by Rosa Temple
‘Well,’ the solicitor said, drawing out the word. ‘Technically insider dealings refer to stocks and shares, but to have had prior knowledge of secret bids is highly irregular.’ He looked over at Anthony. We all looked at Anthony until Niles jumped to his feet.
‘You couldn’t prove it,’ he said, ‘and without proof it’s all just hearsay and I could sue you for slander.’
‘Well I’d like to see you sue me when I have the evidence of a very telling phone call between you and Cassandra yesterday.’
‘You recorded my call?’ He wasn’t sounding so cocky.
‘You admit you spoke to Cassandra about the bids?’ I said.
‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ Niles spluttered. ‘And a recording wouldn’t stand up in court, anyway.’
I turned to Anthony. ‘This doesn’t have to go to court, Anthony. Think about it. He and Cassandra have been planning to move in on your territory from the word go. I could almost guarantee they’ve been dating. She was probably the one who introduced Niles to the company in the days your father was running it.’
‘Is that true?’ Anthony asked him.
‘Shearman, this is all becoming too ridiculous for words,’ said Niles.
‘Whatever he’s offering I’ll top it, Anthony,’ I declared before thinking what I was saying through.
‘You can’t –’ Niles began.
‘Yes I can,’ I butted in. ‘What do you say, Anthony? Do we have a deal?’
Anthony looked at his solicitor. ‘Is that allowed? And, Magenta, do you really want to do this?’
I nodded emphatically.
‘You can sell the company to anyone you see fit,’ the solicitor confirmed. ‘You haven’t signed it away as yet.’
‘What’s he offering?’ I asked as Niles began to protest loudly. ‘Whatever it is, I’ll give you a further £20,000 on top of that,’ I said above Niles’s grating voice. ‘Which means I’ll have the better bid and you know I’m good for it.’
‘Now listen to me,’ said Niles. ‘I can’t match that. It’s impossible.’
‘Then it looks like Magenta has just bought Shearman,’ Anthony smiled. ‘If you’re sure.’
Strangely enough, I was. I didn’t know what possessed me but somehow it felt like the right thing to do. I wasn’t panicked; I wasn’t flustered. I just knew I had to keep the company – I wanted to keep Shearman.
Niles Benson gathered his belongings and stormed out.
‘Look I won’t hold you to this, Magenta. I can always set up another bid,’ said Anthony.
‘For the first time I’ve never been more sure and I didn’t have to run to anyone to ask them to help me make a decision. You’re selling Shearman and I want to stay with it. Who would have thought?’
‘It’ll be in good hands,’ Anthony said. ‘By the way, did you know you have bird poo on your shoulder?’
I looked down.
‘Oh you’re kidding me,’ I said looking at my ruined Jean Paul Gaultier top. ‘It’s a long story and no one will believe it. I can’t wait to tell the family; it’ll certainly give them all something to talk about.’
‘Er, about that,’ said Anthony. ‘Did you talk to Hugo, Magenta? What’s going to happen to us?’
The solicitor coughed loudly.
‘Mr Shearman, can I assume this meeting is postponed until I have time to draw up some new papers for the future owner of Shearman?’
‘Yes, you can. I’ll call you.’
Anthony led me into the foyer of the building.
‘Nothing’s changed the way I feel about you, Magenta. The only problem is, you still haven’t told me how you feel about me.’
Realising I was still wearing my Audrey Hepburn scarf, I took it off and felt my hair spring out of control. What would Audrey Hepburn do? I wondered. In Roman Holiday she had to choose between going back to her official duties as a princess or getting off with Gregory Peck. Only in my head I couldn’t be sure out of my two choices who the lead man was supposed to be. I knew I wanted to buy the business but again I was reduced to a blithering fool when it came to the two men in my life. I hadn’t spoken to Hugo about Anthony’s proposition. Surely I owed him that. While I waited for the director to say, ‘Cut!’ so I could prepare myself and buy some time, Anthony lost patience, and rightly so.
‘Say something,’ he said.
‘I’ve been unwell. I haven’t spoken to Hugo and –’
‘This week I decided on a few other things. I’m going back to Italy, Magenta. For a while anyway. A major client has commissioned some work. It’s a big commission and it means going back to my roots, the paintings are all to have Italian settings. It means having to base myself there for a while, sort out a place to live. I’ll be in and out of the office,’ he said in a stiff voice. ‘Then I’ll be flying to Italy in a matter of days.’
He waited a second or two, softly kissed my cheek and left. What did I expect to happen?
I drove home at normal speed, top closed and pigeon feathers all over the inside of my car. I got into my flat and ran the shower. After several minutes of letting the water roll down my body as I stood with my hands against the tiled wall, I thought I heard the phone ringing. I put my head out of the screen.
