Being Elizabeth (22 page)

‘All I can say is that I'm relieved Harry Turner was a maniac when it came to legalities, especially to do with his will.
And
his successors
. Shakespeare said, “First, let's
kill
all the lawyers,” but Harry Turner said “First, let's
celebrate
all the lawyers”.' Cecil chuckled. ‘My father was forever quoting Harry when I
was growing up. Very seriously, though, Marie Stewart could be a bit of a troublemaker if she so chose.'

‘For what reason?'

‘Just to make trouble, create problems for us, that's all.'

‘She could never attempt a takeover bid, surely? After all, we're a private company,' Nicholas said quietly.

‘We are indeed, but over the years quite a few shares were given to directors as bonuses, and to certain family members, or they were allowed to buy them, and those shares have been passed down. Today they are held by other people.
They
might be tempted to sell those shares to an outsider. Nevertheless, in my opinion we
are
safe. Let me explain. A takeover bid wouldn't get very far, because of our company rules, and the way the company is structured. And there's another reason … Only a Deravenel, be it a man or a woman, is allowed to run the company. Also, Elizabeth does control most of the shares through her father's will.'

‘The Stewart woman has
some
, according to Francis. They were seemingly passed down from her grandmother, Harry Turner's sister Margaret.'

‘That's correct, yes. But she doesn't have as many as Elizabeth.'

‘Why is Francis so troubled by the Stewart woman?'

‘She could rock the boat, undermine current management, be a nuisance in general. We don't need dangerous rumours floating around. We have to look very strong in business, in order to counteract the impression given over the last few years, the impression that Mary Turner didn't know what she was doing as managing director. And we're doing that efficiently and very effectively.'

‘Thank God!' Nicholas walked back to Cecil's desk, and sat down opposite him. ‘I'm delighted
we're
in control at last.'

‘Getting back to John Norfell. Robert thinks he's overly ambitious and out for himself … a man fervently seeking power. And that's the real reason he doesn't trust him. He says a man like
that can jump anywhere at any time. He detects a treacherous streak there.'

‘Francis obviously believes the same thing.'

‘I'm certain he does, and I tend to go along with the theory.'

Nicholas nodded, sat back in the chair, his expression thoughtful. After a moment or two, he asked, ‘Have you spoken to Elizabeth about her relationship with Robert?'

‘What's the point? My words would fall on deaf ears. A woman in love hears only the words of her lover.'

‘I
t's been a totally crazy morning so far,' Miranda Phillips said, coming into Elizabeth's office at Deravenels, hurrying across to the desk. ‘The phone's been ringing and ringing.'

‘I've just started to go through the messages,' Elizabeth answered, smiling at Robin's sister. Merry, as she was known, was her personal assistant, and one of the most breathtaking women she had ever seen, with her beautiful features, dark colouring and cornflower-blue eyes. ‘I see there's one from Grace Rose. Did she say what she was calling about?'

Sitting down in the chair at the other side of Elizabeth's desk, Merry began to laugh. ‘The usual. To see you, of course. “In the not-too-distant future, because I'm living on borrowed time.” That was the way she put it, and with a lovely chuckle, I might add. I told her you'd get back to her today.'

‘I'm not doing much this weekend. With Robin in Marbella I'm fairly free. Maybe I'll invite her to Sunday lunch at the Dorchester. She loves that, the whole ritual of it. I'll phone her now.' Just as Elizabeth reached for the phone the door burst open and Cecil Williams rushed in, looking worried and distracted.

‘What is it?' Elizabeth asked, staring at him anxiously. His
normal calm demeanour had been ruffled, and there was a strained look in his steady grey-blue eyes which alerted her to trouble. ‘Is there a problem, Cecil?'

‘Yes,' he said crisply, coming to a standstill near her desk. He sat down and went on, ‘I just hung up on Robert. Now, don't get upset, they are all right, but he and Ambrose were in a plane crash this morning.'

‘Oh, my God, no!' Elizabeth gaped at him, her alarm evident, and then she looked at Merry who had stiffened in the chair and turned white. She brought her hand to her mouth.

‘They're not badly hurt!' Cecil exclaimed, and added, in a reassuring tone, ‘I promise you, Elizabeth. And you, too, Merry, your brothers are fine, in fact they're mostly suffering from bruises. Ambrose has dislocated a kneecap and Robert has a broken wrist. They've been damned lucky.'

‘Where was the crash? Are they in hospital?' Elizabeth reached for the telephone, her hand resting on the receiver.

‘First things first. They were treated at the small medical unit we built at the resort, and then taken into Marbella, to a private clinic. They've been thoroughly examined, and released. Robert will phone you shortly, Elizabeth. I asked him to wait ten minutes or so. Because I wanted to explain about the oil spill.'

