Daughters of Fortune: A Novel

by Hyland, Tara

  Nuala settled the children in front of the TV—the living room still had the same floral wallpaper and brown velvet couch, Caitlin noted fondly—and then the two women went into the kitchen. While Nuala put the kettle on, Caitlin sat at the old farmhouse table she remembered from when she was a child.

  They made small talk as Nuala bustled around the kitchen.

  “So what’s this all about?” she said finally, as she poured two large mugs of tea. “It’s your mam, isn’t it?” She saw the look of surprise on Caitlin’s face and smiled shrewdly. “I guessed that was the reason for you coming here again after all these years. You’ve got questions about what happened to her, am I right?”

  “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it.” Caitlin frowned a little. “I found something—some checks—among her personal effects. It was a few months after I’d moved to England, just after she . . . after she died.” She cleared her throat. “And I wondered if you knew anything about them—and about what happened between her and my father.”

  Nuala stared at her for a long moment. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do.”

  Then she proceeded to tell Caitlin what she knew.

  Piers’s eyes were grave. “You need to make a decision,” he told his niece.

  It was Friday evening, and Elizabeth was exhausted. The strain of the past few weeks had taken its toll. Cole had called her a few times since he’d moved out, but so far she’d avoided talking to him. She’d dialed the landline number he’d left her once—out of curiosity—ready to hang up if a female voice answered. But, to her relief, it was just a politely indifferent hotel receptionist. Although Elizabeth had felt happier—at least he wasn’t living with her—she’d refused to leave a message. She was still too hurt and angry to even talk about their marriage—or to tell him about their baby.

  She’d been for her first prenatal checkup that morning—alone. She was ten weeks pregnant, and the cheerful midwife had confirmed that mother and baby were both doing well. She’d quickly glanced at Elizabeth’s left hand and then asked chirpily. “So no Daddy today, then?” Elizabeth had answered with a curt, “He’s busy.” After that, the midwife had been a little more subdued for the rest of the appointment. She’d advised Elizabeth that she would need up to ten checkups, as it was her first pregnancy. For a brief moment Elizabeth had wondered what it would be like, turning up for each of them by herself. Then she’d decided to put it out of her mind.

  She’d considered taking the rest of the day off, but, unable to face going home, she’d come back to the office and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at her desk, daydreaming about nothing in particular. Then at seven, after everyone had left, Piers had come by to ask whether she’d decided to go ahead with the buyout—as though today hadn’t been stressful enough already.

  Elizabeth stared down at the documents in front of her. She felt uncomfortable signing away her shares like this—even though she knew it was necessary if they wanted to go ahead with the acquisition. As an individual couldn’t launch a takeover, they’d had to set up a holding company, through which they would pool their shares and make the bid. The documents Piers had had drawn up provided for them to exchange their shares in Melville for a proportional stake in the holding company. This would give Elizabeth 60 percent of the voting rights and therefore overall control of the takeover vehicle.

  “Can’t we hold off for a little while longer?” she asked.

  Piers shook his head. “We risk losing the financial backer if we do,” he said regretfully. “They either want to move on this or look around for another investment opportunity.”

  Elizabeth chewed at her sore lip. That was the crux of the problem. This backer was giving them great terms. It was a private equity investor, investing anonymously through a shell company set up in Luxembourg. Usually private equity would have insisted on an equity stake in the holding company and would want to get involved in the day-to-day running of the business. But these guys were prepared to finance it all through debt and just take a healthy interest rate in exchange. There was a profit-sharing clause as well, but that meant nothing compared with the benefit of not having to give away any control.

  Elizabeth stared down at the documents in front of her, ready to be signed. Part of her felt guilty, as though she was betraying everything she’d ever held dear. Another part of her blamed her father. If he’d believed in her . . . if he hadn’t favored Caitlin . . .

  And at the back of her mind was the thought that she couldn’t lose the company, not after all of this. She had lost Cole. She needed something to show for her life.

