by Rosa Temple
‘I mean, I. I’m actually in LA right now.’
‘What is it with LA?’ I laughed. ‘That’s where Anya is.’
‘I should go. I’m being rude,’ he said.
‘I was going to ask you to lunch but as you’re not even in the country, then … What are you doing in LA anyway?’
‘I’ll call you when I’m back and we can meet for lunch then. Bye, darling.’
He hung up before I could say another word and I began to feel as if I was missing out on something. Now that I was working, Anya couldn’t call me out of the blue and ask me to join her on these jaunts across the miles. I’d seen most of the world courtesy of Anya’s modelling assignments and I’d made a wealth of contacts through her, too.
I’d do anything to be at her party but I had a job to do and this season’s Charlotte Ronson coat to do it in – an early Christmas present from Mother on a day she took me out shopping and probing me about Father. I wasn’t about to tell her he was in the sun, at a party with his latest girlfriend. Not if I wanted to get them back together.
Chapter 21
My nose survived the Crow and I hoped that my towel would survive my nosebleed. I arrived at work earlier than anyone else. There was a call going through the switchboard that I picked up in my room in case it was urgent. On the other end was the person who’d been Anthony’s first ever business meeting appointment and who had wanted to buy out A Shearman Leather Designs all those months ago. Niles Benson.
‘Oh,’ he said when I answered. ‘I thought you’d be the receptionist.’
‘She’s not in yet,’ I said. ‘Did you want to speak to Anthony? Because I’m afraid he’s not here either.’
‘Well maybe you’ll do for now,’ the condescending bastard said.
‘How can I help you?’
‘You’re responsible for Anthony’s diary. I wonder if you could arrange an appointment with him. I’ll be in London again next week and I want to follow up on our last meeting.’
‘You mean the one in which you offered to buy us out?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, I can tell you that Anthony is not selling.’
‘And you’d know this because …?’
‘Because I’m his PA and I’ve got my finger on the pulse. So if you don’t mind –’
‘Hold on there, Miss PA. The last time I spoke to Anthony he told me he wasn’t planning to keep hold of the company long term, anyway, and I want to talk new terms with him.’
‘He said what?’
‘I think you heard me. Just tell him to call me when he gets in. He’s got my number.’
The line went dead but I felt the blood draining from my skin and a shiver come over me. What did he mean, Anthony said he wasn’t going to keep hold of the company? What did he intend to do with it? I thought the whole point of all the brainstorming, number-crunching and marketing meetings we were having was to keep his family business going. Why had he been so upset when he knew I was only going to be with him for a year when he had plans to leave anyway?
The main door opened and closed downstairs. The staff were arriving and I heard Anthony’s usual, lively walk up the stairs. He often took them two at a time, which seemed really juvenile but made me smile all the same. He called a jaunty hello from the corridor before going into his office. I followed him through.
‘Morning, Anthony,’ I said, trying to remain calm. ‘I just took a call for you.’
‘Already?’ He looked at his watch before hanging his jacket on the back of the chair. ‘Well, who was it? Is it another interview you’ve lined up for me?’
‘No, it’s something you arranged. Niles Benson, wanting to know when he can meet to discuss your selling the company to him.’
Anthony’s twitching and moving papers around his desk, as if he actually knew what he was doing, stopped.
‘Oh that,’ he said.
‘Yes, that. Would you mind explaining what these few months have been about if all the time you were planning to sell the company?’
‘Now, Magenta, whether I sell the company or not is really my decision isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes but –’
‘And you’re the one who’s already planned to leave us next year,’ he said, quite pointedly.
‘That’s different, Anthony. I have my reasons for –’
‘And I have mine. Look, Magenta, it’s not a done deal, okay? When I first met Niles I didn’t know what I was doing. I was so flustered I would have sold it to him then and there. But my dad wanted me to make something of the company and of me. That’s what these last few months have been about.’
‘But, Anthony, it’s your family business.’
‘Imagine what this company could be worth if all our plans come off. It might not be what my dad had in mind for the place but I could make the family a small fortune by selling a viable company to someone who actually wants one. Look, this place was nothing more than a dusty old factory, a bunch of middle-aged staff and a profit and loss account that was positively laughable. Of course I considered selling when he offered. And now … now I’m thinking selling isn’t such a bad thing after all.’
I sat hard on the chair opposite him.
‘So you’d sell it and walk away?’ I asked, softly. This was a different Anthony, one I didn’t recognise and I wasn’t sure I liked him.
‘Magenta, please, try to understand. I’m no businessman. I’ve said it a million times and it’s true. When you leave I won’t know my arse from my elbow. Sorry, but it’s true. I’m a painter. That’s what I do. I paint landscapes and portraits. I wasn’t making a great living but I was making one. And I loved it.’
‘I get it, Anthony. No, no, I totally get it.’ I got up a little too eagerly from my chair. ‘Well I guess, while there still is a company, we’ve got things to do, right? I mean you do have a couple of interviews, one here and the other at a hotel near High Holborn. I’ll come with you, of course, fill you in on what you need to say.’
‘Magenta.’
