Carrie wasn’t exactly blind to her employer’s faults, and sometimes wondered how she was able to persuade her staff, her wild eyed reporter friend and a whole entourage of hangers-on to dance to her tune, and she had a feeling that the whole escapade would end in tears. Saskia’s plans generally did. In the cramped dressing room she began trying on her costume as instructed and felt relieved that she’d actually managed to get a hold of Crystal this morning, and put her straight on a few things, before the shit hit the proverbial fan.
Phil had thought he was being so clever, stealing the parcel from the mail and coming on down here early to try and catch Crystal unawares, but he’d not known that she wasn’t staying with her brother. Through more luck than judgement, she’d managed to prevent him from making contact last night and now Crystal was alerted to his presence, so it was up to Crystal to decide when and where she wanted to meet him. It had been the best that she could do, under the circumstances.
As she removed her sodden Ugg boots and attempted to struggle into thick lime green tights, she chuckled to herself. Crystal had been more than slightly surprised, when she’d leapt out from her hiding place, beside the dustbins in her gran’s back garden and told her what she knew. Crystal knew that she’d not led Phil or Saskia here. Not intentionally, anyhow.
She wondered if Phil was late for his meeting with Saskia today on purpose. He’d actually taken it quite hard when Crystal had disappeared, if she’d not seen him fawning all over his wife on the TV, she might have believed his protestations of undying love for Crystal, when he’d tried to get her to tell him where she was hiding. The papers were still making much of his reconciliation with his wife, but she thought she’d seen a moment there, when he’d been truly heartbroken that Crystal had disappeared. So far, the staff had all remained loyal to Crystal and had not breathed a word to the press as to her identity, and Saskia knew she had to keep the secret if she wanted to stand any chance of wooing her back, but these were tricky times. The mood changed in an instant in this trade.
Back at the cottage, the second that she closed the door on Carrie’s retreating footsteps, Crystal had grabbed her wellies from the utility room, stuffed them on over her smart business like suit and shoved her Manolos into a carrier bag. Within seconds she had let herself out of the side door and set off through the back garden, heading for the open fields beyond. Lindsay, her gran’s favourite cat, had been circling the apple tree at the far end of the garden, trying to find a way to get at the birds nesting in its ancient gnarled old branches and she took just a moment to shoo the cat back inside the house, before setting off again purposefully.
She had a board meeting to attend and a Hunt Ball to organise and that was her priority today. Anyone else, with any other agenda, would have to look out for themselves. She was not going to let them push her around and she wasn’t going to capitulate either, and the sooner they got the message the sooner they could all get on with their lives.
As the field intersected with the bumpy potholed track which led to the factory, she increased her pace, stamping up the lane with gusto, leaving a pair of pristine footprints in her wake. The physical activity gave her the opportunity to review her situation. She wondered what had changed in the past two weeks. She felt stronger, more in control than she had done in years. She’d arrived from LA, nervous and fretful, sure that her world was about to collapse, at the very next turn.
The decision to go back to her roots, move in with gran, help her family and do what she loved best, organising, had been a good one. The demons in the night had stopped, Saskia and Phil had no hold over her here, she felt safe, in the bosom of her family.
There was only one cloud on the horizon, her new found sanctuary may all crumble to dust, if word got out about her duplicity though. She’d been an innocent, but she’d still been caught out, ‘carrying on’, with a married man. Those ‘old-fashioned’ values were still upheld here in the village, and Phil was a married man with a very influential American wife, too. Things were never easy.
She tossed her head and swung her hair back, over her shoulder. She was through with trying to please everyone. She was not the only one to blame in this disaster. If Phil’s wife had taken the time to ring him at the office on occasion, or had taken the trouble to make herself known within the circles he moved in, then this would never have happened. If Phil had been less of a two-timing bastard and more of a doting husband, then it wouldn’t have happened either. And if she’d been less gullible, she might have seen through his lies sooner.
