A Class Apart (43 page)

“Nothing serious, I hope. Look, let me get you a drink, then you can tell me all about it.” She walked over to the sideboard, and poured them both a Scotch and soda. “No one’s upset you have they?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Thanks,” and she took the drink from Jenneen.

“Then what?”

“Actually, it’s not to do with me at all. It’s to do with you.”

“With me?” said Jenneen, swallowing her drink.

“Yes, When I arrived earlier there was somebody else waiting here for you.”

Jenneen paled. It took no great intelligence to work out who it had been, even without the look on Vicky’s face.

“I recognised him immediately,” said Vicky.

“Where is he now?”

“He left when I said that I’d come to see you.”

“Doesn’t sound like Matthew, to give up so easily.”

“I told him that you were expecting several others as well. It seemed to put him off.”

“Thanks,” said Jenneen. “But he was here only last night. Why has he come again?”

“That, only he can tell you. Does he come round often then?”

“I’m afraid so. Too bloody often.”

“So it’s all still going on then?”

Jenneen nodded.

“You’re going to have to do something about it, Jenn. You can’t carry on like this, you know.”

“If only it were that easy. He’ll never go away, I know he won’t.”

“Does he threaten you?”

“Threaten me!” Jenneen cried. “Are you kidding? He does nothing else but threaten me.”

“No, I meant violently.”

“I’d call it violently, yes,” Jenneen answered. “But if you mean physically, then the answer is no, not usually.”

“Not usually? You mean he has?”

“Sometimes, in the past. But I’ve realised now that if I just give in gracefully and hand over the money, then he goes fairly quickly. And now he’s living with that little tart Maggie, I assume he has his meals cooked for him there, so he doesn’t expect me to do it any more. Did he say anything to you?”

“Not really. We’ve met before, actually, but I don’t know if he remembered. It’s because of that that I waited around. There’s something I think you should know, about me I mean.”

“Oh blast!” Jenneen said, as the telephone began to ring. “Won’t be a minute.”

It was Ashley calling to tell her that there would be a Barnes Conference the following evening, if she could make it, she had some pretty important news.

“I’m intrigued,” Jenneen laughed. “Yes, I’ll be there. See you,” and she rang off. “Sorry,” she said, turning back to Vicky. “Where were we? Oh yes, you were saying you didn’t know if Matthew remembered you. Well, you’re lucky if he didn’t. I only wish he’d forget me.”

The telephone interruption had robbed Vicky of her confidence; she decided not to say what she had intended. “Well, he’s not going to,” she said. “Not as long as you keep giving in to him.”

“I don’t see any alternative.”

“You can go to the police.”

Jenneen looked shocked. “Now you really are kidding me. I can’t afford to have my name splashed across the headlines like that. No one can. And don’t underestimate him, he’s perfectly capable of doing it. In fact it wouldn’t even surprise me if one of these days he did it, just for the sheer hell of it. He’s a cunning, deceitful, sly little toad, is Matthew Bordsleigh, with all the charm of Genghis Khan, though few ever get to see that far. No, the last thing I’m going to do is tell the police, that’ll be playing straight into his hands.”

“I assume he’s beyond reasoning with?”

“You assume correctly.”

“But you can’t go on like this, Jenneen. You’ll have no life to call your own. No money, no freedom, no peace of mind. You’ve got to get rid of him.”

“Short of murder, nothing else springs to mind.”

Vicky laughed. “Well, he’d deserve it, but I suppose that’s no answer. No, we’ll have to think of something. Somehow he’s got to be stopped. The problem is, how?”

“There’s no point in even talking about it. Believe me, if there was a way out of this, I’d have found it by now. I almost did, until you stopped me. No, Matthew Bordsleigh will be a leech on the Jenneen Grey coffers, until he decides otherwise. And I’m just going to have to accept it.”

“Why don’t you let me talk to him?”