‘And I’ll need your approval on the venue for the show. The models I can approve myself and I’ve got some fashion students to meet.’
‘Magenta.’
‘And then there’s the after-show party and we need to decide how we’ll display your artwork.’
‘Magenta. Stop.’
‘What is it?’
‘Your face. I think your nose is bleeding?’
I put a hand to my nose. It was sticky. I looked at my hand and the drops of blood on it.
‘Shit,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll be in my office.’
I walked off quickly to the door.
‘Magenta, hold on,’ said Anthony. I did but I didn’t turn around. ‘We’ll talk about this again, selling the company and everything, once the dust has settled. We’ll talk, okay? I’m calling Benson now. I’m not deciding anything until the new year, okay? You’ll have your year.’
‘It’s your company, Anthony; you do what you like with it.’
I ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut, which in this building made a loud bang and caused the room to shudder. I ran the cold tap and started rinsing my face. I used to get nosebleeds as a teenager. I hoped they weren’t starting up again. What was it I had to do? Oh yes, hold my nose until it stopped. I swallowed blood and shut my eyes tight. I wanted to go back and see how many days I had left until I left Shearman but my nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. I swallowed more blood and let go of my nostrils, rinsing my face again. Eventually the stream of red eased off. I washed my face and went back to my office.
On my computer I opened a folder with the initials, GOBP, or in other words, Ghost Of Boyfriends Past, and clicked on Hugo’s email. I read it again. I wasn’t sure how many times I had read it and now, more than ever, a retreat in the rainforests of South America called out to me.
Chapter 22
It was official, I’d made a complete and utter fool of myself in front of Anthony
– being overemotional, not to mention the nosebleed. I wondered what he’d thought of me yet tried hard to not let it cloud my mission.
I was on target for throwing the most lavish, if not courageous, fashion show for a company that might soon fall into the hands of the dreaded Niles flipping Benson. True, I’d only met the guy once but I didn’t like the way his eyes lingered over my body or the way he looked down his nose at both Anthony and me. He was also a little too familiar with Cassandra from what I could see but, of course, he was welcome to her. Most of all I resented the fact that Niles might soon be the one benefiting from all of my hard work. All the same, I pressed on with my plans.
The show was just one week away. Invitations had been sent. Anthony was interviewed out. Press releases had landed on all the relevant desks and a boatload of fashion journalists and bloggers had RSVP’d ‘Yes’ to their free tickets.
A large percentage of money made from tickets sold was going to a charity. I had suggested giving to a charity that shunned the use of low-paid workers who made leather goods in poorer parts of the world. I’d arranged for a speaker from the charity to give a brief talk at the start of the show. The compère was a good friend of Anya’s: a fashion editor and writer from Marie Claire (her Vogue contact had to cancel at the last minute). There would be a plethora of potential buyers, which included my younger sister, Ebony, for Harrods now that they’d acknowledged how hot our merchandise was becoming.
On the morning of the actual show I awoke nervous and excited at the same time, butterflies on speed fluttered in my stomach. It was a big day and I’d made a meticulous list of things to do from the moment I got up right through until the end of the day.
I’d invited the whole family this time and they would all be there, including both parents. I hadn’t had time to quiz Father about his trip to LA and I didn’t mention it to Mother. She seemed to be a lot more content recently. She’d started eating real food again and looked a lot better for it.
‘Magenta, darling, I can’t tell you how proud I am of you,’ Mother said as she breezed into the venue dripping in Cartier. ‘I always thought you were more like me than you were letting on. Just look at the turnout. And this venue is amazing.’
I’d managed to get a really good deal on a showroom in Covent Garden. It had previously been used as an art gallery, owned by a rich businessman from Dubai. Sadly it had been hit by the recession and was lying dormant for a long time with a leasehold sign on it for ages.
I’d caught wind of the proposals to reopen it as a fashion emporium while at a party with my older sister, Amber, and practically pounced on the couple discussing it. I’d worked my way into asking if it could be hired before they opened, after they had redecorated and before they’d fully moved in. Of course, I offered to ensure there was lots of publicity for their impending store opening and they very happily agreed.
‘I’ve waited a long time for you to tell me that, Mother. I always wanted you to be proud of me.’
‘Oh, darling, don’t make it sound as if you were left out.’
‘No, it’s okay, Mother. I wasn’t fishing for compliments. I was never like my sisters. I wanted you to be proud of me but I was fully aware of the fact that I hadn’t done anything to really be proud of.’
‘Nonsense, sweetheart.’
‘Let’s not pretend, Mother. We all know what I was like before I took this job. I know what I’ve done in the last few months and I’m proud of myself. I’m just happy to hear you say it, that’s all.’
I gave her a kiss and asked an usher to show her to her seat. I spotted Anya and I had to go and thank her for everything she’d contributed. Anya didn’t have many assignments on but she’d managed to keep herself occupied with her mystery man while also managing never to speak of him around me.
‘Anya, you look beautiful – as usual,’ I said.