She heard the car, making its way along the track behind her, long before he got so close that she had to stop and move over to the side of the track. The car ground to a halt beside her and the passenger door swung open.
“Get in,” Jazz instructed.
Crystal complied.
No sooner had she stowed her shoes on the floor, and closed the door, than Jazz cut the engine, and stopped the car, right in the middle of the track. “What are you doing out here, in this?” he asked, exasperated.
“Hiding,” Crystal replied.
Jazz’s lips twitched.“Not a very good disguise,” He observed, sotto voiced. Taking in the furious pink wellies and the lime green mac, belted tightly over the prim and proper suit.
Crystal grinned. “Figuratively speaking,” she elucidated.
“Ah, that old chestnut. So, what have you got to hide from then. More bunnies?”
“No, I’ve given up on the rabbit patrols. I’ve got an office now, and an internet connection. Guy in the office next door makes a lot of noise, moving furniture around, but he’s fairly respectable, or so I’m told.”
“Kisses nice,” Jazz teased and moved a little nearer in the seat, swinging his hips towards her, sliding easily on the smooth leather of the seats. He was wearing those nice snug fitting jeans again, in deference to the weather, along with heavy duty walking boots, he’d come prepared.
Crystal raised an eyebrow. Nice? Devastating, especially in those jeans.
“So, what are you really up to?” he wanted to know.
“Ex-boyfriend. Kind of the possessive type. Can’t seem to get rid of him. No matter how hard I try. He’s tracked me down to gran’s, so I thought I’d make a head start on the rest of the crew and walk on up here for the meeting.”
Jazz swore. His face turned from relaxed and amenable to downright annoyed in one split second.
What had she done now? Crystal wondered.
“I ought to put you over my knee and spank you,” he muttered.
“Promises, promises,” Crystal returned, trying to cajole him back into his previously good humour.
Jazz couldn’t help it. He took her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “Who is this guy, do I know him?”he growled, now that he had her attention.
“No, he’s usually based overseas. I left him in LA. Must have followed me over, I suppose. Some idiot at the office forwarded some mail and he’s tracked me down to here. I got the tip off though, from an office colleague. She hid in the dustbins behind gran’s house and then jumped out on me when I went to put some stuff in the bin. Scared me near half to death.”
“Why did she do that. Doesn’t she know how doorbells work?”
“Didn’t want him to know that she’d tipped me off. She was incognito, so’s to speak.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“How would I know, I only slept with the guy,” Crystal retaliated, before she had chance to censor her words.
Jazz’s lips narrowed and his eyes flickered. He switched his gaze to the driving mirror, and watched the heavy American sedan, which had been following him up the lane, turn around slowly in the gateway a few yards back.“Crystal, I’m doing my best here, not to lose my patience with you, but you really are the limit. Had it not occurred to you, that in leaving the safety of your home and walking out here, on your own in the snow, that you might just be putting yourself at risk.”He cast a glance in the direction of the vehicle, now retracing the route it
had taken, and returning back in the direction of the village.
“I repeat my earlier observation. You’re not safe to be let out on your own. At least you’ve got your bum covered this time,” he grumbled, more to himself than anyone else.
Crystal followed his eyes, and watched the car depart. Saskia. So Phil had not come alone then. She didn’t want to talk to her, either.“It’s a bit complicated,” she owned.
“With you, I wouldn’t expect anything else, Crystal.”Jazz sighed.“Come on, out with it.”
She indicated the retreating car. “Ex-boss. Last time I saw her she was threatening to sue me for bringing the whole company into disrepute, or some such crap. So I hightailed it out of the office and hid out at gran’s. She’s highly excitable and rarely carries through on her threats, so I thought I was safe, there. You don’t suppose she’s decided that I’m due a bonus, and stopped by to deliver it personally, do you?”
“No, Crystal. I don’t.”
“So, how does she fit into the story then?”