Elizabeth sat back, startled. ‘What oil spill?' she demanded. ‘Nobody told me about any oil spill.'

‘The Spanish government haven't released anything official yet, Elizabeth. I just got a few details from Robert several minutes ago. Apparently an oil tanker exploded off the coast of Spain earlier this morning and –'

‘Not one of our tankers! I hope to God not!' she cried, her chest tightening. All she needed at the moment was trouble with Deravco Oil. Her heart sank at this thought.

‘No, no. But it could cause us problems. If the oil slick drifts down to our shoreline we might have an ecological disaster on our hands.'

‘Damn and blast!' Elizabeth snapped her eyes shut for a split second, genuine fear running through her. All that money they'd invested could be lost. Then she opened them and gave Cecil a worried look. ‘That's all we need to scuttle our resort in Marbella. Oily sea, oil-covered birds and fish, ruined marine and plant life. Oh, and what about the beaches? Oh, God! No! This can't happen to us, Cecil. It just can't.'

‘Let's
pray
the oil slick doesn't drift with the tides,' Merry said quietly, understanding only too well what was suddenly at stake for Deravenels. And Elizabeth, as head of the company.

Elizabeth took several deep breaths, steadying herself. ‘What about the tanker, Cecil? In particular, what about that doomed crew? There must be a lot of men dead? No?' Her dark eyes were filled with sudden pain at the thought of lost lives.

‘As I said, not all of the details are in,' Cecil replied. ‘But Robert believes there are a lot of injured men. He told me they're being rescued as we speak. This is what happened earlier. As soon as he and Ambrose heard about the explosion they decided to go out in one of our small planes to view the area, gauge the situation in general. On the way back to Marbella, one of the plane's engines stalled, then died, and the pilot had to bring it down in a field about five miles away from the resort. Unfortunately, it was rocky, rough terrain, and it was a bad landing. Thankfully, only minor injuries were sustained by the pilot, co-pilot, Robert and Ambrose. As I just told you, we've been lucky. All four of them walked away from the crash.'

‘What caused the explosion?' Elizabeth probed. ‘Do we have any idea?'

‘Robert doesn't know. He said the Spanish government are on top of it, and an announcement will be made later this morning.'

‘Where was the tanker when it blew up?' Elizabeth now asked, frowning.

‘In the Straits of Gibraltar –'

‘Oh, no!' she cried, cutting him off. ‘If the oil spill does start to drift it will contaminate our shoreline –'

The ringing phone interrupted her, and she grabbed it at once. ‘Hello?'

‘It's me, darling,' Robert Dunley said. ‘I'm here in Marbella, totally undamaged.'

‘Robin, oh, Robin! Thank God you're all right, and Ambrose, too. You could have both been killed.'

‘But we weren't and we're okay, and I'm sure Cecil's with you at this moment. Hasn't he filled you in?'

‘Yes, he has indeed, and Merry is here, too, so she knows everything. Look, I'm going to fly out this afternoon to be with –'

‘No, no, don't come, Elizabeth! Honestly, it's not necessary.
Please
. I am all right, and so is my brother. We want to keep going here, and help in any way we can, if we can. There are rescue teams out there, picking up the injured men, and things are very much in hand. The Spanish government is being very efficient about this, and responsible. And
you
mustn't worry.'

‘I can't help but worry,' she protested. ‘I want to be with you.'

He laughed. ‘It's just a broken wrist, sweetheart. I'll live to shower you with kisses,' he teased.

‘You'd better.'

‘I'll call you later. Give Merry my love, and my love to you, too.'

‘When are you coming back?' Elizabeth asked, anxious now for him to return.

‘Next week, as planned. I must complete what I came here to do, Elizabeth. Bye, darling, and please don't worry.'

‘I'll try not to,' she said, and stared at the receiver. He had hung up.

Looking across at her assistant and raising a brow eloquently, Elizabeth said, ‘He's gone! Just like that!
Typical
.' But she smiled as she spoke, an expression of relief settling on her face. ‘Your
brother sends you his love, Merry.' Turning to Cecil she continued swiftly, ‘How
do
you clean up an oil spill? Do
you
know, Cecil?'

‘I know a little bit. The key methods are to use booms, skimmers, and chemical dispersants. Or to do in-situ burning. There are many ways to make a clean-up very effective, but experts must be used. Also, methods do vary. What has to be taken into account are the type and location of the spill, and what's feasible, of course.'

‘What are booms?' Elizabeth asked.

