Sign of the Times

by Susan Buchanan

  “Yes. I’ll come straight to the point. I have to replace you.”

  Chloe’s face fell.

  “I know it’s disappointing, but unfortunately all the other call centres can only send their staff on the 29th.”

  “I could cancel my hospital appointment,” Chloe said desperately.

  Antonia felt awful for her. She wanted to be one of the Super Trainers so much, she’d actually forego important surgery to be able to do it.

  “Chloe…” Antonia began.

  “No, you’re right. That’s a stupid idea. I need the operation.

  Antonia nodded. She knew that Chloe had some sort of gynaecological problem, but she didn’t know the intricacies of it.

  “Chloe. There will be other opportunities and please don’t just take that as a platitude. We’ll be offering another course in December and you’ll definitely be on that one.”

  “OK, thanks Antonia. I appreciate that,” Chloe said dully.

  Chapter Fifty

  “Hi George. How are things?”

  “Wonderful Toni. Wonderful.”

  It was the one thing about George which grated. No-one had called her Toni since primary school.

  “Is it just us?” Antonia asked.

  “Yes, sit down. I’m seeing everyone separately.”

  Antonia fidgeted on the black leather chair, causing it to squeak. She felt like a little girl in the headmaster’s office. George wasn’t even that much older than her. A shock of white hair, and a weather beaten face, criss crossed with lines, belied his fifty five years. He looked over sixty. But perhaps that came from being at the top. Steepling his hands, George began,

  “Antonia, I know you had a chat with HR about staff redistribution.”

  “Yes I did.”

  “And they mentioned the hiring freeze?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what they didn’t tell you is if the proposals go ahead, Corporate want to dramatically downsize this centre over the next three years, with the aim of closing it within five.”

  Antonia was gobsmacked. She hadn’t seen that coming, although perhaps she should have. In recent years, when competitors were defecting to India and the Czech Republic, Insureall had steadfastly remained in the UK. Their ad campaign was centred around local call centres, not having to call another continent. That would have to change.

  “Where’s the work moving to?” she blurted out.

  “Cape Town,” George admitted.

  What a surprise, thought Antonia. India was getting more expensive and there were too many complaints about customers not understanding what was being said. Analysts had discovered that Brits found the South African accent more empathetic, easier to understand and the insurance companies and banks wanted to keep their customers happy.

  Antonia looked at George, who remained impassive, giving nothing away.

  “So, what now?” quietly furious, she wouldn’t betray her feelings.

  “Well, over the next few weeks, there will be meetings to decide which departments will be transferred and when and if they want any business kept in the UK.” He paused and then said, “Toni, it’s long term, not just our office, Birmingham and Milton Keynes too.”

  Was that supposed to make her feel better, she wondered. Even more people were going to lose their jobs, if not now, then over the next few years. At least some would have the chance to prepare for it.

  “What kind of timescale do we have?” she asked.

  “Realistically, in six months we expect to make the first redundancies.

  “Which departments?”

  “Almost all. Yours most definitely,” George was clear on this point, “but my gut instinct tells me they will keep a token presence in the UK, although not necessarily in Glasgow.”

  “No, more likely it’ll be Milton Keynes,” Antonia couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  She wasn’t really worried for herself. She’d probably be kept on until the transfer was complete, so that gave her a couple of years, but she worried about her staff. “So, what now?”

  “Nothing. Just bear it in mind. I’ll be talking to the other managers today. You have to go on as before.”

  “OK. Anything else?”

  “No, that’s it.”

  As Antonia entered her office, she saw her voicemail was flashing red.

  “You have two new messages,” it greeted her.

  “Hi Antonia. It’s me. Just checking we’re still on for lunch. 12.30 at Zizzi’s. See you then.”

  In spite of the grimness she felt inside, Antonia couldn’t prevent a smile leaking out. She knew her friend inside out. She played the second message.

  “Mrs Bacon, this is Geraldine Teviot from St Aloysius College. If you are able to make it before eleven thirty, I can still fit you in. Thank you.”

