by Renée Dahlia
Priya smoothed down her jacket to give herself a moment of composure before she pushed the office door open, but her mind was still blank. Irritating. All that planning time in the car had been for naught.
“You are planning a hostile takeover of the bank?” Rosalie’s nostrils were flared, and her eyes so narrowed that Priya couldn’t see the colour. Hazel. She hardly needed the memory to flash in her vision now.
“No. It’s a lie. I came as soon as I saw it.” The truth blurted out better than any overly rehearsed phrase.
“I trusted you. I put time into your charity and gave you access to our administration staff. And you’ve been using it to attempt to buy Sanderson and Sons from under me? How dare you?”
Priya held up her hand. The irony swept over her like a tsunami. Only yesterday she’d apologised for not trusting Rosalie’s motives. For six years, she’d wrongly believed Rosalie wanted to know her purely for access to her family business, and here she was defending herself against the exact same claim. “No. It’s a lie. I mean, the story in the news is a lie. There is no takeover planned.”
“Explain.”
Priya straightened her spine. “I believe it is an overzealous reporter who saw us together last night and thinks he has a scoop.” A few quick breaths did nothing to slow the unsteady thump of her heart and a trickle of sweat beaded on her temple. She would not wipe it away. “He’s fabricated the entirety of the story for a sensational headline. It has no substance in truth.”
“These stories don’t come from nowhere.” Rosalie’s keen mind cut through Priya’s excuses.
“The by-line, Fraud Finder, has done this before. This is a targeted story by a reporter who sees Carlingford has a representation of the nation’s war debt. It is easy to make us into villains...” Priya paused. She wanted to hang her head as the usual guilt swept over her, turning her skin cold, but she forced herself to keep her chin high. “—because the reality is that we are.”
“That’s an odd way of reassuring me. Believe me because I’m a villain.”
“We profited while others lost. Many people think we are heroes because we made the ships, the tanks, and the big guns that won us the war. Others think we are villains because we did that and dared to make money while doing it. Fraud Finder’s stories are for those people. And the truth is that the war cost the country dearly—obviously through the human cost as well as financially—and Carlingford happens to the symbolic profiteers from those losses in the views of Fraud Finder and many others. Or technically speaking, it’s not symbolic, because we are profiteers in actuality.” Priya cleared her throat. Rambling over her guilt wasn’t going to fix this new problem. “I’m dreadfully sorry your bank has been brought into a reporter’s feud against my family’s business.”
“You will take measures to ensure this doesn’t happen again?”
Priya nodded solemnly. “Absolutely.” She wasn’t yet sure what those measures might be aside from a press release.
“I would have more trust in this if you didn’t sound so certain.”
Priya paused. “You are right. Short of getting Fraud Finder sacked, I can’t stop him from writing about Carlingford. I doubt requesting his resignation would work. I imagine it would only fuel his writing against us. However, I can mitigate against this specific story and will do everything in my reach to ensure the truth is printed.”
“And what might that truth be?” Rosalie’s sarcastic tone told Priya that Rosalie would need more than her blanket reassurance that the headline was fabricated.
“To be honest, the story is wrong for a simple reason. Carlingford Enterprises doesn’t need to acquire more businesses. The very idea that we might acquire Sanderson and Sons is far outside the current strategic path. We are already too big and unwieldy, and there are some discussions—” Priya stopped herself. The plans to sell off some of the business were confidential because the shareholders—Mother, Uncle Will, herself and Ashwin—hadn’t come to an agreement about the best course of action. Ashwin felt they should retain everything because the different branches were good employers and jobs were important especially with the economy so uncertain in the wake of the war and the Spanish Flu. Mother and Uncle Will wanted to preserve Grandfather Carlingford’s legacy while downsizing to the core business, and Priya... well, she just felt guilty about the whole thing. It would be easy to rest on the company’s laurels and only read the news stories that called Carlingford’s manufacturing efforts crucial to England winning the war. Every day she went to work and talked to people badly affected by the war, returned soldiers, war widows, orphaned children, and so many others. The more stories she heard, the more she worked harder to make sure their hurts were listened to and given as much help as Carlingford could afford.
“A headline isn’t manufactured from nothing.” Rosalie stuck to her point, and Priya admired her doggedness. She shrugged, trying to make the motion casual, although given the tension in her spine, she probably failed.
“I imagine we were seen at the theatre together, and then again last night.”
“At dinner in a highly public place. A place chosen because it tends to have reporters loitering around for a gossipy story. A place you—”
Priya would not cave under Rosalie’s intense stare. Pressure built. “Chose. Yes, I chose it. And yes—” Priya knew she had to confess even though it would likely ruin the cautious nibbles of truth between them. “—it was deliberate to get a headline.”
Rosalie gasped.
“I planted a seed about Rowley’s Mile with a different reporter and hoped that us being seen together would create positive publicity for both Sanderson and Sons, and Carlingford. The reporter knows that I run the philanthropy arms of Carlingford. I didn’t expect to have to spell it out, nor did I expect that damned hack Fraud Finder would be there.”
“It failed.”
“I am acutely aware of that. I have no idea how to fix this either. Neither of us want this headline.”
