Not my business

I sat in my usual place at the family dining table. I had been sitting in that exact spot every family meal, that we had together, for almost thirty years now. To my right, sat my mother, Evelyn; fifty-six years old with bouffant hair, without a single grey strand, and immaculately groomed. To her right, at the head of the ten-foot sandalwood table, was my father, Lord Cecil Erdington-Lyell; a taunt-skinned lean man of sixty-three with a full head of thick silver hair and grey eyes that unnerved anyone who was foolish enough to hold his gaze.

I was very fidgety this evening. It had been months since I had a decent night’s sleep. I had lost twenty pounds of weight I could ill afford to lose. My girlfriend of four years walked out on me two weeks ago, although I had not told anyone this news yet. Stress was building up to an unacceptable level. I could not blame work. Nothing had changed there. It was down to this gnawing feeling that my life was set on a path that was not my own.

Manfred, our sommelier, had just recommended a bottle of vintage red wine from the cellar to my father, who approved. Alfred, our longest-serving butler, poured me a glass with a sympathetic smile. He knew how much I abhorred all this fuss. As a boy, I spent many hours downstairs in the servants’ kitchen, conversing about the real world, wishing I could get out of this gilded prison and not have to follow a hundred rules a day.

“Good God, man! What the devil is wrong with you?”

Alfred’s youngest son, Jeremy, a surly young man, on summer vacation from a mid-tiered university, had spilled some wine on the lap of my youngest brother, Elliot, who was seated directly opposite me. Elliot, all six-foot-three of him, had shot up and tried to soak the damage on the crotch of his Gieves and Hawkes of London suit trousers with a napkin.

“Have you any bloody idea how expensive these trousers are, you clumsy oaf!”

I tried to diffuse the situation. “Calm down now, Elliott. I am sure it was just a simple mistake. Wasn’t it, Jeremy?”

“Oh, bugger off, Jonathan. Always taking the other person’s side. Never mine.”

“Elliot, look at me. No, don’t look down. Look straight into my eyes. Just as I thought. You’re high again. Haven’t you just come out of rehab?”

I felt a firm hand grip my left shoulder, preventing me from standing to square up to my loose cannon of a sibling. The hand with the claw of steel was that of my younger brother Alexander, or Alex as we called him. He was a regular rugby player for the first team of our alma mater. I, being of slight built and a bookish investment analyst, was no match for his solid muscularity. Leaning close enough for me to catch a whiff of his musky after-shave, he spoke softly into my ear.

“Leave him alone, Johnny. He’s an addict. He needs our compassion and support; not criticism.”

“Hmmm. It’s all very commendable for you, as a medical doctor, to stand up for the plight of drug addicts but we both know what’s really going on here. He’s a spoilt little shit who hoovers his trust fund up his nose because he’s never had to work a day in his life. You are not helping him. “

Alex withdrew his hand from my shoulder, adjusted the cutlery on either side of his plate and kept his eyes averted from mine. I felt a twinge of guilt. He was the good brother, a dependable man. He did not deserve the sharp end of my acrid tongue.

“Sorry, Alex. That was uncalled for. So, tell me. Have you settled on your speciality yet? Mr Alexander Erdington-Lyell the oncologist; paediatrician; cardiologist? Whatever your choice dear brother, you will be an asset to the medical profession. Except if you choose to be a plastic surgeon. That is a waste of talent, a wanton lust for money.”

“Ha! You’re a bloody hypocrite, Jonathan. You’re an investment banker. That’s even worse than being a plastic surgeon. If our dear Alex here wants to boost women’s self-esteem with a wonderful pair of boobs, then let him. It’s a win-win, whereas we can’t say the same for your situation. All the glory is going in one direction.”

My lovely sister Lilly. Actually, she is Lillian, but she found it a hard name to say in her youth. She had just turned twenty-one; a striking beauty with a strong resemblance to our mother, except that she had inherited our father’s piercing eyes. She would be positively enchanting if it were not for her fondness of men, alcohol and recreational drugs, not necessarily in that order. Even now, you could see how she was caressing the glass of wine like a newly discovered lover.

“Listen! All of you. You will behave tonight. I’ve been looking forward to having you all in one room for so long. You are so busy with your lives now. This house is too big without you living here. I miss you all. Your father works just terribly long hours, you know. I’m finding things a little difficult at the moment.”

My mother looked away from us and began to rub her temples as if soothing a pounding headache. Alex moved to her side and gave her a hug and kissed her forehead. Lilly mumbled an apology. Elliot stared at mother and his mouth moved as if he was going to say something. I took my mother’s hand and just held it for a while until she acknowledged me with a curt smile. She was clearly a bit depressed. You could call it the ‘empty-nest syndrome’ if you like.