  Relieved that at least something was going right today, Antonia called her straight back.

  *

  “Geraldine Teviot. Do sit down, Mrs Bacon,” said the elderly schoolteacher, extending her hand. She was very bright-eyed for someone who should probably have retired several years ago if the way she shuffled around the room was anything to go by. She placed her hands in her lap and didn’t trouble herself with referring to any notes. Antonia could see she was old school and probably kept it all in her head.

  “I wanted to speak to you because I am rather concerned about Felix.”

  She waited for Antonia to digest this and before she could continue, Antonia said politely, “In what respect exactly?”

  “Well, he used to be an A student, but lately his work has been slipping.”

  “Oh?” Antonia said surprised.

  “Yes. He seems distracted. Are there any problems at home?”

  “No,” Antonia was emphatic.

  “Well, could you have a word, as if he doesn’t improve, I may have to fail him in Chemistry and Physics.”

  Antonia was aghast. She’d bloody kill Felix. When she thought of all the advantages he had, this posh school for a start and the hockey matches he always wanted a lift to. He was grounded. No more slinking off to spend time with his band.

  “Can I ask how long his marks have been deteriorating for?”

  “About two to three months. It started before the examinations.”

  She wondered why the school hadn’t contacted them before now. Mrs Teviot, however, evidently saw the question about to form and said, “Sometimes the stresses of school life get to young people, boys in particular. They are not as mature. They withdraw into themselves for a short time or rebel, but when this period becomes prolonged, it becomes problematic,” she said like Confucius delivering a nugget of wisdom.

  When Mrs Teviot stood up, Antonia realised she was being dismissed.

  Antonia was harassed. She’d circled and circled trying to find somewhere near Princes Square to park, but it was impossible. Eventually, she’d slung the car in the car park next to Central Station. It cost a fortune, but needs must. Trotting across to the entrance to Princes Square, umbrella held low over her head, she was just about to go up the escalator when she heard Louise’s voice shout, “Antonia!”

  She turned and saw her friend come out of The Pen Shop, laden with shopping. They hugged and kissed each other on the cheek, then took the escalator up. A waitress showed them to an outside table and although they could hear the wind and rain above them, it was mild, so they sat at the balcony table and ordered drinks whilst they scanned the menu.

  “I know what I’m having,” Louise said.

  “Louise, I know what you’re having. You always have the same.”

  “Well I can’t help it. I love it, so much so, I’ve had to learn how to make it. Fusilli with courgettes, peppers and mushrooms”

  “I think I’ll have the spaghetti alle vongole,” Antonia decided.

  “Ugh. I hate clams,” Louise said, disgusted.

  “Hey, that’s my lunch you’re talking about,” Antonia chastised her. It took a lot to put her off her food, althou
gh Felix playing up at school was still preying on her mind.

  They sipped their mineral water and Louise filled Antonia in on the latest events. Louise was in her fifties, although she’d always tell you she was forty-three. She’d had her boys late in life and since meeting their father twenty years ago, hadn’t worked. She’d always wanted to be a stay-at-home mum and fortunately her neurosurgeon husband’s generous pay packet meant she didn’t have to work. He had travelled a lot when the kids were young, which wasn’t much fun for Louise, but now at sixty, he’d retired and he and Louise were a few years from liberating themselves of their children.

  “I have something enormous to tell you,” Louise breathed, always one for melodrama.

  “What?”

  She held her breath for a moment and then exhaled, “We’re going travelling for a year.”

  “You’re what?” Antonia was flabbergasted, although in retrospect she wasn’t sure why. They didn’t have a great deal to tie them down now, but her friend was such a homebody. It was odd to think of her preparing for the up and off.

  “Yes, we’re going round the world, backpacking. We start in September.”

  “I can’t believe it. Backpacking!” that was the part she had most difficulty with.

  “Well, I use the term backpacking loosely,” admitted Louise, “but yes, in the grand scheme of things, we’ll be backpacking. I can’t wait.”