It was the phone. I leapt out, almost slipping, believing it was Anthony ringing to apologise for walking off like that. It was Hugo.
‘How’s my favourite lady? Feeling better?’
‘Much,’ I said. ‘But I really do need to lie down.’
‘Do it,’ said Hugo. ‘I just called to let you know the good news. The retreat is sold. I’ll be back in London soon and then we can talk about what we do next. Okay?’
‘Yes, er, yes, Hugo, that sounds like a plan. I’ll see you soon … I should go.’
‘Of course, darling. Get a good rest. Hope you feel better soon.’
I wrapped a dressing gown around my body and crawled into bed.
Nana Clementine had told me once that I had to find myself instead of following the dreams of someone who already had. For the first time in my life I was sure I had done just that – found myself. Although I’d come to it after a year full of ups and downs, I’d inadvertently stumbled across the best version of me I could possibly become. I owned a thriving business. Me. But while I revelled in my new role as a businesswoman – a role that I certainly didn’t need a man for – two men had given me ultimatums but only one of them held a significant place in my heart. I knew what I had to do.
Chapter 36
The staff meeting at Shearman went better than planned. Luckily everyone was happy to stay with the new owner and manager – everyone, of course, except for Cassandra. I had been more than happy to accept her resignation, which she managed to send in record time and deny me the opportunity to fire her myself. But I figured it was better that way. There was no room for bitterness or recriminations in my heart but I didn’t waste any time trying to find a replacement for her.
By the time summer came to a close I was already in full swing with plans to expand the business. Man bags are all well and good but anyone who knows me would know that I wouldn’t stop at men’s accessories, not when there was a wealth of fabulous designers anxious to show me what they could do with accessories for women. I was beside myself with the possibilities, even toying with the idea of designing something of my own.
Mother threw a dinner in my honour once the dust had settled. It went a lot better than the one she threw for me the year before to celebrate my having found a new job. There were no tears or tantrums, no flying objects or harsh words, just a totally flabbergasted family of Brights who couldn’t believe that their Magenta had been in business for three whole months as her own boss and was loving every minute.
I was also loving my new-found taste for health and fitness. Much to Anya’s disgust I was running at least four times a week, without a trainer, since Lena had began teaching HIIT workouts at a top health suite on a Saturday. Needless to
say Lena and I still hooked up for the odd latte at Costa when we had a morning free.
At six-thirty I’d said goodbye to the last of the office staff, some had very kindly stayed a little later to go through the latest sales figures. My new receptionist come assistant was proving to be a bit on the ditzy side but I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, I wouldn’t be sitting in the big office of Shearman if someone hadn’t given me a chance.
I was the last one out of the office. I set the alarm and locked the door. There was a chilly breeze – a telltale sign that winter was about to take hold of London again. The sounds of the evening in Mayfair were of the soft rumble of traffic, the distant toot of a car horn and the tip tap sound of my Karen Millen heels as I hurried along. Down the road, near Park Lane, was the little Italian restaurant I’d booked for dinner. I’d reserved the seat by the window and was happy to see that Anthony was already there. He smiled his big smile, his teeth almost too dazzling against a face still quite tanned by the Italian sun. He got up from his seat.
‘How was your day?’ he asked. He kissed my lips and my eyes stayed closed for longer than the kiss lasted, as if I could still feel the sensation of Anthony’s lips on mine. He pulled out my chair and as I sat down he bent down to kiss my cheek.
‘It was good,’ I said. ‘But tell me about the interview.’
‘Everything is confirmed, you’re now looking at the new artist in residence at Slater’s Gallery in Piccadilly.’
I clapped my hands together.
‘I knew you’d get it,’ I said. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
‘Let’s order,’ he said. ‘I’m hungry, but to be honest, I can’t wait to get home.’
‘Me too.’
It was three months ago that I’d gone to the airport to meet Hugo to give him the answer to his question about giving up my life and going back to the rainforest. When he’d asked me I hadn’t admitted to myself, though I’d felt it almost immediately, that a shadow had come down on my world as if all the things I wanted and all the things I’d achieved without him were no longer significant. Once again I’d allowed what he wanted from life to guide me. When I let him go a light shone on the correct path for me.
‘Magenta, are you sure?’ He was almost pleading. There was an urgency about his usual cool that I’d never experienced and it made me feel like the bad guy.
‘It would be like I was trying to relive a moment in time, a time when I was happy and thought that to lose you was the end of my world,’ I’d said.
‘I don’t want to lose you, Magenta.’ He’d stroked my arms, moving in closer to avoid the people at the airport, bumping and barging their way past us. ‘Did I lose you to him? Anthony?’
