by Anne Mather
Olivia blinked. ‘So why haven’t you?’
‘Do you have to ask?’
Olivia tried to think. ‘Francis—I don’t think—’
‘Please,’ he interrupted her, ‘don’t say anything now. I know it’s too soon—I realise you have other things on your mind. But I wanted you to know you weren’t alone in this.’
‘Oh, Francis!’ Olivia’s fingers touched his sleeve half tentatively. ‘It’s so good to know there’s at least one person I can trust. I’m so—confused!’
He put his hand over her fingers, pressing them against his arm for a moment. Then, gently, he guided her back to the desk. ‘Tell me about Gantry,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you know about him. I think before you give him any authority, we should find out what he’s been doing for the past fifteen years.’
‘Well—’ Olivia hesitated, ‘I know he’s spent some time in Tsaba, but that’s all really. He’s involved in a mining company, with another man—his partner. Unfortunately, his partner’s dead now. That’s probably why he was coming back to England.’
‘I understood Cosgrove had sent for him.’
‘Oh, yes. I think Adam did inform him of his father’s death. But, according to Alex, he was intending to return.’
‘I see,’ Francis nodded. ‘And has he any plans? I mean, does he talk to you about what he intends to do?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘I don’t think he’d tell me anything,’ she replied flatly. ‘He doesn’t even like me.’
Francis frowned. ‘That wasn’t exactly my impression.’
To her annoyance, Olivia felt the hot colour flooding her cheeks. ‘You were meant to think that. Good heavens, Francis, you don’t honestly believe I would have anything to do with Alex Gantry!’
‘I hope not.’
Olivia gasped. ‘I assure you, I have nothing but contempt for the way he behaved. Since then I’ve hardly set eyes on him. As you know, I’ve been—unwell. I had a cold and I’ve been confined to my room. I haven’t spoken with him since that morning.’
Francis acknowledged this with a reassuring gesture. ‘I believe you, Mrs Gantry.’ He considered for a moment, and then went on: ‘Now—there’s a board meeting next Tuesday. You won’t be expected to attend, but I suggest I go along as your representative, and try to get us some kind of breathing space over the appointment. What do you say?’
Olivia moistened her lips. ‘Could you do that?’
‘I can try. I can explain that it would be too much of a strain, coming so soon after H.R.’s death, that you’ve been ill, and that you’re not really up to it yet. They’re sure to be sympathetic. Why not? So far as they’re concerned, it’s only a formality anyway. They’ll be sure to think that you’ll listen to their advice when the time comes.’
Olivia nodded. ‘That sounds good.’
‘Right,’ Francis smiled. ‘And now, shall we have some coffee? Or will you let me take you to lunch?’
‘Some coffee would be fine,’ Olivia agreed quietly, and while Francis went to instruct his secretary, she checked the knot of hair on top of her head with a nervous hand, to ensure that it was still in place.
It was very quiet in the office. This floor was sited sufficiently far from the ground to ensure that only the faintest hum of traffic noise penetrated the double-glazed windows, and she could even hear the clock ticking on the cabinet nearby. It was a huge building, she mused, reflecting how many people relied on the Gantry corporation for their livelihood. She hoped that she would not be responsible for throwing any of these people out of work. That had never been her intention, even though many of her father’s loyal employees had lost their jobs in the melting pot of Henry’s ambition. All she had wanted was to remove this living memorial to that ambition, and if that was impossible, to give control to the one man Henry had used her to disinherit.
Francis came back, but he was not alone: Sean Barrett was with him, and with them was Alex Gantry.
Sean Barrett was a man in his late fifties, who had worked for the corporation, in one form or another, for the past forty years. He was a big man, broad and running to fat now, with a huge belly protruding over his waistband. Olivia hardly knew him, but she knew Henry had thought highly of him, and in the cavalier world of boardroom politics, he could usually be relied on to support his chairman.
‘Olivia,’ he greeted her now, taking her hand and subjecting it to an emphatic squeeze. ‘May I say you’re a sight for sore eyes on this dull morning! What a pleasure it is to see such beauty in these drab surroundings!’