  “Elizabeth?” Piers prompted.

  She made a decision.

  Piers watched Elizabeth scrawl her signature and felt a huge rush of relief. Finally it was going ahead. He had organized every detail perfectly. His plan was so smart and so clever that it seemed almost a shame not to be able to tell everyone about it. While the family held 60 percent of the shares, it was impossible for an external bidder to get the majority necessary to take over the company. Elizabeth had now broken that stranglehold. By manipulating her, using her jealousy and insecurities, he’d managed to get her to agree to the management buyout—which was going to facilitate Armand Bouchard’s takeover.

  Elizabeth had trusted Piers to work out the details of the contract. Because of this, she had neglected to read the small print, which stated that the financial backer—in fact, Bouchard—was allowed to convert his financial stake to equity if the takeover vehicle held more than 20 percent of Melville shares. As Bouchard now owned Piers’s shares plus another 10 percent he’d picked up in the market, he would have a controlling two-thirds stake in the holding company. Elizabeth had effectively signed away her shares and her future in the company—as well as facilitating the takeover, as she’d now broken the family’s controlling stake.

  In order to conclusively seal Melville’s fate, Piers had wanted to get hold of Amber’s shares, too. That part of the plan had taken a little longer to figure out. He’d known enough about her problems to realize that she would be an easier target than Elizabeth. But he’d needed to find a weakness, a way to get to those shares without her realizing, so he’d hired a private investigator to probe into her life. Once he’d found out about Johnny and the money he owed, he’d known that was the way in.

  “One hundred thousand dollars will be yours, if you get Amber to sign these documents.” Piers had allowed Johnny to push him up to one hundred and fifty thousand, although he’d been quite prepared to pay more. By signing, Amber would be agreeing to transfer ownership of her 2.5 percent stake in Melville to him, Piers.

  Piers had opened the back door to allow the wolf in. From there, it would be up to Bouchard to offer sufficient money to get the rest of the shareholders to sell out to him. William would never see it coming.

  Amber needed a fix. As she sat on the floor of the living room, arms wrapped round her knees, rocking back and forth, she craved that hit more than anything in her life. Where was Johnny? He had promised to take care of her.

  “If you’re nice to me, then I’ll be nice to you,” he’d said.

  Well, she’d done what he wanted—signed those damned papers. Now he should keep up his end of the bargain.

  He had been at her for the past couple of weeks about signing her shares over to him. At first, she’d told him no. Even in her state, she knew her father would be furious.

  “But you don’t understand,” he’d said, close to tears. “These people I owe money to, they’re going to put me in the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry,” she’d told him. “We’ll have to find some other way.”

  But then he’d turned nasty—started withholding her stuff. Eight hours without a fix, and she hadn’t given a shit who owned the shares. After ten hours, she’d been begging to sign them over.

  And Johnny had promised that afterward he’d get her what she craved. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d disappeared into the bedroom and hadn’t come back out. It wasn’t fair. She nee
ded her stuff now or she was going to die, she just knew it.

  She got up, stumbled over to the bedroom. She was about to go in when she heard him talking. So that’s what he was up to. He was on the phone, arranging to meet someone. It was Sheri, she was sure. Not that she cared who he was sleeping with, but if she caught him, she could tell him off—use that as a way to get him to give her something more special than usual.

  Slowly, quietly, she picked up the extension, covering the receiver with her hand so he couldn’t hear.

  But it wasn’t Sheri on the other end. Amber blinked in surprise as she heard a familiar voice. It took her a moment to place, but then she realized—it was Uncle Piers. Why on earth was he calling? Through her haze, Amber felt a flash of excitement. Had Daddy asked him to see if she was all right? There had been times over the past few months that she’d wished with all her heart that she’d gone back home to England with Elizabeth. Now, maybe she’d have a second chance.

