She pulled her jacket tighter, aware of sobering up. ‘It was just a drunken kiss, Rob. Forget about it. No way am I having a thing with a married man. We rewind to best mates, OK?’
‘OK, boss.’ He smiled. ‘Might have to do some serious thinking.’
‘You do that. And now we should get back to Chess and Gil.’
Chapter 11
Eliza
‘My office – now,’ said Terri.
Eliza’s head was full of cotton wool – and pain. The hangover was every bit as bad as she deserved. The sum total of her achievements in the three hours since she’d arrived at work had been an email to Terri and a message to Chess.
Each time she tried to focus on work, her mind veered off to last night’s moment. Last night’s stupid, impulsive, moment.
Last night’s unforgettable moment.
Rob was nowhere to be seen this morning, and she didn’t know whether the delay in the awkward moment to come was a good thing or a bad one.
‘Shut the door,’ said Terri.
‘Is there a problem?’ The room seemed to tilt as Eliza sat down.
‘I was expecting your update on outstanding copy.’
‘I sent it.’
‘No, you just messaged me a gif of Spongebob looking green.’
‘Oh. Sorry, that was meant for Chess. My cousin – she’s working in Admin. The one you—’
‘I know who bloody Chess is. Eliza, you look like a bag lady this morning. Hungover is not a look I encourage in my department. What’s going on?’
‘Sorry, Terri. Chess just got engaged to Rob’s brother. We were out celebrating.’
‘Your lot are still arranging marriages, then? Fuck’s sake.’ Terri gave Eliza a long, hard stare. ‘Look, Eliza, there’s nothing wrong with letting your hair down occasionally—’
Something inside Eliza snapped. ‘God! I wish people would stop telling me how to live my life.’
‘Better get used to it,’ said Terri. ‘Has the penny not dropped? The future of Rose Corp lies on your shoulders. Yours. Harry wants you as CEO, and Harry always gets what he wants. You need to be ready.’
Her expression softened. ‘Yes, you can let those charmingly unruly curls out of their ponytail occasionally, but only if you don’t let that interfere with your professional life. You’ve been . . . distracted all week. You need to keep focused.’
As Terri continued, Eliza felt the weight of it all settling back onto her shoulders.
‘Maria’s tightening the screws. She just sent me an article about the backlash against the new abortion law in Ireland. She wants me to interview some woman she called “inspirational”. There’s no way. Maria must be reined in.’
‘You could do the interview but make it a stitch-up?’
‘Nope. Any articles on “sensitive” issues must from hereon be run past the Acting CEO for copy approval. New edict.’
‘My god.’ Eliza remembered seeing an email in her inbox, subject heading Copy approval, but she hadn’t got round to opening it.
Terri was right, she needed to up her game. And to stop being . . . distracted.
‘Look,’ said Terri. ‘You’ll be getting a notice about a board meeting any time now. You have to be ready when Harry makes his move.’
‘Right.’
‘Do your homework. Now go and nurse your hangover, and for fuck’s sake don’t have any more of them until we’ve got this sorted.’
The board meeting was arranged for the week before Eliza’s return to Oxford. She was making a huge effort to focus on her work, to let nothing – and no one – divert her.
Rob carried on as if the kiss hadn’t happened, which was fine, as far as Eliza was concerned. Rob didn’t do awkward; he kept up the banter, made the odd suggestive comment – it was business as usual. She attempted to wipe the kiss from her memory, telling herself it had been nothing but a moment of drunken foolery.
Part of her remained unconvinced.
On the morning of the board meeting Eliza put on the clothes she’d carefully picked out the night before. She was going the full executive: grey suit, white silk blouse, black kitten heels; hair wrangled into a restraining up-do.
She’d spent the previous weekend in Richmond. Harry and Clare seemed happy to be back, but Eliza sensed her father itching to return to Rose. She wondered what they were going to do about that.
They discussed the Maria situation as they took a walk in Richmond Park, scuffing the first of the autumn leaves. Harry was still tanned, and his cheeks were rosy in the fresh air.