One of the contributions Anya had made to the show was the designer dress I was wearing that evening. Everyone was complimenting me on my look. Anthony had done a double take when he saw me. I’m not sure he realised it was me at first. The dress was bottle green. My shoulders and arms were bare, the neckline of the dress had a halter style and was adorned with silver sequins that caught the light and flashed and sparkled as I turned. It was tight at the waistline with a flouncy skirt that reached my shins.
My eye make-up was smokey and heavily done, my lips coated in deep matte red lipstick. It was a shocking look for me. My hair stylist had managed to tame and tease all of my curls into a slick low bun with the use of some strong gel and an unforgiving brushing action. I could hardly move my head and neck or blink, but I looked gorgeous.
‘And you, Madge, are an absolute star,’ said Anya. ‘I mean, the launch vos phenomenal. But this …’ She looked around at the showroom filling up. Bums on seats had been my and Anthony’s motto and the bums were certainly showing up in force. Anya gave me an Anya hug, brief and spiky and at arm’s length, her head tilted away. She clasped her thin hands together. ‘So vot next?’ she asked. ‘Vorld domination?’
I laughed and spotted Father coming in.
‘Oh great, Father is here,’ I exclaimed. ‘And luckily he’s come alone. He’s been seeing someone off and on and I don’t know who it is.’ I turned to pull a face at Anya and discovered she’d vanished into thin air. I looked around and saw she’d flitted halfway across the room and was sitting with someone from GQ magazine.
I turned and waved to Father who came straight over and gave me a huge hug.
‘I’m staggered,’ he said, looking around.
‘Didn’t you think I’d pull it off?’
‘I never doubted you for a moment, my angel.’ He kissed my forehead, which was fixed in a surprised state due to the vigorous work of the hairdresser. I swear, anyone who had their hair gelled off their face by her wouldn’t need Botox. My hairline had been slicked back into an immovable facelift.
‘Thanks, Father. But would you do me a big favour?’ I asked.
‘Anything.’
‘You’ve got a reserved seat; it’s next to Mother. Would you please sit there and not swap with one of the girls? Just for tonight, would you sit next to Mother? For me?’
‘I will, Magenta. But you know you have to get this romantic notion out of your head that your Mother and I will ever … you know? I don’t want you disappointed in us again. I couldn’t bear it.’
‘I won’t make a fuss. I promise. You two are divorced. I accept it now. Just go and sit down. I’ve got to go and greet some people.’
‘Sure.’ He kissed me again and made his way over to the family. I saw him greet Mother with a kiss and I knew that I mustn’t get carried away by one kiss. I had a job to do and I needed to keep my head and put my matchmaking mind to one side.
Anthony caught hold of my arm as people continued to arrive.
‘This is it,’ he said.
I smiled up at him. He smelled heavenly and he’d taken my advice to not overdress but to be more fashionable and relaxed, in keeping with his artist side since some of his work was on display. I was determined that he’d be the image of the arty, go-getter type I’d tried to create for him. In truth, he was more of the sleep until midday type whose art couldn’t keep him in paintbrushes. He’d always been happy to live a less flamboyant lifestyle than the one Inez had steadfastly drilled into him since they moved back to London. I could imagine he’d resisted while in Italy but their move had played right into her hands.
His city existence and all the hype and exposure Anthony had received wasn’t hurting his art career at all, by the way. A lot of people were keen to purchase items from the exhibition. When I’d taken possession of his display pieces I was amazed and in awe of his talent. He certainly was deserving of all the adoration he was getting and at this rate I wouldn’t be surprised if he did choose to sell Shearman one day. As Anthony had rightly said, he was an artist, not a businessman.
‘Are you nervous?’ I asked him.
‘Anthony, you shouldn’t do that. We had a deal. This is supposed to be all about you.’
‘Too late,’ he said. ‘The jig is up.’ We stared at each other for more seconds than should be allowed between a boss who was engaged and his PA who had mixed feelings about her boss. ‘Er, my parents are here,’ he managed to say at last.
‘Can’t wait to meet them,’ I said with a smile. ‘You go and join them and I’ll go and make sure things start on time.’ I looked at my watch and a waiter walked by carrying a tray of champagne. I was too nervous to drink and it looked like Anthony was abstaining too. We had to be all business. Our big night was finally upon us and as I went to leave Anthony to take up my place behind the scenes he kissed me. Just lightly, on the cheek, as he tenderly brushed my arm. He didn’t smile but moved away quickly to join Inez and his parents. I followed him with my eyes as we parted and made my way backstage, only to see that Inez had been glaring at us the whole time.
Backstage the scene was as electric as it was out front. The woman from the charity was being prodded and poked by the make-up girls who said she’d be washed out by the lights. She didn’t seem to mind the attention. The compère was doing weird facial exercises and sounding out her vowels in a big round manner. I put my head around the screen where the models were getting ready and spotted one or two in a state of undress and with several empty bottles of champagne visible – they were ready.
The stage manager and I both nodded to each other and that was it. The fashion show began and everything Anthony and I had worked for was about to be put to the test.
The after-party was lively and loud. I didn’t see much of Anthony but my sisters were absolutely delighted with my efforts.
‘Careful, Magenta,’ Indigo said. ‘You’ll be telling me next that you want to become part of the family business.’
