Persuading Annie (9 page)

‘Your mother would be out on her ear. There would only be room for one woman in my father’s life. Susannah would lose her job and probably all contact with the family. And it would be even worse for us. Your mother is masterminding saving Father’s company. Davina could ruin us all.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Or what if, for argument’s sake,’ continued Annie, ‘Davina and Father have children together, a whole new family of Markham miracles? What then?’

She took a gulp of her wine.

‘I mean, I know Katie’s not perfect,’ she continued, ‘but that doesn’t mean I want to see her on the street. Without her inheritance she wouldn’t last a week. And Davina is the sort of woman who, once married, would get her hands on my father’s will before letting him get his hands on anything she had to offer. And where would that leave any of us? What about Victoria’s boys – poor little Bertie and Harry? Their other grandfather probably has another fifty years in him yet. Until then, Charles, Victoria and the boys basically live off my father. It doesn’t bear thinking about. And of course there’s me. I’m fine for now, living off my pathetic gallery salary but I don’t see why I should risk losing my inheritance—’

‘I’m sure Mummy can sort all of this out before it comes to that. Is she aware of any of this?’

‘We’ve never discussed it, but I’m fairly sure she sees what’s going on,’ said Annie. ‘Either way, Davina is bad news for our family.’

Cass pondered the predicament as they made their final menu decisions.

It was tough one. She never knew whether to take Annie’s problems seriously any more. After that ridiculous episode when Annie had thought she was pregnant by the love of her life but actually she was just a week late and said love of life was actually an idiot, she’d learnt to take Annie’s problems with a rather large pinch of salt.

When they’d given their orders to the waiter, she sat back, crossed her arms and looked at Annie.

Annie took her courage in both hands.

‘But there’s more news. Something far worse than all of this.’

‘Go on.’

After a decent pause, Annie explained about the management consultants moving into the flat below hers.

‘They’re called … Jake Mead Associates,’ she announced dramatically.

Cass’s face was blank. She shrugged her shoulders. Is that supposed to ring a bell?’ she asked.

Yes, thought Annie.

She tried again, enunciating perfectly. ‘Jake Mead?’

Cass shook her head.

‘
Jake?
’

Nope.

‘
Mead?
’

Nope.

Time to elucidate.

‘Immature twat you stopped me eloping with seven years ago?’

Cass stared, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Annie continued.

‘Accused me of murdering his non-existent baby?’

Cass’s mouth and eyes opened wider.

‘Ran out crying, never to be seen again? Ruined my degree?’

Cass was now nodding.

‘Ugly humpback with acne?’

Cass stopped nodding. ‘OK, now you’ve lost me,’ she said. ‘I thought I had him, but that last one—’

‘OK, that last one was a lie.’

‘Oh really?’

‘He didn’t have acne.’

‘Skin as smooth as a baby’s proverbial, I recall you saying at the time.’

‘Yeah well, I’ve had my eyes tested since then. And stopped speaking in clichés.’

They stared at each other, their minds humming with activity. Cass didn’t know where to start.

‘And this hump-backed, immature, acne-ridden scaredy-cat now owns the management consultants who are going to save your father’s company?’

‘Yup.’

‘Wow. Didn’t he do well?’

‘He’s an arse, Cass.’

‘Have you seen him?’

Annie shook her head. ‘I managed to escape – thanks to you – yesterday.’

‘So I’ve saved you from him twice now?’

‘Yep. Thank you Supergirl.’

‘Do you want to see him?’

‘Nope. I hate him. He’s turned me into a bitter, twisted old woman.’

‘Oh nonsense. You aren’t twisted.’

‘Thank you.’

They started to pick at their food, their excitement levels almost audibly decreasing.

‘Is he married?’ asked Cass.

Annie shrugged, a little too emphatically Cass felt.

‘If he’s not yet, it’s just a matter of time.’

‘Yes, well it usually is.’

As suddenly as Annie had wanted to discuss Jake, she now wanted to close the subject. Jake had only been mentioned yesterday and already she was suffering from thought-fatigue about him. Her brain ached.

‘There’s only one thing for it,’ Annie said firmly. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to have to meet this bloke with the knock-out knees and unfortunate manor.’

Cass smiled.

‘But I
won’t
go shooting,’ said Annie firmly.

