by Janet Tanner
Sarah smiled. ‘There’s good and bad everywhere, Kirsty. It’s all a matter of what you make of it.’
‘Of course it is – and you have the sense to see that, Granny.’ Kirsty linked her arm companionably through Sarah’s. ‘ Now come and sit down. You look all in.’
She propelled Sarah out into the hall in the direction of the drawing-room and Sarah felt some of her anxiety evaporate in a warm glow of love. From her earliest childhood Kirsty had been devoted to her grandmother, spending far more time at Chewton Leigh House than she ever did at her own home, Chorley Manor, on the other side of the valley, and showing far more interest in the aeroplanes which were a constant topic of conversation there than she did in the horses which were her mother’s life.
‘I don’t think I like horses that much,’ she had confided to Sarah once. ‘ They frighten me a bit, though Mummy gets cross with me if I say so. And they do smell so.’
Sarah had laughed. She could imagine Sheila being very cross indeed with Kirsty if she had been unwise enough to mention the smell which Sheila preferred to any expensive perfume. Such a criticism would be regarded as the sheerest heresy. But she could understand Kirsty’s fear. If she was truthful she had to admit that horses frightened her a little too, though she had always been ashamed of the fear which she considered to be a weakness. She had been a reasonably competent horsewoman until the fall had given her the excuse she needed not to ride again.
‘What I’d really like to do is learn to fly,’ Kirsty had said wistfully and at once Sarah had experienced this strange heady empathy which occurs when two minds, two personalities, reach out to one another.
Flying – yes. Flying was different. She felt no fear when piloting an aeroplane – except perhaps that sharp shaft that strikes when things go wrong. And even then it was a different sort of fear. Whatever the circumstances, at the controls of an aeroplane Sarah always felt she was the mistress of her own destiny, holding her fate in her own hands. Which was more than she could say for the terror she had experienced more than once on the back of a horse – and the uncomfortable, ever present knowledge that if the mount took it in into his head to do things his way there was nothing whatever she could do to stop him.
‘You shall learn to fly, Kirsty, just as soon as you are old enough,’ she had promised, and seen the child’s eyes light up.
She had kept her promise and Kirsty had gained her licence in record time. She flew whenever she could, which was less than she would have liked now that the degree course in graphics at the West of England College of Art was absorbing more and more of her time.
Kirsty looked like her grandmother, some people said – and when she studied early photographs of herself Sarah was forced to admit it was true. Those high cheekbones and the small straight nose, the neat heart-shaped chin, the clear blue eyes. Her hair was lighter in colour than Sarah’s, which had once been deep, almost reddish brown, and her mouth was fuller and wider, but the likeness was still there and it added to the closeness which Sarah felt to her granddaughter.
The drawing-room lay across the hall from the study, a large pleasant room which overlooked both the lawns to the front of the house and the deer park to the side. Furnishings in shades of gold, cream and apricot seemed to bring sunshine into the room on even the darkest of winter days, and the deep brocaded sofa and chairs were bliss to Sarah’s tired bones at the end of a long business session. The family portraits which had once lined the walls, Sarah had relegated to the dining-room where they now presided over formal entertaining and family meals alike and Sarah had replaced them with art works of her own choosing – a Turner, a Hogarth, two lovely misty Monets and some more up-to-date paintings by artists whose names were not yet household words. An exquisite Chinese rug covered the polished wood floor, an ebony boule commode with a beautiful serpentine front stood in one corner, a plinth displaying a bronze bust occupied another. Although the velvet window drapes had not yet been drawn, the lamps in their delicate apricot shades had been lit to give the room a golden glow and in the hearth a log fire blazed a cheerful welcome.
As they entered Kirsty gasped a groan of mock horror.
‘Oh my goodness – more scones!’
Clearly Grace had indeed heard Sarah arrive home. The sofa had been drawn up close to the fire and before it a small table had been laid with a plate of dainty sandwiches, a cut-and-come-again fruit cake and a dish piled high with buttered scones. A crock of-thick yellow cream and a dish of home-made strawberry jam was close by.
