Susannah started passing round copies of the proposal from the man who was to save their future. Annie was the last to receive a copy and she watched it as it made its way round to her. She eyed it with some scepticism. Luminous lime-coloured borders framed each page and at the top of every one jumped out a large, distinctive logo that looked to her like a squashed cockroach.
Then as she sat there, trapped by her family, a slow sense of significance burned its way through to her consciousness, like dynamite igniting.
First, there was merely a feeling of mild distaste at the colour of the print. Next, as her eyes scanned the name that was making its way towards her, came a sense of disbelief and foreboding. And then, as the proposal was plonked gracelessly in front of her, Annie’s fuse – seven years’ worth of it – finally went.
She stared at the lurid lettering:
JAKE MEAD ASSOCIATES.
She stared some more at it. She blinked carefully.
Nope. It was still there.
Jesus Christ. It was Jake. Jake Bloody Mead, the boy who’d abandoned her, who let her spend her entire final year at college wondering if he’d turn up any minute, apologise, explain himself and let her continue with her life.
She sat in blank disbelief while her body did a remarkable impression of swimming away from her.
Was her family really going to entrust their entire fortunes into the hands of a pathetic, obnoxious, immature, self-obsessed boy? A boy they wouldn’t trust her to elope with? A boy who fainted at the mere thought of making her pregnant? Who accused her of …? Who ran out when …? A boy who wore baggy jeans, for God’s sake?
‘Are you all right, my dear?’ she heard Susannah ask her. ‘You’re whimpering.’
Annie made a valiant effort at a smile. She glanced round. Charles was looking longingly at the clock; Katherine was checking her nails; her father was nodding confidently, which meant he was confused. Davina was still looking pert and pretty.
Annie realised that Susannah and Cass were the only ones who even knew about her past – and Cass was the only one who even knew Jake’s name. Good, she thought. That should make it easier for her to keep it a secret. And this had to stay her secret – there was no other way she’d be able to survive. She just had to keep calm, maintain a mask of serenity, a barricade against the world.
‘Are you gagging, Annie?’ asked Susannah, somewhat impatiently.
Annie shook her head violently.
‘Would you like to leave the room?’
Yes please, thought Annie. Do you have a stretcher?
She shook her head and Susannah continued.
‘Jake Mead Associates are internationally renowned for their ability to turn around troubled companies. There is a staggeringly high demand for them, so we’re extremely lucky to get them at such short notice. Jake Mead, the chief exec, is proposing to give us his ten top consultants in the UK and ten in New York.’ She sighed. ‘At £3,000 a day per consultant we have about three months at the very most for this to work. Put it this way – if there aren’t signs by the New Year that we’re going to be saved, we’ll just have to try and find a buyer.’
Annie forced her frozen fingers to flick through the proposal.
Bloody stupid font, she thought. Girly font. Typical.
‘Jake Mead and co will be living and sleeping with the company for the next few weeks,’ continued Susannah.
Annie’s heart stopped. Oh my God, she thought. I’m having a cardiac arrest.
‘We plan to negotiate that as many consultants who need to will move into what are now the two bottom floors of the family home – now that George will be in New York,’ Susannah went on, nodding graciously to George. ‘This year those floors will become a smart business apartment. When Victoria and Charles sell their place, they will be living above the consultants in what is at the moment Katherine’s penthouse apartment. And, of course, so will Annie.’
Annie’s ears started whistling.
‘We decided on this,’ continued Susannah, ‘rather than keeping those floors empty and paying for various consultants’ accommodation expenses. And that way, the whole house stays in the family once they’ve gone. It all makes perfect financial sense.’
Oh yes, it all makes perfect sense, thought Annie. We’re going to hand over all our money to a twat in baggy trousers. Excellent.
‘The owner of the company, Jake Mead, is most impressive,’ continued Susannah.
Oh you’ve seen his trousers then? thought Annie. Even better.