“Probably broke a nail and doesn’t know how to get it fixed,” Crystal quipped. Then looking at Jazz’s face she decided to offer a little bit more, it wouldn’t hurt now. They’d found her anyhow, regardless of all her plans.
“I was working in PR, I was supposed to be writing her headlines, not making them. She was a little bit pissed. She’ll get over it.”
Jazz nodded. “So tell me about the ex-lover.”
“Not now Jazz. He’s history anyway. We both have more to think about this morning, don’t we. How about you, telling me, about your plans for the board?”
Jazz looked at his watch. “No time, they will all be here in the next ten minutes or so, we’d better get a move on or we will be causing a traffic jam here in the lane. We don’t want people talking now, do we?”
“Speaking of the rumour mill, Jeremy made references to me being caught with you in a compromising position. Do you think the guards have been talking?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised; I did warn you. There’s no way I’m taking the blame for the first incident, that was purely of your own making, madam. Literally speaking, you caused the second incident too. I still haven’t found out what you were trying to do in my office the other night either. So come on, ‘fess up. Now.”He looked in the rear view mirror again.
“Here comes the vicar, we’d better move on. Keep talking, I’m all ears.”
By the time that they finally pulled up in the car park, the vicar was hot on their tail. His car had been the most practical vehicle to accommodate gran and the crutches, but as the rear door opened, Jeremy, gran and Jonathan all piled out together. He must have picked them all up on his way here.
Crystal earned herself a very serious stare as she slid out of the Aston, guiltily. She’d been caught, fraternizing with the enemy, on the day of the board meeting. Jeremy cast his eyes at the floor, and shook his head sadly.
Crystal shrugged in response, she had a feeling that she’d never get the hang of the etiquette of country life.
Bernard was on duty at the front doors, uniform neatly pressed and hair, what was left of it, neatly brushed. He’d even waxed his moustache. Jazz gave him a perfunctory nod as he walked past purposefully.
The boss seemed a little distracted this morning, Bernard registered. He felt a little miffed, himself. He’d gone to all of that trouble with his appearance, today being a special day for the company and all. He’d had to get up early to walk the blessed dog, then he’d scrabbled off home to make time for his preparations, he’d even bulled his boots, like they did in the marines, and no-one had even noticed. Jazz had stopped at the new reception area and was rifling through the magazines set aside for visitors.
Bernard harrumph fed. How many times had he himself been told not to touch the magazines, especially whilst on duty, he wondered. Countless. Now, here was Jazz, not only shifting through them and leaving them all in a messy pile, but he’d stopped over there, beside the reception desk to read the one that he’d finally chosen. Leafing through the pages of one of those glossy ‘Hello’ magazines, he was. Not his usual reading material, Bernard would have guessed. He wondered what the boss found so interesting, especially today of all days. He sidled over, circumspect like, to see if he could get a look at what Jazz was reading so intently.
Unfortunately, the visitors were starting to straggle in through the doors now, and he had to move back over, to his place at the door. First Miss Crystal, she brushed up quite nice, she did, when you could get her out of those tight jeans she usually wore. Mr Jeremy was smartly dressed, as ever. He was wearing a new suit, by the looks of it.
The headmaster shuffled in behind, unfortunately he’d also made a bit of an effort today. He’d resurrected one of his hairy green suits for the occasion. Smelled awful, that did. All mothballs, and wet wool. The vicar was still out there in the car park somewhere, trying to shunt his wagon back into one of the snowy parking spaces. He always took an age to park up, even on a good day.
Some twenty minutes later, it was a very serious group of people, who assembled in the newly refurbished reception area to inspect the new corporate image and admire the workmanship of the re-fit. Large canvas prints had been specially designed using fabric from their own ranges as a backdrop and then printed to a high standard with scenes from the past. With the canvas stretched over large frames, manufactured on site, it was a very grand testament to the longstanding history of the company.