  She was about to speak, to let him know that she was on the line, but some instinct stopped her. There was something about the conversation between her uncle and her boyfriend that didn’t quite make sense.

  “My representative is waiting at the hotel,” Piers was saying. “Once you bring the papers, and he has confirmed that they have been properly signed, I will transfer the money directly into your account.”

  Johnny coughed nervously. “And this is all legal, right?”

  “Perfectly legal,” Piers agreed. “Amber has simply signed a contract authorizing the custodian to sell her shares. No one can dispute that.”

  “Fine,” Johnny said, still sounding unsure. “Good. Just tell me again where I need to meet this bloke of yours.”

  As carefully as she could, Amber replaced the receiver.

  As soon as Johnny left, Amber called her father. When he wasn’t around, she tried Elizabeth, then Caitlin. But she got the same answer every time. They were all unavailable.

  “But it’s an emergency!” she told William’s assistant.

  The woman sounded unimpressed. “As I said, I’ll pass on your message.”

  The problem was, she’d cried wolf too many times. They were used to her calling with one crisis after another. She couldn’t rely on them to get back to her anytime soon. There was only one thing she could do. Go to London herself. She couldn’t help feeling a moment’s exhilaration—her first natural high in a while. This was finally her chance to prove herself.

  She booked herself on the next flight. First class was out of her reach, and she maxed out three other cards paying for a last-minute economy fare. While the cab waited outside, she took one last hit—she’d made Johnny show her his stash before he’d left the house. But that wouldn’t be enough. There was the flight, then once she got to London . . . She needed to take something with her.

  Amber emptied her Chanel compact, replacing the makeup with a different powder. She hesitated for a second, staring down at the solid silver case—she knew it was risky. Then the cab beeped again outside, and she made her decision. Quickly slipping the compact into her makeup case, she zipped it into her handbag. She probably wouldn’t use it, but she felt better knowing it was there.

  “Are you okay, miss?”

  Amber opened her eyes and looked up at the concerned face of the flight attendant. She was very far from all right. It was halfway through the thirteen-hour flight to London and, more pressingly, eight hours since her last fix. Withdrawal had set in. Her body was covered with cold sweat, and she was shaking uncontrollably. She looked like she was carrying every major tropical disease.

  “I’m fine,” she managed through chattering teeth. “Flu.”

  The stewardess gave her an odd look. “Would you like me to get you a blanket?” she asked.

  Amber nodded to get the woman off her back. What she needed was to land. Once she got off the plane she could find a ladies’ room and sort herself out. She shivered her way through the next six hours, getting increasingly worse. When the plane landed, they were kept waiting for twenty minutes before finally being allowed to disembark.

  Amber was the first off. As she descended the steps she saw three uniformed policeman with a large German Shepard waiting at the bottom of the stairs. There was nothing she could do except continue. She reached the last step and moved to walk by, pretending she hadn’t seen the flight attendant point her out. But a large man in a dark suit, who was standing next to the policemen, stepped forward and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “Miss, would you mind coming this way?”

  “So it’s true?” Caitlin said. She felt so disappointed. She hadn’t wanted to hear this. “William had her sacked?”

  Nuala looked at her sympathetically. “That’s what she told me. While he was away, the store manager, Miss Harper, asked your mam to leave—and she made it clear that the orders had come from his office.” She reached out and squeezed Caitlin’s hand. “But you can’t hold it against him now. It was such a long time ago.”

  “I understand that.” Caitlin was silent for a moment. There was something troubling her about the whole story. “But what I don’t understand is how he found out about me?”

  Nuala sighed. “Well, you see, your mam had no one to confide in about the baby, except me. I wanted her to tell William about you. She refused at first, but I finally bullied her into it.” The older woman paused to sigh again. “Unfortunately, the night she went to his house . . . well, she saw him with his wife. After that, she decided it would be best to leave well enough alone.” Nuala bit her lip, knowing that the next part wasn’t going to be easy for Katie’s daughter.