My heart began to beat quickly. I could feel my chest constrict and my breathing quicken. My palms were sweaty, and I am sure I was growing paler by the second. A wave of nausea was rising within me.

“Are you alright, Johnny. You look peaky. Here, have some water.” Alex, the natural born carer. I accepted the glass and drank its entire content in one gulp.

“I’m fine, thanks”

“No, you’re not. I could always tell when you’re lying. Talk to us. What’s going on?”

“It’s very sweet of you, Lilly. Really, it’s nothing. Let’s focus on Mother.”

My mother swivelled her head to see us all paying her undivided attention. “Your father has something very important to announce tonight. It won’t be easy for him to say it and even harder for him to deal with it. So, go easy on all of this squabbling amongst yourselves. Just for one night, please”

The pain in my chest intensified sharply. I was finding the weight of my decision unbearable. It would break my father’s heart and, by extension, my mother’s too.

My father is the head of the family owned investment bank, The House of Erdington. The House of Erdington was founded in 1639 for the purpose of providing finance to build ships for transatlantic voyages that transported slaves from Africa to America and returned to Britain laden with merchandise, particularly tobacco and cotton. The Bank prospered for nearly three hundred years until the Great Depression hit global stock markets in 1929, which decimated the client base. In desperation, Lord Archibald Erdington forced his son, Fredrick, to marry Elsbeth Lyell of North Carolina, USA. Ms Lyell’s father, Theodore, was a wealthy plantation owner who had, perhaps wisely, stayed out of the stock market and was widely suspected of profiting from bootlegging operations in the Prohibition of the 1920s. Mrs Theodore Lyell would have described her husband as a “rough diamond”, whereas everyone else called him, behind his back, an animal. He aspired to obtain respectability and looked across the ocean to the British aristocracy. A grand title for his darling little Elsbeth would be the ticket. Thus, came to be the Erdington-Lyell dynasty that thrives to this very day.

Generations of men in our family gave their entire adult lives to the growth and continuity of the bank, fulfilling a legacy for the next generation so that they, too, could enjoy the benefits of money, power and status. I had watched my father give his all each day since I had begun working there. He was a tireless machine, solving problems, thinking of strategies for the future of the bank and its clients, dispensing wisdom, which seemed to roll off his tongue as easily as breathing.

A clinking of glass echoed off the hallowed walls of the room and brought all conversation to a halt. My father was standing with a champagne flute in his left hand and a fork in his right. Putting down the fork, he smiled warmly and cleared his throat.

“Thank you all, my lovely Evelyn, my dearest Lilly, Jonathan, Alex and Elliot. So good of you to break away from your busy schedules to come home for a family dinner that is very long overdue. You are probably wondering if there is a special occasion or reason for this gathering. You are absolutely right. There is a reason. Truth be told, my health has been declining for some time. I have been taking stock of my life and I feel it is time for me to retire and pass the baton to the next generation.

The new leader of this firm must be able to face the challenges that will arise from navigating the murky waters of a global pandemic of coronavirus and its aftermath, both economically and psychologically, the rising importance of artificial intelligence and smart technology, increasing nationalism across the First World, not seen since the end of the Second World War, a strengthening China and weakening America and Great Britain and lastly, but not least, a new generation less enamoured with the promises of Capitalism, in favour of the communal sense of Environmentalism. I do not envy the next CEO of our bank.”

“Retirement. But you’re not even sixty-five, Father! You’re too young. Who would take over from you?”

“Hang on a minute, Elliott. If Father wants to take it easy, he can. He is entitled to it. And why do you care who takes over? It certainly won’t be you because you’re the laziest human imaginable and it won’t be me”

Lilly, for all faults, was always putting herself down. She was so clever, articulate, creative. I had no doubt she would do well in the media sector. Alex and I were always praising her, but she really needed to hear it from our father. She craved his approval, but he never gave it, instead choosing to focus on me.

“Let me put your minds to rest. I have always thought it obvious as to who should take over from me. In my mind, there is only contender and that is Jonathan”

There it was, finally out in the open. The very words I dreaded. I had to tell him now. The longer I waited the worse the fallout will be for all of us. Scanning the table, I tried reading the mood. My father was beaming with pride. My mother had a look of maternal concern. Will her boy be able to handle this role? Alex gave me a congratulatory slap on the back. Elliot was having trouble keeping his balance in his inebriated state. Lilly simply scowled. Goodness, what a family. Nevertheless, the time had come. It must be done.