  Louise filled Antonia in on all the places they would see. It all seemed meticulously planned and Antonia couldn’t help feeling pangs of envy. What wouldn’t she give sometimes to just jack it all in, at least for a while. Even three months would content her. Talk of Louise’s impending trip took up most of their lunch, so Antonia didn’t even have time to think about Felix.

  “You’ll miss Holly’s launch,” wailed Antonia. She was fiercely proud of her niece, her sister’s daughter and the more pleasant in her mind of the two siblings. She found Lucy a bit full on most of the time. Perhaps they were too alike.

  “I’m sorry about that and I’ll miss their wedding too.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. This was going from bad to worse.

  “I am very excited for you though,” Antonia patted her friend’s arm. “I’m just going to miss you so much.” She suddenly realised how true this was. Sure, her and Jack were close but it wasn’t the same. Her oldest and dearest female friend would be adrift for a year. She knew she was a grown woman, but even so, she couldn’t stop the feeling of foreboding from descending over her. She had other friends, but some of them were more acquaintances and they all had their own lives to lead. Louise was the only one, who in spite of her family commitments was consistently there for her.

  “Ah, but I’ll have a blog,” Louise said cheerfully.

  “A blog?” Antonia had always viewed the online diaries as distasteful, airing your feelings and doings on a website. It was this era of reality TV programmes that had fuelled this, she thought. Perhaps though, it would be the only way of catching up with Louise whilst she was away.

  “Yes, I’m doing the blog as a permanent reminder for us once we get back. It also means the kids can see where we are and what we’re doing, not that we’ll tell them everything,” she winked, “and we don’t have to email our friends and family with the same news. They can simply log onto the blog.”

  Louise was so poised. When did her friend, a housewife all these years, get ahead of her technologically?” Antonia wondered.

  She’d barely tasted her lunch, a pity, as it was one of her favourite places to eat.

  The alarm on Antonia’s watch went off and she said to Louise, “I need to go.” Signalling the waiter over, she gave him her credit card.

  “My treat,” she said to Louise, leaning back and draining her glass. “It’s not every day you reveal something of such magnitude.”

  “I suppose it’s not,” Louise agreed.

  They parted with a promise to call each other later in the week and then Antonia set off to retrieve her car.

  As she drove back to the contact centre, she mulled over the morning’s events. This downsizing news was an awfully large secret to have to keep. But these things had a way of getting out. It wouldn’t be long before the Chinese whispers filtered down and the imminent redundancies were out in the open, but the rumours wouldn’t come from her.

  Chapter Fifty One

  “Felix,” Antonia called upstairs when she got home. “Get down here, now!”

  She was turning into her mother, she thought. What had happened to her belief that when she had her own kids, she would treat them differently? Maybe her parents hadn’t been so wrong after all.

  “Yeah?” Felix asked when he entered the kitchen. His attitude was belligerent, but wary.

  “Sit.” It was not a request.

  Felix scuffed over to the table and pulled out a chair.

  “I saw Mrs Teviot today.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And stop talking like that!” Antonia was infuriated. “Yeah and uh-huh. Do you think your father and I pay a fortune to send you to private school for you to talk like an ape?”

  “Apes don’t talk,” Felix said matter-of-factly.

  “Don’t backchat me Felix. I’m not in the mood. I want to know what’s going on.”

  He shrugged. Antonia prodded, “Felix, your grades have gone from being excellent to the point where Mrs Teviot is possibly going to have to fail you.”

  Silence.

  “Fine. Your father will talk to you later, but in the meantime consider yourself grounded until I see an improvement in your marks and” she held up her hand to block his interruption, “that includes the Kings of Leon concert.”

  “But I’ve already paid for my ticket.”

  “I don’t care. Upstairs and get your science books out, if you want to ever leave this house again, or alternatively let me know what’s going on and why your grades have slipped so dramatically.”