Olivia was forced to smile, but her eyes had moved automatically to the man behind Sean Barrett. Alex Gantry looked assured and irritatingly sophisticated in a sleek fitting three-piece charcoal business suit, and as different from the uncouth barbarian who had first invaded the library as it was possible to be. His mocking face derided her disconcertment, and she looked at Francis helplessly, desperate for an explanation.
‘Your—stepson—’ Francis evidently had difficulty in voicing this acknowledgement ‘—has been renewing his acquaintance with some of his old friends at Gantry House,’ he told her stiffly, as one of the girls from the typing pool followed them into the room with a tray of coffee.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Sean Barrett stepped back to put a casual arm across Alex’s shoulders. ‘We’ve all known Alex since he was a little nipper, always getting into one scrape or another. I must admit, he’s improved with age. I hardly recognised him.’
‘Fifteen years is a long time, Sean,’ Alex remarked drily, leaving the older man to approach Olivia’s chair. Ignoring her withdrawn expression, he squatted down beside her, taking one of her slim hands from her lap and holding on to it deliberately. ‘I’m pleased to see you’re feeling so much better,’ he murmured, his dark eyes alight with devilry at her indignation. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’
I bet you have, thought Olivia angrily, dragging her hand from his grasp and wishing she had the nerve to tell him so out loud. But instead she made some polite rejoinder, and Alex rose lithely to his feet to prop his hips against the desk only inches away from her. He was so close that when she crossed her legs, the tip of her shoe brushed the taut cloth of his trousers, and she removed her leg immediately, pressing her knees tightly together, in an unconscious attitude of rejection. A fleeting trace of humour crossed Alex’s face at this revealing gesture, and she realised aggravatedly that he found her reactions laughable.
Whether Francis had been aware of this silent exchange, she could not be sure. It had all taken place in the space of a few seconds, and although Alex’s present position beside her chair was infuriating, surely Francis could see that she did not like it. Heavens, she thought impatiently, when reason reasserted itself, she was actually beginning to feel guilty, about something over which she had no control.
Happily, Sean Barrett saw nothing amiss in Alex’s apparent concern for his stepmother. ‘I must say you surprise me, coming into the office like this, Olivia,’ he said. ‘Alex has just been telling me, you’ve not been well since the funeral.’
Olivia did not look up into Alex’s dark face before replying: ‘It was just a chill Mr Barrett. A severe cold, nothing more. I expect I was a little run down. This has been quite a strain.’
‘Of course, it must have been.’ Sean was all solicitude. ‘But I’m pleased that you’re feeling so much better. Can we look forward to your company at the board meeting on Tuesday? I expect Francis has put you in the picture. There are one or two matters which need your approval.’
Olivia looked despairingly at Francis, praying for his intervention, but to her surprise it was Alex who took up her cause. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit premature, Sean?’ he suggested, much to her astonishment. ‘Liv’s scarcely had time to consider her position. I mean, in her place I’d insist on a report, detailing all the different aspects of the company’s operations, and an extraordinary audit of the books.’
Sean’s short laugh was hardly one of amusement
. ‘But that is absolutely unnecessary, Alex. I mean, why should Olivia want this information? Of what use would it be to her? It’s obvious that she could never consider taking over Henry’s position. He wouldn’t have expected it. He wouldn’t have wanted it. Wouldn’t it be simpler if we left the economics of the corporation to someone who can understand them, who could periodically provide Olivia with an ongoing report, should she feel such a thing was in her best interests?’
‘You’re not afraid of opening the books, are you, Sean?’ Alex enquired, in the same pleasant tone, and the older man snorted.
‘Of course not. And you should know better than to ask such a thing.’
‘I think I can provide Mrs Gantry with all the information she needs,’ Francis interposed smoothly at this point. ‘Don’t you agree, Mrs Gantry? We have discussed this matter at some length.’
His eyes met Olivia’s, delivering an unmistakable message, but for once Olivia chose to ignore his advice. She realised Alex had his own reasons for delaying her eventual meeting with the board, but the idea of a report was appealing. Such a report was bound to take some time to prepare, thus alleviating the necessity for her to lie about her health. Pretending to be ill could be so restricting, and this way she might even learn something.