Sarah sat down thankfully on the sofa and indicated that Kirsty should join her.
‘I’m sure you can manage some more, darling. Though I must admit all I want is a nice cup of tea.’
‘And here we are, Mrs Bailey! I had the kettle singing on the hob ready for you.’ As if by magic Grace appeared in the doorway bearing a heavy silver tray which held a gleaming Georgian tea service. She set it down on the second of the small tables which stood ready and waiting. ‘Would you like me to pour for you, Ma’am? If you don’t mind me saying so I reckon you could do with it. You look all in to me.’
‘Thank you, Grace, that would be very nice. And yes, I am tired. It was a long meeting.’
She reached for a small linen napkin and spread it over the softly pleated skirt of her deep blue dress, then sipped gratefully at the searingly hot tea which Grace poured into the fine porcelain cups. As the housekeeper left the room she became aware that Kirsty was looking at her anxiously.
‘Grace is right, Granny,’ Kirsty said, her voice concerned. ‘You do look all in. Are you sure you haven’t been overdoing things?’
‘No, darling, I haven’t. You know they don’t allow me to these days. Your Uncle Roderick is very firm about that.’
‘Quite right too,’ Kirsty said vehemently. ‘ But something is wrong, isn’t it? I can tell just by looking at you. What is it? Did something happen this afternoon?’
Sarah hesitated, on the point of denying it, then changed her mind. It would be nice to talk to somebody about her worries and who better than Kirsty? There was nothing she could do to help of course but the very fact that she was one step removed from the machinations of the business and not directly involved as most of the family were made her an ideal confidante. And she would have to know sooner or later. They all would.
Sarah set down her cup and the slight tremble in her hand made it rattle against the saucer.
‘Yes, darling, something did happen. Or, to be more precise, I was informed of something that might be going to happen.’ She hesitated. ‘There is talk of a merger, Kirsty.’
‘A merger? Morse Bailey?’
Sarah smiled in spite of herself. ‘Of course. Who else?’
‘Whew!’ Kirsty’s breath came out in a soft whistle. ‘ Who are they proposing to merge with?’
‘That’s just it,’ Sarah said. ‘To be truthful I would look very carefully at any merger. Morse Bailey is quite big enough in my opinion.’ And that was no more than the truth, she thought wryly – besides the parent company there was Morse Bailey Aero Engines and Morse Bailey Air Speed as well as the Canadian, Australian and South African companies. ‘No, I wouldn’t be very happy about any further involvements,’ she repeated, ‘but in this particular case it’s the company it is proposed we should merge with that is worrying me.’
‘Well?’ Kirsty persisted. The scones and sandwiches were forgotten now; she sat tensely on the edge of her sofa regarding her grandmother with a piercing gaze. ‘Who is it, Granny?’
‘De Vere Motors,’ Sarah said simply.
Kirsty’s blue eyes widened still further. ‘De Vere Motors? You mean Leo de Vere’s company?’
‘The same,’ Sarah said and added drily, ‘ is there another de Vere?’
‘But they make motor cars,’ Kirsty protested.
‘Yes. It hardly makes sense, does it? At least not in my opinion. But Guy disagrees. He’s very keen to push it through – and he has enough sway to do it. Quite apart from his own
voting shares and the others he can carry along with him he has his mother’s proxy to vote with her shares in any way he thinks fit. It’s years since Alicia has taken any active interest in the running of the company. That gives him power. Using Alicia’s shares in concert with his own he can outvote me and the real support I can count on any time he chooses. It’s been worrying me for some time though he has never before proposed anything which I felt really detrimental to the company. I have always been able to accept his decisions as in our best interests. This is different. I’m totally opposed to it, Kirsty.’
‘I should think so!’ Kirsty raised a slender, long-fingered hand to brush her light brown hair behind one ear in a gesture which betrayed the sense of shock she was experiencing. ‘As you say any merger is something that needs really careful consideration. But merger with Leo de Vere … it’s unthinkable! How can he do it?’
