Peter Fothergill

Chapter 1

Benjamin Vos frowned at the email on his phone:

Benjamin Vos

An opportunity not to be past up

You will spend time travelling

This is the JoB for you

Reply for more

A recruitment agency? There was barely any information, and no contact details. It was vague, odd. Ben hovered his finger over the delete button for a second but then moved it away. The email was curiously written, so perhaps he should—

“Ben!”

He looked at Sam, sitting at the next desk.

Sam’s round face grinned, “That’s the third time I’ve called your name. Where’d you drift off to?”

Ben put down his phone. “Sorry, strange email.”

Sam pointed at one of his screens. “The Q3 analysis has been sent out. You need to take a look.”

Ben nodded. He found the document and opened it on his main screen.

The phone on Sam’s desk warbled. He picked it up. “Hi, Amit... Oh, okay... Sure, I’ll be there in a minute.” He pushed his high-backed chair back and stood, tucking in his shirt and straightening his tie. “The boss needs me, as always.”

Ben watched him walk away down the row of desks as he headed towards the glass-walled office in the corner at the far end of the floor. After a moment he turned back to his screen. It was almost five and it was tempting to head home a bit early, but he should get to grips with the report. There was sure to be a meeting about it in the morning.

That email popped into his mind again. He tried to focus on the data on his screen, but his eyes glazed over. The email was far more interesting. He picked up his phone and read it again.

It was only a couple of minutes before Sam returned. He was hunched, his face long, expressionless. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and was about to speak when Ben’s phone rang. It was Amit. As Ben picked it up Sam patted him on the shoulder.

“Meet you downstairs.”

Ben nodded, confused. “Hi, Amit.”

“Have you got a moment? I need you to come to my office.”

“On my way.”

Amit had already ended the call. Ben put the phone down and looked for Sam. He was heading out to the lift lobby. Ben could feel his heart pumping.

What’s going on?

He took a deep breath and headed through the field of desks to the corner office. He could see Amit slumped at his desk, his right hand slowly moving the mouse, probably just passing time until his arrival. As always, the boss seemed moulded into his chair as though he’d been there forever, his ample waist straining against the chair’s padded arms.

Ben reached the glass door and knocked twice. Amit waved him in. Ben felt hot, and the first itch of sweat. He’d never felt like this in the office before. Work was often stressful, but even then, there was a general comfortableness to it, the reason he never wanted to leave. It was well-paid, safe.

“Take a seat, Ben,” Amit said, picking up a single page document. He seemed to be skimming through it, his eyes darting left and right.

Ben sat, leaning back, trying to look relaxed. He found himself expecting the worst. Why would he be expecting that?

Amit took a slow breath and looked at Ben for the first time. “I have to inform you that your position here is redundant.”

“What?” Ben said. He’d wanted to shout but managed just a whimper. “Why?”

“As you know, the division has not been performing up to expectations for some time now, and the board has had to take the difficult decision to reduce our headcount by six. It’s been—”

“I’ve been working here for 15 years,” Ben said, leaning forwards, his voice unsteady. “I’ve been a solid performer. I’ve—”

“You’ve been a reliable performer, but you haven’t been anywhere near the top for years. At times like these that is somewhat of a risky position to be in.”

“You know how loyal I am.”

“I do, but you’ve been too complacent, Ben. I’ve mentioned during your performance reviews over the last couple of years that I feel you’ve been coasting. You stopped pushing yourself a long time ago. Your drive and ambition just seem to have vanished.”

Ben had no idea what to say.

Amit handed him the document. “Here are the details of your severance package. It’s generous. You’ll be paid for your notice period, but you’re not required to work. And there’s the customary two-week consultation period before that, of course. That’s just a formality in this case. We need to reduce headcount by six, and there are only six candidates for that.”

Ben stared at the document, not taking in what was written.

“Treat this as an opportunity. Change can be good. Take a break, go somewhere warm, and then you’ll be ready to find something new.”

Ben stood. He was trembling, sweating. His legs felt weak.

Amit got to his feet, straightening his suit. “You’re bright, experienced. You’ll be fine, Ben.”

Ben felt stunned. He looked out across the office. “I guess I need to clear my desk now.”

“No. Come back in the morning to do that. Just go home.”

Sam was waiting in the main lobby. He was slouched on one of the black leather sofas, which were an almost jarring contrast to the expanse of white marble. He looked up as Ben approached.

“Beer. Now.”

Ben nodded.

The bubbles were momentarily fascinating, heading up from nowhere, distorted by condensation as they rushed to join the dwindling head at the top. Ben tried to follow them one at a time, but they were too fast.

He and Sam had barely spoken on the walk to the pub, and after sitting down with their beers almost a minute passed before either of them said anything.

