Being Elizabeth (23 page)

As if she had read his mind, Elizabeth went on carefully, ‘I know you probably think I'm just an ignorant young woman with no business experience whatsoever, and who am I to tell you what to do. Actually, I'm not going to tell you what to do, John. Why would I? After all,
you
run the hotel division, and it's your responsibility not mine.
You
rise and sink with its success …
you
and that division are intertwined. As for my business experience, never forget that I learned at the knee of the master, and my father Harry Turner was an undoubted genius when it came to business.'

John Norfell gaped at her, wondering if she could read minds. She had read his mind in such a way he was gobsmacked. And just a little deflated all of a sudden. She was a cool customer, one not to be taken lightly.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he said, ‘I meant no offence, Elizabeth, when I used the phrase
a bee in your bonnet
. But I apologize if you found it out of place. As far as the spas are concerned, I know what they cost. We've just revamped our spas at the hotel in La Jolla in California, and at our hotel in Los Cabos. Both remodelling jobs went sky high. If you decide to go along with spas at the vineyards you should be prepared.'

‘Oh, I am, John, I am.
I'm prepared for everything
. At all times. Make no mistake about that.'

John smiled at her. She had spoken sweetly, and he had not noticed her sarcasm. But Charles Broakes and Cecil Williams had and they exchanged glances.

Elizabeth stood up, walked over to the window and looked down at the Strand. It was a busy Friday. Traffic was bumper to bumper. She saw a bit of blue sky, a shaft of sunlight, and thought: Sunny days are here again. I cannot lose this game.

‘This is what I think,' she finally said, walking back to her desk. ‘I'm going to start a company, and if it's successful I'll sell it to Deravenels, in much the same way my great-grandfather started Deravco Oil, and then sold it to the conglomerates once it was making money. My company's going to be one which will design and build spas.'

She sat down behind her desk and studied Charles. ‘I wonder what to call it? How does Ecstasy sound? No, there's a drug called ecstasy, isn't there? Mmmmm. What about Forever Bliss … now that's appealing. Women will like the thought of bliss lasting forever. Would you like to hire this company to build your spas, Charles?'

He nodded, playing along with her. He said in a low tone, ‘I'd hire your company in a minute, but I don't think we can afford to pay you.'

‘Oh, don't worry about
that
.' She gave him a long, piercing look. ‘All you have to do is sign a promissory note promising to repay the company within two years, and I'll lend you the money. How does that sound?'

Charles Broakes wanted to laugh out loud. But he didn't dare. Instead he said, ‘Sounds perfectly sensible to me, Elizabeth.'

Thrusting her hand across the desk, she said, ‘It's a deal! Shake on it.'

They did.

Turning to Cecil, Elizabeth gave him a conspiratorial look. ‘I believe the first ten to fifteen items I am putting on sale at the auction will bring me about twenty million pounds. I'll put the jewels up for collateral at the bank, and they can give me a loan of ten million pounds. That way, I can fund my new company, Forever Bliss. We must get that done on Monday, so
Charles here can start his remodelling and building in Mâcon and Provence as soon as he wants.'

The idea of the spas really took hold later that afternoon, and Elizabeth's head was teeming with ideas. By the time she arrived home at nine o'clock she had thought everything out. And she was tremendously excited.

In the past few months she had decided to open spas in all of their hotels, considering them a necessity. Spas were ‘in', as were gyms, and both facilities were vitally important to hotel guests. Very simply, they expected them to be available. Time and again she had said to Cecil and Robert that their hotels had to be pulled into the twenty-first century, pointing out that one way to do this was to introduce the spas and gyms. They had agreed with her and, luckily, so had the board. Her plans were already underway and building had started.

Today she had had a vision … a vision of the spas as an entity unto themselves. They didn't have to be confined to their hotels only. An Elizabeth Turner Spa, called Forever Bliss, could be opened anywhere, and it would be a separate business, financed by her and therefore controlled by her. The possibilities were endless. Quite aside from building the spas at the vineyards in Mâcon and Provence, Elizabeth had decided this evening that she would open spas in London, Leeds, Manchester and Edinburgh, perhaps even Paris and New York. To her the idea was inspirational, and she was certain that it would be a smash hit. There were no doubts in her mind at all, in fact. She had the will and the drive and the money to make the spas succeed.

Walking through into the kitchen, she took the plate of smoked salmon and buttered brown bread out of the refrigerator, removed the linen napkin covering it, and carried the plate back to the library.

