The Inheritance

by Tilly Bagshawe

  Tati sat down, shocked and deflated. This couldn’t be happening. How had she allowed this to happen?

  ‘I’m going to call a vote,’ said Michael Guinness.

  ‘No, you can’t!’ she shouted. ‘Not yet, please. We need to discuss this properly.’

  ‘We have discussed it,’ said Lady Arabella pitilessly. ‘And we’re all in agreement.’

  ‘You can stay on and work with the new owners if you choose to.’ Eric Jenkins clearly felt bad. ‘The terms for your continued involvement are outlined on page six.’

  ‘But you don’t need to,’ said Michael Guinness. ‘You’ll be so wealthy, you’ll never need to work again.’

  I don’t care about the money! Tati wanted to scream. Hamilton Hall was never about the money. It was about building something that was mine. Something that no one could take away from me, the way they took Furlings. It was about proving Brett Cranley wrong. Brett, and my father, and everyone else who ever wrote me off as a failure.

  ‘I’d like a show of hands, please.’

  Michael Guinness’s voice sounded distant suddenly, like a voice in a dream. A nightmare. Why can’t I wake up?

  ‘All those in favour of accepting the HCL bid.’

  Eleven arms fluttered towards the ceiling.

  ‘All those against.’

  Tatiana closed her eyes and lifted her hand, alone. More alone than she had ever been in her life.

  There was noise after that, people coming and going. Some of them stopped to talk to her. She heard conversations about press releases and legal fees. She heard excitement and happiness, the platitudes washing over her, like scum on the tide.

  ‘It was a terrific offer, Tatiana. Once the dust settles, you’ll see that.’

  ‘It’s for the best.’

  ‘Time for a new challenge. You’re still so young!’

  At last the room was empty and she was alone.

  Her head started to throb. She stood up to get some water, and the nausea that had plagued her the other day at Max Bingley’s wedding suddenly returned with a vengeance. Running out of the room, her hand over her mouth, she only just made it to the loo in time, throwing up again and again until her stomach was so empty it ached.

  Splashing cold water on her face, Tati looked at herself in the mirror and was shocked at the pale, ghostly face that stared back at her.

  Something’s wrong with me.

  She just managed to dial Jason’s number before she collapsed on the floor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Madeleine Wilkes was exhausted.

  School started again in a few days, thank God, and like most London mothers Maddie was counting the seconds. The summer holidays had been one gruelling round of activities after another. One son had cricket camp in Battersea Park, another went to karate and swimming classes in Notting Hill, and her daughter Caitlin had enrolled in some ghastly drama course in North London that meant Maddie spent her entire day in the car, shuttling between the three of them. Then there were the playdates sleep-overs and non-stop meals to be bought, prepared, cooked and washed up afterwards. Needless to say her husband had suddenly found himself desperately busy at the Mayfair gallery, as he did every summer. George Wilkes had a lot of lovely qualities, but nobody could describe him as a ‘hands-on’ dad.

  Staggering through the front door, weighed down with Waitrose bags (miraculously Caitlin’s modern dance recital had been moved to next Wednesday, giving Maddie a chance to go to the supermarket on her own, without screaming children), she dumped the frozen stuff into the freezer before switching on the kettle for a cup of tea. Magnus’s Beyblades were all over the floor, and Hannah, the Wilkes’s cleaner, clearly hadn’t bothered to show up this morning, judging by the pile of dirty washing-up still festering in the sink. I really must fire her, thought Maddie, for the umpteenth time, poking at Frosties stuck to the side of a bowl with a cat-food encrusted fork. The kitchen clock said three o’clock, a whole hour till she had to be at Battersea to pick up Henry. Leaving the groceries in their bags on the floor, Maddie made her cup of tea and retreated upstairs for that rarest of treats, a siesta.

  She heard the laughter when she reached the landing, but didn’t think anything of it. Henry and Magnus were always going into her bedroom and leaving the television on. Pushing the door open, she froze.

  Jason Cranley was lying on her bed, stark naked and in a very obvious state of arousal.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Seeing Maddie, he grabbed a pillow and hastily covered his groin.