Cass poured more wine.

Annie was never quite sure why she went on Cass’s excruciating blind dates with men who owned more land than chin. All she knew was that it gave Cass an extraordinary amount of pleasure, which in turn, made her feel good. She had never been able to explain it beyond that.

And to be fair, not all the dates had been disasters. Once or twice she hadn’t wanted to kill herself before the entrée. There had even been one date when she’d enjoyed the meal, found the conversation interesting and, although there hadn’t exactly been fireworks going off inside her stomach, a sparkler had definitely been lit. Then at the end of the evening, he’d kissed her and she’d thought she was being eaten alive.

‘What was wrong with him?’ Cass had asked her the next morning over the phone.

‘He tried to drown me with his own juices at the end of
the evening,’ Annie had explained. ‘I genuinely thought my time was up. It was terrifying.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Still,’ said Annie. ‘Look on the bright side. I won’t need to go to the dentist’s for a while. My plaque didn’t stand a chance.’

Cass hadn’t pushed the point. There were some arguments even she could not win.

Annie hadn’t gone on a Cass blind date for quite a while after that. To be honest, none of the men ever really attracted her. There was always something missing. Their eyes weren’t dark enough, their hair too straight, their bodies too short … They just weren’t right.

Then, almost a year ago, she’d been persuaded to go out with another chap Brutus had been at Eton with. He was harmless enough, but he had had the infuriating habit of proffering a little cough – the sort that people usually make when they’re trying to get someone’s attention – every five minutes or so. Annie had spent the entire evening looking at him suddenly as if he had something of great import to tell her, only to have him grin sheepishly at her and say rather apologetically ‘Sorry, phlegm,’ while pointing helpfully at his Adam’s apple. She didn’t mind for herself, but it was when he had had to start saying it to everyone else involved in their evening that it had just become too ridiculous for words. The waiter had almost developed a nervous tic from it.

‘Believe me, honeybun,’ Cass was saying. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. All you need is a good long … date. Cheer you up.’

Annie agreed. Why not? It had been a while. And if things went well, it wouldn’t do Jake any harm to see a great hulking rugby player with the knees of a Greek god running up and
down their communal stairs in the Hampstead home. Perhaps she could get him to do his exercises in the hall? In tight Lycra shorts? Yup, a date was just what she needed.

Over desserts and coffee, Annie managed to nudge the conversation to Cass’s life. Brutus had finally persuaded Cass to go for fertility tests, after she had been forced to admit that two years was probably too long to wait to conceive naturally.

‘How did the HGV test go?’

‘HSG not HGV. I’m not trying to drive a heavy goods vehicle, Annie.’

‘Sorry.’

‘H for
hyster
, meaning “womb”, S for
salping
meaning “tubes”, G for o-Gram meaning “bloody painful, invasive, humiliating experience”. H-S-G.’

‘All sounds Greek to me,’ muttered Annie.

‘It is,’ said Cass. ‘Brutus says it’s just like being back at school. Everything’s in Greek or Latin, he feels like a failure and he keeps masturbating.’

She let out a sharp jab of a laugh, her eyes darting anywhere but at Annie.

There was a pause.

‘So how did it go?’ repeated Annie.

Cass took a big sigh and smiled so quickly, Annie thought she might have imagined it.

‘My Fallopian tubes are “thick” probably scarred, they don’t know why because they’re doctors not gods – although you wouldn’t believe it the way they talk to you – I can’t conceive naturally, IVF is the only option and there’s only a fifteen per cent success rate.’

They sat in silence for a while.

‘Other women have thick ankles. I have thick tubes. More wine?’

Annie nodded.

‘By the way, that’s I-V-F, not VIP,’ repeated Cass. ‘I for “inhuman”, V for “violation”, F for “fucking hell, get me out of here”.’

‘Oh honey,’ whispered Annie. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Oh I’m fine,’ Cass said, taking a gulp of wine. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, thumping her glass on the white linen cloth.

7

DR BLAKE SLOWLY
crossed her arms. She looked at the clock and then back at Jake. Technically, she was supposed to take the cue from the client, but if she followed that rule with this one, she’d never have got anywhere. And it had taken her long enough to get this far.

‘I sense a lot of anger, Jake,’ she said softly.