  Her son looked at her for the longest time and then wordlessly went upstairs.

  Fine, if that’s the way he wanted to play it, so be it. She hadn’t even got to the part about no pocket money for two weeks.

  Antonia started making dinner and once the chicken pie was in the oven, she grabbed one of her recipe books and went through to the lounge. They were having a dinner party on Saturday, this time for friends. She liked to have plenty of time to prepare. Fortunately she wasn’t working on Saturday, so would have the whole day to get everything ready. There would be eight of them. Clara was having a sleepover at one of her friends’ houses. Felix would have been out, but now he’d be stuck in his room, unless of course he decided he wanted to share before Saturday.

  “Hi,” Jack swept into the room. Antonia jumped up. She’d been so immersed in Saturday’s menu she hadn’t heard the car.

  “So, how did the first day go?” Antonia asked him.

  “Good, I think. Opening statements are done. You know how it is. I fret about it the night before. I want it to be just so, but in the end, as soon as I get up there, it just flows.”

  Antonia knew. She sat her glass down on the pewter coaster and tried to work out whether to tell her husband about Felix just yet. She opted to let him eat in peace and unburden himself about his day. After dinner, before he retreated to his office, she’d tell him. She didn’t think Felix would show his face until he was called anyway.

  They ate in companionable silence. Clara was having dinner at her friend’s house. If Jack was surprised that Felix didn’t join them, he didn’t show it. Either he was used to his son’s idiosyncrasies or he had his mind on the case.

  Antonia cleared the plates, loaded the dishwasher and went into the living room, to find Jack relaxing with a magazine. He was so untidy! His slippers had been kicked off haphazardly beside his chair, magazines were strewn all over the coffee table and his tie lay limply on the sofa. She checked herself from tidying up and sat opposite him, plumping up the cushion.

  “Jack?” she interrupted her husban
d’s reverie.

  “Yes?” he regarded her closely, always aware that his name said in that tone of voice didn’t bring good news.

  “I went to see Felix’s teacher today.”

  “Oh yes?” Jack folded the magazine over at the page he was reading and dropped it on the coffee table.

  “His work’s slipping.” Jack raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Badly,” added Antonia.

  Jack looked downright pained. “Felix?” he gestured upstairs.

  “Yes. I tried to talk to him, but he clammed up. I’ve grounded him until his marks improve or he tells us what’s going on.”

  “Is that why he wasn’t down for dinner?” Jack asked, realisation dawning.

  “Probably. Anyway, could you have a word?”

  “Sure. Wonder what the problem is.”

  Antonia wondered too.

  Half an hour later, Jack came back into the living room, hands in his pockets. “He won’t tell me. Something’s wrong, I can sense it, but he won’t tell me. I asked him if he was being bullied and he looked at me as if I was a cretin.”

  Antonia didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. Did that mean that whatever the problem was, it was worse or better than being bullied? What could they do if he wouldn’t tell them?

  The next day Antonia was particularly snappish at work. She prided herself in being one hundred percent professional, but she was human and she had off days the same as anyone else. She checked her messages. Nothing from her son. Was he just being a typical teenager? Would it all blow over? She hoped so. She’d been lucky when he was a young teenager. He hadn’t become an unruly mass of raging hormones on the eve of his thirteenth birthday. This was alien territory for her. What if he had got in with a bad crowd? Maybe he owed money. What could it be? The phone ringing snapped her back to the present.

  “Hi, Antonia. It’s Holly. How are you?”

  “Holly! What a wonderful surprise. I’m great thanks,” said Antonia, neglecting to mention her errant son. “How’s Italy?”

  “Oh, it’s wonderful. You’d love it here. You should come and visit. Lucy’s just been.”

  “Has she?” Antonia tried to disguise her lack of astonishment. Lucy always landed on her feet and it didn’t surprise her that if she had a sister she could visit in Tuscany, that she would make the most of it. Poor Holly was always in Lucy’s shadow. Not quite as stunning, but infinitely more pleasant.