untoward there and just to reassure you further, the boy in question was not Peter Erskine.”
“I’ve had enough of this, Helen. I think we can take it as read that Mr Evans knows nothing about this Erskine character.”
“That’s correct and if I did I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything without his permission.”
“So how much does he get? Can you tell us that much?”
“Yes, I can tell you that. Hold on a second, I have the estate valuation here.”
The solicitor took a second sheet of paper out of the manila folder and again cleared his throat before speaking.
“Your father, as you know, rented his flat in the High Street so that has now passed back to the leaseholder. All in all, Anthony left a total of, let me see, just over sixteen thousand pounds. Sixteen thousand, one hundred and fifty-seven pounds to be precise. That’s gross of course.”
“What?”
All the Coxon-Dyet’s were stunned, unable to believe their ears.
“Say that again.”
Freddy was on the edge of his seat.
“How did he get that much, he was just a local vicar?”
“Sixteen thousand, one hundred and fifty-seven pounds.”
“That’s unbelievable. I had no idea he had that much. He didn’t appear to live that well.”
“You didn’t know him like I did. None of you ever bothered to come and see him. He was very generous and kind.”
There was undisguised bitterness in David’s voice.
“Oh yeah, he’s been dead generous to us all, hasn’t he? He must’ve really liked you.”
“Daniel stop it, your brother’s upset. David do not react. Daddy and I need to think about this.”
“There’s nothing to think about, as far as I’m concerned. He thought little about us when he was alive and he obviously couldn’t give a toss what we think about him now he’s dead. It’s all over as far as I’m concerned. Let’s go.”
David’s father stood up and made for the door.
“Hold up, Stephen.”
“Thank you for your trouble Mr Evans, goodbye.”
“Stephen, please. I just want to find out how he got so much money, Mr Evans?”
“Well, I’d have thought you would have known. He was one of the highest paid vicars in the country. I don’t know exactly what he earned, but it was over five thousand a year.”
“I had no bloody, sorry, I had no idea vicars were paid so much.”
“Well they’re not normally, but your father was, I suppose you’d call it, lucky. The problems he had with the vicarage eventually turned to his advantage. You look blank?”
“I’m afraid we’ve no idea what you’re talking about. The vicarage was pulled down, wasn’t it, because it was almost in ruins? That’s what we were told, as you know we didn’t visit much.”
“That’s right. The vicarage was demolished after it was purchased by the local council. It was in very bad condition. Your father’s generosity, others said naivety, had been abused by many of the boys he had staying with him over the years. They had basically wrecked the place. The final straw was the theft of all the lead from the roof one weekend. Once water started getting in, then it didn’t take long to become virtually uninhabitable. Anthony moved out and the boys ran riot. The council stepped in, paying over £100,000 for it. All bad news so far, you would think.”
Mr Evans smiled and took off his glasses, realized he no longer had his handkerchief, and put them back on again.
“But the good news for your… for Anthony, was that during a vicar’s tenancy any benefits, such as the sale of church property automatically accrue to him. In this case the capital from the sale of the vicarage reverted to the Church Commissioners, who invest it as they see fit. The interest on the investment comes to the vicar, that’s to say, your father. With interest rates as they’ve been he must have been making over £2,000 extra on top of his vicar’s salary.”
“Well, I never would have thought.”
David wanted desperately to leave.
“Hello.”
Unsettled, David looked up. For a moment he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. He smiled wanly. Towering above him was a tall blond-haired man wearing an expensive dark suit and small circular gold-rimmed glasses. His light blue eyes flitted across David’s face, his clothes and shoes, before darting around the room, returning seconds later to stare directly at him. He was grinning.
“Hi, I’m Larry Beckinsale. We haven’t met.”
He held out a tanned manicured hand. David levered himself up awkwardly from the deep cushions of his low seat, almost falling back, before staggering to his feet. He shook hands, the man’s grip was cool but firm,
his smile unwavering.
“David Coxon-Dyet, pleased to meet you.”
“The others are right behind me, so we’ll soon have the meeting underway. I’m running late already so I won’t be able to stay long.”
