by Hyland, Tara
“None for me,” she said, as he went to the cupboard for glasses.
He looked disappointed—he’d obviously been hoping the alcohol might loosen them both up. “I thought we were celebrating?”
She took a deep breath. This was it. “Well, you see, I would, but . . . but I’m not drinking at the moment.”
“Oh, right.” He frowned. “I guess you need to keep a clear head with everything that’s going on.”
“Well, yes, I do,” she said, carefully. “But . . . but that’s not the reason I’m not drinking right now.”
It took him another moment to process what she’d said. Then she could see his expression change as he finally got it.
“You’re pregnant,” he said, almost a whisper.
She couldn’t tell if he was happy or not about it. He looked kind of stunned.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m pregnant.” She waited a second. Then, when he still hadn’t said anything, she added in a small voice, “Is that all right?”
She watched as his eyes moistened with tears. “All right?” he choked. “It’s only the best damn news I ever heard.”
Matthew Monroe stared down at the phone number of his local police station. He was trying to scrape up the courage to make the call. He knew it was the right thing to do, that he owed it to Irina. But he was also worried about what might happen to him. Matthew was basically a good guy. At thirty-eight, he led a stable if unexciting life. He held down a good job and owned his own home. He had a wide circle of friends, and most evenings he could be found at one of the many pubs by the river in Kingston. Every Sunday he had lunch with his mother; once a month he took her to visit his father’s grave.
But, despite the fact that he was a nice person, and solvent to boot, Matthew had never had a girlfriend. And he guessed he never would. The problem was a thyroid condition that made him clinically obese. People might claim that beauty was only skin deep and to never judge a book by its cover, but Matthew knew differently. Since he was a child, he’d been stared at in the street and called names.
Over the years, he’d learned to accept himself and had become a much happier person. But, while he had plenty of female friends, he knew that however much they liked him, he would only ever be the guy they told their man-troubles to.
He’d visited his first prostitute at the age of twenty-seven, when he’d despaired of ever finding a woman who’d want to be with him. It was an experience he’d repeated sporadically since then. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but everyone deserved some comfort.
He’d met Irina the first time he’d gone to the house in Hounslow. He’d known straightaway that she was there against her will. Her En-glish wasn’t good, but he’d gotten the gist of what had happened to her. He read the papers, all those stories about girls forced into prostitution over here.
Together, they’d planned her escape. But something had gone wrong. When he called to book an appointment with her—what would have been the final one—he was told that she had gone back to her family in Lithuania. He’d pretended to accept that, but his gut told him something wasn’t right. From what he’d understood, she was a prisoner. Why would they suddenly let her go back home?
He knew what he needed to do. He picked up the phone and dialed.
“I’d like to report a missing person.”
56
_________
The financial world had never seen anything like it.
Exactly forty-two days after Armand Bouchard launched his takeover bid, all interested parties were invited to attend Melville’s defense meeting.
“Why is it so last-minute?” everyone wanted to know.
Investors were frustrated; the financial community sceptical. The share price had stabilized around Bouchard’s offer price, which meant that the market had assumed that his bid would be successful. But still there was a buzz in the air as shareholders, journalists, and analysts gathered at Somerset House to see what Melville had to offer. The family had managed to pull off a major turnaround two years earlier. Perhaps they would surprise the world again.
Behind the scenes, Caitlin had that cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, the one she always got before a show. Once again, the whole future of Melville hinged on her pulling this off. That knowledge weighed heavily on her.
Elizabeth glanced over and smiled reassuringly, as though she could guess what was going through her sister’s head.
“Don’t worry. This is going to be brilliant.”
Caitlin managed to smile back. Deep down she knew Elizabeth was right. With her two sisters’ help, Caitlin had pulled together what she thought was going to be her best show ever. Instead of holding the meeting in a stuffy bank, they’d opted for Somerset House. It was situated on the Embankment, with views of the Thames; there was nothing that epitomized London more. A marquee had been erected in the central courtyard, where the ice rink stood in winter, with the beautiful backdrop of the neoclassical buildings.
“If nothing else, it’ll give the bankers a break from the office,” Caitlin had reasoned when suggesting the venue.
She was right. As the sober-suited analysts, investors, and financial press took their seats, the air crackled with anticipation. They were used to somber presentations—this looked like it was going to be fun. Alongside them, select members of the fashion world were also taking their places.
“Inviting them will show we’ve got confidence in the collection,” Elizabeth had pointed out.
Inside, the marquee had been decked out like a forties dance hall. There was a big band in the corner to play wartime classics; Union Jacks and gas masks hung from the ceilings. As usual, every little detail had been attended to.
