Jaws dropped further.
“Timothy knows how we operate and knows many of our best clients. He wants us to run what will be the new Battersea Fashion Centre, in the exact same way as what we do here. We would also be shareholders in this new venue. We need to take a decision by today, four pm.”
Silence.
More silence. And yet more silence.
And then, they started firing questions one after the other. Thank God I’d spent much of the night studying the papers.
The first was Osheena. “Would we retain our independence?”
“As anywhere in business, if we’re successful nobody will be questioning us. It’s the same in this firm. In addition, we’d have shares, and structures like a marketing department, accountants – the whole shebang. And a whole fashion department store where we could pick and choose what suits our customers best.”
“Would we have a say on what is exposed in the store?” This time the question came from Jacob.
“Yes. They recognise that we’re successful because we care about our customers, that the core of our business is built around making our customers happy. It would be up to us to make that choice.”
“Cool.” Jacob was ecstatic; no more days spent scavenging for samples and clothes. We would have everything we liked to hand.
They asked a few more questions and I explained the details as best I could. It was going to be a mutual decision, and being with them, working together, was the most important thing. Although we were going mainstream, my hope was that, after all the things we’d done together, we could keep doing what we were doing as friends – like a family, I dared say.
“So, where do we sign?” Ritchie asked eventually.
I loved it. From being ejected from that place to becoming a shareholder in it … life sometimes takes unexpected turns that no one could ever possibly imagine. I looked around and could see only jubilant faces; everyone was excited about this turn of events. Now it would be up to us to make a success of it.
“Does anyone object if we merge with the Battersea Fashion Centre?” I finally asked.
“You must be kidding,” said Jacob, speaking for everybody else “When are we going to get another chance like that? Go and call Timothy before he regains his senses and rethinks the whole matter.”
“I can do better: I can conference him in.” They deserved that; I was no longer one of the two owners of this firm, but a senior partner. They all deserved to be there. I looked up Timothy’s number on my phone and dialled it from the conference phone in the room.
“Timothy Robertson speaking.”
“Hello, Timothy, this is GiGi speaking.”
“Hello there. Do you have any news for me?” he asked eagerly.
“I’m in the boardroom with all the other partners. We would like to accept your offer.” It sounded a bit too much Dragon’s Den, but hey, I couldn’t think of a better way of accepting.
“Congratulations, then! I’ll need the paperwork signed today, but don’t worry – there’s nothing really binding. We’ll have to go through due diligence before we formalise the merger, but that gives us the opportunity to announce it. Do you have a solicitor who could work on this matter on your behalf?”
I looked around in the room and everybody had the same thought. “As a matter of fact I think we do.”
“Good for him,” continued Timothy. “There’ll be some hefty fees coming his way. And congratulations again for your choice; you lot deserve it and it will be a great ride, that much I can assure you.”
We thanked him and closed the call, everybody sighing with relief. We were going to be the biggest, fattest, happiest fashion consultant firm in the world, and we deserved it.
For an instant, I thought about all the struggles we’d had to endure, but that was the past. A new future was ahead of us, and in that very moment I knew we were going to be OK.
I passed the papers around so that everybody could read what they were signing up for, and later on that day we sent them by courier to Timothy.
Nobody really worked that afternoon; too much emotion was going around in the office. We kept going from one desk to another, starting to share ideas on what we’d be doing, what changes we would have to make to the Battersea Fashion Centre. Someone even also started wondering about their new offices.
I doubted that any of us were going to be able to sleep that night.
CHAPTER 42
You know that feeling when you want to celebrate an achievement, but you can’t? I was in that state of mind. Sure – the success, the new venue, taking over the Battersea Fashion Centre, the potential of being one of the biggest fashion firms in the UK.
But still, there was something missing.
It was at that point that my mobile rang. My mother.
Oh dear, what now?
“Hello, GiGi.”
“Hello Mum, how are you doing?” I asked, although I didn’t really want to know.
