PETER REDFERN is late, “and he is never late,” says his PR woman, relaying a
message. He is stuck in traffic, crawling across London’s West End in the
6pm rush hour, dashing out of one meeting to get to the next.
It’s been that kind of week for Redfern, chief executive of housebuilder
George Wimpey, whose plans to merge his business with rival Taylor Woodrow
hit the press last weekend. Redfern confirmed the story on Monday and since
then has been running between shareholders and employees — many of whom are
wondering what’s in it for them, or even if they will have a job by the end
of the month.
The merger will create Taylor Wimpey, the biggest housebuilder in Britain,
with a combined market value of £5 billion, and make Leicester-born Redfern,
at 36, one of the youngest bosses in the FTSE 100. And if it’s youthful
vigour the businesses need, then they will get it.
“I’ll have a beer,” says Redfern, bursting in and making apologies.
Medium-height and compact in frame, he seems almost swamped by his pinstripe
suit. He flings the jacket off and settles in quickly. There’s no beer, so
he takes strong coffee instead.
He is a young man in a hurry. Chief executive since July, he has taken just
eight months to pull off a merger deal that many had speculated on for
years. In fact, he says, talks with his counterpart Ian Smith at Taylor
Woodrow started only five weeks ago. Smith, even newer to the job than
Redfern, has agreed to stand down from the combined entity. Redfern is
persuasive, too.
Whose idea was it? He dodges the question. “Actually I think there are about
150 people who would claim credit for the idea of putting the companies
together — shareholders, journalists, employees, bankers.”
He admits there had been “contact” for some time. “But the thing that tends to
restrict it from happening is people, and that’s what made the difference.
Ian and I thought, this has to happen. It is so right for shareholders. We
can’t let ourselves or anybody else stand in the way.”
Redfern says his heart sank when Taylor Woodrow appointed a new boss — he
thought any merger suggestion would lead to a titanic struggle for the top
slot — but 55-year-old Smith agreed to give youth its head.
“We worked it through pretty effectively. The chairmen went through the same
process.” Taylor Woodrow’s Norman Askew will chair the combined entity. The
same firm also provides the finance director. And over the next few weeks,
they start moving down the pecking order: who will stay, who will go. No
wonder everyone is on tenterhooks.
Redfern expects “about 5%” of the combined 14,000 workforce to lose their jobs
in the merger. He also predicts cost savings of more than £70m a year, and
enthuses over the new business’s prospects: better margins, greater buying
power, and the chance to put Wimpey’s building efficiency together with
Taylor Woodrow’s superior land bank in Britain.
But it’s not a done deal yet. A rival bid could emerge for either of the two
sweethearts. Fellow housebuilder Persimmon, for one, could break up the
party. Redfern brushes it aside. “I have not seen anyone quote Persimmon as
being interested.”
But Persimmon hasn’t denied it, either. “Well, they wouldn’t, would they?”
Then he shrugs. If he is tense, he doesn’t show it. With his high-domed
forehead and spaniel eyes, and a flat-vowelled diction reminiscent of a
young William Hague, Redfern is curiously hard to place in age and status.
An accountant by training — he started at KPMG before joining Rugby Cement —
he looks older than his 36 years, but has an easy humour that he substitutes
for gravitas. On the verge of what will be a career-making deal, he seems so
relaxed that you can only imagine his confidence is infectious.
Colleagues confirm it. “Pete has a a composure that is unusual in someone so
young,” says Peter Johnson, former chief executive of Wimpey, who also hired
Redfern at Rugby.
Robert Sharpe, chief executive of Portman building society and a nonexecutive
at Wimpey, describes Redfern as the complete package. “Old head on young
shoulders, great grasp of numbers, good at strategy and execution, a leader
of people. He is an outstanding talent.”
Not everyone is convinced, however. Both Wimpey and Taylor Woodrow have
underperformed financially, with lower margins than rival Persimmon, and
both have American subsidiaries that are struggling. One sceptic last week
described the merger as like “two drunks propping each other up at the bar”
— putting it all together may not bring about the glory that is promised.
Quite the reverse.
“It’s certainly not two drunks,” he says. Nor is he much more forthcoming on
whether the merger was a “plan B” strategy after Wimpey failed to buy
housebuilder Wilson Bowden last year. “It’s not plan B, it’s plan A, and has
been for some time,” he says.
But would he have pushed forward the merger if Wimpey had bought Wilson
Bow-den? “No,” he admits, “but we were looking at the two in parallel. You
have a point in the process where you have to decide on a plan A in the bush
versus a plan A in the hand, if you know what I mean.”
