Again and again, Eliza replayed the conversation they’d had by the Thames, about his near-death experience. Was Harry’s soul out there, outside his body, watching those mysterious shadows discussing his fate once again? Deciding whether he should live or die?
A week later, Harry was still asleep. But now they were calling it a coma. Every day, Clare, Eddie and Eliza visited, sitting with him, talking to him. Still the doctors could find no explanation for his condition.
Rose’s PR department put out a short statement saying Harry was still in hospital with complications following heart surgery, but that the prognosis was good.
Rob FaceTimed every day. He was kind, supportive, wishing he could be there. Neither he nor Eliza mentioned Letitia. Eliza ached to feel his arms around her, in spite of her hurt and confusion.
She went back to St Katharine Docks and picked up her office routine, visiting Harry after work.
Eliza brooded on his last wish as she walked across London Bridge. Ahead, The Shard glinted in the morning sun. Its presence felt sinister today – it reminded her of the Tower of Sauron in The Lord of the Rings, and she had a passing fancy it was pointing skywards, guarding the entrance to Heaven, refusing Harry permission to enter. You shall not pass.
Instead of going to her own office, she headed to Terri’s.
‘Hello, love. No change?’
‘No. You know what? I thought modern medicine had all the answers. But the doctors have no clue what’s going on.’
‘Gotta admit, I’ve been googling comas. There seem to be an awful lot of unknowns.’
‘Terri. I know this sounds a bit out there, but I have this feeling that if we could tell Harry we’d nabbed Andre, it might help him out.’
‘You’ve been reading far too many film scripts.’
‘I knew you’d say that. But I need to do something to try and help him. Can we at least see what Charles has got? Surely he’ll let us move forward now Dad’s . . . in limbo. Kind of.’
‘Fair enough, if it’ll help you. Eliza – where the fuck’s Rob? Why is he not here?’
The question threw her. ‘What could he do?’
‘He could get his pretty arse back here and support you, that’s what.’
‘I have Clare and Eddie. And you, and Kit.’
Kit. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the thunderstorm.
‘Hm,’ said Terri. ‘OK, I’ll talk to Charles and let you know.’
Back in her office, Eliza got to work on her emails. There was one from Mac.
Hi Eliza
I was so sorry to hear about Harry. I hope by the time you read this he’s awake and making everyone laugh as per.
I wondered if you might be free for an hour sometime this week. Hamish and I have a proposal we’d like to run past you. Very early days but would be good to get you on board from the get-go. Let me know when you’re free.
Kind regards
Mac
What was Mac up to now? A proposal? A remake of Braveheart?
Hi Mac
Back at my desk. No change re Dad. Come up midday if you’re free.
E
Mac appeared at twelve. After discussing Harry’s progress, Eliza said, ‘So what’s all this about a proposal? Oh, speaking of proposals, when’s the big day?’
‘In three weeks.’
‘Three weeks! Has he a horse kidnap-ready?’
Mac laughed. ‘A brand-new Lamborghini. It’ll have to do. Remember I mentioned his Scottish castles?’
‘Just the two.’
‘One of them is close to Loch Lomond, within easy reach of Glasgow Airport. It’s in need of renovation, but it’s got fantastic potential as a hotel and casino.’
‘What? A casino? At Loch Lomond?’
‘All Scotland’s casinos are in the cities. Big-bucks visitors – Americans in particular – love the whole Scottish-castle experience. Hamish had this brainwave that we could combine the two. It’s a brilliant idea; it’ll make us a fortune.’
‘Us? You mean him and you?’
‘Why not Rose? Casinos – it’s easy money. Hamish has all the right contacts. Local council, government, banks.’
Mafia?
‘It’s a no-brainer,’ Mac continued. ‘But it needs investment. That’s where I thought Rose could come in.’
Are you mad?
‘I’m sorry, Mac. It’s out of the question. A casino would be way off brand. Gambling? I mean – really?’