Sitting down at her desk, she went over the notes she had made in the office a short while ago, scanning them quickly. She was pleased; she
had
thought of everything. Her perfect colour scheme was all-white with just a hint of milky pale-green underlying it: mood and atmosphere would be created by the colour scheme, as well as minimalism in the décor, barely audible music playing in the background, perfumed candles and potpourri; plus luxurious bathrobes and towels. She was fully aware that every kind of treatment must be available. Varied massages from every country in the world, facials, wraps, soaks, and reflexology. Multiple beauty services must be offered and there must also be a hair salon in each spa. The worst thing for a woman was to leave a spa with messy hair, she knew that only too well. And she would –

The jangling phone interrupted her flowing thoughts and she picked it up. ‘Hello?'

‘It's your favourite man here.'

‘Don't you mean my damaged goods?' she shot back, laughing, happy to hear Robert's voice.

‘I can assure you the most essential part of me is not at all damaged, my darling,' Robert retorted with a chuckle.

‘Thank goodness for that. How are you feeling?'

‘I'm well, Elizabeth. The wrist's nothing, just a tiny inconvenience. You worked late at the office, didn't you?'

‘Yes, and I'm very excited about something. Let me tell you.' She quickly filled him in, her voice vibrant with enthusiasm.

‘What a fabulous idea, Elizabeth! And it's going to work. I realize that by necessity you have to finance the spas yourself, but I think that will be to your advantage in the long run. Most importantly, nobody can interfere because you're sidestepping the board. And in my opinion, the spas
will
do a lot to modernize Deravenels, as will the resort, no question.'

‘How are things going? Have all the tanker's crew members been rescued from the sea, Robin? And what about the clean-up?'

‘Crew rescued and the clean-up is underway. As for our shoreline, I think we'll be okay. It looks as if the oil slick won't reach us … we're all
praying
it won't.'

‘Thank God! I was worried all day that we'd be facing an ecological disaster and that we wouldn't be able to open the resort on time.'

‘So was I. I'm more optimistic tonight. The reports are good. Listen, Elizabeth, there's something I want to tell you. Francis found out from one of his contacts in the Spanish government that they suspect the explosion in the tanker was not an accident. They think it was the work of terrorists. They believe the tanker was blown up to create an ecological catastrophe in the Mediterranean. Francis is extremely alarmed, and he says we should really step up security at Deravco immediately, make certain that our oilfields and our tankers are exceptionally well protected. I agree.'

‘So do I, Robin. Tell him to do whatever's necessary, and not to worry about cost. You see, I've actually had that worry at the back of my mind for a long time. I've felt we could be horribly susceptible to a terrorist attack. We'll talk about it in detail when you get back. Right now, could we discuss our trip to the south of France? We've not made any proper decisions and I need to know, Robin, in order to make my plans.'

‘Here's what I thought …' he began, and talked to her for the next fifteen minutes about their summer holiday.

G
race Rose was a star. There was no question in Elizabeth's mind about that. Here they were, seated at one of the very best tables in the centre of the Grill Room at the Dorchester Hotel, and it might have been the Queen of England sitting there holding court.

The staff came to pay their respects, from the maître d' to the sommelier, and everyone else who came passing by seemed to stop to say a word, whether they knew her or not. Or so it seemed to Elizabeth.

Grace Rose had something unique. Some might sum it up as charisma; Elizabeth thought of it as an aura … an aura of dignity, elegance, regality and, yes,
star power
. Can't get away from that word
star
, Elizabeth thought, smiling.

For an old lady of ninety-seven, Grace Rose was extremely well preserved. She didn't look her age, and she was beautiful. The silver-white hair was perfectly coiffed, and her pretty pink-and-white complexion rivalled that of a much younger woman. Well made-up, Grace Rose wore a tailored, pale-blue silk suit and a white chiffon blouse with a jabot which frothed down the front and was very feminine. Aquamarine earrings and an
aquamarine-and-diamond brooch echoed the blue of her eyes, which had faded since her youth but were, nonetheless, full of sparkle today.

‘Here's somebody else coming over, Grace Rose,' Elizabeth warned her.

‘Probably a woman who wants to know where I bought my blouse,' Grace Rose murmured, flashed her vivid smile at Elizabeth. ‘They usually ask something like that. And by the way, I think you look wonderful in white: you should wear it more often.'

‘Thank you. And it's a man actually. Coming over here, I mean. I think he might know you – he's got a huge smile on his face.'