“Oh, ups and downs as usual. D’you want to come around later on? I’ve prepared a shepherd’s pie and I made far too much. You know, at our age we can’t afford to eat all that; we’re getting old. You’d be welcome.”
Hang on. No nagging? Just a dinner invite? Hmmm. There must be a trick here, I thought.
“OK, you know it’s my favourite. See you later, then?”
“I’ll count on it. Don’t work too hard. Ta-ta.”
“Bye, Mum.”
Something was going on and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was I going to walk into a trap? But frankly I hadn’t seen them in a while, and it being Saturday I had no excuses. I couldn’t even think of one, and to be honest I hadn’t wanted to, as I felt guilty for not having rung her following her call when I was in my meeting with Timothy. She was my mother, after all. So I changed into a dress and drove to their place. There were moments where my mother was a really pleasant person, with even a witty sense of humour; it was just that during this last period she’d seemed to get on my nerves more than usual.
I arrived at their house at around half past four and immediately started thinking about an exit strategy. Maybe some sort of fashion emergency, or a wedding going wrong. Never go into Dragon’s Den without knowing the facts, your numbers and, most of all, without an exit strategy.
“Hello, Mum,” I said once she’d opened the door. We kissed on the cheek and she let me in. Ronald, my stepfather, was busy reading the papers, but as soon as he heard my voice he came to greet me.
“Come in, come in; it’s been ages since you were here for dinner. The shepherd’s pie has just gone in the oven, so we have a little time to catch up.” My parents, owing to their ages and suffering from indigestion if they ate too late, liked to eat at around six pm, so my timing might have been a little off if I planned a hasty exit!
I could smell the pie from where I stood; it was a divine sensation. I’ve never been a great cook (I’m rubbish at it actually, as you already know), but I had no problem whatsoever in recognising good food when I could smell it or taste it.
“Let’s go to the kitchen and have a glass of wine,” suggested Ronald. Wise man. “So how’s business? We’ve heard rumours.”
I knew that. They’d decided to trap me here, stick a pie under my nose, knowing full well I couldn’t resist, and then, BAM! Start with the interrogation, how it would have been risky and so on. My mother should have worked for the CIA or for MI6 in the service of Her Majesty. She didn’t have a grapevine; she had a whole bloody vineyard.
“Indeed. We’re going to merge with the Battersea Fashion Centre next month. It’s really going to happen,” I said, with pride in my voice.
“What about that boyfriend of yours, Raffaele?” my mother asked suddenly. “You stopped talking about him very abruptly.”
“That’s because we split up,” I retorted, “Apparently I was working too hard and we didn’t spend enough time together. He just didn’t want to have a workaholic around.”
“So the main issue was that you were
working too hard and didn’t see each other often enough?” asked Ronald.
Put like that, I sounded like a career bitch: someone who wouldn’t care about a partner in order to achieve her goals, now that we were elaborating about that.
“You could always slow down a bit,” my mother said. “You have some very capable people, like your friend Ritchie, working with you. Believe me, being successful is important, but what’s the point, if you don’t have someone to share your life with?”
“And you’re still in love; I can see that from the way you talk about him,” added Ronald. Love had never been an issue; I was madly in love with Raffaele, but somehow I’d never been able to balance my working life with my private one. I had a burning desire to be successful, which could have roots going back to my mother not considering that I could make it on my own, but the price to pay was perhaps too high.
“You might not mind it now, because you’re young and full of energy, but maybe later on you’ll look back and regret not giving that nice guy a chance,” said.my mother. “Or in a few years you might meet him with his new family and think, ‘What if it was me; the one living with him?’ But by then it would be too late.”
It was hurtful; plain and simple, but hurtful. I was dedicating all my energy to my company, but when the job was done, with whom could I share the results, if I was alone? I hated to admit it, but Mother was right. She’s not always right: when it’s a matter of choosing colours that gel, sometimes she’s rubbish and old-fashioned, but on this subject she was right. Damn! Working wasn’t enough; I had to balance my time better. Working was a means to achieve something else, such as love, a family, spending time with that very person that makes you feel special.