The smile dissipated, his bevelled features settling into a mask of disinterested geniality. He unbuttoned his jacket, walked behind his neatly ordered, uncluttered desk, grasped both arms of his swivel chair and trundled it round to the front of the desk. Then as members of David’s department and others he didn’t recognize filed into the room, Larry Beckinsale took off his jacket and slung it over the back of his chair and then proceeded very deliberately to roll up the sleeves of his immaculately pressed white shirt. He motioned to the seats around the coffee table in front of him and, when everyone was in place, he himself sat down.
“Welcome, are we all here?”
A man standing at the back of the room, a clipboard clasped across his chest, nodded.
“Thanks Dick. Could someone close the door. Right, this shouldn’t take too long. For those of you who don’t know me I’m …”
There was a knock on the door and instantly the soft contours around Larry Beckinsale’s eyes hardened into an expression of intense exasperation.
“Come.”
A young woman entered carrying a small tray of sandwiches, covered in cling film and a pile of paper plates.
“On the table, everyone help yourselves.”
The door closed. Nobody moved.
“Right, I’m Larry Beckinsale. At the back there is Dick Sanders, Head of Human Resources, Steve Percival, my deputy and, of course, most of you know Jane, she’ll be taking the minutes of the meeting.”
Jane shifted in her seat, uncrossing and crossing her legs, smiled briefly at no one in particular and turned a page in her A4 ring file. Larry leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs, resolutely clasped his hands together and then paused. Elaine Parker, one of David’s junior colleagues, her stomach audibly rumbling, had been about to get up and take a sandwich, but thought better of it and sank back into the soft over-comfortable seating, mumbling her apologies.
“No, please do.”
Elaine smiled sweetly, but didn’t move.
“I’ve been with this company nearly two months now and I’ve spent my time very productively. I’ve been looking at how we do business here and I’ve been very impressed by what I’ve seen.”
Across the room people visibly relaxed, looks were exchanged and there were faint smiles of relief.
“But, and I suppose there is always a but, this doesn’t mean that things can’t be improved. In the current business climate the company that stands still is the company that goes to the wall. A truism you all may think, but one that is easily forgotten and, I have to say, I believe it had been forgotten, to some extent, in areas of our operation.”
He glanced at his watch. The tension in the room was again palpable. The ill-judged confidence of moments before banished. David grimly anticipated the impending drama.
“In short, I believe changes are necessary. But, and I must stress here, these will be exciting changes. If we can make what I propose work then we’ll be entering a vital period of expansion and growth for the company that can only benefit all those involved. Let me underline this is a positive process, a forward-looking process. I am not interested in looking back, that’s over with. I’m not interested in how things were done in the past, that’s history. My concern now is for the future – the future for you, for me and for this company. The way ahead for us will involve, I believe, something, radical – a complete break with everything that has gone before.”
Larry Beckinsale looked directly at David.
“I can see that some of you are perturbed by what I’m saying, that is only natural,” – a nebulous air of contention troubled the room and Larry Beckinsale raised his hand in tacit acknowledgement of the disturbance – “let me finish, there will be plenty of time for questions afterwards. But I must stress that for all of us, if we are to survive into the next century and beyond as the lean, hungry organization that I know we can be, if we are to be a serious player, then we must reinvent the way we carry out our work. I believe, and I have the complete backing of the board of management on this one, that what is needed is a complete re-engineering of our business operations. It sounds dramatic doesn’t it? And it is. I’ll need the co-operation of all of you for it to work. Together we can make this happen, people.”
Smiling he leaned back, the leather of his chair squealing as his body shifted.
“A good time for coffee I think, let what I’ve said sink in. Jane, will you be mother? Excuse me for a minute I have a call to make.”
He stood up and left the room. The coffee was served in delicate china cups emblazoned with the new company logo and drunk in silence. Ten minutes later Larry Beckinsale returned.
“Sorry guys, a problem I had to deal with, you know how it is.”
