‘Of course I am,’ she replied, instantly.
I swung myself upright and stood, reaching for my shirt and shorts. ‘You’ve got a lot to take in,’ I told her. ‘It’s not fair that you should have to at your age, but life isn’t fair. As my old dad is very fond of saying, you will find no warranty or guarantees anywhere on your birth certificate.’ I nodded downwards at the lounger as I finished dressing. ‘D’you want some time on your own? Do some thinking and top up your tan?’
‘That would be nice.’
‘Okay then, but mind you use my sunscreen. Don’t stint yourself either.’ I tossed her the bottle and left her to it.
The door of Tom’s room was open as I passed. He was in full big brother mode, giving wee Jonathan a drubbing at a computer football game. I left them to it and went down to the kitchen, to fetch myself a bottle of water from the fridge. Conrad was there, his mobile held to his ear.
‘Okay,’ I heard him say. ‘Call me when you’re wheels down at Nice.’ He ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket.
‘Audrey?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘They leave Arizona tomorrow. She’s worried; she doesn’t think that Susie’s fit to fly, and neither does her doctor. He’s advising that she stay in his care for another week at the very least, but Susie’s having none of it and Duncan’s agreeing with her. He’s an idiot, Primavera. Audrey said he gave her a whole bottle of champagne last night. She can hardly eat and he’s pouring bloody Veuve Cliquot down her neck.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I know. But she’s not giving him complete control of her life, and no sight of the business at all.’
‘Yes, Audrey did say that she’s just sent a statement to the group’s financial PR firm for issue to the Stock Exchange on Monday morning. She said it’ll surprise a few people, not least the new husband.’
And Audrey’s husband, I thought, but if she hadn’t filled him in on the detail, I couldn’t either.
‘She asked me to tell you that she’s sending you a document by email. She wants you to sign it and fax it back to her. She was very specific about that. You have to fax it.’
‘I can do that. I still have a fax, although it’s ages since I used it.’
‘She said also that Susie was speaking to Janet,’ Conrad went on. ‘I take it that’s what you and she were doing upstairs.’
‘Yes. Susie came clean with her.’
‘How clean? Did she tell her how sick she really is?’
I shook my head ‘No, she kept it positive. But you: do you know how sick she really is, Conrad?’
‘I fear so,’ he sighed. ‘Audrey’s with her every day. She says she’s skin and bone. It’s not going to end well, Primavera, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t. And Susie knows it. That’s why she’s asked me to do certain things for her. But there’s one thing I want you to do for her that she might not ask. Keep an eye on Mr Culshaw.’
‘Oh, I will,’ he assured me, ‘as close an eye as I can. He might say I’m his new best friend, but I don’t believe him. I’m sure that he’d get rid of me tomorrow if he could, and Audrey for that matter.’
‘Well, he can’t,’ I told him firmly. ‘You said it yourself; you have contracts of employment with the Gantry Group, not with Susie personally and certainly not with him.’
‘Yes, but …’ He didn’t have to spell out what he was thinking.
‘But nothing. He will never get a toehold in that business.’
‘I wish I was as sure as you.’
‘Come Monday, you might be … and don’t ask me to explain that.’
I left him to ponder and went to the office to check my email. Sure enough there was one from Audrey, covering three documents. One was the announcement of my appointment and hers, and another was a letter for my signature confirming that I was prepared to accept appointment as chairperson of the Gantry Group PLC, with a space for a second signature, that of a witness. The third attachment was a power of attorney giving me authority to instruct her solicitor in setting up a trust to administer the shareholdings and other bequeathed assets of Tom Blackstone, Janet Blackstone and Jonathan Blackstone. It was signed by Susie and witnessed and notarised by an American attorney. Thorough, Susie, I thought.
I printed off all three documents, signed the confirmation letter, then took it through to the front terrace, where Conrad was sitting. ‘I’d like you to read and witness that, please,’ I asked.