Finally, Sam said, “I’m still amazed neither of us saw that coming.”

Ben took a long swig, devouring the head. “Yep.” He glanced around. The pub was already filling up with eager groups of suits. Most seemed younger than him, fresher-looking, eager. And most were standing despite many free tables, gathered near the impressive display of vintage empty wine bottles that decorated the full length of the bar, each bottle lit from within. Conversations were loud and animated, happy.

It was quite a different atmosphere at the little round table Ben and Sam had found tucked away in a corner.

“Fuck it,” Sam said, finishing his glass. He slammed it almost too hard on the table’s oak surface. “I’m booking a holiday tonight, somewhere exciting. I need to get away from this damn place. If I can fly away tomorrow all the better.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Ben said, gazing into his glass again. “I’ll be contacting agents. I need to get a few interviews lined up.”

“How can you think about that right now?”

“Well, we just lost our jobs. How can I not think about it?”

Sam shook his head. “That was my first instinct, but I need to do something else for a while. The last thing I want to do is head off to be interviewed at other firms by clone after clone of Amit, and all the bullshit that that would entail. That can wait for a few weeks.”

“Well, I just need to find something, some security. I’ve never been in this position before.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit nerve-wracking the first time. I was the same when Dresner kicked me out, but it worked out well. I received a decent payoff like we just did. It only took me a month to find something, which I was obviously relieved at, but after I’d started I regretted not taking a couple of months break first. That much time off is only possible when you’re made redundant, and when you have a decent lump sum to tide you over. I’m going to make the most of it this time.”

Sam’s mood had made a rapid recovery.

Ben lifted his glass. “I salute your optimism. You looked miserable at the office. Now you look happy.”

“The more I think about it the better I feel. Change has been forced upon us, and I think we need it.” He got to his feet. “Another?”

Ben nodded. “Just a half. I need to head home soon.”

“I’m sure you don’t, but a half it is.” Sam headed off to the bar.

Ben looked out of the pub’s large windows at the dock and office towers beyond. The October sun was low and tainting the towers amber, and the clear sky, rare in London at this time of year, lifted his mood slightly. His thoughts wandered back to when he’d joined First-Gen as an intern, and then even further back to university. He’d always considered those days as his happiest; he’d had so many friends, good friends. He’d lost touch with almost all of them, which was probably normal, but he only regretted losing contact with one; Joji Brice. He used to have such incredible conversations with him, imagining all kinds of wonderful ideas and possibilities, and great plans were made, but Joji had disappeared not long after graduation, just before Ben had joined First-Gen. He’d missed Joji a lot, but that was such a long time ago. Why he was thinking of him now? Most likely he was looking for comfort and delving into the past to find it. It was having the opposite effect.

Time to think of something else.

He thought of that email - an obscure promise of an opportunity. It was almost as though it was mocking him. It made him feel a little uneasy, which he put down to his current fragile frame of mind. He focused on the bubbles in his beer again, watching their rapid births and deaths, their fleeting existences measured in no more than a second or two, and then he picked up the drink, finishing it off. He wondered where Sam was. He put the glass down and looked towards the bar. There he was, standing with two beers and talking to someone. Despite the dim lighting, he could see a woman, tall and slim, her skin dark, and dressed all in black. Her long and dense braided black hair hung almost down to her waist. She was striking to look at – an elegant silhouette against the illuminated shelving behind the bar.

Sam had noticed that Ben was watching. He said something to the woman, and she nodded, glancing at Ben. Sam headed over. He put the drinks down on the table.

“Thanks,” Ben said. “Who’s that you were talking to?”

“I don’t know, she just started chatting.”

“About what?”

“Nothing really,” Sam said, slumping back into his chair. He took a sip of his new beer and let out a deep sigh, leaning back. “What have you been dwelling on since I’ve been away?”

“I had a sudden burst of nostalgia.”

“Nostalgia? About what?”

“At first, it was about the time I joined First-Gen.”

Sam grimaced, “Oh dear. Let it go. Just a job. Plenty more out there.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve already worked at a few different firms. This was my only job - my whole career so far.”

“Understood,” Sam said, “but you shouldn’t think too much about that. It’s still just a job unless you’re unusually passionate about First-Gen for some reason.”

Ben thought about it. “Not really.”

“Good. What else were you thinking about?”

“Mainly university. I haven’t thought about those times for a while. Back then everything seemed so... simple, and joyful.”

Sam nodded. “Good times.” He took another sip. “A long time ago for you, I guess. Well over twenty years, is it?” He was grinning.

“I’m only 37, Sam.”

“Oh, right, of course. You act older.”

“I don’t.”

“You do, like a middle-aged married man with a family to think of, and a wife and kids expecting him home on time every night.”