  “Go on,” Caitlin said steadily. “I need to hear this.”

  “It was difficult back then, for someone like your mam, on her own,” Nuala explained. “Back in Ireland, you’d be lucky not to have the baby taken away and be committed to an Asylum for Unwed Mothers. Katie knew all that, of course. She thought about having you adopted at one point, thinking it would be for the best. But she couldn’t do it, God love her,” Nuala added hastily. “I remember telling her she was crazy, but she insisted she was going to keep you.” The woman looked guiltily at Caitlin then. “It was only because I was worried about her, about how she was going to cope with no money, that I did it.”

  “Did what?” Caitlin prompted.

  Nuala took a deep breath. “I’d left Melville by then. I was married and pregnant with Róisín; we were talking about moving back here, and I wanted to help your mam. So I went into Melville the week after you were born and asked to see that woman, the store manager. Right there, in the store, I told her what was going on and demanded to see Mr. Melville . . . your father.” Nuala’s eyes glistened with regretful tears. “Of course, Mrs. Harper couldn’t stand the fuss in front of the customers, so she took me upstairs to her office and told me to wait there.”

  Caitlin shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing.

  Nuala snorted. “Well, as it turned out, he was obviously too busy to see me. It wasn’t him who came in twenty minutes later—it was old lady Melville with her younger son. William must have sent them down in his place.”

  Alarms began to sound in Caitlin’s head. “You mean, it was Piers and Rosalind you talked to? Not my father?”

  “That’s right,” Nuala confirmed. “They addressed me very formally. They’d obviously discussed the situation and decided what they were going to say so that they didn’t implicate themselves in any way. They wouldn’t admit that you were anything to do with William—and, remember, those were the days before DNA tests. But they said that,” Nuala affected an upper-class accent, “as Katie had been a valued employee, they felt for her plight, and that as a token of goodwill the company would be happy to send a check every year on your birthday.” Nuala shook her head in disgust. “A token of goodwill, indeed. Anyway, at least I’d gotten something out of the bastards, or so I thought. But your mam was a proud woman. She was furious when she found out what I’d done, of course. And she
refused to ever use that money. Every year those checks came, and every year she ignored them.”

  Caitlin’s heart was beating faster. Nuala might not have understood the significance of what she’d said, but she did. “But did it never occur to you that Mrs. Harper fetched them down to see you because they were the ones who’d told her to get rid of my mam in the first place? I mean, that would make sense, wouldn’t it? After all, she was told to go when William was away on holiday. Maybe it was them all along.”

  Nuala stared at her for a long moment. “Sweet Jesus,” she breathed. “I’d never thought of that.”

  Caitlin called William to tell him what she had found out.

  “My mother and Piers?” he repeated disbelievingly. “They knew about you?”

  “Yes,” Caitlin confirmed quietly.

  “But . . . all these years and they never said anything!” He sounded in shock. “Even last week, Piers could have confessed. I told him that you were going back to Valleymount to see Nuala, and he didn’t say a word.”

  There was silence. Caitlin didn’t know what to say—she knew how close William and Piers were. “Do you want me to fly back tonight?” she asked finally.

  “No,” William said. “No, there’s no need for that. I think I should try to find Piers and see what he has to say about this. I still . . . well, I still can’t quite believe it.”

  It was nearly midnight by the time the police allowed Amber to use a phone. She was thinking more clearly now. The on-call doctor had given her some methadone, which had calmed her down. It wasn’t the same as a hit, but it would do. She didn’t even know who to call first. She decided on Elizabeth. She dialed the number, expected to get an answering machine, and couldn’t believe it when her sister actually picked up.

  Amber quickly explained what was going on, that Piers had tried to get her shares.

  “But don’t worry,” she said proudly. “I took the papers from Johnny’s bag. I’ve got them with me.”

  There was a long pause at the end of the phone. When Elizabeth finally spoke, Amber had already guessed what she was going to say.