Chapter twenty
Natalie sat in her office, swivelling around on her chair. She knew it was juvenile, but she couldn’t resist, swirling from one side to the other, taking in the view across Jersey’s Financial District.
She had made it. The plush leather chair was hers. The corner office was hers. The job she had always dreamt of was hers, all hers. Unfortunately, all the staff were working from home so there was no one to share her success, no one to give her envious glances as she strode into work, powersuiting it across the office to her big fat director’s desk.
Glory needed spectators, or it just seemed pointless. Natalie remembered how hard she had worked to get all her Girl Guide badges back in the day, only for the satisfaction to be forgotten the minute the uniform was put away and everyone her age moved on to boy bands. She had wanted this promotion for so long she thought she would at least feel relieved, instead she just felt flat, and in some ways a bit silly for having wanted something that no one else now seemed to care about.
The ting of an incoming call jolted Natalie from her reverie. Self-pity and introspection would have to wait.
“Sir Digby.” Natalie said, answering promptly. “Hello!”
Since becoming a director, Natalie spoke to Sir Digby, the company’s Chairman, most days. Business strategy filled their conversations. Natalie was expected to keep Sir Digby up to date with the latest developments following the merger of Trust Eagle and what had been its larger, flashier competitor, Tempus Trust.
Talks had been going on for months, however, they took an interesting, more personal turn in the summer, when Sir Digby found the MD of Tempus, referred to henceforth as Temper, in a compromising situation with his wife.
Suddenly the deal switched from being a ‘friendly joining together’ to an aggressive takeover of Temper by Sir Digby, with Trust Eagle in the driving seat, backed by a private equity house run by one of Henry’s clients.
Of course, the MD of Temper was defenestrated, not quite as literally as Sir Digby would have liked as none of the windows in the building opened but ousted before he could claim anything other than surprise. This was followed by a cull from the top.
In the days after a merger there is often a strong rhetoric about working together and unifying forces to become more competitive. There may be a respectable delay between the point when decisions are made and when people are required to leave, when people stand on the shore of a frosty lake counting the number of lifejackets in the boat, looking around nervously looking for the nearest one to grab.
That didn’t happen here. The boat set off before giving anyone time to board, and only those who were good swimmers, or who brought their own kayak, were able to cross.
Natalie had ambushed Sir Digby outside a beachfront café one morning and hit him with an audacious plan.
“Why sit around waiting for artificial intelligence to eventually put you out of business, when you could adopt the right AI now, and transform the business?” Natalie had said. “You could get rid of half the directors, remove underperforming managers, and help the new firm leap ahead of your next set of competitors.”
A couple of months later, the new software was in, and most of the directors were out. Natalie had been angling for the position of Chief Digital Officer, but after such a successful purge, one might say, too successful a purge, Sir Digby offered her COO. As well as the corner office, the role came with a substantial rise, and, after several negotiations over chai lattes, a small equity stake. Natalie was now committed to the role whatever happened.
Sir Digby’s face appeared on the screen. He was working from his villa in Barbados where he had gone for an extended Christmas break. Natalie could make out the ripple of a pool just beyond the veranda. Maybe not such a bad place to get stuck.
“Natalie. How’s things in Jersey?” Sir Digby began.
“Colder than where you are, I think.” Natalie replied. Sir Digby was up early, it must have only been 7am in the Caribbean. “We’re now at stage four with the software, just waiting for the final set of feedback.”
“Good, sounds like we’re on track. Have you spoken to Killian recently?”
Killian worked with the private equity backers. Front facing between London and Jersey.
“If not give him a call.” Sir Digby continued as the line began to crackle. “He may have someone lined up for the CEO role and he’s keeping it pretty tight. Would be good to get a bit more intel…”
Join us soon for the next episode of the Secret diary of island wives.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or undead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