‘It should be an easy win,’ he said. ‘If Maria refuses to change direction, the board will vote on her mission statement proposal. She won’t have the numbers to carry it through. She’ll either have to resign, or agree to follow the direction the board wants her to take. Assuming she stays, we’ll give her time to bring things back on track, and if that doesn’t happen – and I’d imagine it won’t – well, that’s when we vote her out and you in, Lizzie.’
He made it sound so simple.
‘Hi, everyone,’ said Eliza, sitting down beside Harry at the boardroom table.
John Studley, Chess, Harry and Pippa were already there.
Agendas were laid out, along with pads of paper and plastic bottles of water. Eliza made a mental note to speak to Pippa about replacing those with glass jugs. Sheesh, what was happening to Rose’s green ethics?
She looked at the agenda. The two main items were ‘Mission statement’ and ‘CEO appointment’.
The door opened, and Eliza shivered. Him.
Seymour and Rich Morrissey walked in, all swagger, expensive suits and wide grins, greeting everyone effusively. Eliza avoided the eye of her step-uncle Seymour, as Harry reached across to shake hands. He had no idea, of course, that Seymour was a perv.
Maria came in, grim-faced. She took the seat at the head of the table, and dropped a folder of papers loudly in front of her. ‘If we’re all ready?’
They murmured that they were.
‘We’re here at my father’s request. He’s briefed me on the reasons.’
She paused, and looked at each of them in turn before continuing.
Death stare.
‘Apologies have been received from Helena Lisle and Margot James.’
‘Noted,’ said Pippa.
‘As you’ll be aware,’ Maria continued, ‘my recent focus has been on consolidating Rose’s core values. The trouble, as I see it, is that there’s no single underlying goal or purpose to our activities. It’s a loose collection of offerings, with no cohesion, no mission. Take the Green Rose brand, for instance. It’s way off topic, too far from Rose’s roots.’
‘Nice pun,’ said Harry.
Maria ignored him. ‘Or The Rack. It’s become little more than a mirror for the liberal left, reflecting back its own values, full of questionable themes and featuring people on the fringes of society at the expense of the moral majority.’
‘You mean like the LBGTQplus community?’ said Eliza.
‘I do not deal in trendy acronyms, Eliza,’ said Maria. ‘And please don’t interrupt.’
Harry sat back in his chair and rubbed the side of his face.
John was looking unconcerned, and Chess was staring fixedly at the table. Eliza didn’t look at Eddie’s uncles.
‘I have drafted a new mission statement to reflect Rose’s core values, but this needs a majority vote from the board before we can draw up a strategic plan.’
‘Maria, you’re not going to get it,’ interrupted Harry. ‘You’re Acting CEO, and one of a team. You’re the only person interested in going down this road, so pull your head in, do what’s required of you until Eliza comes back full time, and then – only then – should you start making any strategic changes.’
Maria looked at him steadily. ‘In fact, Father, I’m not the only one who considers Rose should spearhead Britain’s return to more family-orientated values.’
‘So let’s just vote on it,’ said Harry, exasperated. ‘A
ll those against a new mission statement along Maria’s lines, raise your hands.’
Maria looked as if she was about to insist on conducting the vote herself, then pursed her lips and said nothing.
John, Chess, Harry, Eliza, Rich and Seymour raised their hands.
‘And I have Helena’s proxy vote here,’ said Chess, indicating a document in front of her, ‘which is against redrafting.’
‘Now all those in favour of redrafting the mission statement,’ said Harry.
‘Wait,’ said Maria. She slid a bunch of papers out from her folder. ‘I have here Margot James’s proxy vote. This counts for around twenty-five per cent of the company shares. Together with mine, that makes nearly thirty-two per cent—’
‘As compared to nearly fifty per cent held by myself, Eliza, Eddie, and Megan’s girls,’ said Harry. ‘Maria, did you not pay attention in maths?’
A laugh escaped Eliza, but everyone else looked horribly embarrassed.
‘If you’d excuse me one moment, Father?’ Maria left the room.
No one said a word.
‘What the hell is she up to?’ muttered Harry to Eliza. ‘No idea.
But I have a bad feeling.’
