contract approval. The acquisitions team hasn’t—’
Anders took his eyes from the screen and fixed Nico with a glare. It was a technique he practised often. It was meant to make people back down.
Nico was not easily intimidated. He strolled to a seat at an angle to his boss’s and returned a steady gaze. ‘Is there a reason for the rush?’
‘Is there a reason for us to underperform?’ Anders returned coldly.
‘Rushing when we don’t need to might lead to our underperforming.’ Irritation tightened Nico’s shoulders. Anders’s main leadership weakness was entrenching himself and refusing to budge. You could term it having the courage of his convictions or you could call it blind stubbornness. Sometimes it made his team step up; sometimes it made them flap about frantically and, to use his word, underperform.
Anders steepled his fingers and narrowed his eyes. ‘The client and I have shaken hands on these dates.’
Nico felt his jaw drop. ‘You’ve agreed an unrealistic delivery with my client on my project?’ He was aware he wasn’t speaking in the respectful manner Anders considered his due but the prospect of achieving such a target loomed over his head like an anvil with ‘stress’ painted on it. Anders clumsily sticking his fingers into Nico’s carefully tended pies was disrespectful.
‘The wrong’ wasn’t a place Anders occupied comfortably and his frown grew darker. ‘We met socially. Happenstance. You have a problem with it?’
The air in the room was now so cold that Nico expected icicles. ‘All those I’ve already mentioned,’ he retorted. ‘Especially as I need to request dependants’ leave to take me up to my annual holiday.’ He started to apprise Anders of the latest issues with Loren and Maria.
Anders interrupted. ‘What?’
Shocked that his boss wasn’t even making a pretence of hearing him out, Nico tried a fact or two. ‘It’s lawful for me to request dependants’ leave—’
‘Twice in a few weeks?’ Anders sliced in.
‘I took the last lot as paid leave.’ Nico felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. ‘It’s a reasonable request when I’m in difficult circumstances.’
White around his lips, Anders switched his gaze to his laptop. Very slowly, he closed it. ‘I’ll talk to HR and come back to you.’ His contempt was plain, probably meant to elicit a stammering apology and retraction.
Nico felt something snap inside him. ‘You have to go to HR? Management make decisions, not HR. You’re beginning to make my position untenable.’ He worked bloody hard and now Anders acted like an arsehole when asked for unpaid leave to deal with a tricky situation concerning the well-being of a toddler. Any reasonable employer would show compassion. Shaking with rage, he jumped to his feet, gaining satisfaction when Anders flinched. ‘You’ve left me no alternative but to consider my position.’ On those words he stalked from the room and worked furiously on conference calls before he left.
When he reached home he discarded his mood along with his coat, smiling his way through the evening, chatting with Josie, reading to Maria. Once Maria was sleeping and Josie listening drowsily to an audiobook in bed, he poured himself a glass of scotch and sat down calmly to work through his options with pen and paper. It didn’t take long.
Stressed out
Poor work/life balance
Single dad with, presently, two kids to look after
Childcare for two-year-old different ballgame to childcare for eight-year-old
Tilly cannot/will not help with Maria
Emelie moving out – no longer able to help with either child except occasional babysitting
Anders being a twat, he added, unprofessionally. Fundamental professional differences. Personally dislike one another but did expect a reasonable hearing.
He took a gulp of scotch and wrote his conclusion:
I need to reassess lifestyle with a view to making myself happier and responsive to current childcare. He paused and studied the list for a few moments.
Then he wrote his resignation letter.
Chapter Eleven
It was lovely to be back amongst the cosy cottages and windswept lanes of Middledip. It was just that at first Hannah was too preoccupied to realise it.
Autumn seemed to have decided not to bother this year and winter had swept in as if from Narnia. Iron-hard frosts stripped the colour from the landscape, bleak but beautiful, but the ruthless removal of Hannah from her life in Sweden made her feel as if she were seeing it through a dirty window. Her two big suitcases were in the spare room, cramped by the jumble Nan collected between village hall sales. Mo and Jeremy had rumbled off in The Bus the day after Hannah arrived. They’d offered to