His eyes widened as he scanned it, but that was his only reaction, until he’d added his signature and passport number. Then he looked up and nodded. ‘Congratulations, boss,’ he murmured.
‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘That’s probably the saddest piece of paper I’ve ever had to sign.’
Nine
I was so consumed by what had happened in the afternoon that I almost forgot I had a dinner date.
Audrey called me as soon as she’d received the fax. ‘Susie says she wants you to call a board meeting in Glasgow on Tuesday; if you can make that, she says I have to get in touch with Wylie Smith and have him set it up. Can you?’
‘If I can take Tom with me, yes. His school term’s over. But can you make it? It’s Saturday and you’re still in Arizona.’
‘Sure,’ she replied, as confident and assertive as ever. ‘I’ll see Susie safely home on Monday morning, then catch a direct flight from Nice to Edinburgh in the afternoon. I can get you and Tom into the same airport at around the same time. We can meet up, take a taxi or hire a car and check into a hotel in Glasgow for the night. Sound okay?’
‘Sounds brilliant,’ I told her. ‘Go ahead. But book a car, in my name, for I’ll have other stuff to do in Scotland and part of it will involve seeing Oz’s dad … and mine, while I’m there.’
‘Will do. When do you want to come back?’
‘Make it Saturday, to be on the safe side.’
‘Fine. Primavera,’ she added, after a few seconds, ‘are you all right about this? The business side, I mean.’
The uncertainty of her tone took me by surprise. ‘Let me put it this way,’ I replied, buying a very little time to consider exactly how I should put it, ‘it’s not something I want to do. But if Susie needs me to do it, for her sake and for the sake of the kids, to maintain investor confidence in what she calls the family firm during her illness and recuperation: if she wants that, I’m fine with it. Why?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘I’m a secretary, Primavera; that’s what I’m trained to be, those are my skills.’
‘Can you read a set of accounts? Do you understand a balance sheet?’
‘Yes,’ she conceded.
‘Then you’re more qualified for the job than many a director I’ve met. You typed the stock market announcement, so you know what it says. It describes you as the outgoing chairperson’s executive assistant, with an intimate knowledge of the working of the business. It describes me as a director of a Spanish wine producer and as a former consular official who played a part in negotiating several multi-million pound deals in Catalunya for Scottish companies. What it doesn’t say is that I’m Miles Grayson’s sister-in-law, but it doesn’t have to. The PR people will make sure that everyone knows that. We are not a couple of bimbo figureheads and we won’t be seen as such.’
‘No,’ she murmured, ‘I suppose not.’
‘So what’s your concern?’
‘It’s Duncan,’ she admitted. ‘He doesn’t know anything about this, but he’s going to find out pretty damn soon. I don’t know for certain, but my gut tells me that when he learns what Susie’s done he’s not going to like it. He hates you; I can tell you that.’
‘You don’t have to; I know he does. But anyone who lays a hand on my son should also be afraid of me.’
‘Duncan did that?’ she gasped.
‘Yes. He paid for it at the time, but I’m not done with him. Let’s make sure that everything is cut and dried when he does find out. The Stock Exchange opens at eight on Monday morning. You’ll still be travelling when th
e news goes public, but to be sure, instruct the PR people that there’s to be no advance briefing on this. I don’t want bloody Culshaw reading about it on his iPhone in Charles de Gaulle Airport, at least not before eight o’clock BST. And one other thing,’ I added. ‘How much notice of a board meeting does the chair have to give to directors?’
‘None, if it’s an emergency. Otherwise company rules, twenty-four hours minimum. Normally, Susie gives a month.’
‘Fine, this time it’s by the rules. I want you to instruct the company secretary to fix the time as ten a.m. on Tuesday, with minimum notice. That way Duncan won’t be getting a text from Uncle Phil at the airport either.’
‘Do you think Phil would do that?’
‘I don’t know, but let’s cover all possibilities.’
‘Christ, Primavera,’ Audrey laughed, ‘are you sure you shouldn’t be executive chair?’