Sort of. He laughs, good humour swiftly overtaking annoyance. The merger, he
adds, was “always the best option”.
Redfern oozes low-key charm. He has drive, too, which he says he gets from his
upbringing — he was the second of four children born to a British Gas
statistician and a biology teacher in the Midlands. Two kids became doctors,
two accountants.
“My parents had a strong work ethic — my dad came from a poor background, and
my mum’s dad started as a solicitor’s clerk at 14, qualified at 44, and
retired at 70. A long grind,” he says.
Add to that a gift for numbers and a competitive streak that draws Redfern to
problem-solving, and you can see where his drive comes from. That took him
through a maths degree at Warwick University to KPMG and into management at
Rugby within a decade. “Yeah, cement,” he laughs, “don’t you get turned on
by it?”
Talent-spotted by Johnson, he followed his leader to Wimpey in 2001, becoming
chief executive of its UK division in 2004 and proving himself by mixing
youth and experience. “He’s good at using the sergeant-majors,” says his
mentor, Johnson.
He will need those skills in the weeks ahead as Wimpey and Taylor Woodrow get
down to the nitty-gritty of the merger. Redfern says shareholders will
support the deal. “Not one I have spoken to this week has questioned the
logic.”
Sharpe backs him up: “The sector has to consolidate. There are too many
players and you need economies of scale.” A general meeting to ratify the
plan is pencilled in for May. Redfern wants the changes pushed through by
September.
Employees could be harder to convince. Redfern flies to America tomorrow to
reassure executives there, then returns to sort out the structure here. They
will be tense times, which he has been through before. He helped absorb
McLean, McAlpine and Laing housebuilders into Wimpey between 2001 and 2003.
And he walked out of Rugby after it was bought by rival RMC, because he
hated how that integration was handled. “No strategy, no plan, no
engagement, no speed. And they were terribly old-school tie. No running
water in the quarries but a glass-fronted squash court at head office.”
Little chance of that from egalitarian Redfern. His new head office in London,
less than 20-strong, will barely support a squash ladder. Other plans? He is
keen to keep Taylor Woodrow’s construction arm, and its Spanish subsidiary.
He also promises more imaginative housebuilding from the firm once blamed
for the “Wimpeyfication” of Britain — and it wasn’t a compliment.
But will housebuyers benefit from the merger? “That’s a very good question,”
says Redfern, stalling. He is learning fast. The answer is no. He is not
bringing prices down in an understocked market, just increasing his margins.
That’s if the merger goes through. There’s a way to go first. Does anything
wake him screaming at 4am?
“Not yet,” he grins, “I’m far too tired.” And he takes another slug of coffee.
PETER REDFERN’S WORKING DAY
THE George Wimpey chief executive has had a hectic week since the announcement
of his company’s proposed merger with Taylor Woodrow was made.
“I’ve been up at 5.30 each morning at my home outside Oxford,” says Peter
Redfern. “Then I’m driven into London for meetings after 7am.”
He has managed six shareholder meetings per day. “They tend to be an hour long
— most of it is questions. Investors want to gauge the depth of thought
behind the deal.”
The run of meetings ends at 6pm. “I’ll talk to America on the drive back,” he
says. Once home, Redfern plays chess with his daughter, watches “bad telly”
with his wife and sleeps well.
VITAL STATISTICS
Born: August 29, 1970
Marital status: married, with three children
School: Guthlaxton Community College, Wigston, Leicestershire
University: Warwick
First job: trainee chartered accountant, KPMG
Salary package: £480,000 plus bonus
Homes: Oxford and New Forest
Car: black Audi A8
Favourite book: Magician, by Raymond Feist
Favourite music: Scissor Sisters and Lily Allen
Favourite film: Highlander
Favourite gadget: 40Gb Apple iPod
Last holiday: Hawaii
DOWNTIME
PETER REDFERN plays football and squash and goes running. “I like sport, it’s
relaxing for the brain.”
The chief executive of George Wimpey also makes furniture in his spare time.
“My grandfather was a carpenter and I inherited his interest but none of his
ability,” he says. “I am self-taught — that’s why I am not very good at it.”
Redfern also tries do his own building work at his two houses — outside Oxford
and in the New Forest. He recently moved to a new home, built by the
previous owner.
“I like new homes. My last house was built by Bellway. We had to move because
the quality was poor — no, I am just joking.”