‘I think—I think Alex has a point,’ she ventured, earning a frown from two quarters. ‘I didn’t take much interest in the business when Henry was alive, but I’m prepared to make the effort. Surely you don’t object, Mr Barrett. I would appreciate your co-operation.’
Sean Barrett moved his heavy shoulders in a somewhat defeated gesture. ‘Naturally, you have my co-operation in all things, Olivia,’ he declared shortly. ‘But such a report may take several weeks to collate.’
‘That’s all right.’ Olivia breathed more freely. ‘I’ve got plenty of time.’
‘Very well.’ The big man turned towards the door. ‘Coming, Alex? As you appear to have achieved your objective in coming here, I think you owe me the price of a drink, don’t you?’
‘My pleasure,’ remarked Alex lazily, pushing himself up from the desk. ‘I’ll see you later, Liv. I’ve got something I want to discuss with you.’
Olivia looked up politely, but she avoided his eyes, and only after the door had closed behind them did she permit herself to look at Francis.
‘Well…’ she said defiantly, as he spread his hands before her, ‘at least it’s given us a breathing spell.’
Francis shook his head. ‘I don’t trust Gantry. He’s got something up his sleeve. I’d have preferred to deal with this matter our own way.’
‘But, Francis—’ Olivia sighed, ‘what can Alex do to me, if I’m already prepared to appoint him as chairman?’
Francis sat down at his desk, pulling the neglected coffee tray towards him and carefully pouring two cups. ‘Who knows what Alex Gantry may do?’ he exclaimed, pushing one of the cups and the cream and sugar towards her. ‘You saw how Sean reacted when Alex made his proposition. How do you propose to sell him to the rest of the board when his own uncle practically disowned him?’
‘His uncle?’ Olivia stared at him. ‘Sean Barrett is Alex’s uncle?’
‘Sean’s sister was H.R.’s first wife,’ Francis explained patiently. ‘Didn’t H.R. tell you?’
‘No.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘We didn’t discuss his family.’
‘Well, it’s true. Elise Barrett married Henry Gantry in 1949. Alex was born a year later.’
Olivia absorbed this information with some astonishment. In Sean’s position, she doubted she would have been so courteous to his brother-in-law’s second wife. But diplomacy in business never ceased to amaze her, and this was just another example of the power Henry had wielded.
‘Anyway,’ Francis continued, drinking his coffee in gulps, ‘I’d think very carefully before making a decision about this. I mean, do you have any idea how long it could take?’
‘Does it matter?’ Olivia realised his antipathy towards Alex Gantry more than equalled hers, and she quickly tried to reassure him. ‘Whatever happens, I shan’t forget your kindness, Francis. And you won’t suffer by it, I’ll see to that.’
She left the offices some twenty minutes later, going down in one of the high-speed lifts with some of the girls from the typing pool. They were evidently on their way to the staff canteen for lunch, and she was astonished to hear Alex Gantry’s name entering their whispered conversation. Obviously they didn’t know who she was, which was hardly surprising considering she had only visited the offices twice during the six months of her marriage, and they were consequently less cautious than they might otherwise have been.
‘Did you see him?’ one of the girls asked in a low tone. She was a pretty brunette, Olivia observed out of the corner of her eye, and the two girls with her were blondes. ‘Honestly, he’s nothing like his father.’
‘No one, but no one, would want to be like Mr Gantry!’ giggled one of the blondes. ‘I heard he’d only come back because his father was dead!’
‘Sssh!’
There was a whispered warning, and for a few moments Olivia could not hear what they were saying. But presently a word here and there came to her ears, and she detected the unmistakable drift of their speculations.
‘I mean… younger than he is… how would you feel?… what do you think?’
Olivia’s face was burning when she emerged from the lifts, and she was relieved the girls were going down to the basement restaurant when the commissionaire opened the door for her, and wished her good day. It would have been too humiliating to have them realise she might have overheard their chatter, and it was chastening, too, to imagine the depths to which such gossip could sink.
‘Taxi, lady?’