Rosalie pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you are correct, and a reporter holds a grudge against Carlingford, there is nothing to be done. Anything we feed to the papers will get twisted.”
“I also don’t want Rowley’s Mile to become a topic of a newspaper battle.”
“You said you wanted the publicity.”
Priya swallowed. “I wanted a small gentle piece about charitable works. I didn’t want to gloat about Carlingford’s spending. The point was to bring awareness to the project and to the plight of the nation’s war widows. Good news doesn’t sell as well as invented drama.” She should have written the press release herself; she often did that but she trusted this reporter and she wanted him to feel like he had breaking news. In her experience, reporters tended to be enthusiastic about a story they’d found themselves. This time the risk hadn’t paid off.
“Is it possible that your views on this matter aren’t fully informed?”
Priya couldn’t help but hesitate as she realised what Rosalie meant. From the way that Rosalie’s eyes widened a touch, she’d definitely noticed, and Priya scrambled to explain without giving away confidential information.
“It is unlikely.” The chance that her brother, as the boss at Carlingford Enterprises, might make a push to acquire Sanderson and Sons without her knowing was impossible. There was a crucial piece of information that the family had kept private because it put her and Ashwin at risk of fortune hunters. They weren’t set to inherit Carlingford Enterprises one day, as most people assumed, they already owned a quarter of it each. The shareholdings automatically changed on their twenty-fifth birthdays, which meant she’d gone from heiress to owner three years ago in the middle of the war. She, quite literally, had to approve any change in strategic direction, including acquisitions. Ironic that she could own a business worth more money than any one person needed, while not being able to vote yet. Ironic or jaw-clenchingly frustrating? The best she could do was redistribute the funds to others. She’d grown up helping in Mother’s cli
nic in Whitechapel. Being a helper was ingrained in her way of life; she’d rather be at work helping others than here dealing with an errant reporter whose jealously of her brother’s success was apparent to everyone in her social circle.
Priya stamped down the ball of fire burning in her gut to focus on the problem at hand. Did she trust Rosalie with Carlingford’s ownership information? Priya’s father was a lawyer and he’d drawn up the share documents himself. The bank only dealt with the entity, not the individual shareholders. Outside of the family, no one bar some administrator in the government’s company’s register knew.
“I hope you are right. I want to trust your version of events.” Rosalie had shifted from her relaxed openness of last night back to the terseness of their prior working relationship.
Priya nodded. “Please take your time and if you need to investigate the story, I welcome that. I plan on writing a statement today and will get it approved and published in the lunch time edition of the papers.” Time was of the essence to counter such an inflammatory headline.
“I await that for clarity.”
“Thank you.” Priya reached out to shake Rosalie’s hand with her clammy one. Rosalie gripped her hand and shook it hard. Once. The perfunctory motion gave Priya an idea; one that would either be brilliant or bloody awful.
“Given the long history between us, I wonder if it’s better for me to stay? If we are to trust each other, or rather, if you are to trust me on this matter, I think we should write a press release together. It would give it more weight to effectively quash the rumour and would give each of us a voice in how we want to craft the message.” Priya held her breath as Rosalie didn’t react. Her gaze was still narrow and focused, cagey or cautious...
“The message about the charity?”
“Of course.”
“Today’s headline would need to be addressed.”
Priya nodded. “Not just addressed, but effectively refuted.”
“I can work with that.” Rosalie walked to her office door and stuck her head out. A whispered conversation occurred but try as she might, Priya couldn’t pick out enough words to make out the topic. It added to the deep-seated sense that she’d made a mess of everything. Years ago, when she’d been only fifteen, she’d selfishly made a mistake that she’d regret for the rest of her life and she’d promised herself she’d never hurt someone else again. She shut her eyes; was her guilt over Carlingford’s role in the war exacerbated by her selfish choice all those years ago? There were so many regrets and they threatened to overwhelm her. No. She needed to stay focused on the current problem and figure out how to begin to fix it before it became another unresolved problem in her life. All she had to do was explain Rowley’s Mile to the public and the reason they’d had dinner together would become clear. Stick to the original plan and write the press release to bring attention to the plight of war widows. It would grow awareness of the problem, and hopefully, find other philanthropists to assist in the solution. This problem needed more than money to give women a chance to build a life from the ashes of war.
“Come and sit. Mrs Patel will clear the rest of my day, although I sincerely hope it won’t take that long to resolve this.” Rosalie’s stern distant tone shouldn’t make Priya’s skin warm. The command made her want to kneel on the floor and beg for more. She gulped down the awkward lump in her throat, opened her eyes, and made her way over to one of the high-backed chairs Rosalie had in her office.
“I seem to spend a lot of time apologising to you.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t wilfully misinterpret me or send reporters to write about us.”
Priya coughed on a surprised laugh. “Um, yes. I had good intentions if that makes a difference.”
“Well, you know what they say about good intentions...”
