Antman (8 page)

'They were almost off the top of my head,' said Tom.

Hugh smiled. 'Don't say that, you'll tarnish your halo.'

'What about our work on insect predation?'

'Ah,' said Hugh. Tom knew immediately what this meant. 'Marvellous, but –' The parliamentary compliment, before the rapier thrust. He should have known.

All he could do was to wait for the sting in the tail – it was Hugh's style.

'So, on some fronts the future appears rosy,' said Hugh. 'Our research profile in entomology looks very respectable. However, in the immediate future we have to be careful, and ensure that we cut our cloth to suit our pocket. For the time being, and I emphasise it's probably only for the time being, we have to look on the debit side and reduce costs.'

Tom was seething. Damning with faint praise. 'Very respectable,' he ground through clenched teeth. 'Do you realise how we've sweated to bring extra contracts in.'

'The bad news,' said Hugh, 'is that our research centres have to meet even more stringent performance standards if they are to survive. Specifically, Tom, I'm afraid without an increase on your last year's income, you'll have to lose staff.'

'You mean we've no chance of replacing Detlev?'

'Well, you've appointed Robin Lovelace.'

'That's something and nothing. I've lost him to this externally funded expedition. So I'm back with no deputy.'

'I realise that. Lovelace's field trip is short-term as well, but I'm afraid this is over and above the Detlev and Lovelace situation.'

'So the message is you're doing great work and here's a kick in the teeth,' said Tom. 'The question is, by how much will we have to raise our threshold of income?'

'Significantly, I think, given the quantity of down-sizing we're doing in other areas.'

'For God's sake, Hugh, you sound like the chairman of ICI.'

'Sorry old chap,' Hugh said softly, 'I know it hurts.'

‘
Not as much as it will hurt the University in four years time,' said Tom, 'when their entomological research goes down the pan.'

'There's more, I'm afraid. Let me put the issue in a broader context. The University is suggesting you boost the Centre's revenue from research by shifting the balance of its work from research into communication and predation among the social insects – to pathology.'

'For goodness' sake, Hugh. Who has the right to dictate this?'

'Senior management have every right, I'm afraid. University priorities rule in that area. We can anticipate as a strategic goal moving into competition with some of the established centres which shall be nameless. They've already pushed ahead with research into forensic entomology.'

'So the future will be based upon more lucrative areas for research.'

'I didn't say those words.'

'Curse my big mouth. You didn't need to.'

'Why curse?'

'Because you've lifted my words from the lecture. I should have kept quiet.'

'I have to say, Tom, this has been on the cards for some time. A number of other voices have been convergent on your own views. You should feel flattered. Perhaps the word is relevance. Take forensic entomology, for example. It seems to me to be indisputable that if you were to develop the work of the Centre in that direction, the applications would be of more direct use to the agencies in this region, such as the police.'

'Rather than working on insect predation with developing countries who have less money to pay our vast overheads.'

'Rather than spreading your meagre resources halfway across the globe, yes. The loaded meaning is your own. Look Tom, I realise you must be very bitter,' said Hugh, 'seeing the fruits of all your years of hard work being eroded by the winds of free market competition.'

You're mixing your metaphors a little, thought Tom, and it doesn't suit you. He responded out loud more softly for fear of antagonising Hugh and reducing the scope for negotiation:

'Give me the bad news in hard cash so we know what we're talking about.'

'Two and a half million, gross,' said Hugh. 'Earn that per year over the next three years, plus inflation and we'll call it all square.'

'Grief, man,' Tom exclaimed. 'That's nearly twice what we're earning now.'

Hugh spread his palms wide in a gesture of hopelessness.

'I tried to argue your case, but – what can I do?'

'This is ridiculous,' Tom said, lost for words in the face of such crassness on the part of his employers.

'What I'm giving you is only preliminary. It still has to go through committee and Senate,' said Hugh, trying to soften the blow. There'll be plenty of opportunity to argue your case.'

'Yes, and with Detlev dead, it will be even more against the tide than usual,' said Tom bitterly.

At the mention of Detlev's death, Hugh stiffened visibly. He was clearly unable to deal with that aspect of the situation. In contrast, Tom's inclination towards a softly-softly approach had melted away at the mention of the ludicrous financial target. His anger at the unfairness of it won out over other feelings. He recalled the last time his research base had nearly been wiped out, five years ago, when the Government pulled the plug on a wide range of biological, horticultural and oceanographic projects.

Tom walked to the door, opened it and turned. Hugh shrugged, rather pathetically he thought.

'I'll leave you with this thought, Hugh. If the grant goes, the Research Centre goes. If the Research Centre goes, then I go. The entire Department may be eclipsed by other departments – scientists, or professions allied to medicine – and two years from now you too will be nothing more than a memory.'

Chapter 4

Helen was seeing Robin off.

'Byeee, darling,' she said. 'Sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean all those horrid remarks.'

'All?'