‘A type of floating barrier.' Cecil then explained, ‘They're placed around the oil and contain the oil so that skimmers can collect it. Skimmers are actually boats, vacuum machines, and oil-absorbing plastic ropes that skim the spilled oil from the surface of the sea. Those companies which use chemical dispersants have to be truly expert at it so as not to cause more damage. The materials break down the oil into its chemical constituents, and this does help to disperse the oil, and make it less harmful when it comes to wildlife, that sort of thing. I'm sure one of the chaps from Deravco can explain a lot better than I can. Shall I call Spencer Thomas? He could fill you in much better.'

‘No, don't bother, but thanks anyway. And thanks for the information. Just what I needed to know … and let's hope I never need to know more than that. Do you want to talk about Charles Broakes's problems now?'

Cecil nodded. ‘I'd like to get that out of the way, yes.'

Merry jumped up. ‘I'll be in my office if you need me, Elizabeth,' she said, and hurried out, closing the door behind her.

‘What's the
problem
with Charles Broakes? I know you said you need to discuss his plan, but I thought he was all set to go ahead. We okayed it, didn't we?'

‘Yes, Elizabeth, we did. But we didn't bargain for John Norfell.'

‘
Oh
. Don't tell me he's shoved a spanner in the works.'

‘Afraid so. Well, sort of. He says the hotel division will not
pay for the various remodelling jobs, the construction of an office and spa, and all that, because only the vineyard division benefits, and therefore that division should pay.'

‘I suppose he's right, in a way, isn't he?' Elizabeth sat back, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Finally she glanced at Cecil. ‘On the other hand, I think the wine division doesn't have any money to spare.'

‘That's it.' Cecil stretched his legs, crossed them and looked down at one of the memos in his hand, frowning to himself. ‘I would like us to go ahead, you know, but I don't have a solution, I really don't.'

‘The solution is money, Cecil. I'll have to pull it from somewhere. Let's have them in for a few minutes, shall we? Listen to their rantings.' She grinned at him, her good mood of earlier finally restored.

‘The hotel division cannot,
will not
, pay for these improvements at the vineyards. And that's my last word on it,' John Norfell snapped, glaring at Charles Broakes. ‘Furthermore, I want no more discussion about this. The matter is closed.'

Charles Broakes glared back at him.

The two men had been at loggerheads for days, and Charles was frustrated and angry. But he was smart enough to understand he wasn't going to win with John Norfell, so he ignored his colleague and directed his gaze at Elizabeth.

‘What am I going to do?' he asked her in an even tone, striving for total composure, having long known that she detested scenes in business, was cool-hearted when it came to her wheeling and dealing. She thought with her head and not her heart, and she was ruthless.

Elizabeth gave him a sympathetic look, and sighed. Lifting her shoulders in a light shrug, she said quietly, ‘I don't know,
Charles, I really don't know what you
can
do under the circumstances.'

‘You said the idea of turning the manor houses at the vineyards into boutique hotels was a brilliant idea on my part. Have you changed your mind?'

‘No, I haven't. But the wine division doesn't seem to have any money to spare, and the hotel division obviously won't budge from their position.' She glanced at Norfell, then back at Broakes. ‘They're crying poverty, Charles, don't you see?' Her mouth twitched and she swallowed a smile.

Charles Broakes was a long-time friend, and a fan, and he caught the hint of amusement in her voice, suddenly understood. She
was
going to do something to help him, but she obviously wasn't prepared to say what this was for a moment or two. She wants to play Norfell along, tweak him for a bit, Charles decided, and sat back in his chair, waiting. He was going to enjoy this.

Cecil said, ‘I'd hate to think this idea might fall by the wayside, Charles, just for the lack of a few pennies. That's all it amounts to, isn't it?'

‘That's correct,' Charles answered. ‘Fifty grand would do it.'

‘Fifty grand, my eye!' John Norfell interjected angrily. ‘You haven't included the spas. They will cost a fortune. And why should we pay for spas at the vineyards?'

‘Oh, so the cost of the spas was not included,' Elizabeth murmured, pursing her lips. ‘Oh, what a pity we can't do this! I mean, I love the idea of spas … but then didn't I come up with that idea?'

‘Yes, you did,' Charles confirmed.

She turned to John Norfell, and asked, ‘You're definite about not being able to fund these improvements, are you, John?'

‘Yes, I am. And you can't force me to do it just because you've got a bee in your bonnet about bloody spas.'

Elizabeth was taken aback by his churlish tone, and she frowned, exclaimed, ‘I've never had a bee in my bonnet, as you
call it, about anything, John. And most especially
not
about business. Business has nothing to do with bees or bonnets. Perhaps honey occasionally, when the money comes pouring in. So please don't underestimate me.'

John Norfell flushed, and anger flared in him. Who was she to reprimand him in front of Broakes and Cecil Williams? And she a mere slip of a girl. What cheek she had.