The attractive male tones were unmistakable, and Olivia emerged from her reverie to find Alex blocking her path, a lazy smile adding to his disturbing attraction.
‘No, thank you,’ she refused at once, looking purposefully for the Rolls with Forsyth at the wheel. Francis would have telephoned the garage the minute she left his office, and by the time she got down to the ground floor her car should have been waiting.
‘Well, that’s a shame,’ Alex remarked now, falling into step beside her as she crossed the paved forecourt of the building, and descended the steps to the street. ‘I told Forsyth he wouldn’t be needed and that I’d be driving you home.’
‘You did what!’ Olivia stopped then, and looked at him, but Alex was unrepentant beneath her indignant gaze.
‘I sent Forsyth home,’ he explained again, pushing his hands into the pockets of the leather coat he was wearing over his suit—a new one, obviously, thought Olivia in passing, since Henry had never possessed such an article—and permitting a rueful grimace. ‘I thought we might have lunch together, before I show you the car I bought.’
‘You must be out of your mind!’ Olivia was incensed and frustrated, thinking of Forsyth driving home alone, believing she would welcome a lift from her stepson! ‘Alex, I don’t think this is very funny. It’s too cold to play games of this sort.’
‘I agree. And it’s no game.’ His eyes probed hers. ‘So, have lunch with me, and I promise I’ll drive you home straight after. Can’t we at least pretend we have something in common?’
‘I have nothing in common with you!’ retorted Olivia hotly.
‘Don’t you?’ Alex’s eyes dropped insinuatingly to her mouth. ‘Come on, Liv, don’t fight me. You may not like the weapons I use in retaliation.’
Olivia’s breathing had quickened in spite of herself. ‘You wouldn’t—’
‘Wouldn’t what? Kiss you, in full view of Barnes, our talkative commissionaire, and half a dozen gawping office girls? Don’t tempt me, Liv. You might enjoy it.’
Olivia drew an unsteady breath. ‘I hate you, Alex Gantry!’
‘Well, that’s a healthy emotion, at least. Now, let’s take a cab to Mariani’s, and you can tell me why you looked so red in the face when you came out of the building.’
; Olivia stared at him in helpless confusion, but his words had alerted her to the fact that their conversation was no doubt being observed, and a swift glance over her shoulder confirmed this assumption.
‘Call a cab,’ she said, clenching her teeth, and with an infuriating smile he lifted his hand.
Immediately a cab pulled along beside them, and judging by its pace, Olivia guessed Alex had had it waiting all along. With a courteous gesture he opened the door for her, and she climbed into the back, shifting as far along the seat as it was possible to go. Alex gave his instructions to the driver before joining her, but when he did stretch his length beside her, he made no attempt to fill the space between them. On the contrary, he seemed quite content to view the traffic through half-closed eyes, the brooding lines around his mouth indicative of his meditation.
Mariani’s was a restaurant in Piccadilly. Although Olivia had passed it on numerous occasions, she had never ventured within its distinguished portals. It was not a restaurant Henry had favoured; her husband had preferred the more recognised elegance of the Ritz only a few yards away. And she was surprised that Alex knew of such a place, which had not been open for more than seven or eight years.
But it appeared he was not unfamiliar with the staff there, and while Olivia was checking her coat in the silver and gilt surroundings of the cloakroom, Alex arranged for them to be shown to a corner table.
‘Comfortable, isn’t it?’ he remarked, as he took his seat on the banquette beside her. ‘Mariani is an old friend. I generally try to come here at least once when I’m in London.’
Olivia stared at him with frosty eyes. ‘I thought you said you’d lived in Tsaba for the past eight years. This place hasn’t been open that long.’
‘I wasn’t a prisoner,’ Alex replied mildly. ‘And I don’t recall denying coming back to England from time to time.’
Olivia gasped. ‘And you never visited your father!’
Alex sighed. ‘Look—let’s leave that side of it, shall we? I didn’t bring you here to start an argument over my relationship with your husband. I wanted to talk to you. Away from the cloying atmosphere of his house. Now, let me buy you a drink. What do you like? Martini, sherry, what?’
