A Perfect Heritage (63 page)

And even if by some miracle – and it would be one – it didn’t go down, and the relaunch actually happened, she was the cornerstone of it, the face of it, to a large extent, directing it, driving it through. So either way she would fail them all utterly.

She had tried to put this to Patrick, begged for a bit more time – she seemed to spend her life doing that at the moment – but he had just looked at her in his new, distant way and said since she was still hesitating, then he felt he had his answer. She had said he had nothing of the sort, and she was simply not prepared to let him think so; he said he was sorry, but it was all very simple to him.

She felt extraordinarily confused; at the same time shocked at herself for not seeing her marriage as of prime importance in her life while wondering if, indeed, it was any more, angry with Patrick for what she saw as the ultimate emotional blackmail, desperately sad that they should have come to this, and, of course, anxious about the children, who had already endured enough at her hands and those of both Farrell’s and Saul.

There was no one she could talk to who was not already involved with one situation or another; it was, as Patrick had so forcefully pointed out,
her
decision. His small, sad statement when he first delivered the ultimatum, that he really didn’t mind very much which way that decision went had made her heart ache and her sense of guilt soar.

And given what had happened in New York, did she deserve Patrick? The new one perhaps, the cold distant, harsh one: but she had no right to the old one, the loyal, patient, supportive Patrick, who had been at the centre of her life for sixteen years or more and who had loved her and she had loved so very much. What had happened to them? she wondered again and again as she moved through those horrendous days, with not an hour of any of them happy. Where had they lost one another so totally, as it seemed, and how? Even facing all her wrongdoings – and she was merciless towards herself – she still couldn’t quite believe it had happened.

Athina woke up feeling, most unusually, nervous. This being Bertie’s leaving day, and this ridiculous party planned, she wasn’t at all sure how she was going to cope with it. Clearly she must attend; it would be seen as the most extraordinary breach of family as well as professional etiquette if she did not, but she longed to be able to stay away. She still felt that Bertie’s move from the firm was an appalling display of disloyalty and, in her opinion, arrogance as well, that he could think he was going to achieve success in a firm where he had no history, no reassuring inbuilt support. For the whole of his working life he had been sheltered from the consequences of his inadequacies; first Cornelius and then she had tolerated him as he bumbled his way along, first in sales, then admin and finally as financial director of Farrell’s, a job he would certainly not have been employed to do with any other company.

‘We’ve got excellent accountants,’ Cornelius said once, when she was complaining bitterly about Bertie’s most recent lapse, failing to put the rising rate of VAT into his financial forecast. ‘They’ll save us from really serious problems. And we have to give the boy a job. I for one don’t want to see him in another firm, doing something second-rate and failing even at that. He’s not over-bright, I know, but people seem to like him and that’s important.’

Athina said people liking Bertie wasn’t going to help the company if he continued to place them in financial difficulties, but Cornelius said she was exaggerating and that he was not prepared to move Bertie into another inferior position, and indeed it was one of his last requests in the days following his first heart attack, that she should remember Bertie was their son and doing his best, and she should never even consider that someone else take over his job.

Well, Bianca Bailey had done that very swiftly, and moved Bertie into that foolish position which anyone with even half his brain could have done; and what was the result? An inflated opinion of himself, and a distressingly public break from the family. She could never forgive him for that; and now she had to go along this evening and pretend with everyone else that he had done wonderfully at Farrell’s and he was a great loss. Well, hopefully it would soon be over. She had been approached for a contribution to his leaving present, but had declined, telling Christine that it would be inappropriate for her, as his mother, to do such a thing.

‘Whatever would people think?’ she said. ‘You might as well suggest I contributed to my own present when I leave.’

She failed to notice that Christine, usually so swift to agree with her every utterance, remained silent.

Bianca Bailey had asked her if she would like to say a few words, but she had looked at her in astonishment.

‘What on earth could I say that was remotely positive, when I feel so very strongly he is making an appalling mistake, and displaying considerable disloyalty to me and indeed to the memory of his father at the same time. I’m sure you’ll be able to find a few meaningless words suited to the occasion.’

But now that the day had come, she found herself surprisingly saddened at the prospect of her only son leaving the family as well as the firm, deny it as she might, and she rather dreaded showing this in public. Eyes would undoubtedly be on her and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.