“I’m already going to hell. Intentions be damned.” She breathed in deep. “Honestly, please believe me that there is no takeover threat to Sanderson and Sons. I can speak for my brother, mother, and uncle when I say we have no interest in expanding our empire.” Empire was the right word for it; Carlingford Enterprises had grown from nothing when her grandfather started it into their own empire, and Priya knew enough about colonising that she didn’t want a part of a business that trampled on others. Her own family history was a blend of colonisers and those who’d been colonised, making her ancestry a complex legacy.
“And yet this reporter quite clearly said, Readers are reminded of the stoush over government funds expended amply to Carlingford Enterprises during the war, and how they have monopolised the creation of personal profit. It is of utmost concern if those political and financial forces were to increase their control over the economy through the ownership of a large bank.”
“He did?” What Priya really meant to say was, of course he did. Given the male dominance of the newspaper industry, it was safe to assume the reporter was a man. Priya didn’t know the name of the reporter behind the by-line Fraud Finder, but he’d been vocal in their criticism of Carlingford since the beginning of the war. No amount of pointing to their unionised well paid workers, or to their gigantic charity budget would make any difference to his grudge against them. Often she found it easy to ignore his writings as they often began with succinct points that she mostly agreed with, however they tended to descend into nonsensical rants. Far too often, Fraud Finder lost the thread of his argument through personal attacks on Ashwin, almost as if there was more to it. It wouldn’t take too much digging to find out his real name, except it would require Priya to use her money, and that would prove Fraud Finder’s theories right. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Did you even read the article?” Rosalie chuckled.
“No, just the headline.” Priya sighed. “Of course, that means we need the perfect headline for our response.”
“Yes, most people will only read that much.”
“A few words need to do so much work.”
Rosalie leaned forward. “I am not afraid of a little work.”
Priya’s pulse skipped a beat. She needed to focus on resolving this matter, and not be distracted by how bloody attractive Rosalie looked as she sat neatly composed in her office. Rosalie exuded control, and for all of Priya’s qualms about her role in her family business, there was something so damned incredibly attractive about someone who wielded their confidence like that.
“Excellent. Obviously the first thing we need to address is the headline, and I suggest we combat that with a headline of our own. Something like “Hostile Takeover a Fraud”.”
“Hmm, I like how that plucks out the by-line, but I don’t want the word fraud associated with the bank. It implies the takeover is happening but not through proper channels.”
Priya chuckled. “Yes, I can see how that might make things worse. How about ‘Sanderson Rumour False’?
“Or “Carlingford Won’t Buy Bank”.”
“No.” Priya shook her head. “That sounds like you offered it to Carlingford and we turned you down.”
Rosalie grimaced. “We don’t want to give that impression. ‘Sanderson Not for Sale’?”
“That’s just as bad. Carlingford is already the bad guy, at least in Fraud Finder’s eyes. They’d have a field day writing rumours about how we are going around trying to buy up banks, and the banks keep saying no. How about we simply ignore it in the headline and speak about the charity? ‘Major charity launched. Joint funded by Sanderson and Carlingford’.”
“Doesn’t joint make it sound like the sale exists?”
Priya tapped her fingers on the table. “Yes, it does. Blast. How about ‘Carlingford Rumours Untrue’? It’s simple and addresses the issue, and we could put a smaller sub-headline underneath, like ‘No plans for expansion’.”
“It’s fine.”
Priya scratched her chin. “It’s not really working, is it?”
“Perhaps we should begin again. What do we need to achieve?” Rosalie’s use of “we” filled Priya’s chest with warmth.
&nb
sp; “We... We need to promote the charity. And probably refute the rumour of the sale.”
“Charity first? Or rumour first?”
Priya leaned back in the chair. “Good question. My instinct is to argue with Fraud Finder because he’s wrong, but I can’t help doubting if that’s the right strategy. What if the overt disagreement is what he wants because he can use it to fuel speculation.”
“The if we ignore it, it might go away strategy?”
“That’s not right either. I don’t imagine Fraud Finder is going to stop any time soon, and I don’t want Sanderson and Sons dragged into our feud.” Perhaps it was time to figure out the name of the man hiding behind the pseudonym. She had more contacts in the newspaper business than Ashwin; he didn’t bother with the press. His philosophy was that they could write whatever they liked about him. He had a business to run and he was too busy to be bothered with it. Mostly they only made the business pages, and during the war, they’d been in the government and war news a lot. Reporters were always camped outside Carlingford’s main office building, and Ashwin had been forced to employ a team of people to write press releases and deal with the thirst for headlines. Priya had managed them for a while until they’d promoted someone better suited, but she retained the contacts in the press for her charitable work.
“How about we announce the charity with a big headline, and then get a smaller separate press release refuting the rumour with a quote from your brother?”
Priya nodded. “That could work. Simplify. We don’t need these to be in the same article, although they might run them side by side.”
“Again, giving the impression that it’s more than just working together in the charity.”
Priya stood up and paced around the room. She was usually good at this; at creating headlines to support her charities, because she believed in the work they did. Oh.
“Do you believe that the Rowley Mile charity project matters?” she asked. Tall windows looked out over Hyde Park, and a group of the Queen’s horses were practising on Rotten Row. It was a timely reminder that she was fortunate in her life and she could do good things for many people. The drama of Fraud Finder’s headline shouldn’t derail the work she was doing.