  Maddie just stood there, open mouthed. A few seconds later, her husband came sauntering out of the master bathroom, his hair slick from the shower and with a towel wrapped around his hips. ‘Did you say something, darling?’

  He was addressing Jason. But then he, too, saw Maddie. Every ounce of blood drained from his face.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he blurted.

  ‘I live here,’ said Maddie on autopilot. She was still holding her tea, very carefully, so as not to spill it. She looked like a rather bedraggled, British version of the Statue of Liberty.

  ‘I thought you were at Caitlin’s recital.’

  ‘It got cancelled.’

  For a moment all three of them remained in stunned, horrified silence. Then George made the mistake of saying ‘I can explain …’ and all hell broke loose. Maddie was screaming and crying, the most awful noise, like an animal being tortured. Jason watched as the mug flew across the room, shattering on the wall just above George’s head and spraying scalding tea everywhere. George moved towards her, and as he did so the towel dropped. It was dreadful, watching him bent and cowering, naked, while Maddie literally flew at him, scratching and kicking, her arms and legs flailing. Jason tried to pull her off but she spun around and bit him on the arm, so hard he screamed and let go.

  ‘Get out!’ George yelled at him through the melee, his voice half shout, half sob. ‘Go home.’

  Not knowing what else to do, Jason pulled on his jeans, scooped up the rest of his clothes and ran, blood streaming from his arm from where Maddie had bitten him.

  Outside he ran barefoot down the street before flagging down a cab and jumping inside. ‘Eaton Gate!’ he panted.

  ‘You all right, mate?’ the cabbie sounded concerned. ‘You been mugged or summink?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Jason. Tears streamed down his cheek and his heart was pounding so violently he thought it might be about to leap out of his ribcage. ‘Just … hurry.’

  He needed to talk to Tatiana.

  Tati would know what to do.

  As soon as he got home, Jason ran straight upstairs. Tati had been in bed all week, struck down with some sort of violent flu. Between her illness and her despair at having Hamilton Hall sold out from under her, the poor thing was at her lowest ebb. He hated having to break the news to her like this: that ‘George’, his George, was actually George Wilkes, one of their oldest and closest friends. But it couldn’t be helped. Maddie, understandably, had gone completely off the deep end. Anything might happen. Jason desperately needed Tati’s advice, not to mention her forgiveness.

  Walking into their bedroom, however, he found the bed was made and Tati nowhere to be seen. Hurriedly changing his clothes and pressing a clean damp flannel to the bite mark on his forearm, cleaning away the dried blood, he went down to the kitchen.

  ‘What happened to you?’ asked Logan. ‘You look terrible. Did you get in a fight?’

  Jason had totally forgotten she was staying with them. Her night at the O2 with Tom after Max Bingley’s wedding had turned into two weeks. Now that their parents were packing up Furlings for the big Hamptons move, Logan had been talking about moving into Eaton Gate full time. Jason didn’t have the heart to tell her that yet another of her homes was about to implode around her.

  ‘No, no. I’m fine. I got bitten by a dog in Holland Park,’ he lied. Pulling the largest plaster he could find out of the first-aid drawer, he stuck it over the gash on his arm. ‘Have you seen Tatian
a?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Logan. ‘Isn’t she in bed?’

  Jason shook his head.

  ‘Oh well then. I guess she must be feeling better,’ said Logan. ‘If I’d just sold my company and pocketed thirty million dollars, I think I’d be feeling fabulous.’

  Jason watched his sister as she pottered around his kitchen, helping herself to a large slab of Dairy Milk chocolate from the top shelf of the larder and washing it down with the last of the full-fat milk. She was humming a tune to herself under her breath, her feet tapping to the rhythm in her head. It struck Jason how happy she looked.

  ‘You’re in a very good mood today.’

  ‘Yes.’ Logan twirled across the room and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Should you be?’

  He had enough problems of his own to worry about, not least whether Maddie Wilkes was about to barge through the front door armed with a meat cleaver. But something about his sister put him on his guard.

  ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘No! Nothing’s happened.’ Logan laughed. ‘I’m happy, Jason. I’m in love and I’m enjoying my life. You and Tati should try it some time.’

  And with that she swept out, leaving Jason clutching his bleeding arm.

  Where the hell was Tatiana?

  Brett Cranley was in his office, running through the checklist from the East Hampton removals company with his new PA, when the door swung open and Tatiana stormed in.

  ‘You bastard.’

  She stood in the doorway quivering with rage. In a bottle green T-shirt and grey cigarette pants with kitten heels, she looked tiny to the point of frailness. Thanks to her recent illness, not to mention the intense stress of the past week, she was fifteen pounds lighter than usual. Her frame, always slim, now looked gaunt, and though she was less obviously unwell than she had been at Max and Stella’s wedding, it struck Brett how very pale she appeared. He pushed the thought away.

  ‘I’m busy,’ he said, not looking up from the furniture lists. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I know it was you,’ said Tati, marching over to the desk and snatching the lists out of Brett’s hand, to the dismay and embarrassment of his new assistant.

  ‘It’s OK, Linda,’ Brett told her. ‘You can go. We’ll finish this up later.’ As soon as the PA had gone, he turned to Tati. ‘So. What is it this time? A few days ago it was Furlings you were up in arms about, and my move to New York. That’s old news now, is it?’

  ‘You know it is. And you know exactly why I’m here,’ seethed Tati. ‘HCL’s nothing but a shell company. Laid up in bed these last few days, I’ve had plenty of time on my hands. So I did a little digging.’

  ‘I commend your work ethic,’ Brett purred.

  ‘Go fuck yourself,’ snarled Tati. ‘You’re the one who bought Hamilton Hall. It was you all along! You turned my board against me.’

  Brett laughed, a low, throaty chuckle, and began playing with a wooden puzzle on his desk. He sounded genuinely amused. ‘I didn’t need to turn them against you. You’d alienated everybody on that board long before I came on the scene.’

  This was true, of course, but Tati was damned if she was going to admit it.

  ‘You’re not even interested in schools. You know nothing about the business, nothing about the education sector.’

  ‘Very true,’ mused Brett. He was clearly enjoying himself.

  ‘So you admit it? You did it just to spite me.’

  ‘Do you really think you’re that important to me?’ Brett mocked her. ‘You think I’d waste a hundred million dollars to make some sort of point?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tati.

  ‘Then you’re even more of a fool than you look.’ Brett stood up and walked over to the window, admiring his view of the London Eye and the winding river Thames below. ‘You’re quite right I know fuck-all about the education sector. But I do know about real estate. That was quite a deal you struck in New York. That site was undervalued by at least forty per cent, perhaps more. Combined with your London assets, I’d say Hamilton Hall was worth every penny I paid, and more.’

  Tatiana’s eyes widened, then narrowed with hostility.

  ‘How did you know the price I’d negotiated on the New York building?’

  Brett grinned from ear to ear. ‘I have my sources. You know, I was disappointed you didn’t take up our offer to stay on board and run the schools.’

  ‘Work for you?’ Tati sneered. ‘I’d rather starve.’

  ‘You’ll hardly be starving. Not after the cash I’ve just shelled out. Still, it’s a shame,’ Brett mused. ‘I’d have enjoyed watching you close the business down.’

  Tati frowned, confused. ‘What do you mean, close them down? You just paid a fortune for them.’

  Brett cracked his knuckles luxuriously. ‘You said it yourself: I know nothing about education. Why waste time and money on a business I don’t understand? No, no, my dear. Real estate, that’s my bag. Hamilton Hall’s Clapham site is just begging to be turned into apartment blocks. I thought Seventh Avenue might make a nice little boutique hotel. At the price you negotiated, it’s a steal.’

  Tati gasped. ‘You bastard. You’re going to strip the assets!’

  ‘You make it sound so dirty,’ chided Brett.

  ‘You lied to my board!’

  ‘I did nothing of the kind. It’s hardly my fault if they couldn’t be bothered to do their due diligence. Blinded by the pound signs in their eyes, I imagine. Don’t look so shocked, Tatiana.’ He laughed. ‘All I’m doing is maximizing the value of my acquisition. It’s not personal. It’s business.’