‘I haven’t seen him in days, and anyway, that’s not the point.’
‘The point is I’m losing you now, again, when I thought we really had something going.’
‘We did, Hugo, but it was ten years ago.’
Anthony sat forward at the table after the waiter had taken our order.
‘I can hear your mind working, Magenta,’ he said. ‘Are you thinking about that night almost a year ago when we first ate here? The brainstorming session?’
‘Something like that.’
He was almost right. I was being nostalgic but I was thinking about the time I’d almost let Anthony leave for Italy without having told him how I felt about him.
I’d come back from the airport in a taxi, after having spoken to Hugo, and went back to Shearman to speak to Anthony. I was free of the hold Hugo had on me, or on my nostalgic heart. When I arrived, I’d only missed Anthony by minutes. He’d cleared his desk of personal items so I rang his mobile number but got no reply. He’d been in the tube, sitting on the Northern Line on his way home to collect his passport and cases and then he was off to the airport. He was going to Italy to begin his commission.
At the time of ringing I thought that Anthony had snubbed me, ignored my call because I’d been so evasive and so I’d gone home, deflated. But I was restless. I knew I loved Anthony so I shouldn’t just give up like that and have to call him in Italy. I had to stop him getting on the plane. I jumped into my car, foot down on the accelerator all the way to Clapham, satnav on, very little petrol in the tank and willing the car not to pack up on me before I could get there.
I managed to catch him just as he was about to climb into a minicab. Talk about cutting it fine.
Anthony’s flat was on the top floor of a terraced house in a very long street with absolutely no parking to be found. I cursed and bashed the steering wheel as I scouted for a spot. And then I saw him. His jaw dropped when he saw me. I was the last person he thought he’d see that morning considering he’d left the ball in my court, and I’d not done anything with it.
‘Magenta,’ he’d said. ‘You came. I – I’m about to …’
‘I know,’ I’d said. ‘That’s why I’m here.’ I’d double parked outside his flat, blocking his minicab so he couldn’t leave until I’d said what I came to say. I stood on the roadside. Anthony released the hand he held the back door of the minicab by and moved towards me.
‘It’s been quite a year, right?’ I’d said, not stepping up onto the kerb. I have no idea what made me hesitate.
He nodded, waited for me to continue. Then his driver got out of the car.
‘Is she coming?’ he asked Anthony.
‘I don’t know,’ said Anthony. ‘Are you?’ His face brightened. I couldn’t hide my joy on seeing that even though I hadn’t given him a direct answer, that I’d stalled and insisted that the sale of the company go through our solicitors, he was still hopeful that I’d chosen him.
‘Not to Italy, not today,’ I said. ‘But I want you to come back soon so that you and I can …’
‘Magenta.’ He pulled me onto the pavement. I did an ungainly trip up and he grabbed my arms. ‘You told me once that you wanted me to be sure, in here …’ he pointed to his chest ‘…that I knew what I wanted. I knew then and I know now. I love you and I want us to be together.’ He placed a hand on my chest.
‘Oh, bloody ’ell,’ the driver said and got into his cab.
‘How about you?’ Anthony said. ‘Tell me what’s going on in here.’
I wrapped my arms around Anthony, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. I whispered the words, ‘I love you, Anthony, don’t go.’
He nodded and went to the driver’s window.
‘Sorry, I’ve changed my mind,’ he told him.
Furious, the driver leapt out.
‘I still want paying,’ he declared and Anthony handed him the fare before retrieving his cases from the boot.
Anthony’s journey, in which he had found himself – the artist, the lover, the gentle man who has no head for business, only oils and canvasses – led him to fly out to Italy the next week in order to fulfil the job for his client. A month of painting landscapes of the rugged coastline resulted in three framed pictures to be hung on the walls of the client’s Milan mansion. We saw each other as often as we could.
‘I’m not going to forget that year in a hurry,’ I said to Anthony across the table of the little Italian restaurant. He took my hand and kissed the palm. He held it as we chatted until our food came and he took it again, later, in the taxi back to our shared flat in Chelsea.
Of course having two homes, one in Italy and one in London, is quite a balancing act for me and Anthony, but one I think I can manage, given that I’ve finally found my calling.
The future of Shearman looks promising and though the past three months hasn’t been without its ups and downs, I’m looking forward to the year ahead. I think it goes without saying that wherever I go and whatever I do there’s always a drama close behind, but with a year of know-how on my side, I think I’m ready for anything.
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Copyright
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sp; HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2017
Copyright © Rosa Temple 2017
Rosa Temple asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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E-book Edition © February 2017 ISBN: 9780008245337