‘Very easily by the sound of it,’ Sarah said wryly. ‘I had heard rumours that Guy had been seen with Leo – dining with him at his club, that sort of thing. But I discounted it as mere idle gossip. Now it seems I should have taken more notice. Guy is in Leo’s pocket – not a doubt of it. I don’t know what Leo has promised him if the deal goes through, but it must be good. A seat on the board at de Vere Motors, certainly, and more too if I’m not mistaken. Guy would never sacrifice his autonomous position at Morse Bailey unless he was getting something even bigger in return. But whatever the deal is, whatever he promises, you can be sure of one thing. The end result will be the same – Leo de Vere will effectively gain control of Morse Bailey, just as he’s always wanted, with Guy as his puppet. That is how serious the situation is, Kirsty.’ She shook her head slowly, her lips a tight-drawn line. ‘My God, your grandfather and greatgrandfather would turn in their graves if they knew about it. Leo de Vere back in Morse Bailey – and in a position of power that even they never dreamed of. With him at the helm it would be the end of the company as we know it, make no mistake of that.’
Kirsty sat silent for a moment, lost in thought. She knew very little about Leo de Vere, except that he was the stepson of Gilbert Morse, founder of the Morse Bailey empire. The Morse and Bailey family trees were complex and intertwined and their feuds did not help matters, cutting off some of the members of the family altogether. Leo de Vere fell into this category. For as long as she could remember Kirsty had noticed that Leo de Vere was spoken of in scathing tones or not at all, and though like every other citizen of the United Kingdom she had heard of de Vere Motors she had been almost grown up before she had realized he was actually related in some way. What she did know, of course, was that he was rich and powerful – and that practically everyone she held dear hated him. On the occasions when she had seen him on television, discussing business, or when his photograph had been in the newspapers as it often was, she had looked at him curiously, marvelling that the handsome old man with the aristocratic face and thick snowy white hair could inspire such hatred. Leo de Vere did not look like a monster. He did not even look like a prominent businessman, but more like an aging nobleman or exiled prince whose throne in some obscure state had been snatched by revolutionaries. Yet hate him they did, including her beloved grandmother, who, in spite of her strong character and business acumen, was one of the kindest, most generous women alive.
Now, it seemed, there was a chink in the armour. There was one of the family who did not hate him, and that someone was Guy Bailey.
‘What did happen when Leo was drummed out of the company?’ she asked now. ‘ It couldn’t have been that he wasn’t good at his job, whatever that was. If he hadn’t been good he couldn’t have built up a successful company of his own. So what was it? What went wrong?’
Sarah made a small impatient gesture. ‘Oh Kirsty it’s much too long a story for me to go into now. And besides it all happened nearly fifty years ago. It’s ancient history. Suffice it to say that this is what Leo has always wanted. I dare say he’s spent the biggest part of his life scheming for it one way or another. He has always had to accept defeat before. Now, with Guy on his side, it looks as if he’s about to get it.’
Kirsty thought for a moment. ‘What about Uncle Max? Can’t he help?’
Sarah’s face softened slightly. Max Hurst, Sir Max nowadays, had always been her closest ally. He had been Adam’s original partner; he had been in Morse Bailey from the beginning. But Max was an old man now. That was the trouble. They were all growing older – those that were left.
‘Max has been very sick,’ she said. ‘ He’s never really recovered from that last bout of pneumonia. And though I’m sure he’ll vote with me his shares are not sufficient to make any difference. No, I’m afraid there’s nothing Max can do to help.’
For a moment Kirsty sat turning it over, then she spread her hands eloquently. ‘I don’t believe you’ll lose Morse Bailey now, Granny,’ she said. ‘ You’ll think of something.’
‘That’s what I keep telling myself. But so far I have come up with only one solution.’
‘There you are, Granny!’ Kirsty said triumphantly. ‘ One solution is all you need – provided it works.’
‘Exactly,’ Sarah said drily. ‘I should save your enthusiasm, Kirsty, until you’ve heard what it is.’
‘Well – go on.’
Sarah touched her hand to her forehead. Suddenly she was feeling tired again.
‘I shall have to appeal to Alicia,’ she said. She raised her eyes and caught the shocked surprise reflected in Kirsty’s face.