Before Grace Rose could say anything the man was standing by the side of the table, bending over to shake her hand. ‘Good morning, Mrs Morran, it's Marcus Johnson. I used to do some of the press work for your husband.'

‘Marcus, of course! It's lovely to see you. How are you?'

‘Very well, thank you, and
you
look positively blooming, Mrs Morran.'

‘I can't complain, I must admit. I would like to introduce you to Elizabeth Turner, my great-niece.'

Elizabeth smiled at him. He smiled back, and inclined his head.

Then Marcus Johnson said, ‘I was just thinking of your late husband the other day. There was no one quite like Charles, he was an original. I can't find a better way to say it.'

‘He was indeed, Mr Johnson, and I remember how much he enjoyed working with you.'

‘Thank you, and so did I. Well, I won't disturb you any further, I can see the waiter coming with your drinks. Once again, it was such a nice surprise to see you, and looking so well.'

They said their goodbyes, and Marcus Johnson retreated. Watching him go, Grace Rose said, ‘He was awfully good at his
job. If ever you need a press representative, consider him, Elizabeth. He's straight as a die, very honest. Also talented. You could do worse.'

‘Thank you, Grace Rose, and I
will
make a mental note about him.'

The waiter put their champagne flutes before them and disappeared. ‘Cheers,' Grace Rose said, lifting her glass. ‘Here's to you, Elizabeth, and your new venture.
The spas
!'

They clinked glasses, and Elizabeth thanked her. She went on, ‘Friday was such a strange day … so much happened. Robin and Ambrose in a plane crash, the oil spill threatening our shoreline and the resort, solving the problems between Norfell and Broakes, and on top of it I had to deal with Kat that morning. She was hell-bent on –' Elizabeth broke off, having said more than she wished. Why even mention Kat Ashe's confrontation, her anger? That served no purpose.

But Grace Rose, who didn't miss a trick, asked swiftly, ‘What about Kat Ashe? What was she hell-bent on?'

‘Oh, nothing,' Elizabeth muttered, trying to brush it aside.

‘Come on, tell me. You know your secrets are safe with me.'

‘It's not a secret,' Elizabeth answered, and then, taking a deep breath, she explained, ‘Kat decided to confront me about my relationship with Robin. She told me I was behaving scandalously, because I was having an affair with a married man.'

‘You're not the first to do that, and you won't be the last, I can assure you. Illicit relationships have been going on since the beginning of time. I suppose she's been worrying about the gossip, that sort of thing?'

Elizabeth looked at Grace Rose alertly. ‘You've heard the gossip also, have you?'

‘Everyone's heard it, my dear. It's all over town. I haven't paid any attention to it, because I understand you, and I trust your judgement. I was a bit surprised at first, but only because I had actually forgotten Robert had married the Robson girl years ago.
From the start I thought
that
match was doomed. Presumably he's in the process of disentangling himself?'

‘He is. They've been separated for five years, and it's been amicable. So there won't be a problem.'

Grace Rose leaned across the table. ‘Do yourself a favour, Elizabeth dear. Duck your head down behind the fence and keep it there.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Here's my best advice. Beginning today, make up your mind to keep a low profile. And Robert must keep one, too. Stay out of the limelight, stop going to all these events and dos, and avoid photographers. In other words, make yourself scarce on the London scene. Within two or three weeks the gossip will die out. The press have short memories and you'll be forgotten in no time. Gossip can be hurtful, but you must forget about it now. My father used to say that when someone was gossiping about him they were leaving others alone. Remember that. Drink up, Elizabeth, and let's look at the menu. I rather fancy the roast beef – it's delicious here, you know, melts in your mouth like butter.'

After they had both ordered smoked salmon, and roast beef from the trolley, Grace Rose sat back in her chair, regarding Elizabeth for a moment, studying her intently. Finally, she said, ‘On Friday evening, when we spoke on the phone, you told me you were going to borrow ten million pounds from the bank, using some of the big pieces of jewellery you're putting up for auction as collateral. I'm correct about that, am I not?'

Elizabeth nodded. ‘It's the only way to go. You see, offering to finance the building of the spas at the vineyards seemed the best way to solve the impasse between Broakes and Norfell. I honestly thought Broakes's idea about turning the manor houses
into small boutique hotels was a really good one, inspired, in fact. Also, I've been in favour of spas for ages, and when I heard myself saying to Broakes that I would finance his scheme, I suddenly understood how much I would enjoy owning my own company. Look, I know Deravenels is mine, and that I run it … with Cecil and Robert. But actually
creating
something of my own genuinely appeals to me. I can do whatever I want with it, and I don't have to answer to anyone.'