‘I’m sure you’ll all like him.’ Susannah looked at her watch. ‘He’ll be here any minute.’
There was a dull thud from the corner.
When Annie woke up, two seconds later, no one had even noticed she’d passed out.
She was vaguely aware that Susannah was still talking.
‘His reputation, his previous results,’ continued Susannah.
His vanishing act, thought Annie …
‘His discretion and his grasp of what we needed made him the only possible choice. It’s nothing short of a miracle that we’ve been able to secure him so quickly. I’m sure you’ll all be very pleased with what you see.’
Why? Is he bringing a friend?
Just then Susannah’s mobile went.
‘Excuse me,’ she said and took the call.
She looked over at Annie.
‘Oh dear,’ she said.
You can say that again, nodded Annie, her eyes wide.
‘Apparently you were meant to meet Cassie half an hour ago at the Tate Modern.’ Susannah looked over at George. ‘Will you allow her to go George? Cassie’s been there for forty minutes.’
George glanced at Annie. ‘Don’t see why not, I’m sure this Jack Meads—’
‘Jake Mead,’ helped Susannah.
He squinted at the name on his copy of the proposal while Annie’s heart rate shot up so fast it almost took her with it.
‘Quite so, quite so. Jake Mead. Don’t see why Annie would want to stay to meet him. Can’t see as she’d miss him.’
Miss him? thought Annie fiercely. I’d get a bloody bullseye.
Annie didn’t risk giving herself away by trying to speak, and for the first time in her life she was grateful that her family wouldn’t show any interest in whether she stayed or left. She simply got up, pushed her chair slowly out from under the desk, and moved her deadened limbs past everyone and out of the door.
Once outside the office, she closed the door firmly, leant against it and breathed very, very deeply. Deep, calm breaths, she thought. Deep, calm breaths.
Hundreds of new thoughts surfaced in her mind, but Annie knew she had to push them all to the back of it. First and foremost she had to concentrate on getting out of there.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ asked Shirley, suddenly beside her.
Annie rocketed out of her skin. Shit, she wished she wouldn’t do that.
‘Oh yes,’ managed Annie. ‘I’m just,’ she couldn’t catch her breath. ‘Leaving.’
‘I’ll call the lift for you,’ said Shirley, and pressed the button.
Annie stared at the lift. Jake could be in it. Now. On his way up.
The mere thought of him was having a bad enough effect on her body, God only knew what the actual living presence of him would do. She had to avoid him. She could take the stairs but they were usually locked. No one was ever encouraged to use them as they were nowhere near as impressive as the lift. She turned to Shirley.
‘You know what?’ she said, trying to sound relaxed. ‘I think I’m going to take the stairs.’
‘Nonsense, dear,’ instructed Shirley. ‘The lift’s nearly here now.’
Annie smiled. I’ve always hated you, she thought. Now I know why.
She tried to argue, but found she couldn’t. All her energy was taken up pumping the blood round her body that she’d been saving for a special occasion.
Instead of jumping out of the window, which suddenly struck her as a wise and well-prepared plan,
Annie forced herself to stay motionless, staring at the monitor above the lift, watching a tiny green cube of light smoothly and slowly ascend.
Ground floor, first, second …
Was it going to be empty, or was she going to find herself face to face with the pillock who’d ruined her finals and her life? The pillock she’d have risked everything for. It was a puzzler and no mistake.
Third, fourth …
‘Are you sure you’re all right, dear?’ asked Shirley. ‘You’re looking awfully pale.’
I’ll show you pale, thought Annie. Large window, five flights up, say your prayers, bitch.
She attempted a smile. ‘I need a holiday,’ she mouthed.
Fifth floor. The lift chimed its arrival and the doors opened noiselessly.
Using up all her energy, Annie turned to face it. It was empty.
She decided that to weep and hug Shirley might arouse suspicion, so with a great deal of concentration, she managed to propel her body forwards by supporting it on one leg after the other. Walking, she remembered. She knew it felt familiar.