Mac looked her in the eye. ‘A business shouldn’t be run according to personal prejudices, Eliza. This is a sensible proposal. The return on investment would be solid. Let me email you the figures Hamish has drawn up. And Rose wouldn’t be bearing all the risk. There are other interested investors.’
‘Who? A bunch of Trump clones? Just the type of people we want to be dealing with.’
‘Not Americans. Europeans.’
Eliza sat back in her chair. ‘Mac, come on. This is all about Hamish, not you. He’s using you. Tell him to go find his own investors.’
Mac pursed her lips. ‘Like I say, he does already have interested parties. But he needs more to launch a high-end product that will really appeal to the big-bucks tourists. That’s why local government’s on board. It helps, of course, that Hamish knows all the right people.’
‘So I hear. Dad told me about his interesting contacts. Who are these co-investors?’
‘There’s a Swedish consortium, and some Russian involvement.’
‘Russian?’ Eliza’s spine prickled.
‘I believe he’s known to you. I heard you mention his name on the phone the other day. Sokolov, the football team owner.’
Eliza went cold. Her cousin was suggesting she did business with her mother’s killer. She hardly trusted herself to speak.
‘This stops now. Dad had dealings with him, years ago. He’s a crook. I’m going to forget you mentioned his name, and I don’t want to hear it again.’
Mac went to respond, but Eliza interrupted. ‘Look, Mac. I know you a little better now. Can I suggest again that this is all coming from Hamish? You seemed very happy in your new role at RoseGold. Why this sudden interest in . . . for god’s sake, a casino?’
Mac sat up straighter. ‘Eliza, your high-handedness as CEO can be quite insulting. I own a large proportion of this company and therefore expect to be taken seriously. Yes, of course it was Hamish’s idea, but it’s a sound investment. I’m sure Rose’s finance people will agree.’
‘Cecil? Agree to Rose entering the gambling scene? I think not. Mac, just stop this now. We won’t be going there. And one last thing, before you leave. Avoid Sokolov like the plague. He’s dangerous. I realize this is something that doesn’t actually put you off men, but in this case you need to listen to me. And, anyway, I can assure you that his days as a corrupt, despicable . . . ’
God, what am I saying?
‘Just go, Mac. It’s not a good time for me to be discussing future projects. In fact, it’s not a good time for me, full stop.’
‘I hear you. I’ll put it on the back-burner, out of respect. When you’re in a more positive frame of mind, we’ll revisit.’
Chapter 46
Eliza
By four o’clock, Eliza had cleared her admin, briefed Cecil on her conversation with Mac, and was on her way to hospital.
ELIZA: Shit day. Help
KIT: Shall I come over?
ELIZA: Would you? Will be home by 8
She talked to Harry, grumbling about how stupid Mac was letting herself be manipulated by stupid Hamish, and how stupid Rob was still in stupid LA and had probably cheated on her with a stupid blonde.
Harry didn’t respond, but Eliza felt a little better. ‘And we’re moving on Andre. He’s in league with Hamish, would you believe? Yes, you probably would. We’ll get him, Dad. Not sure how, but Charles is sorting the paper trail.’
Having given him her daily update, she took his hand. ‘Dad. I love you. Please wake up? Come back to us? We’re hurting so
much without you. You’re our anchor, we’re all at sea.’ She stared at his beloved, empty face, kissed his forehead, cried a little, and left.
‘Look – food,’ said Kit, walking through to Eliza’s kitchen. He upended a carton of curry and one of rice onto two plates, and flicked the tops off two beers. ‘Tuck in,’ he said, putting the plates down on the table.
She felt the tension of the day easing as Kit rambled on about this and that, before getting round to Dark Soul.
‘Our man in LA seems to have sorted things.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep. Rob’s backtracked on the whole toning-things-down business. Will convinced him if they went down that route, it would end up just another bland, forgettable piece of nothing, like most of the crap out there. Told Rob if he left well alone, we’d have another blockbuster.’
‘Finally, some good news. We love Will.’
‘We do.’
‘And Letitia’s gone.’
‘Yup.’