  ‘Like fuck it is.’ Walking over to where Brett stood, she faced him down, drawing herself up to her full height. ‘It couldn’t be more personal. You’re a hateful, immoral, disgusting man. You don’t care about anything or anyone but yourself.’

  Brett’s smile wilted. ‘You bloody hypocrite,’ he snarled. ‘Look in the mirror some time, Tatiana. You rode roughshod over your own board, then you cut a deal behind their backs. You think you can swim with sharks and not get bitten?’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ quivered Tati.

  ‘You deserved to lose those schools. My only regret is you made so much damn money out of it.’

  ‘I don’t care about the money.’

  ‘Oh, bullshit,’ said Brett. ‘Money’s all you care about. That’s why you married my son. You’re a greedy, lying bitch. And you have the gall to stand here and lecture me about betrayal! You thought nothing about betraying Jason with that slimeball Di Clemente. I saw you, remember.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake. Jason knows about Leon,’ said Tati.

  ‘Oh really? And I suppose you’re going to tell me he’s fine with his whore of a wife sleeping around, are you? That the two of you have an “open marriage”? Do you think I was born yesterday?’

  ‘He’s gay, you idiot!’ Tati blurted out in anger. ‘Your precious son plays for the other side. Didn’t know that, did you, Mr “I have my sources” Cranley?’

  Brett looked at her with utter revulsion.

  ‘You’d make up something like that, just to excuse your own behaviour?’ He shook his head. ‘You’re ill, Tatiana.’

  ‘And you’re blind,’ said Tati. ‘Then again, when it comes to Jason, you always have been. Enjoy America. You won’t be missed.’

  She strode out, slamming the door behind her.

  The euphoria and adrenaline she’d felt, getting the last word and leaving Brett so utterly blindsided, soon faded. She’d just outed Jason to his own father. She should never have done that. But, as usual, Brett had pushed her to the brink.

  She jumped into a black cab, her thoughts racing, and switched on her phone. The voicemail symbol was flashing.

  ‘You have … nine … new messages,’ the familiar, automated voice informed her. ‘To listen to your messages, press one.’

  Nine? Her phone had only be
en off for twenty minutes, while she was in Brett’s offices. Nine calls seemed a bit excessive.

  Pressing one, Tati immediately held the phone away from her ear. The voice was a woman’s and she was ranting hysterically. It took a few moments for Tati to realize who she was, and a few more to make any sense of what she was saying.

  But when she did, all thoughts of Brett Cranley and Hamilton Hall flew out of her head.

  She had to get home.

  Now.

  ‘George is George Wilkes?’

  As soon as she got home, Tati pulled Jason into her study and closed the door.

  ‘Yes.’

  He looked so bleak, Tati couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I couldn’t. I wanted to, but … George has a family. It’s complicated.’

  ‘I’ll say.’ Tati sank down onto the sofa. ‘So Maddie really had no idea?’

  ‘None at all. Till today. It was awful.’

  Jason sat down beside her, pale and shaking, as if he’d just stepped out of a car crash. Which, in a way, he had.

  ‘I still can’t believe George Wilkes …’ Tati shook her head in astonishment. Bizarrely it felt much more shocking to learn that George was gay, and not just gay but Jason’s lover, than it had been to find out about Jason. ‘How long have you two been together?’

  ‘A long time,’ said Jason. ‘There are people in the art world who know. But George has always been very discreet. We both have. We never took risks.’

  Tati remembered the night in Ronnie Scott’s, when she’d made a surprise appearance to hear Jason play. George Wilkes had seemed horrified to see her there, completely thrown off stride. Now she knew why. Perhaps it should have been obvious, but she’d only ever known George as half of George and Maddie. She’d missed the signs completely. Apparently so had poor Maddie.

  ‘Maddie’s beside herself,’ she told Jason. ‘Her messages are hysterical. She’s threatened to go to the papers.’

  Jason blanched. ‘Do you really think she will? Poor George.’