Jake prised his teeth out of his lower lip.

‘Oh hello!’ he exclaimed. ‘Did I wake you? Sorry – must have been the sound of the money I’m paying you to sort my life out.’

Dr Blake cocked her head slightly.

‘Where do you think all this anger comes from, I wonder?’

‘Well, it probably comes from sitting through twenty minutes of the most expensive silence money can buy. You must be exhausted at the end of sitting here thinking all day. Women’s work is never done, eh?’

Dr Blake nodded slowly. ‘How is work, by the way?’

Jake looked at his therapist. Did she never change her tone of voice? He felt the nerve in the back of his neck start to twitch.

He sighed heavily. He’d better explain everything. They only had forty minutes left now. He kept it short and neat. Dr Blake listened to every word, nodding occasionally and looking at him with the same infuriatingly measured look of interest. But at the end, she seemed genuinely delighted.

‘So you’ll see her again! That’s wonderful. You know what this is, don’t you?’

Jake nodded slowly, a handsome grin forming on his face.

‘Oh yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I know exactly what this is.’

‘Well?’

Jesus wept, she thought. Like drawing blood from a sodding stone.

Jake crossed his arms. ‘Revenge.’

Dr Blake stared sadly at her longest-serving client. She shook her head slowly at him. ‘It’s closure, Jake. Closure.’

Jake stared sadly back at her. ‘Oh yeah. Right.’ he said, his neck muscle starting to spasm. ‘Closure.’

* * * * *

One week later, Jake Mead, smart, polished and calm, looked up from Susannah’s organisation chart and smiled at her over the large, gleaming desk. He’d never felt so determined to do a good job.

‘I believe George Markham’s three daughters are also directors?’ he asked, his tone level. If there was one thing he had learnt from his therapist it was how to keep his tone level.

‘Oh yes.’

‘Yet I don’t see them on this chart.’

‘Oh, they don’t actually work here – I mean, those are just titles,’ explained Susannah. ‘But their role is to help and support their father when there are major decisions
to be made about the business. They don’t actually have a day-to-day function. George calls them in when he needs them because he wants it to feel like a family affair. One of them will be getting involved in the work with you actually.’

Jake nodded, refusing pointedly to ask which one. He looked back at the chart. It was an unusual system, but not unworkable.

‘And,’ he asked, ‘the chief executive officer? I’d very much like to meet him as soon as possible.’

‘Of course!’ replied Susannah, with what Jake could only call a faint blush forming on her cheeks.

‘That’s Mr Edward Goddard,’ she pronounced his name as though Jake should have heard of him.

He looked at her expectantly.

‘He’s related to an earl,’ clarified Susannah proudly.

Jake raised his eyebrows to express surprise and delight. ‘An earl?’ he said. ‘How clever of him.’

‘Yes!’ replied Susannah effusively.

‘When do you think I might be able to introduce him to my colleagues?’

‘Oh well, he’s ever so busy,’ said Susannah.

‘Of course,’ smiled Jake, starting to get his personal organiser out.

‘Tomorrow morning?’ asked Susannah. ‘At nine?’

Jake looked at her to check she was being serious. That busy, eh?

‘Perfect,’ he grinned. ‘We’ll look forward to it.’

Susannah smiled.

‘We’re all very fond of Edward Goddard,’ she said coyly.

Susannah leant forward confidently, even though they were the only two in the room.

Jake leant forward too. He could almost smell her foundation.

‘He’s a bit keen on George’s youngest daughter Annie,’ whispered Susannah, with a big grin. ‘And between you and me she’s a bit keen on him.’

Jake leant back again and formed his mouth into a slow, smooth grin.

The nerve in the back of his neck set off again.

Closure, he thought calmly. Closure.

* * * * *

‘How the hell is Annie supposed to compete with Agnetha?’ Victoria asked Katherine. ‘How can she ever spoil the boys and teach them bad English, iron creases back into my clothes and break my priceless objets d’art with the same Nordic flair?’ She hung her head back on the edge of the jacuzzi and closed her eyes in bliss as the hot water pumped her thighs and lower back.

‘But seriously,’ she said, her tone low. ‘How will I live without my manicures and yoga?’

Katherine smiled sympathetically, then stretched her arms out to ensure that there was no room for anyone else but them. ‘New York!’