'Robin, you've a gift for not responding the way I want.'

'Sorry.'

'And for pity's sake stop saying sorry.'

She saw his face. He suddenly looked so sad, like a little boy lost. 'Give me a hug,' she said.

He clutched her to him. Close, he thought, but not intimate, affectionate, not loving. That summed up their relationship.

Helen was nestled into Robin's coat, thinking, if only. There was so much she couldn't put into words. She didn't want him to go, because she'd miss him, but that was only part of it. She was scared of what would happen while he was away.

She drew away so she could see his face again. 'I'm going to walk straight away without waving you off,' she said. Robin thought he knew what lay behind this. Helen couldn't stand goodbyes. They were too upsetting and drove her distracted.

I wish I could reciprocate, he thought as he hugged her.

The embrace was short and cursory, she thought as they parted, and she turned and imagined him walking away. It was ironic that in this farewell embrace they were no longer in eye contact. She was thinking and hoping. This would give her the space she desperately needed, after all this time, finally to exorcise Detlev from her heart and life.

*  *  *

Tom's departmental meeting had dragged on rather longer than expected. He resolved to apologise to Laura as soon as he walked in for being late and for everything else that had gone wrong between them. Perhaps it would heal matters sufficiently till they could find time to talk properly, away from the children. Somehow though, as he walked in, he knew this wouldn't happen; the meal was burnt, the kids were scrapping, and there was an urgent message from a colleague. He rang straight away. Laura was shaking with rage as soon as he came off the phone. 'I've a bunch of very anxious research staff,' he tried to explain. 'There's a budgetary crisis in higher education.'

'You're bloody telling me on top of everything else I'm spending too much,' she shouted.

'I am not telling you anything. I've only just walked in,' he shouted back.

'Two hours late.'

'I'm sorry.' His voice lowered in tone.

'You don't want me to buy that coat and the shoes to attend that reception at Hugh's next week. Well I shan't go without them and I shan't go in any case. I can't stand their stuck-up narrow ways.'

'Darling, I'm not exactly on the verge of being sacked.'

'But –'

'There isn't a "but".'

'Don't play your bloody academic games with me. You aren't in one of your meetings now.'

'Listen, darling, there may be redundancies, but it won't affect us.'

'That makes me feel great. The wives I mix with daily may be soon living with bankrupt husbands from your Centre, but I'm not to be concerned about it.'

'Okay, we're putting together a package to stave this off. It's whether we can deliver in the next few weeks.'

'Package, deliver? You make it sound like the bloody Post Office,' she shouted, unable to curb her anger.

'There's no need to shout. It's a consequence of the global uncertainties affecting the sector.'

'I hate you when you speak like that.'

Tom shrugged: 'I can only tell you the situation.'

'I won't put up with any more of this, Tom. I am not one of your bloody staff,' Laura blurted out between clenched teeth.

The truce between them had held briefly last winter, from Detlev's death to just after the funeral; now it was falling apart, sentence by sentence:

'Not in front of the children,' he said very quietly.

'Mum,' called Matthew from the corner of the L-shaped lounge, screened off by a small group of bookshelves in a rectangular U shape.

'You and your bloody smooth phrases,' she shouted. 'Why should I keep quiet to protect your lies about the happily married university professor and this stuffy campus? They want to get real and come into the late twentieth century. People balance careers against families in the real world, they have rows and sometimes' – she was crying now – 'they’re unhappy and they split up.'

'You shouldn't say these things,' he said quietly.

'Mum, I want to tell you something.'

'Don't counsel me,' said Laura defiantly. 'I'll say what I like.'

'Mum,' said Matthew, more insistently than ever. 'Why do you always ignore me when you're arguing with Daddy?'

'I am not arguing, Matthew. We're having a discussion. All parents discuss and sometimes they disagree.'

'Michael's parents don't. They aren't always cross like you and Daddy.'

'How can you be sure?'

'Because they aren't when I go to tea with Michael.'

'How do you know they don't when you leave?'

'I've slept at Michael's and they don't then either.'

'Bully for them,' Tom said and regretted it immediately.

The mobile in his pocket played an insistent jingle. He pulled it out and put it to his ear. He stood by the front door and stepped outside so he could hear. When he returned he was agitated. 'Got to go,' he said hastily.

'Will we see you again tonight?'

'I won't be too late. Don't stay up for me. My colleagues are having a crisis. It's a late shift meeting about our strategy to resist the budget cuts.'

'It's always a late shift these days,' she said as he disappeared towards the car.

The children were undressed and having supper in the loft extension upstairs which doubled as spare bedroom and playroom. Matthew picked up the paper Laura had been reading.

'This is a picture of the funny man we saw today in town.'

'Mmmm,' said Laura without looking.

'I'm getting really really mad,' exclaimed Matthew.

'What, darling?'

'The man,' said Matthew. 'This is his picture in the paper.'

'It can't be, darling,' said Laura, hearing him for the first time.