Audacity (Seraph)

Eleanor interrupts, frowning at the briefing pack. ‘May I ask what you have there, Gabriel?’

‘I asked Athena to pull together some thoughts for me and the family,’ I reply smoothly. ‘I wanted to be fully briefed to ensure we got the most out of this time.’

Her eyes narrow, and I suspect she’s thinking that the beautiful, spiral-bound pack I’m holding represents far more than “some thoughts”.

‘Someone from Torty’s team would have been delighted to do that for you,’ she presses. ‘They’re far more familiar with our charitable works than Athena would be, having joined us so recently.’

She smiles at Athena, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and it bothers me. We’re trying to do some good here. I don’t have any tolerance for territorial bullshit—we’ve got enough on our plate without having to manage easily-bruised egos.

‘That’s extremely kind, but briefing me ahead of key meetings is precisely what my EA should be doing. And sometimes it’s good to get a fresh perspective on an old problem, isn’t it? Besides, Athena is my secret weapon in this instance. She spent several years as a management consultant and she has an MBA, both of which make her perfectly suited to this kind of research.’

I see my mother’s eyebrows arch in pleased surprise at Athena’s impressive background. She definitely favours a strong pedigree in people as well as horses.

Before I can continue, my sister leans forward and taps her copy of the document. ‘I totally agree. To be honest, I was absolutely dreading this meeting until I flipped through this thing. It was very bloody inspiring. Nice work, Athena. Eleanor—we can continue with your powerpoint if that’s what you’d like, but we should just use this as the starting point for any sensible discussion, if you want my opinion.’

Mairead runs the stud farm within my parents’ stables. It’s an extraordinarily successful business. My sister has not only a strong nose for business but, predictably enough for someone who spends her days focused on equine erections, an even stronger nose for horseshit and time wasters.

Unfortunately for Eleanor, Mairead can tend towards seeing her as guilty of both of those things when their paths cross.

‘Thank you,’ Athena says quietly to my left as Eleanor glares at Mairead and then Athena, her body stiff with betrayal.

‘I must say, I feel quite on the back foot here. Next time you request that I chair a meeting and then see fit to create your own agenda, Gabriel, I wonder if you’d be so kind as to furnish me with a copy ahead of time?’

‘Absolutely, Eleanor.’ I hold my arms wide to show her I mean no harm. ‘And this was certainly not meant to be an alternative agenda—I merely asked Athena to pull together some information to get me up to speed. She went above and beyond, and I was impressed, so I had some copies couriered to the family to give them some background.’

‘Why don’t you go on with your presentation, Eleanor?’ Mum asks, eyes darting between me and Eleanor as if she’s watching a tennis match.

‘Please do. Perhaps you can summarise where our philanthropic works stand at the moment, Eleanor? And then we’ll get down to the business of wiping the slate clean and taking it from there.’

I hope my subtext is clear. If what’s to follow on the screen is nothing more than a rehash by Eleanor and Torty of what their blue-blooded friends over at Grosvenor and Cadogan are doing, we’ll be aborting their powerpoint pretty damn quickly.

Fifteen minutes later, my fears are confirmed. Following a summary from Eleanor that put a more positive spin on the same current numbers that Athena pulled, Torty is now walking us through a proposed foundation structure that, as she puts it, borrows from the supposed best practices of her favourite references.

It’s becoming increasingly clear to me that Torty sees our “stakeholders” as parties with whom we should curry favour: local government; local businesses; high-profile individuals. The diagrams she’s created fail to speak to any of the more disenfranchised members of our society, and the irony is sinking in, slow but deadly: in some misguided attempt at gaining social currency, my father has populated this firm with some fearful snobs who are frankly out of touch and tone deaf.

Around the table, my family members look disengaged at best and bored at worst. I can practically feel the disapproval radiating off Athena next to me. I’ve got to put an end to this bullshit. I hold my hand up again.

‘Thanks Torty, but I’m going to stop you there.’ I get to my feet again. ‘Look, I think we’re all clear on the fact that what’s worked in Belgravia won’t work in the Docklands, and that we have an advantage in that respect. Dad, you and Grandad grew up piss-poor. And when you came over to the UK, you didn’t ask for permission. You watched, and you listened, and you built. That’s what we should be doing.

‘I’ll be honest, I’ve been flailing a bit since I took the reins here, wondering if I’ll ever find that sense of purpose I struggled to find even as a priest. And you know what? This is the first time I’ve felt that flicker. We’ve got an opportunity to use our wealth and our street smarts on an almost inconceivable scale, so let’s have some fun with it, for God’s sake.