Well, no doubt it would all be over quite quickly. She decided she would arrive at the party early, since attendance was bound to be low and thus be able to leave after a very short time. She was keenly looking forward to that at least.

‘Good morning, Miss Hamilton. Simon Smythe here, Smythe Tarrant Solicitors.’

‘Good morning, Mr Smythe. It’s extremely kind of you to interrupt your holiday in this way.’

‘Oh, not at all. In any case, it was less of a holiday more of a break, if you follow me. And besides, this is an important matter we need to discuss. Certain things have changed since I set up the deed of gift for Sir Cornelius, with which I need to acquaint you. I was debating as to whether I should contact you, but Sir Cornelius was always emphatic that the first approach should come from you, and naturally I took my instructions from him. We spoke a day or two before he died, and he stressed that once again.’

‘Yes, and that was my wish also,’ said Florence.

‘Indeed?’ said Simon Smythe, audibly brushing aside any wishes she might have had in the matter as of little importance.

‘Yes. Very much so.’

‘I see. Well, as I say, I am merely following Sir Cornelius’s instructions. Now when can we meet?’

‘As – as soon as possible, please,’ said Florence. ‘The situation that has driven me to contact you is quite pressing.’

‘I see. Well, today is out of the question, I fear. I could see you tomorrow at our offices, which are in Guildford. Could you make your way there?’

‘Yes indeed.’

‘Excellent. Well, shall we say ten o’clock? And I would be grateful if you were not late. I have a very heavy schedule, first day back in the office . . .’

‘Ten would be splendid,’ said Florence, ‘and I do assure you I am not in the habit of being late.’

‘That’s what all the ladies say,’ said Mr Smythe and there was no hint of humour in his voice. ‘My experience is a little different.’

‘Mr Smythe, I will not be late. I am a working woman, I value time, my own and other people’s very highly. So. If you could just give me the address?’

‘Perhaps you could ask my secretary for that,’ said Mr Smythe. ‘She can give you directions as well, you’ll obviously need them . . .’

He clearly saw imparting such information as the work of minions. Preferably female ones. Florence said she would ring his secretary.

‘He is the most irritating man,’ she said to Bianca on the phone, ‘incredibly patronising. He sounded quite old. Entrenched opinions, no doubt.’ Florence always made it clear that she did not consider herself in the least old. It was one of the few things she had in common with Athina. ‘But he does seem to have something to tell me. Something important I mean.’

‘God, I wish I could come too. But I have to see Hugh and Mike. Which I can’t duck; they’re going to spell out the new terms, I’ll have to sign things, oh, God!’

‘I would have liked that,’ said Florence. ‘You could have asked all the clever questions I’ll forget. But I’ll do my best.’

‘I’m sure that’ll be quite enough,’ said Bianca. ‘And anyway, Mr Smythe might not have liked it. What he has to say is probably highly confidential.’

‘Bianca, I am the client,’ said Florence firmly. ‘As such I can decide who to bring with me – although Mr Smythe clearly has difficulty with that.’

‘Oh really? Who does he think is the client then?’

‘Cornelius, clearly,’ said Florence, ‘even from beyond the grave!’

‘Good morning, Bertie. Big day today!’ Lara’s voice was carefully upbeat. There was no way she was going to allow Bertie to see she was even remotely cast down by his imminent departure.

‘Yes, indeed.’ He carefully avoided meeting her eye.

‘I’m looking forward to the party. I may not be able to stay too terribly long, I—’

‘Oh, it won’t be going on long,’ said Bertie, looking alarmed. ‘Just a few drinks and—’

‘A few speeches?’

‘Speeches? Oh, good lord no!’

‘Bertie, you must make a speech,’ said Lara, genuinely shocked, ‘I know Bianca’s going to.’

‘Oh, heavens!’

‘And everyone’s coming, absolutely everyone. They’ll expect it.’

‘What do you mean
everyone
? I thought just a small gathering was what was agreed . . . ?’

‘Everyone, Bertie.’

He looked at her, desperation in his eyes.

‘But what on earth am I going to say?’