Eliza’s smile faded. ‘Rob’s been seeing her, Kit.’ She could hardly believe her own words. ‘Chess told me. She and Gil visited him. He admitted it.’
He met her gaze; his expression was hard to read. ‘Tosser.’
‘I’ve been trying not to think about it, with Dad being in hospital. What should I do?’
‘Can I stab him now?’
Her small laugh caught in her throat. ‘How could he, Kit?’
He shrugged. ‘Depends if you think fidelity’s important. Maybe it isn’t.’
‘It is to me. Dad once said Rob’s like he used to be.’
‘What did I tell you, about girls and their dads?’
Eliza sighed. ‘I can’t deal with it right now. I’ll wait until things are back on an even keel. Let me tell you about Mac’s ridiculous proposal instead.’
She related the conversation. ‘And as for Sokolov,’ she concluded, ‘the man’s a complete crook. Dad foolishly got involved with him, years ago. He nearly went bankru—’
Kit had dropped his fork with a clatter.
Eliza looked at him – it was as if he’d seen a ghost.
‘Kit?’
‘Sokolov? As in . . . premiership football Andre Sokolov?’
‘That’s him. He’s—’
‘Fuck.’
‘What? You hate football. What do you know about him?’
‘It’s . . . Eliza, I can’t . . . holy shit.’
The intensity in his eyes was frightening. It was as if he’d just realized something, like he’d had one of his premonitions.
‘What’s going on?’
‘I need to work something out. These connections are never random.’
‘What connections? Kit, don’t go cryptic on me again. Tell me what’s worrying you.’
‘I can’t. Look, don’t do anything rash.’
‘You mean with Mac? I sent her packing. I mean – gambling? She’s totally being manipulated by Hamish.’
‘Hamish . . . this is the guy who may have killed Stu?’
‘My money would be on that, yes. I was rather hoping the police would work that one out, but it all seems to have gone quiet.’
‘And Hamish has dealings with Sokolov?’
‘It would appear so. Why does that not hugely surprise me? Dad warned me about Hamish months ago.’
‘Eliza, do nothing. Don’t interfere with Mac and Hamish. Definitely not Sokolov. Promise me?’
Eliza thought for a moment. ‘Kit, I can’t explain why, but I can’t ignore Sokolov. There’s unfinished business. I think it might help Dad if I can resolve the situation. Terri’s helping, and Uncle Charles. But we’re sworn to secrecy. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you know I’d trust you with my life.’
‘Fuck. Eliza – you’ve set something in motion here. It needs to stop. Promise me you’ll stop.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Then at least wait.’
‘Until what?’
‘You’ll know.’
‘Stop being mysterious! What do you know?’
‘I have to go.’
‘You’ve just got here!’
He made for the door.
She ran after him. ‘Kit, for god’s sake! You’re terrifying me.’
He was. Anxiety was radiating off him.
He opened the door, then turned back and hugged her. ‘Wait.’
‘I will. But why?’
‘Just be careful.’
A few days later Charles called, telling her he’d put together a file of documents that would implicate Andre in all manner of financial crimes – fraud, money laundering, tax evasion.
‘You name it, he’s done it,’ he said. ‘The dossier’s locked in the safe in the London flat. But I can’t see how this will help. It has nothing to do with Ana. And Harry will come right – no reason he shouldn’t, they said. Correct?’
‘That’s right,’ said Eliza. ‘Maybe just knowing we have enough to get Andre will help? I’ll tell him today.’
‘Whatever I can do, just say the word.’
That same morning, an email from Mac to Rose board members dropped like a bomb into Eliza’s inbox. Mac was convening a meeting in an attempt to move forward the proposed casino investment. Her tone was friendly:
I’m sorry to land this on everyone at short notice, especially while Harry isn’t able to participate, but I’m afraid this opportunity won’t wait and it’s too good for Rose to miss!
Attached was a précis of the proposal with links to supporting documents and spreadsheets. Mac had been thorough.
Eliza went through to Cecil’s office. ‘Can she do this, over my head?’