‘This isn’t about handouts. It’s about giving people back their dignity and power and connectivity. I’ve seen the good that one stable community space can provide. Building sustainable change takes time, a long time, but none of us is going anywhere. Athena proposed three pillars—let me see… Ah, yeah. Here we go. Cultural heritage preservation, which I feel like you’re very strong on, Torty, but that needs to look very different in this area. Urban community development—that’s everything from housing to small business support. And finally, but critically, environmental sustainability, right down to ring-fencing more green space and even urban farming. Here.’ I push my briefing pack in Torty’s direction. ‘You and Eleanor should take a look. I’ll share with Athena.’

I sit back down, and we begin to tentatively throw ideas out. My brother’s knee-jerk reaction is to fight for any land that’s been earmarked for development but could be sequestered for green spaces instead. But he’s quickly placated by the potential to showcase Sullivan’s sustainable building practices and to extend affordable housing initiatives further.

Mairead makes the case for the environmental angle, stressing the importance of getting kids outside and moving their bodies and, ideally, connecting with nature, with animals. She’s all over the idea of urban farming projects while Eleanor, seemingly noting the change in the room’s energy level, takes copious notes.

‘You know, I like this,’ Dad says, throwing his glasses down and rubbing his eyes. ‘It feels more right, I suppose. I’m glad Old Jim’s not here, because he’d try to remind me that this is an exercise in divestment and estate planning, and it’s really not. Not for me and Maeve, anyway. It’s about giving people a bit of fucking human dignity and getting our hands dirty.’ He slaps the table. ‘I think that’s what we’ve been missing, and fuck knows, the Sullivans have never been afraid of getting their hands dirty. You know what I mean?’

‘I think the issue is that the people in these areas have problems we can’t even imagine,’ Mum says, covering Dad’s hand with hers. ‘You know, drugs. Gangs. Knives. We’re so out of our depth, so the safe thing to do has always been to throw money at the problem and stay well away.’

There’s a silence that’s uncomfortable and thoughtful in equal measure, because she’s right, and her explanation is as good as any as to why we haven’t delved deeper before.

‘Athena had some thoughts on that side of things,’ I say with a glance to my left. ‘Do you have anything to contribute?’

When she speaks, her voice is quietly assured. ‘As someone who is very much removed from this and is viewing it mainly through a management consultant lens, I’d agree, Maeve, that it would be very ill-advised to think we can wade in and throw around a bit of white saviourism and magically solve people’s problems.

‘But at the same time, if you look at the root causes and the appeal of gangs, which I’m sure is something Gabe knows more about than me given his pastoral work, there are elements you can weave into your infrastructure that might help. They may be as basic as donating funds to the local schools to allow them to do more work, but it could also be twenty-four-seven safe spaces, late night sports programmes, mentorship from reformed gang members… there’s a lot you can do. The key, I think, is ensuring that these are led by people in the community itself.’

‘You mentioned that a lot of these endeavours could be covered by grants?’ I prompt.

‘Yes, absolutely, making your investment stretch further and work harder. I realise that a lot of the problems you’ll be facing are very modern problems,’ she says, addressing my parents, ‘but you have deep pockets and a whole world of expertise at your fingertips, should you want it.

‘I promise you, there will be solutions that are just as radical, just as extreme as the problems themselves, and there are many, many experts who’d kill for a chance to work with you at the cutting edge of impact investing, because that’s what you’re proposing here. Some of the examples I’ve included have revolutionised entire communities, and there’s no reason you can’t shoot for the stars here, too.’

I wish I could squeeze her hand and tell her how much I’m in her thrall every time she opens her mouth, but I can’t. Instead, I double down on her message.

‘Athena’s right. This is a huge, ambitious vision, and it’ll take more than a village. Honestly, I’m feeling pretty daunted. I’m not sure parish bake sales have prepared me for this kind of scale.’ My brother snorts. ‘But no one’s suggesting we effect change overnight. The Sullivans are excellent at building juggernauts. That’s what we do. We use the best people and the best materials and the most revolutionary processes—and that goes from building insulation to horses’ balls. If we take the values at the core of our businesses and we apply them to this with the help of experts in these fields, who knows what we can achieve.’

‘Hear hear,’ Dad says, slapping the table for good measure. ‘Fuck knows, you’re right. We didn’t get where we are by being copycats. If we do this, we do it right and we do it our way. Now, I have a beautiful woman to wine and dine, so Maeve and I will leave you to thrash out the details.’ He pushes his chair back and nods at Mum. ‘You ready, darlin’?’

‘You’re a good boy,’ Mum tells me as she stands. I see in her face the first inkling of approval since I left the priesthood.