Caitlin looked out into the crowd, searching for Lucien’s face, knowing that would calm her. She caught a quick glimpse of him, gave a wave, and then there was no more time to worry.
William tapped his watch. “Let’s get started.”
Caitlin made her way to the control booth. It was only six in the evening, but it was November and already dark. When the lights fell, the marquee plunged into blackness. It was the technique she’d used at her graduation show in Paris, and she’d thought it would work well here, too—adding extra drama to the occasion. A second later, an air-raid siren howled through the air. Everyone jumped in their seats; one woman screamed, then there was nervous laughter as the audience realized the blackout was part of the show. Caitlin exchanged a grin with the sound man. That was the impact they’d been aiming for.
As the wail of the siren died away, it was replaced by the sound of the band striking up, playing a medley of wartime swing classics. Amber stalked onto the catwalk, looking dramatic in a black leather trenchcoat and matching thigh-high boots, her hair slicked back from her face Gestapo-style. She had pulled through for them, not only agreeing to model but also roping in old friends to take part, too—all fellow celebrities who had fallen out of favor with the fickle media and been labeled has-beens.
“Maybe it’ll help relaunch some of their careers, too,” she’d said, when Caitlin first suggested the idea.
Amber strutted down the catwalk to rapturous applause. But that was only the start. Caitlin’s forties theme had paid off, making for another stunning collection. There were high-waisted, wide-legged trouser suits in tweed; pencil skirts worn with seamed tights; Women’s Land Army jodhpurs; and loose cotton dresses. A strong military theme was apparent, with aviator jackets, smart naval coats, and military boots. Key colors were deep plum, bottle green, rusty orange, black, and navy.
“Most of my friends aren’t models,” Amber had warned at the beginning, but that had worked to Caitlin’s advantage, as the clothes flattered more well-endowed women. Her evening dresses in particular worked best on hourglass figures, with padded shoulders, bodices, and full, gathered skirts emphasizing the slimness of the waist.
It was a strong, ladylike look, full of drama and whimsy. But, as always, it was Caitlin’s attention to detail that set her show apa
rt. She’d briefed the style team the week before.
“Forties women compensated for the limited availability of new clothes and fabrics by going all out on striking hair and makeup,” she’d told them.
The models reflected this, sporting big barrel curls and elegant chignons. Complexions were creamy, cheeks rouged; lips were slashes of crimson and scarlet, and eyebrows arched. Accessories included neat hats, leather gloves, and elegant clutch bags.
The analysts and investors went crazy with every new outfit. They might not be fashion experts, but even they could tell that what they were seeing was something very special. Dollar signs flashed before their eyes. Everyone had BlackBerries out, and the share price was already on its way up, sailing past Bouchard’s bid.
After the final applause died away, William took to the podium. He had never looked better, a true English gentleman in his Savile Row suit, dignified and authoritative. He began speaking in his strong, burnished voice. It was a rousing address, which he and Elizabeth had cowritten the night before. It went back to the roots of the company, the original John Miller and his shoemaking background, and carried on through the years, emphasizing how Melville’s fortunes had waxed and waned.
“Melville has always been a family company,” he concluded. “Despite what recent press reports may have said, we are still as united as ever. And, to prove that, I’d like to introduce to you my daughters, who together have made this wonderful day what it was.”
He beckoned Amber over. “I think you’ll all be familiar with my beautiful daughter Amber.” He bent to kiss her. She looked fabulous, too, the image of Veronica Lake, in a split-front evening dress with a dangerously low back.
Then he turned to Caitlin. “And, of course, the talented designer of today’s show—Caitlin.” He clasped both her hands as she joined him. When the applause finished, she went to stand over beside Amber, the two girls linking arms.
And then he turned to Elizabeth. For a moment, she wondered if he’d acknowledge her, after what she had done. But then he was smiling at her. He held out his hand and she joined him on the podium. She was almost shaking, fearful of what he would say. But he embraced her just as warmly as the other two girls before turning back to the audience, his arm around her shoulders. It was an unfamiliar gesture from someone who had never been especially affectionate around his children.
“And this is my eldest daughter, Elizabeth,” he said, and there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. “She has done more for this company in the past decade than I have in nearly thirty-five years of being chief executive. And, with that in mind, I’d like to announce today that I will be recommending to the board that she take over from me when I retire next year.”
Elizabeth stared at him, stunned, as the hall exploded. “But after everything I did,” she whispered to him. “I nearly lost the company for you—and I thought you’d want Caitlin.”