‘Aunt Alicia? But you haven’t spoken to one another for years and years. Not since …’ she broke off, not wanting to re-open old wounds and Sarah let the sentence hang unfinished in the air.
‘That was only the last straw,’ she said at last. ‘Alicia and I never got on.’ She paused, thinking what an understatement that was. Never got on … bland words to mask a lifetime of resentment and rivalry that had finally culminated in bitter hatred. Alicia, whom she had wronged and who had wronged her in a hundred ways; Alicia, whom she had once admired and envied until attitudes and events had alienated the two women for ever.… Well, there was no point raking over old coals now. ‘I can see no other way,’ she went on slowly. ‘As I say, Alicia has given Guy proxy to vote with her shares any way he thinks fit. But she wouldn’t want this merger any more than I do. She loathes Leo, just as I do. And if I could persuade her to come to the meeting and throw in her voting shares with mine, then we could carry the day. Alicia and I still have sixty per cent between us – that was the way Gilbert intended it.’ She smiled wearily. ‘He was a wily old bird, you know, Kirsty. Perhaps he realised that one day just such a situation as this might arise. No, Alicia is the only one who can help me. I think after all this time I have to swallow my pride and ask for her assistance.’
Kirsty shook her head. She looked as worried now as her grandmother.
‘She’ll refuse to see you,’ she said. ‘ She will, Granny. And even if she did see you – well, just think how upsetting it would be for you.’
‘Not half as upsetting as seeing the company that has been my life fall into the hands of the one person its founders would never contemplate in a position of power,’ Sarah said decisively. ‘ I’ve been in upsetting situations before, Kirsty. I’ve survived – and I’ll survive again. It would be worth it, just as long as I can persuade Alicia to my point of view.’
Kirsty remained unconvinced.
‘How can you hope to talk her round even if you do see her?’ she demanded. ‘Guy will have her on his side – he’s bound to. He is her son, after all. She’ll want to do whatever is best for him.’
‘That is a possibility, yes,’ Sarah admitted. ‘Alicia dotes on Guy, it’s true. But when she hears what I have to say she may change her mind. Morse Bailey is bigger than any of us. We are Morse Bailey – you must see that.’
‘Yes, but will Alicia?’ Kirsty asked. ‘Even if she does agree to see you, surely the fact she hates you will go against her giving you any support? Why, she may go alon
g with the merger simply to spite you, if for no other reason.’
‘That is a chance I shall have to take,’ Sarah said crisply. She glanced down at her tea, gone cold now while they talked. ‘ Pour me a fresh cup, Kirsty, there’s a good girl, and have one yourself. And for heaven’s sake do try to eat some of these sandwiches or Grace will be terribly hurt.’
‘I couldn’t eat a thing now, Granny. I feel far too choky,’ Kirsty declared, but she poured fresh cups of tea and as Sarah sipped hers she began to feel her energy returning.
‘You’re not to let this upset you, Kirsty,’ she admonished. ‘I shouldn’t have burdened you with my worries.’
‘I’m glad you did, Granny. No wonder you look so tired. Oh, when I think of it …’
‘It will be all right, Kirsty. It has to be. Now, let’s forget it, shall we?’
Kirsty was silent for a moment and with some surprise Sarah thought she had acquiesced. But the thoughtful look was still there in her blue eyes and a moment later she said: ‘There may be another way, Granny.’
‘Another way? What do you mean?’
‘Maybe if I talked to Guy …’
‘You?’ Sarah said in astonishment. ‘ What could you do?’
‘I’m not sure. But I think Guy likes me.’ Kirsty’s face had gone very pale but there were high spots of colour burning in her cheeks. ‘In fact I’m sure he does. He’s made that plain on more than one occasion.’
‘Guy has?’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘But he’s old enough to be your father!’
‘I know. Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – he has something of a penchant for much younger women,’ Kirsty said drily. ‘You’ll just have to take my word for it, Granny.’
‘But you’ve never so much as mentioned this before, Kirsty!’ Sarah said, shocked. ‘You mean Guy has actually – made advances to you?’