‘Oh Bertie it doesn’t have to be a massive speech,’ said Lara, ‘just say goodbye and how you’ll miss everyone. And suppose there’s a presentation, which a little bird tells me there will be, you’ll have to at least say thank you for that.’

‘Oh no! Oh, dear . . .’ He looked so terrified she forgot about being cool and distant. ‘Poor Bertie, you mustn’t worry about it. D’you want me to help you think of what to say?’

‘Would you? I’d be so grateful.’ He smiled at her and suddenly it was the old Bertie sitting there. ‘Lara to the rescue once again. Well, it’ll be the last time, Lara. I’ll be out of your hair after today.’

‘I don’t—’ She stopped herself just in time from saying that the last thing she wanted was for him to be out of her hair. ‘I don’t mind at all, honestly. Now, let’s see. If I sit next to you, we can do it together and it’ll sound much more like you.’ She pulled a chair next to his, sat beside him. ‘Now then. The main thing is to say thank you for the – the present. Whatever it is. How much you appreciate it. And how much you’re going to miss everyone. That sort of thing. Right . . .’

Jemima, looking in to check a few details about the catering for the evening, saw them sitting there, heads together, looking at the screen, smiling, and thought how nice it was to see them how they used to be. What a terrible shame it had all gone wrong. She felt sure Bertie wouldn’t be leaving if it hadn’t.

It was a long day; Bianca felt utterly defeated, unable to do anything. There didn’t seem any point; she fielded phone calls, replied to a few emails, composed the few words she was going to say at Bertie’s party. That made her feel more emotional than ever; she sat thinking over the past months, and how happy much of it had been, how she had done good things as well as bad, discovering Bertie and his talents very much one of them. She decided that indeed might be the theme of her speech; and then wondered if it would offend Athina and Caro, both of whom were coming. And then thought that they were hardly very considerate of her feelings and decided to do it anyway. It would please Bertie and he was the main person to worry about.

The boardroom was extremely full. Just seeing everyone come in amazed Bertie and gave him a lump in his throat. Not just the major players, he had expected those, but right down to the most junior IT people, and marketing assistants, dear Mrs Foster who did all the catering and had put on the buffet for this evening, several of the salesmen, Marjorie, Francine – the flow through the door was endless. His mother was there, looking rather terrifying in red, Caro, Lucy, of course, looking particularly sparkly, the reception girls – it was all too much. All telling him how much they were going to miss him, and how pleased they were to have been invited to his party.

By seven, people could hardly move: Bianca stood up and tapped a spoon against her glass. He couldn’t help noticing that she looked tired and rather pale. She really did work much too hard. She indicated for him to stand near her.

‘Bertie,’ she said, ‘I was going to say a lot of things, but actually I think this party, and the people who have come to it, say most of them for me. All of us, Bertie, who admire you and are fond of you, of course wish you well, but we would also so wish you weren’t leaving us. And we are very very jealous of your new company in having you: they are extremely fortunate.

‘I think everyone in this room owes you something; obviously, particularly the people you brought into the company, but also the many others, who just wanted to say goodbye. What you have, you see and it’s why we shall all miss you, is the rare gift of making people feel comfortable and less worried about their situation. And you’re also extremely approachable; I’ve often dropped into your office, wanting to discuss something with you and finally given up, so often were we interrupted by people coming to discuss one thing or another with you. This is not a criticism, Bertie, I see it as very much part of your job to be available in this way. It might have been a little annoying, but I came to see I couldn’t have everything . . .’

Everyone laughed.

‘Of course you have your faults. Everyone does.’ A pause, then, ‘Your desk is legendary for its untidiness.’ Laughter. ‘You spend much too much time at the aforementioned desk, working late, working early, eating your lunch there. You really should make an effort to go out to lunch at least once a year, you know. HR people are supposed to like big lunches and gossip. Why don’t you?’ More laughter. ‘And – no, I can’t think of any more faults. But to be serious, just for a moment, and to end on a personal note. I have so enjoyed my time here, it’s been so – so happy. And one of the things I have most enjoyed was bringing in new people, the sort of people who I knew would add to the team, fit in, be fun to work with, understand what was needed, and give their all. I consider bringing you in to this new job you’ve done so superbly, working with you, having fun with you, joining with you in building up that team, as one of the things that has given me considerable personal pleasure.