He sat down, took a couple of sips of coffee, placed his cup back on his desk, eased back into his chair, crossed his legs and faced them again.
“You’ve probably been asking how I came to the conclusion that a radical redesign of our company was necessary. It’s a good question and I intend to give you an answer. You deserve an insight into my thinking on this one. As I told you, I’ve spent my time since I arrived here looking at every aspect of our business model. I was brought in to make changes, refocus the company and, it goes without saying, boost our profits – you all know they’ve been down over the last quarter – and that’s what I intend to do. That’s what business is all about after all.”
A few people round the room laughed along with Larry.
“This company is not going to follow the path taken by so many other businesses I’ve known. You know the story; profits start to drop, so called radical changes are made – de-layering, decentralization, downsizing, corporate flattening – call it what you will, they’re all fads. Just tinkering with the problem in my opinion. They rarely have any significant impact on the key problems, so what started as a blip turns into a trend and the company is on the slide. That won’t happen here people, not on my watch, believe me. We’re talking radical here, and by radical, I mean radical.”
He motioned towards Jane and pointed at his coffee cup. She stood up immediately, placed her notepad face down on the table, and took the cup, it rattled in its saucer as she filled it with coffee. He smiled intently at his personal assistant as she handed it back to him and in that instant, David imagined, or thought he did, that he winked at her.
“As you know I have been helped in my task by an excellent report from Braziers, the management consultants. I thank all those who co-operated so fully with those guys when they were here. Their thinking is very much in tune with mine. They identified many areas of, how shall I put it, friction in the otherwise smooth running of our company. These chimed very sweetly with my own analysis of the problem. In short we were pulling together on this one. It was a long report, far too long to detail here, but I think I can summarize briefly their conclusions and, of course, mine.”
He again looked at this watch and then at Jane.
“What time is my lunch with Sir Richard?”
“Two o’clock, the car will be ready for you when you finish here.”
“I’ll be brief.”
He again smiled at her.
“Basically, and I think what I have to say is fair and I believe many of you will agree when you give it some thought. Many of the tasks you do, and I don’t just mean in this department, there are others with similar problems, are simply being carried out to satisfy the internal demands of the company’s own organization. They are being done this way or that way simply because that’s how they’ve always been done. In short, they’re an historical hangover and, as I said earlier history is exactly what it says it is, history. There is a particula
r problem with our regional organization. It makes no sense to me now we are dealing with a global market. Information is universal, we can’t impose time-bound, space-bound categories on something that is fluid and ever-changing, just because it suits our internal auditing system. It’s madness and more importantly it’s an ineffective way for us to do business. It has to change if we’re to achieve significant improvements in performance. Let me ask you, what is the most important thing for our business?”
His eyes strafed his audience, blazing defiance. Nobody moved.
“Let me tell you. It is concern for our customer. The customer is God. That’s G.O.D. If we don’t believe in him we wither and die, remember that. I do, every hour of every day. It’s not important to look up to me your boss, nor sideways at other departments, where you look is outwards to the customer. You give him what he wants,” Larry nodded his head, “and I’ll tell you what that is, shall I?” Others in the room sheepishly followed his example and nodded. “He wants a flexible company that can respond instantly on a global scale to his demands. He doesn’t want one that is slow, unresponsive and more concerned with its own bureaucratic structures and power arrangements, than it is in dealing effectively with him.”
Larry raised a flaccid fist to his mouth and coughed silently.
“As a manager I’ve had to fundamentally rethink how I do my job, for you too there’ll have to be a root and branch reassessment of what you do. There must be, if you’re to have a part to play in this firm’s exciting future. As I see it there will be no more task-orientated jobs in this company, no more specialists. Our twenty-first century employees will be generalists dealing with the entire process of our business – from the commissioning of the contract to its completion. We will be streamlined, efficient and profitable. We will be a player.”
Triumphantly he sat back, hands firmly clasping the arms of his chair, which he then began to swivel from side to side in apparent excitement.
“As you can see, I’m enthusiastic about the future and you should be too. Although I’m sure you’ll have realized that what’s planned does have an impact for you …”