“In any case,” Emma had added, “you should learn to stand on your own two feet, and not expect Cedric to wet-nurse you every time you come up against a problem.”
“That’s all very well,” said Seb, “but what else can I be expected to do?”
“Just get on with your job, and do it well,” said Emma. “Because that’s all Cedric will care about.”
“That’s exactly what I am doing,” insisted Seb. “So why is Sloane treating me this way?”
“I can explain that in one word,” said Emma. “Envy. And you’d better get used to it if you’re hoping to climb further up the corporate ladder.”
“But I never had that problem when I worked for Mr. Hardcastle.”
“Of course you didn’t, because Cedric never saw you as a threat.”
“Sloane thinks I’m a threat?”
“Yes. He assumes you’re after his job, and that only makes him more secretive, insecure, paranoid, call it what you will. But to use one of Des Mellor’s favorite expressions, just be sure you cover your backside.”
* * *
When Seb reported to Sloane, his boss came straight to the point, and didn’t seem to mind that his secretary was listening to every word.
“As you weren’t at your desk when I came in this morning, I assume you must have been visiting a client.”
“No, I was at the American Embassy dealing with a personal matter.”
This silenced Sloane for a moment. “Well, in future, when you’re dealing with personal matters, do it in your own time, and not the company’s. We’re running a bank, not a social club.”
Seb gritted his teeth. “I’ll remember that in future, Adrian.”
“I’d prefer to be called Mr. Sloane, during working hours.”
“Anything else … Mr. Sloane?” asked Seb.
“No, not for the moment, but I expect to see your monthly report on my desk by close of business this evening.”
Seb returned to his office, relieved to be a step ahead of Sloane, as he’d already prepared his monthly report over the weekend. His figures were up again, for the tenth month in a row, although it had recently become clear to him that Sloane was adding his own results in with Seb’s, and taking the credit. If Sloane hoped that his tactics would eventually grind Seb down, even force him to resign, he needn’t hold his breath. As long as Cedric was chairman of the bank, Seb knew his position was secure, and while he continued to deliver, he need have no fear of Sloane, because the chairman was well capable of reading between the lines.
At one o’clock, Seb grabbed a ham sandwich from a nearby café and ate it on the move, not something his mother would have approved of—at your desk if you have to, but not on the move.
As he searched for a taxi, he thought about some of the lessons he’d learned from Cedric when it came to closing a deal, some basic, some more subtle, but most of it good old-fashioned common sense.