‘I understand exactly what you mean, Elizabeth, but why are you borrowing ten million pounds? It seems such a lot.'

Elizabeth smiled. ‘I guess you could say I'm impatient. I want instant spas, instant success, and I'm going to start work on all of them at the same time, to that end. I want to open them at the same time, one after the other, with big announcements, splashy publicity. I call it
absolute impact at once
. Elizabeth Turner Spas: Forever Bliss. I can just see it all happening in my head.'

‘So can I, but it is awfully ambitious of you, my dear. On the other hand, I've believed in bold gestures all my life – big schemes, big results. So my money's on you. If anyone can pull it off, you can. And don't forget the fellow we just ran into. Marcus Johnson is more than merely talented, in my opinion, he's something of a genius, and not only with press representation. He's got a unique knack for marketing.'

‘Seems like fate that we ran into him, Grace Rose, and when I'm ready I'll get in touch with him.' Elizabeth paused, then said, ‘I had another idea during the night. It occurred to me that we'll be using all kinds of beauty products in the spas and why shouldn't they be mine? I can hire laboratories to make products which bear my name. It would be yet another money-maker.'

Grace Rose burst out laughing. ‘Elizabeth, you're a
true
Deravenel even if your name is Turner! You sound just like my father. He was forever coming up with the grandest of schemes, the most extraordinary plans, and let's not forget that your father
was
the king of the takeover business at one moment in time. Harry was a genius at that.'

‘I know, and as I pointed out to John Norfell on Friday, I learned at the knee of the master.'

‘Norfell is an enigma to me,' Grace Rose remarked, frowning. ‘He was very much in your half-sister's little clique, and I would have said also in her knickers, if I didn't know better. She wouldn't have appealed to him sexually. John Norfell has always gone for the beautiful face, you know. Quite the ladies' man.'

‘How extraordinary!' Elizabeth grimaced. ‘What woman would be interested in Norfell? He's not all that attractive.'

‘True. But he does have two things a lot of women can't resist.
Power. Money
. And as my husband always said, you don't look at the mantelpiece when you're poking the fire.'

‘Oh, Grace Rose, you're priceless!' Elizabeth laughed, picked up her flute of champagne and took a sip. ‘Don't you agree with me about the products, Grace Rose? I know just the kind of scents I would choose, and I think I can create a distinctive line with the assistance of some excellent chemists.'

‘I do like the idea, very much, and I suppose you'll go for florals. You did love my gardens when you were small and you were keen on picking my flowers.'

‘Fancy you remembering that, and yes, florals do come to mind, especially night-blooming jasmine, summer roses, hyacinths, carnations, and lily-of-the-valley. But I also enjoy the green scents, you know, the smells of summer grass and spring leaves. A really clever chemist will be able to interpret what I want, what I'm seeking.'

‘You've put a great deal of thought into this, my dear. I have a feeling you're looking success in the face.'

‘I hope I am. Ah, here's the smoked salmon, Grace Rose, and for once in my life I'm quite hungry.'

‘So tell me what the spas are going to look like,' Grace Rose ventured at one moment, as they were eating the smoked salmon.

Elizabeth did so for the next half hour, her enthusiasm high, her voice full of excitement. ‘I see each spa as being a vast white space, with just the merest hint of the palest of greens … filmy white muslin curtains, not one object of art, because the whole space must be empty, minimalistic. I will have tall celadon green vases filled with white blossoms and white orchids. But everything else will be white. I don't want anything to distract the eye. Simplicity is my aim. I want women to come to my spas to have the best, most blissful treatments, to feel pampered and cared for … they must be able to leave their cares outside. I want them to relax completely, to float on their dreams.'

‘I understand. And by the way, that's the sort of line Marcus Johnson would appreciate …
float on their dreams
.'

‘You're right, it's not half bad, is it? Maybe it can be used in advertising.'

Grace Rose sat back, smiling broadly. ‘Elizabeth, you're inspired. I admire this positive attitude of yours, this determination, enthusiasm and sense of adventure. I predict your spas will be a big success.'

Elizabeth and Cecil Williams sat together in Elizabeth's office at Deravenels on Monday morning. This early meeting on the first day of the week had become a ritual. Usually Robert Dunley was present, but because he was still in Marbella it was just the two of them today.