And all at once, Eliza worked it out. ‘Oh my god. Phil Seville.’
As she said his name, the door opened again and Maria ushered the American billionaire into the room.
‘Everyone, I’d like you to meet Philip Seville, head of Hapsburg Inc. Hapsburg has bought the majority of the publicly owned Rose shares, equating to twenty per cent of the company, and therefore is entitled to a say in the direction we take. Philip and I will lay out this direction in a new mission statement.’
Phil bestowed a dazzling smile on each of the stunned faces around the table.
‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, folks,’ he said, taking the seat next to Seymour. ‘Especially yours, Harry – we’ve met before, but not properly. I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting your lovely daughter.’ His eyes lit on Eliza, and stayed there a while before turning to Maria. ‘And Maria and I have been working towards a sea-change mission statement that I know Britain needs very much right now. As does the world, but one step at a time, eh, Father?’ He looked up at the ceiling.
Maria giggled. Giggled.
Eliza could feel the heat coming off Harry. It was like sitting next to a time bomb counting down its final seconds. He was furious; he was going to go off like he’d never gone off before. A US evangelist with a right-wing agenda had stolen a chunk of the company from under his nose. Phil, Maria, and horrible, humourless Aunt Margot had joined to form Harry’s trio from hell.
Eliza had let her father down. She’d been asked to keep an eye on Maria. Both Harry and Terri had wanted her to work up here, on Maria’s floor. But no, she’d selfishly wanted to work on The Rack. All she’d done was to recruit a spy who, it turned out, hadn’t been aware of what Maria and Phil were up to. And, she finally admitted to herself, she’d let herself be distracted by that boy across the office; the memory of his kiss, the look in his eyes.
And now Maria was going to pull apart the forward-looking company Harry had built up over his lifetime – his legacy – and replace it with a means to a political, religious end.
‘Gentlemen . . . and ladies,’ said Phil, making it clear that was the natural order of things. ‘I’ll be based in London while I work with Maria moving forward, and we’ll be consulting you throughout, of course. I don’t intend launching Christian channels here in the UK, at least not immediately. What works in the US wouldn’t necessarily be effective here. Instead we’ll work with what we already have, bringing it in line with a more morally focused mission statement. That statement will be with you all by the end of next week.
‘Perhaps, Pippa,’ he continued, ‘we should wrap this up? Accepting, of course, in light of the recent vote, that Maria will now be CEO.’
Eliza was still waiting for Harry to explode, or to come in with one of his cutting comments that would let everyone know he was still in charge.
But he didn’t.
Now Eliza felt sick. They’d forced Harry to retire because of mistakes he’d made in his personal life – mistakes Eliza was beginning to understand, as she grew up and made her own. If they hadn’t done so, then Maria would still be in HR, and Eliza would be at Oxford, unconcerned as to what was happening at Rose. Harry would still be at the helm of one of Britain’s best-loved companies, sailing it into innovative new waters.
What had they done?
Chapter 12
Eliza
Eliza was head down, focused on her work. She loved being part of The Rack’s team, but since the board meeting had been feeling detached; that she should instead be working towards putting things right.
But how?
Her desk phone buzzed. ‘There’s a package for you in reception, Eliza,’ said Terri’s PA. ‘Needs signing for.’
‘Fuck’s sake.’
She seemed to be picking up Terri’s bad habits. Or maybe she was passive-aggressively resisting Maria’s family values, soon to be enshrined in a new mission statement.
‘Do you want the courier to bring it up?’
‘Good plan,’ said Eliza. ‘Sorry for the swear – I’m rushing to meet a deadline.’
‘Off-brand language,’ called Rob from the next desk. ‘Mind I don’t report you to our Dear Leader.’
‘Chairman Maoria?’ said Eliza.
‘Big Sister is watching you.’
And Little Sister was watching Rob, far too often, in spite of herself.
Eliza turned back to her computer. Too many distractions. When she wasn’t brooding on the Maria situation, she was trying hard – and usually failing – to ignore the ever-evolving Mr Studley. Today he wore some sort of shoelace necklace thing over his snowy white T-shirt, and her gaze kept drifting to his arms, which were quite tanned after all this sunshine.