“He won’t listen, and besides I’d rather that you didn’t get involved. He’s a very nasty character, capable of almost anything.”

“It’s funny, but when I saw him earlier, I thought how nice he looked. Attractive, with a certain sort of style, a ready smile. It’s difficult to believe that he’s a liar, a cheat, and a blackmailer.”

“I can assure you he is,” said Jenneen. “And there’s nothing more deceiving than looks. Especially his, and I should know.”

“Well, I’m not going to let it rest there. There must be something we can do, I’ll just have to think of it.”

Jenneen looked worried. “Look, I’ve never discussed this with anyone, not even my closest friends. No one else knows.”

Vicky smiled. “Don’t worry, it’ll be our secret, if that’s what you want. Now, any more Scotch?”

“Sure,” said Jenneen, getting up. As she poured the drinks she was beginning to regret ever having told Vicky anything. She thought back to the day that Vicky had saved her life, and wondered sadly if she would ever reach that pitch again. But that was a silly thing to think. Weren’t things looking up now? Everything had been sorted with Kate, and she was getting her own programme idea off the ground, with the blessings of the company, and under the auspices of Bill.

“I’ve got something to celebrate,” she said, turning back to Vicky.

“That makes a change,” was Vicky’s dry reply.

Jenneen laughed, and fell back into the chair. Vicky was delighted with her news and suggested that they go out to eat, on her.

“Lunch and dinner? I am doing well today,” Jenneen remarked. “I’ll go and change, I can’t go like this, I look a mess.”

“You look fine to me,” said Vicky, arching an eyebrow. “In fact, don’t I recognise that dress from somewhere?”

“Indeed you do. But it’s a bit crumpled, I’ve had it on all day. No offence meant.”

“None taken.”

Jenneen put her Scotch on the table, and got up to leave the room.

“Jenn.”

Jenneen turned back, alerted by the serious note in Vicky’s voice.

“Look, Jenn, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have poked my nose in. It’s none of my business, and I’m sorry, I was only trying to help.”

“Oh Vicky,” said Jenneen, sitting down again. “I know you were.”

“Well, I hope you believe me when I say that it will go no further. If any of this ever gets out, then I can promise you, it won’t have come from me. But I’m glad you told me. As I said before, it doesn’t do any good to bottle these things up. But it’s your life, and you must handle things your way. I won’t mention it again, I promise.”

“Thanks,” said Jenneen. “And I’m sorry if I seemed a bit off.”

“You weren’t. Now, you go and change. I’m starving, and I want to hear all about this programme idea of yours.”

TWENTY-FIVE

It had all happened so quickly Ashley could hardly believe that it was only four weeks since she had asked Julian to arrange it for her. And now she was here, in New York, in Manhattan, and she had never felt so alive. She longed to throw out her arms and spin round and round with the sheer excitement of it all. Already she adored the exhilaration of the place. Everything was so fast, so electrifying, and she, Ashley Mayne, was a part of it. She was no mere tourist, stopping over on a quick week’s holiday – or vacation – she was a real,
bona fide
citizen of New York. At least, she would be once she had found herself somewhere to live.

In the meantime she was staying in a small, rather English hotel over on the East side, where the people fussed over her and “just loved her cute English accent”.

She had thought that she would be lonely at first and, in truth, if she had allowed herself the time, she probably would have been. She had had five days free before she started work on Madison Avenue, and had crammed as much into those five days as was humanly possible – a bus tour of the city, visits to museums, art galleries and all the tourist sites. The place that gave her the greatest thrill of all was, without a doubt. Fifth Avenue. All those glorious shops – stores – displaying a myriad of riches, from diamonds to furs, and Cartier to Tiffany. She had already opened an account at Saks, and was now toying with the idea of opening another at Tiffany. Not that she could afford to use it, but what the hell, wouldn’t the others be impressed!