‘Bye,’ she whispered to Shirley, with a weak grin on her face. She even waved as the door slowly divided them from each other. She’d made it.
Once on her own, she let out a loud moan and leant her head against the closed door.
Oh … my … God, she thought, overawed by the size of her emotions. So much anger. All I need is a leotard and I could become a wrestler.
Then she realised that Jake might be waiting for the lift at the bottom.
Her body froze.
The lift sank slowly to the ground.
There was only one thing for it. She closed her eyes.
‘Dear God. Prove you exist and let me die in here. Now. NOW.’
She opened her eyes. Nope. No God. Or if there was one, He was a sadist.
She looked frantically around. Why wasn’t there an exit in here? Or at least a toilet? Bloody cost-cutting crap.
She breathed deeply in an effort to regain control. Too deeply. She started seeing stars.
The lift landed her gently on the ground floor and she heard its soft chime.
She held her breath and in a last-ditch effort to compose herself, stared at the mirrored door before it opened to reveal her fate. A madwoman stared back at her.
Slowly the door silently opened.
Nothing, emptiness, void.
She almost wept with joy. Instead she walked furiously out of the office and hailed a cab.
It wasn’t until she was dropped off outside the Tate Modern that she started wondering something.
What the hell did Jake look like now?
* * * * *
‘First you persuade me this place is worth going to, then you don’t turn up,’ Cass shouted to Annie, as Annie ran, somewhat unsteadily, towards her.
‘I have the best excuse in the world,’ started Annie.
‘I don’t want your excuses,’ said Cass. ‘I want your soul.’
‘I left it in the lift,’ replied Annie, her voice vice-tight.
‘Pardon?’
‘Nothing. Let’s go and look at lots of paintings children of three could have done.’
Annie didn’t have the energy to explain. Her body seemed to have run out of blood.
They wandered round the exhibition slowly, Annie taking in little, marvelling that her world map could so suddenly be wacked out of kilter.
It was a rather tiring afternoon.
* * * * *
Ten minutes later than expected, due to bad traffic, Jake Mead stepped out of his cab and looked up at the imposing building above him.
He straightened his Boss tie, brushed a hand over his close-cropped hair, gripped his leather computer bag even tighter and stepped purposefully into the London office of Markhams’ PR.
He was ready to kick ass.
6
THE GENTLE RAT-A-TAT-TAT on the door was the same as it had always been, humble yet dignified.
‘Come!’ called George, trying to ignore the catch in his voice and the two pricks of sweat under his arms.
His valet stood before him.
‘Ah …’ boomed George, before stopping.
Never could remember the bugger’s name.
His valet – obstinately ugly as ever – coughed quietly.
‘Alfred, sir.’
‘Yes, quite so, quite so,’ allowed George.
Alfred didn’t move a muscle.
George grimaced. Why couldn’t Susannah have dealt with this? It was her idea, after all.
‘The thing is, you see,’ he started, and then finished. What was the thing again? He forced his brain to remember. It had all made perfect sense when Susannah had said it and the wretched fellow wasn’t standing right in front of him. Luxury, expense they couldn’t afford, tightening the purse strings and all that. Have to dress himself in future. It’s the latest thing – some royalty even doing it now.
Ah yes. Now. How could he put that eloquently?
‘All a bit of a luxury, you see,’ he started. ‘An expense we can’t afford, tightening the old purse strings and all that. Have to dress like royalty now. Some of them. Hope you understand, old chap.’
Alfred understood perfectly.
‘Of course,’ said Alfred gently.
George winked at him. Splendid fellow. Sorry to see him go.
‘Sir is sacking me,’ said Alfred.
George started.
‘Oh! Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’
Alfred gave a short smile and a curt little bow of the head. That was more like it.
‘How would sir like me to put it?’
George looked at him in stunned amazement. He had no idea the man was as rude as he was ugly. Amazing how duplicitous people could be.