He was the very definition of a hot desk.
Stop it, Eliza.
Hot-desking was such a stupid thing. Whoever came up with such an idea? Eliza wished she had her own space, one she could configure so as to avoid those twinkly brown eyes; one where the neighbouring desks were occupied by people she could happily ignore.
‘Eliza Rose. Where thou art, there is the world itself.’
Eliza gasped and swung round in her chair. ‘Will!’
And Kit.
‘Sign here, please,’ said Will, plonking a large brown envelope on her desk.
Eliza leaped up and threw her arms round him. ‘Why didn’t you call! Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you!’
Her eyes met Kit’s.
He smiled his lazy smile. His hair was sun-bleached almost white, and his amber eyes seemed to take up twice as much of his face as before.
‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he said.
As he hugged her, she felt the angst of the past week draining away, as if it had all suddenly ceased to matter. She buried her head in his shoulder and closed her eyes, breathing him in. His hair tickled her nose; he smelled smoky.
‘Miss me?’ he said.
‘So much!’
She squeezed him tighter; she could feel his bones.
‘You’re even thinner,’ she said. ‘Have you not been eating again?’
‘You can feed me up.’
She pulled back a little and smiled at him.
‘Ahem,’ said Will. ‘Eliza, darling, if you could put Kit down for one moment? We bring you the result of our summer labours. This one’s for you, not the Dramatic Society. Do with it what you will.’
Eliza let go of Kit and picked up the envelope. As she did, she noticed Rob watching them, his eyes flicking between her and Kit.
‘A script?’ She slid a sheaf of A4 out of the envelope.
Most Human of Saints, read the title page.
‘Thomas More?’ she said, turning over the first few sheets.
‘Save it for later,’ said Kit.
‘I will. Gosh, I can’t wait to read
it!’
‘I like your big pink rose,’ said Will. He looked out of the window. ‘And you’re practically next door to the Globe.’
‘Oh, you’re going to love it here,’ said Eliza. ‘Hey, let me give you the tour, and we can grab something in the cafe. Food, Kit.’
As she closed her computer window, Rob caught her eye, raising his eyebrows.
‘This is Rob,’ she said, as they passed his desk. ‘One of our editors, and . . . an old friend. Rob, meet Will and Kit, from uni. They’re writers. Exceptionally good ones.’
Rob shook their hands. ‘What sort of thing do you write?’
‘He writes dark,’ said Will, looking at Kit. ‘Very dark. I attempt to lighten him up. I usually fail.’
‘Is this new one dark?’ said Eliza.
‘It explores a troubled soul,’ said Kit.
‘Your own, one might surmise,’ said Will.
‘Fuck off,’ said Kit.
‘No swearing, Kit. Sister’s house rules,’ said Eliza.
‘Welcome to the house of fun,’ said Rob.
‘Why thank you,’ said Kit, and he gave Rob an outrageously sexy smile.
Rob’s eyes widened.
‘Thomas More’s troubled soul?’ said Eliza. Really, Kit was a disgrace.
‘And Henry the Eighth’s,’ he said. ‘Thomas More’s soul wasn’t for sale. Couldn’t say the same for Henry’s.’
‘I’m loving this already,’ said Eliza.
She glanced over to Terri’s office as they headed for the lift, but it was empty.
‘Rob’s cute,’ said Kit.
‘He’s spoken for, sorry,’ said Eliza. ‘And straight.’
‘Is he yours?’ said Will.
‘No! But we’ve been friends since childhood. Have you seen Leigh, Will?’
‘She came up to Stratford for a few days. I took her to see King Lear, but she doesn’t really get Shakespeare. And she really pissed off my parents with her smoking.’
‘Oh dear.’
After a bite to eat in the cafe, Eliza showed the pair Rose’s TV studios, where a small number of programmes were produced. ‘It’s mainly news, sport, and breakfast TV. It’s bland central at the moment. Even blander now Maria’s in charge. When I’m full time, if things go to plan, we’ll keep the news, take a good look at the daytime stuff; the football’s—’
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