Ben frowned. “I’m not like that.” He grabbed his glass and filled his mouth with beer, swallowing it quickly. The chill and the fizz spread an unpleasant harshness across his throat.

Sam leaned forwards. “You said five minutes ago that you need to get home.” He’d made air quotes with his fingers for his last four words. “It’s only six o’clock. You live on your own just across the dock. You don’t need to do anything. And you certainly don’t need to get home.”

“Well, perhaps not.”

“Perhaps?”

Ben managed a slim smile. “Okay, I don’t need to go home, but I want to. I want to see Jen.”

Chapter 2

Ben stood at the window of his twentieth-floor apartment looking out at the evening vista of Canary Wharf’s skyline. It was still clear, and to the west, he could see as far as The City and Central London. There was a pale-yellow glow to the sky as the city’s light scattered through the atmosphere.

The doorbell chimed. He glanced at his watch. Nine o’clock. Jen was on time, as usual. He walked back through his sparsely furnished living room, past the large wall-mounted TV - which was on but muted - and into the narrow hallway. He opened the door.

Jen smiled, “Hi.” She stepped in.

Ben closed the door as she put down the supermarket bag she was carrying and took off her shoes and coat. Underneath she wore a jumper and pale blue jeans. She turned and kissed him briefly, and then hugged him. “Tough day.”

Ben nodded against her shoulder. “Not so good.” He took a moment to appreciate her fragrance; the French one he’d given her last Valentine’s Day, the one she’d asked for. He’d forgotten its name.

“Well, it’s much better now,” she said, reaching down for the bag. She held it up grinning, and then took it over to the kitchen corner and put it on the dark surface next to the hob. “Your favourites.” She took out a bottle of wine, a Chilean white, and a lemon cheesecake.

Ben stepped over and put his arm around her waist, kissing the side of her neck. “Perfect. Thanks.” He opened a nearby drawer and took out a bottle opener. He screwed it into the cork, watching the handles on the sides of the opener rise with each turn. When they were high enough, he pushed down on them, raising the cork, and then pulled it out.

Jen had already gotten two glasses ready. Ben poured and then handed one to her. They clinked glasses and each took a sip.

Jen glanced at the TV. “What are you watching?”

“A documentary about Haruko Brice. It just finished.”

Jen started walking towards the windows. “The missing billionaire? Have they finally found her?”

Ben followed. “No. They don’t think they ever will. It was looking back at her life and disappearance. That was twenty years ago now.”

Jen took another sip, looking out at the view. “Yeah, it must be. It was big news when I was in high school.”

“It’s strange I found that documentary tonight. In the pub earlier I started thinking about her son, Joji.”

“Oh yeah, you knew him at uni. Was he mentioned?”

“No, no mention of him, although I missed the start of it.”

“He disappeared too, you said.”

“Yeah, but not in the ‘assumed dead’ kind of way. He just became a recluse - no idea where he went. I hadn’t thought about him for a long time.”

“He must have inherited a lot from his mother.”

“Yeah. I only found out about it after he disappeared. He never told me much about his life. I didn’t even know she was his mother until our final year.”

“Sounds like he was well on the way to being a recluse even then.” Jen pushed on the glass door to the balcony. It slid open slightly, letting in a chill breeze.

“It’s too cold out there,” Ben said, “let’s just—”

“It’s refreshing.” She pushed the door wide open. “Come on, just for a minute.”

Ben followed her out onto the small balcony, closing the door behind him.

Jen was looking down over the railing to the street and dock below, her shoulder-length dark hair rippling in the wind. She looked up, arching her back slightly, and took in a deep slow breath. “I love the smell of autumn. Even up here you can smell the fallen leaves, kind of wet and smoky.”

Ben took a breath. “Yeah, nice.”

Jen laughed. “Nice? Not really a fan, then?”

“I’m just cold.”

“I was trying to stimulate your senses. I love all the seasons. I’ll never understand why some people like endless hot sunny days.” She’d noticed Ben’s shivering. “I guess you’d be happier on the sofa with cheesecake?”

“Much.”

She nodded, heading for the door and opening it. “That does sound good. Come on.” She handed Ben her glass. “Take this. I’ll sort it out. You go and sit.”

Ben struggled to close the door while holding both glasses, but he managed using his shoulder. He made his way to the sofa, took another sip of wine, and then put the glasses down on the low coffee table. He slouched back into the cushions, picked up the TV remote, and brought up the channel guide. After scrolling through the list he selected something at random, a documentary about lemurs. Behind he could hear the crumple of packaging, the chink of plates and cutlery. Soon there was a sweet scent of lemon. His phone buzzed; a text message: Resort in South Africa booked - two weeks. Leaving tomorrow! Enjoy job hunting. Sam. Ben tapped in a brief reply, pretending to be jealous, and sent it.