“I suppose so. I’ll think about that,” I answered.
“Of course you will, my dear. Now let’s sit, because the pie is just about ready.”
We finished our dinner and I enjoyed the carefree moments we were sharing; it was a shame Rachel wasn’t there. Moments like that, when you’re with the people you love, are worthwhile; they make you realise why we all work so hard and what the true values in our lives are. Being with the people you love is the most important thing; the rest can come later.
I was shaking when I finally drove away. For a while I kept wandering without a clear direction; I drove down street after street in the direction of the office, but I was sure I didn’t want to go there. That was also the source of my problem. Suddenly I realised what I had to do. I changed direction and went to see my best friend.
When Ritchie opened the door he was surprised to see me there, unannounced. “GiGi, what are you doing here?”
“We need to talk. May I come in?”
And so we talked, and then we talked some more. He asked a number of times if I was sure. I was.
CHAPTER 43
I didn’t mind driving, especially that evening. I reached the Gastro Pub when it was almost eleven in the evening. I wasn’t hungry; I had just one thought on my mind. When I entered the premises Simon, one of the waiters, came to greet me and asked if he could help. I said not; I would just have a glass of wine at the bar, maybe some nibbles, and wait until Raffaele finished in the kitchen.
The restaurant was buzzing despite the late hour. I had no doubt Raffaele would have made it work; he was a talented chef and he deserved it. I also recognised a few faces from the opening, meaning that he’d started having repeat customers. Good.
Suddenly a familiar voice reached me from behind. “GiGi, what are you doing here?”
I turned and faced Raffaele. Oh my gosh: he was so beautiful (I fully appreciate that when describing a man the correct term was handsome, but …). “We need to talk, I’ll just wait here till you’ve finished.”
“No need for that. Give me one minute and I’ll let the rest of the kitchen staff take over.”
I felt guilty about interrupting him during his work, but at the same time I was grateful I wouldn’t have to wait another couple of hours. He came back and signalled to me to follow him into his office, at the back of the restaurant.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Raffaele, I do love you,” I started.
“I love you too – but that was never the point, was it?”
“We’re going to be merging with the Battersea Fashion Centre.”
A look of disbelief showed on his face. “You’re going to work with Jasper?”
“No, nothing like that!” And then I described to him all that had happened, from the bloggers, the court hearing, the attempt to bribe us, until Timothy’s offer.
“The same Timothy who came here for the opening?” he asked.
“The one and only.”
“He’s actually become an established customer. And he brings lots of people, too,” he said, as if for a moment he was pondering a long list of clients. “So, you’ll be extremely busy.”
“No, I won’t. It’s time for me to take a step back. I spoke to Ritchie today and he’ll be the one to take the lead on the new venture. He’s capable and he deserves it. I’ll still work there, of course, but I won’t be the one making the hard decisions and working until late any more. I actually think I might go part time and enjoy the earnings from my shares.”
He looked at me in disbelief. “Are you saying …?”
“Yes, I am. I love that job, but there are more important things in life, I want to be with you, the person that I love; to grow old and spend quality time together. That is, if you haven’t changed your mind about wanting to be with me.”
He jumped out of his chair and hugged me in those strong arms of his. “Of course I haven’t changed my mind.” We looked each other in the eye and then kissed passionately.
“I’ll have time to spend with you and cook you a nice dinner,” I laughed.
“No way. I’ve already tried one of your experiments and surely I do not want to make that mistake again. Maybe I could teach you,” he added.
That wasn’t such a bad idea. “Maybe you can cook and I can take photos and put your dishes into a book. We could send the first copy to Caroline Porter." ”We both laughed, and all the tension that had accumulated between us during the past few weeks disappeared. We were back where we had left off, happy and in love.
“I want at least two kids. I don’t mind if they’re girls or boys, as long as they have your eyes,” he added.
“Deal!”
You know, even the Dragons keep saying how important their families are.
* * * * *
I just wanted to say thank you for purchasing this my debut novel.
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Blue and Green Should Never be Seen! (Or so Mother says) Page 21