‘I will be whatever Susie wants me to be,’ I replied, seriously. ‘Although I’d rather be neither, and that she was still up to the job.’
‘She will be,’ her right-hand woman said firmly. ‘It’ll take a little while, but she’ll be back in charge before you know it.’
How I hope that’s true, I thought. ‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘Our job is to make sure that the ship’s still afloat when she’s ready to take the wheel again. That’s me metaphored out for the day, Audrey.’ I laughed. ‘Send me flight arrangements and e-tickets and I’ll see you in Edinburgh on Monday.’
It was only when I hung up that I remembered dinner with Liam Matthews. He’d left the choice of restaurant to me, so I hit on Meson del Conde, because the food’s good, and because it has a nice, covered, air-conditioned terrace restaurant, away from the square, which can become a little frantic on a June Saturday evening. I called them and reserved a table, then sent a text to the mobile number on the card that Liam had given me when we’d parted ways earlier. ‘Table booked; pick me up from home.’
Okay, Primavera, that’s you sorted, now how about the kids? The realisation hit me as soon as my message whooshed on its way. I’d fed them a takeaway for lunch; no way could I allow myself to do that again. I charged into the kitchen, looked at what I had in the fridge: some gazpacho that I’d made the morning before, five tuna steaks and salad. I looked at my watch: six thirty-five. If I knocked up the salad, got myself ready, then grilled the fish, I could have them at the table by eight.
‘Wassup?’ Conrad asked me, from the doorway.
‘I’ve got a date,’ I confessed. ‘And a very small window to get everything ready, including me.’
‘Then I’ll do dinner,’ he said.
‘You had them all morning.’
‘So what? You’ve had Tom twenty-four seven for twelve years.’ Not quite all of them, I thought, but didn’t dwell on it. ‘What do you need doing?’ I set out my proposed menu. ‘No worries,’ he insisted. ‘I do the best salad in our house, and I know how to flip a tuna steak on the grill.’
‘If you’re sure.’
He put his hands on my shoulders. ‘Primavera, Audrey and I don’t have, won’t have any kids of our own. So any chance I get to play Dad, I take it. Who is the guy?’
‘Liam Matthews.’
‘I thought it might be. Janet told me about him this morning.’
‘Did you ever meet him?’
‘No, but Oz talked about him often enough. He liked him a lot, I could tell.’
‘Did Tom say anything about him?’ I asked.
Conrad frowned. ‘No. But it was the way he didn’t say it. I reckon that Culshaw’s made him very wary of new men coming into mothers’ lives.’
‘Well, he needn’t worry about Liam. It’s a friendly dinner, that’s all.’
‘Then why are you so flustered? It’s not like you.’
‘Because friendly or not,’ I exclaimed, ‘it’s the first proper date of any sort I’ve had with a man for four years, and even then … fuck me, he was the parish priest!’
‘In that case, I don’t imagine he did.’
I stared at him, then we both dissolved into laughter. ‘Nor will this guy,’ I said, as we subsided. ‘Poor old Gerard, though. At first I was slightly insulted that he chose God over me, but now …’
‘Now what?’
‘Now I’m glad, because it wouldn’t have worked. Mostly I saw him as a proper father figure for Tom. But as it happens, Tom doesn’t want one. He’s made that pretty clear.’
Conrad shook his head. ‘Don’t underestimate him, Primavera. Ultimately he wants what you want. But you wouldn’t want anyone he doesn’t fancy, or anyone who doesn’t fancy him. He’s your gatekeeper; to get to you, any man will have to get past him.’ I recalled his stance on the beach the night before, as Liam approached. What Conrad was saying was the literal truth. ‘But there’s one big problem for that potential suitor,’ he continued. ‘He either has to make Tom accept one thing, or wait for him to be ready to accept it.’
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘That his father is really dead.’
‘That’s not Tom’s problem alone,’ I confessed. ‘I have to make myself believe it as well.’ I felt myself frown. ‘Conrad,’ I continued, ‘if he wasn’t, and you knew it, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?’