She had called home a couple of times, but her mother was so worried about the expense of the trans-Atlantic connection that she always hurried her off the line. Jenneen had phoned twice, and Ellamarie and Bob had called her once too. She had been especially pleased to hear from Ellamarie; she hadn’t seemed herself at all in the weeks leading up to Ashley’s departure, and Ashley had wondered if it had had anything to do with Bob. But Ellamarie had sounded better when she’d rung, and Bob had been with her, wanting to speak too. Hopefully, whatever it was that had been wrong between them, had been sorted now. She had not only received a phone call from Kate, there had been a bottle of champagne and some flowers waiting for her at her hotel when she’d arrived. The card had read: “With all my love, Kate. And mine too, Nick.” Nick’s addition had made Ashley smile, and she had had to admit to a pang of homesickness at that moment. But really, her only sadness was that they weren’t all here to share her new life with her.

On the Friday morning after she’d arrived she called in at the IBM building on Madison Avenue where Frazier, Nelmes had their offices. She received a friendly welcome from a smart and surprisingly middle-aged woman, called Jan, who was to be her secretary. When Jan showed her into her office, Ashley tried very hard not to look as overwhelmed as she felt. It was almost as big as the entire Art Department at Frazier, Nelmes back in London, with a desk of such monumental proportions that she felt faintly ridiculous sitting behind it. At the other end of the room was a small alcove where two leather sofas flanked a marble-topped coffee table. Jan referred to this area as a casual, where less formal meetings could be held, and Ashley noticed a drinks cabinet built into the wall, which, she found when she opened it, was stocked with everything she could imagine, and more.

Later, after Jan had shown her round and introduced her to the heads of every department, she took her along to Conrad’s office, where she introduced Ashley to Candice, Conrad’s secretary. Candice was no surprise. She was exactly how Ashley imagined Conrad’s secretary would be. Chic, sophisticated, and very glamorous. Ashley liked her immediately, and the feeling appeared to be mutual. Candice told her that Conrad was away right now and wouldn’t be back until the end of the month. He was cruising the Caribbean with clients – one of the more enviable functions of the Chairman.

Ashley was secretly relieved that he wasn’t there; she did not relish their inevitable meeting. She was sure that he was deeply resentful of her being foisted upon him by Julian, and was in no doubt that he had probably made the telephone lines to London curl with his opinion of the situation. Still, she would deal with him when the time came.

When she returned on Monday morning, fresh and ready to go at eight thirty, she found that everything had been set up for her. She was quietly impressed by the efficiency of her department, and most of all of Jan. At ten o’dock she held a meeting in her “casual” of all the Account Execs who could make it, and was pleasantly surprised by their manner towards her. She had expected a certain amount of resentment, hostility even, but she only received friendship, and offers of help; she knew they were all going to get along.

At lunchtime Candice took her to a restaurant called Prima Donna where she proceeded to fill Ashley in on everyone at the agency. Ashley didn’t ask anything about Conrad, and if Candice mentioned him at all it was with a good deal of affection. Ashley was more surprised by that than perhaps anything else so far. She could imagine a lot of feelings one might have towards Conrad Frazier, but affection was certainly not one of them. Still, what Candice felt about Conrad was none of her business; she was here to do a job, and start a new life, and that’s what she aimed to do.

The first couple of weeks flew by, leaving her with hardly a minute to herself. There were so many meetings. She had heard how the Americans liked to meet, but this was beyond anything she had expected. The first ones of the day started at breakfast, around eight in the morning, and continued on and off all day, sometimes until well past midnight, in some club or restaurant.

She found the clients to be a great deal less awkward than those she had come across in England, but in being less awkward, they were far more demanding. Everything had to be done yesterday, and if not yesterday, then last week. It was all go. Commercials were being shot every day; billboards and posters were going up and down all over town; newspapers and magazines were continuously bombarded for the purchase of space, and the Art Department churned out their work with such speed and efficiency that Ashley almost blushed to think of its small counterpart in London. These people certainly knew how to work. And they did, solidly, until the job was done.