“That provides just the right touch between old and new,” gran muttered grudgingly, as she came across the last canvas in the series. The largest and final canvas represented a potted history of the company and used the fabric and frame from the company’s first mass production tent, now long since out of production. Her husband had been the founder of the company, and although now long since departed, his memory lived on in the ‘classic’ ranges that they still produced and sold in their dozens.
She leaned heavily on her crutches and moved a bit closer to inspect the details. It looked like the photos had been screen printed in a block design on the canvas and were arranged in a quirky scrapbook effect. They included family shots of Crystal’s parents and the early production staff, now long since retired. There was even a shot of the first premises, in its heyday, still in full operation, long before it had been reduced to a storage shed for the new and improved factory which they occupied now.
The vicar had stopped at the first in the series of prints, depicting the good works that the company had done for the village. His church wouldn’t have a roof, if it hadn’t been for the generosity of the previous company directors.
The mounting of the prints, in such a prominent position in the reception area, to coincide with the meeting today, was no accident. Jazz knew how to make his point, it was a persuasive tactic, and one that was not lost on any of the visitors.
Mark had arrived just a few moments behind the main group, and also stood to one side taking in the atmosphere. Ahead of the meeting, Verity dispensed coffee from an old fashioned tea urn, they’d had one just like it in the factory back in the forties, when the company had been founded. In fact it looked like the same one. Dusted off and pressed into service, it brought back nostalgic memories of holidays under canvas for the younger board members.
Gran pictured a safari in Africa, as a newly wedded wife and the vicar saw his first post for the church, working with missionaries in war torn London during the Blitz.
Jonathan was the first to comment, “It’s odd, seeing the company history displayed like this. We’ve come a long way over the past sixty years or so. I know that I wasn’t around at the beginning, but I’ve seen some changes in my time. That’s what this is all about, you know, change.”
A few heads nodded, reluctantly. The refurbishment had included a couple of smart leather chesterfields, set aside for visitors, and the group were directed towards the sofas to drink their coffee while the last minute preparations in the board room were concluded.
> Crystal was first to sit down and as she moved to place her coffee cup on the clear, plate glass table, she stared transfixed at the glossy magazine right on the top the pile, in the centre of the table. She was certain that Jazz had only just discarded it there, minutes earlier.
‘TOUR DATE CHAOS’, the headline proclaimed, followed by a large and glamorous shot of Saskia and a further, smaller, more blurred image of herself as she’d bolted from the LA flat. ‘Who is Miss X?’ the smaller caption asked.
Crystal nearly spilled her coffee in fright. Her brother was already moving in to take his place beside her, and gran and the vicar were in hot pursuit. She had to do something quickly. She had to hide that magazine, fast. She did the only thing she could think of, with so few options available, she quite deliberately spilled her coffee, all over the entire pile. Then with a squeal of remorse, she hastily bundled up the whole lot, in an attempt to prevent the thick dark liquid from cascading over the edge of the table and creating a nasty mess all over the newly laid floor tiles.
She was only partly successful, the hot dark coffee ran smoothly over the plate glass surface of the table and flooded in rivulets all over the floor. Crystal grabbed the offending magazine in the chaos that ensued, and glanced up at Jazz, watching sardonically from the doorway. He’d done that on purpose. She knew that he had. He’d deliberately placed it there to see what she would do. Just how much did he know?
She shot him a glance that would have shrivelled lesser mortals, where they stood in their tracks, then went back to trying to mop up the mess.
“Crystal, I’ve never known you to be so clumsy,” gran remonstrated. “Just look what you’ve done to the beautiful new carpet. It’s only been down a matter of weeks,” she scolded.
Crystal looked as Jazz, it served him right. He could jolly well pay for the damage himself. She tossed her hair and pursed her lips. He was enjoying this, from the look on his face, but where would it all lead? Just what exactly was his game?
The Party Girl's Invitation Page 14