“Thank you, Father, for your thoughtfulness and intriguing assessment of the possible future ahead of us. I am in full cognisant of the implications of the words I am about to say, having given it a great deal of thought over the past few months. I will come straight to the point.

I do not wish to be the next Chief Executive Officer of the House of Erdington”

In a split second, the civilised ambiance descended into a boorish cacophony of upset. Elliot slammed the table, thankfully his glass was empty just then. Lilly was clearly shocked, for her eyes looked like marbled discs and her jaw had dropped almost to the floor. Alex covered his face with both hands, probably too modest to reveal his true emotions. Mother had withdrawn into herself, as she usually does, and was beginning to cry. Father was hyperventilating and going quite red in the face whilst emitting loud grunts, which would rapidly evolve into thunderous shouting.

“You simply cannot, unilaterally, decide that you will not become the next CEO. That is preposterous! You have been groomed to take over. You are my eldest son, the heir. It is practically your birth right to be the custodian of our family fortune for the next generation. Its in your blood, Jonathan. In your blood. Do you hear me? Do you understand the importance of what I am saying? Generations of Erdington men before you have broken their backs to pave the way of future Erdingtons, so that they can enjoy the many benefits of high standing in society. Do not make a mockery of their sacrifices.

I understand, maybe more so than I care to let on, your fears and your doubts about taking on such an enormous responsibility, especially in the current climate. But that is a challenge you need to face, Jonathan. I faced that challenge, as did my father and his father before him. You will overcome and you will be guided all the way, by some of the best minds in the business, who are at your beck and call twenty-four hours a day.”

I could see that my father meant every syllable. He was a passionate man, shaped by conviction. His eyes were fixed upon mine, as if boring a hole into my brain to fix the perceived malfunction. He was shaking ever so slightly, and his fists were clenched. I felt a pulsating beat running through my veins, increasing in intensity, rushing to my head, and threatening to explode. I was every bit my father’s son with equally strong convictions of my own. My peripheral vision became blurred. I did not want to see the faces of my mother and siblings, who’s lives may very well be impacted by my next words. I must summon the courage to speak and keep to my true north.

“No, Father. My decision is final. Please, do not think for a minute that I am being disrespectful or arrogant. I am not taking up the mantle, not out of selfishness but out of love; a love for myself and for every person in this family.

Let us take a moment here to reflect. The bank was built on the blood of slaves. Along the way, the bank has financed wars, the manufacture of arms, dangerous chemicals, large corporations that abused human rights, polluted the atmosphere and water sources, tobacco, big oil and its shareholders and clients have been rewarded with wealth. Having a ball at the expense of others while they suffer. You cannot be proud of that.”

My father gasped audibly. My mother whimpered. I heard Elliot swear out aloud. There was no stopping this momentum now. The knife had inflicted the wound and every word henceforth would be a twist of the blade.

“You mentioned earlier, Father, that Erdington men had sacrificed to ensure that our family had a guaranteed place in high society. You must ask yourself, for what purpose? A man who has done a hard day’s work at a job that benefits his wife, his children, his neighbours and his country but earns a fraction of the dividends we Erdingtons pay ourselves, may not be a member of high society. But he is no less worthy. In fact, you could say, he may be more so, because he has his honour, dignity, and credo robustly intact. He has not sold his soul for a place at the best table in the city.

I am not suggesting you give away your wealth and become homeless to assuage your guilty conscious. I am putting to you that we have an opportunity to remove ourselves from intoxicating power that erodes our own goodwill and bring humanity to the fore. This family can close the bank and live off its own means comfortably for generations to come. It can turn the ill-gotten gains into a life-changing force; empower the down-trodden to rise and be counted; giving them the chance to fulfil their destinies. Amongst them could the next great scientist, neurosurgeon, teacher.

Let’s turn our backs against the magnetism of greed; transform ourselves from Erdington-Lyell the bankers and financiers of dubious corporations into the Erdington-Lyell family of undisputable integrity. Every generation, going forward, can hold their head up high and sleep deeply in peace.”

I stopped and allowed everyone to let my words sink in. The silence was deafening. No-one moved a muscle. All eyes were on me. It was as if time had come to a screeching halt and we were standing at a crossroad. I was ready to take one road. Would I walk that road alone?

The night ended as if we were shrouded in a fog. I waited for a call from my father all week, but it never came. Instead, I got a call from Lilly to say that he had died. I went to visit my mother to console her and to grieve with her. She gave me a letter. It was from my father and dated the previous day.

“My dearest Jonathan. In my will, I have left you the House of Erdington. One man has the strength and courage to not be drawn into the light of false prosperity and forever change the destiny of all future generations of our family by closing this chapter. It is not me. It is you.”