He shook his head. “Caitlin’s an excellent designer, and we’re very lucky to have her. But you’ve proved time and again that you’re the one who has the vision to lead the company. If I haven’t always said that, it’s because sometimes I worry that you’re going to show me up!”
“But the takeover—”
“I know that wasn’t your fault. I know now how manipulative Piers can be.” He took her hands in his. “You still deserve to be the head of Melville. I can’t think of anyone who would do a better job.”
They were the words she had been waiting her entire life to hear.
* * *
Later that evening, William opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate. He and his three daughters had gathered in his office at Melville’s headquarters to digest the events of the day.
“None for me,” Amber said, as he took glasses from the cabinet. She’d spent enough time out of it over the past few years.
“None for me either,” Elizabeth said.
Everyone looked at her quizzically.
Amber asked the question first. “I know why I’m not drinking, but why aren’t you?”
But Caitlin had already got it. “Oh, Elizabeth, you’re pregnant, too. Of course!” she said, her eyes going to the thickening waistline. She felt tears gathering in her eyes. “Congratulations! Cole must be so excited!”
Elizabeth was frankly surprised no one had noticed sooner. At nearly four months, however cleverly she dressed—wearing empire dresses and long jackets in dark colors—she’d known that she couldn’t disguise the bump for much longer.
She thought back to the night she had told her husband. “Yes,” she said, answering Caitlin. “Yes, you’re right, Cole’s delighted. He can’t wait for us to be a family.”
William ended up pouring a glass just for himself. “Another grandchild,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I guess it is time I retired.”
Outside on Albermarle Street, Piers stared up at Melville’s headquarters. He could see a light on in William’s room. He knew that they were all up there celebrating, laughing at him. He had watched this evening’s meeting on the live webcast, and it had eaten him up to see their success. Despite his best efforts, it seemed William would be keeping his company. He’d already gotten a reprimand from Armand Bouchard, but he didn’t care about that. He never had. What he cared about was that William had bested him. He had staked everything and lost. But he wasn’t done yet. He was still going to make William pay. After all, he had nothing left to lose.
Getting out of his car, he went to the trunk, removing a large carryall. Inside, he had his favorite hunting rifle. With the bag in his hand, he crossed the street to the front entrance. He’d deliberately waited until the security guard had gone on his patrol of the building. He took his key out and found it still worked. Just as he’d thought, no one had bothered to change the locks.
He had the door open and was about to step inside when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a tall, burly man in an ill-fitting suit.
“Piers Melville?” the man said. “I’m Detective Rob Lumes. I’d like to have a word with you about the disappearance of Irina Serapiniene.”
Epilogue
_________
Piers was arrested for Irina’s murder. At his trial, his legal team entered a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity. He was sentenced to twenty-five years in Broadmoor Psychiatric Hospital.
Caitlin and Lucien were married on a crisp winter’s day at Aldringham. Caitlin’s wedding dress was cleverly designed—by herself, of course—to disguise her rather advanced pregnancy. Three months later she gave birth to a little girl. She named her Katie.
Two months after that, Elizabeth had a little boy. She called him Edward, after her grandfather. The night he was born, mother and father spent a long time debating whether he would one day head up a fashion or a restaurant empire.
The following year, Melville announced another positive set of results. The share price hit a record high. Finally convinced that his stewardship would be remembered as a success, William officially retired. He reiterated that his successor would be Elizabeth.
To his surprise, he didn’t miss the office. He and Isabelle had both mellowed with their advancing years, and they finally found common ground living together at Aldringham, doting on their grandchildren.
Elizabeth was acknowledged to be the strongest chief executive Melville had ever seen. But she also made time to be a good wife and mother. Two afternoons a week, she left the office at lunchtime. She also introduced flextime and childcare facilities for mothers who worked at the company.
She and Cole had never been happier. When the following year he was named Ernst & Young Entrepreneur of the Year, she was by his side at the award ceremony. Later that night, they celebrated his win in bed. Nine months later she gave birth to her second child, a little girl named Ella, after Cole’s mother.
Following the fashion show, Amber had a number of modeling offers. She turned them all down and instead joined Melville’s marketing department. To everyone’s surprise—especially
her own—she actually enjoyed working there. Focusing on her career helped her take a well-earned break from drugs, alcohol, and men.
Caitlin’s innovative collections continued to define the Melville brand. For their belated honeymoon, she took Lucien and little Katie on a tour of Ireland. They went back to Valleymount and found a pretty cottage on the outskirts of the peaceful village, which they decided to buy on the spot.
They spend most weekends and holidays there.