‘She’s a majority shareholder so, yes, the board should give the proposal due consideration. And she’s moving quickly to take advantage of Harry’s absence. Be objective in your response, Eliza. Take the time to construct a rational argument as to why Rose should turn this down. Financially it’s solid, so you’ll need to make a good case. Talk to Chess; I’ll sound out Eddie’s trustees.’
‘Dad?’ Eliza said at the hospital later. ‘We’ve got everything we need to get Sokolov put away for financial crimes. Even if we can’t link him to Mum’s death, we can still get him sent down. Isn’t that great news?’
Of course, there was no response. If this had been a movie, Harry’s fingers would have twitched. But nothing twitched; his eyelids didn’t flicker. Nothing.
But hadn’t all this been about avenging Ana’s death? Would convicting Andre only for financial crimes be enough for Dad? No, it wouldn’t.
Cecil’s digging ascertained that Rich and Seymour were in favour of the casino project, while John Studley, it seemed, was on the fence.
Be objective, Cecil had said. Difficult, considering the opposition’s line-up. Eliza remembered Harry’s words in Sydney: too many family members can lead to infighting. Mac, with her chippy attitude. Heinous Uncle Seymour, who was on borrowed time, and his equally arrogant brother, Rich. Easy to picture those two gambling the night away. John – Rob’s father, Chess’s father-in-law, and one of Harry’s oldest friends. He’d be on side, wouldn’t he?
She’d spoken to Chess and was confident of her backing, no matter what the Major decided.
It was going to be a close-run thing, and she was all too aware of what it represented: a bid for the Rose throne.
As Eliza contemplated her reflection in her full-length mirror, she was reminded of the last time she’d planned her look this carefully. That hot July day, when she’d come out as Rob’s partner, at Wimbledon. The too-short dress, the scarlet shoes, the bright red lips, the cascading curls.
Look at me, all grown up . . . ready to rule, ready for bed.
She’d sat between Harry and Rob, aware of the camera lenses pointed at her. The new Rose queen, men at her feet, on the brink of having it all.
Today, there would be no short skirt. No colourful shoes; no curls. To hold on to everything she’d worked so hard for, to stop it all from slipping through her fingers, she
needed to remind herself how far she’d come – to feel it. To show herself, and the board, that she was no longer that ingénue, still in her father’s thrall.
She was on her own. Harry was in limbo; Rob had let her down. There would be no more relying on men.
She fastened the buttons of her black jacket, smoothed down her skirt – knee-length – and slipped on the sensible black shoes. Her straightened hair was scraped into a bun; every errant wisp had been tamed with a vicious blast of hairspray.
Her make-up was the full Snow White. This was no time for blusher. Pale and proud.
She smiled at her mirror image. Goodness, but this look was working. She almost frightened herself.
One last thing, before she left. The lipstick would still be red. The suit – her armour – was CEO; the lips were Eliza Rose, to the max.
As she applied the lipstick, it felt symbolic. She was transformed, ready to defend her kingdom. But she was still true to herself.
Eliza stood at the boardroom window, watching the Thames mooching along below. She’d arrived early, wanting the time to mentally prepare.
As ever, watching the river centred her, calming her nerves. Since time immemorial it had been doing its thing, oblivious to the dramas and battles through which it passed, every day.
She swallowed as she glanced over at the chair Harry always sat in, at his portrait on the wall. There was a Dad-shaped hole in the room, and in her heart.
No, Eliza. You can do this. You don’t need a man to help you this time. Not even Harry.
The others filed in. She registered the fleeting surprise on Mac’s face as she took in Eliza’s battle dress. Mac wore a green blouse and matching skirt, and . . . oh dear. She’d tied a small tartan scarf around her neck. Was that meant to be ‘fun’? It looked ridiculous.
She gave Eliza a tight smile, then briskly connected her laptop to the screen. As she did, Seymour’s eyes appraised her trim body.
Isn’t she a bit old for you?
The preliminaries were kept short, and Mac began her presentation.
Sister to Sister Page 35