Alfred continued.
‘Obviously, I’ll have to talk to my union—’
‘Your what?’
‘My union – you wouldn’t expect me to accept—’
‘I would expect nothing less,’ shouted George. ‘An utter disgrace! After thirty years’ loyal service, to stab me in the back like that …’
‘Exactly my point, sir.’
‘What?’
‘I knew you’d understand.’
George swallowed hard.
‘Don’t force me to do something I don’t want to do,’ he threatened darkly.
‘What did sir have in mind?’ answered Alfred calmly. ‘Wearing taupe at me?’
What? George gasped with disgust. He’d never been so insulted in all his life! Taupe? In mid-winter? The man was quite clearly raving. He had to get him out of his home, God only knew what he could do. He was unsafe.
What the buggering hell had happened to the buggering class system? Country was going to rot.
George furrowed his brow menacingly at his evil, double-crossing, ugly ex-valet. Alfred stood his ground.
There was nothing for it. With as much dignity as he could muster, George fumbled in his bureau drawer, eventually took out his cheque book and Mont Blanc fountain pen and, as he unscrewed the lid, sat tall in his chair. He wouldn’t let anyone say he’d lost his pride at the end.
‘How much?’ he asked, with as much bile in his voice as possible. That should shake him up a bit. Bribery didn’t become a gentleman.
‘Well, let me see …’ Alfred did some slow mental arithmetic. ‘Thirty years service without one day’s sick leave, no pension, no holiday taken this year …’
George started sweating. Why hadn’t Susannah warned him this might happen?
He started filling in the rest of the cheque while Alfred did his sums. He wrote quickly, so that his hand wouldn’t shake quite so much.
* * * * *
Alfred managed not to smile until after he’d shut the door quietly behind him. And then he smiled so much, his features temporarily realigned themselves into some sort of order. George would have been impressed, if only his own features weren’t so temporarily unaligned at the same time.
Alf
red kissed the cheque in his hand and headed straight out of the house for the bank. He’d learnt a lot from his time with George Markham. But his most precious lesson had been to keep quiet when in the company of an idiot. He’d had no intention of staying with George once he’d heard that Victoria and Charles’ spoilt little brats were moving in. He had almost resigned immediately, but something had told him to sit it out. And always let the idiot speak first.
It was a lesson that would help him start up his own business of valet training. And George would be his leading example to all his future students.
* * * * *
The gym smelt of floor wax, as usual. It was a smell that had, after four years, become synonymous to Annie with channelling her aggression. Or rather, letting rip.
She swore at herself as Daniel’s size 10 swiped past her head for the third time.
‘Aim at me!’ she shouted at him. ‘Stop patronising me just because you’re a blackbelt!’
Daniel smiled at Annie as her two bunches bounced furiously up and down.
‘Temper temper,’ he said softly and then chopped her in the face.
‘I WASN’T READY!’ she screamed, livid.
But Daniel had already stepped back to kick her in the stomach.
With a surge of aggression, Annie blocked her stomach, stepped back and kicked her right leg higher and wider than Daniel could ever manage. It got him in the face and he fell backwards on to the mat.
Hah! Thought Annie, standing victoriously over him. Female flexibility wins every time. Sex, karate and childbirth. That’s what little girls were made for.
The karate instructor ambled over as Daniel rolled left and right moaning softly.
‘For God’s sake, Annie, you’re supposed to be channelling your aggression, not killing your opponent.’
Daniel blinked.
‘I’m all right,’ he mumbled from the mat. ‘No harm done, mate.’
Annie smiled sweetly.
‘I was channelling my aggression,’ she explained. ‘Into his face.’
As the instructor wandered off, she picked Daniel up.
‘Sorry Dan,’ she said. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Ever wondered why you’re single?’ he asked, his hands covering his nose.
‘Yeah,’ she said, letting go of him. ‘My standards are too high.’
Persuading Annie Page 6