He held up a hand. ‘Stop it,’ he said. ‘Don’t wander into fantasy land.’
I don’t know what made me press him, other than the strangest feeling that our conversation had become very important. ‘No,’ I insisted, ‘a straight answer, please.’
‘Okay, if you must have it. If he wasn’t dead and I knew it, I wouldn’t tell you, for there would be a reason for him not having told you himself, and my first loyalty would be to him, always.’ He paused, holding my gaze. ‘But I don’t know that, Primavera, I don’t. Understood?’
His eyes were intense, more compelling than I’d ever seen them. I felt mine mist as I nodded. ‘Understood,’ I whispered.
‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘Now go get yourself dolled up for Mr Matthews. I hope he knows how lucky he is.’
I did as I was told. I’m not big on make-up on a daily basis. Living in the sun as I do, I spend a small fortune on screens, body lotions and moisturisers, but mostly all I use of an evening is a little eyeliner, and, if I’m feeling racy, some mascara. That night, though, after I’d showered and fixed my hair, which I always keep manageably cut, I gave myself the full works, blusher, eyeshadow, lustrous lipgloss, all the stuff that my sister’s rarely seen in public without. Thinking about it, the only thing I’ve ever learned from our Dawn is how to glam myself up properly.
To go with it all, I chose a dark blue dress that she persuaded me to buy the last time I’d visited her in Los Angeles. It’s by Versace, close-fitting and beautifully cut, with two straps and a plunging V that absolutely precludes the wearing of a bra. I rummaged in my shoe cupboard … one day I must get round to cataloguing them and putting them in some sort of order … for the pair I’d bought to match, sprinkled some golden sparkly stuff between my tits, and I was done. Almost. I opened my safe and took out a pair of diamond earrings and a matching ring that Oz bought for me on a weekend in London that Susie never knew about. I put them on and then I really was ready for the evening. Had I forgotten something? No, I decided against wearing any, that’s all.
When I went downstairs, at two minutes before eight, the kids were at the table in the kitchen, and Conrad was hard at work creating his legendary salad. Heads turned.
‘Mum?’ Tom murmured, as if he wasn’t sure.
‘Auntie Primavera!’ Janet exclaimed, eyeing me from top to toe and back again.
Even wee Jonathan smiled.
Conrad said nothing, but the look in his eyes told me I’d got it right.
‘I’m going out for the evening,’ I explained. I’d have shrugged, but I wasn’t sure it was safe. Instead I sashayed across to the wine fridge, took out a bottle of pretty decent cava, and looked at my son. ‘Wine waiter wanted,’ I said, haughtily. ‘Front terrace.’
I went to the door and opened it. Liam had done some dressing up of his own; tan razor-creased trousers, a buckskin jacket and a white silk shirt with a granddad collar, that wore no designer logo and fitted so well that it might have been tailor-made.
‘So where are the fucking flowers?’ I asked, breaking the silence in which we had inspected each other.
He laughed and held his hands up, as if to ward me off. ‘I tried to get some, honest. I asked at the hotel where I could find a bouquet of roses. The receptionist gave me a funny look and said that Sant Jordi’s Day was two months ago. What the hell’s that?’
‘It’s the local version of Valentine’s Day,’ I explained as I led him inside, and up to the first floor. ‘Tom and I observe it. The deal is that he gives her a rose and she gives him a book. I have to tell you that there are a hell of a lot more roses sold around here than there are books.’
I led him out on to the terrace, with its view of the square. ‘This is like Buckingham Palace,’ he said. ‘Do you stand up here and wave to the multitudes?’
‘Only on Christmas Day. Sit down,’ I told him. ‘I thought we’d have a drink before we go down to the restaurant.’ As I spoke, Janet stepped out of the living room, carrying a tray with two champagne flutes. Tom followed, with the cava in an ice bucket. ‘In fact, here are my staff now.’
‘I knew it would be you,’ Janet murmured, quietly triumphant, as she put the tray on the table.
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