A Perfect Heritage (49 page)

‘Really? Really that good?’

‘Really that good.’

‘I see. Well . . .’ Go on, Bianca, just do it: now before you lose your nerve. Go on. Milly is who matters here, not you, not your stupid pride. You really don’t have any right to that of all things. Go on . . . go on . . .

‘Jemima, could you get Lucy on the phone for me, please? Right away? And send a message to the boardroom I’ll be five minutes late. Yes. Thank you . . . Oh, Lucy. Hello. It’s Bianca. Look, I’ve been thinking and I – well, I owe you an apology. That could be a very clever idea of yours for Milly and I’m sorry I wasn’t more enthusiastic. Would you like to come for supper one evening this week, so we can discuss it and with Milly? And the looks you’re thinking about, of course. I might ask Susie to come as well. I think Milly will be over the moon. In fact why don’t I get her to call you? Would that be all right?’

Nothing from Henk today – nothing for three days. Maybe he was going to accept what she’d said, maybe she could begin to relax.

‘Lara, have you got five minutes?’

‘I could have,’ said Lara with a grin. ‘You’re the boss.’

‘You could have fooled me. Anyway, let’s not get into that. It’s about Bertie. Did you know he was leaving?’

‘Leaving! No!’ She felt cold and a bit sick. ‘Where’s he going, what’s happened?’

‘It’s all rather odd, really. He’s going to a company that runs garden centres.’

‘That’s not odd – he loves gardens and gardening.’

‘Yes, I know. But – what I mean is, leaving Farrell’s, leaving the family, leaving the industry, striking out on his own – that’s huge, when you think about it.’

Lara shrugged. ‘Is it?’

‘Lara, of course it is. Don’t be silly. He didn’t give me a real reason, was a bit cagey about it all. Apart from being really sweet about how much I’d done for him, given him the confidence to think for himself, as he put it, he was very brief and businesslike. Said it was partly for personal reasons which he’d rather not discuss, but also this was a field he was rather more comfortable with than cosmetics. He was so sweet, so anxious about causing me problems, and at such a time, as he put it, altogether at his most Bertie-like, that I couldn’t be cross with him. Oh, and he’s moving up to the Midlands. I presumed that was the personal bit, so I didn’t press him on it. Anyway, keep it quiet, I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I don’t count you—’

‘Thanks,’ said Lara.

‘You know what I mean. You’re family. Speaking of which, what’s that I hear out there – could it be – it is – good afternoon, Lady Farrell.’ In what was now a rather familiar scenario, Jemima appeared in the doorway looking apologetic and embarrassed, with Lady Farrell inserting herself in front of her.

‘Mrs Bailey, we must talk.’

‘About?’ Bianca’s voice was sweetly courteous as always. Anything else was counterproductive.

‘The perfume launch. And in private, if you please.’

‘Lady Farrell, Mrs Clements and I are in the middle of a meeting. If she is agreeable, we can certainly interrupt it, but only for a short time. You and I can perhaps talk later, if necessary. But do please tell me what is concerning you. Lara, is that all right with you?’

‘Of course,’ said Lara.

‘Very well.’ Just occasionally Athina would accept defeat. ‘It’s about the advertising campaign for the perfume.’

‘Ah, yes.’

‘I have seen nothing as yet, no visuals, no copy. It’s already late, and we need to be in the July issues for June, perhaps you didn’t realise that?’

‘I did, yes,’ Bianca said, hanging on to her patient smile with difficulty.

‘And that in turn means final copy, and indeed artwork to the magazines by early April at the latest. And here we are, mid-February and nothing even presented. I have to say that Langland Dennis and Colborne would have had a great deal to show us by now – unless of course your people, those rather casual young men, have done some work already and you haven’t seen fit to show it to me? I’m sure you would agree that the perfume is my project. It wouldn’t exist without me. Perhaps you have forgotten that.’

‘Lady Farrell I . . .’ Bianca paused. ‘You’re quite right, they are being a little slow. And I should have chased them before this. I’m – I’m most grateful to you for bringing it to my attention, and I’ll see they have something to show us by next week. And I’ll make sure the date is convenient to you.’

Athina appeared to accept all this. Just as well, Bianca thought. If she’d felt miffed enough, she’d have been quite capable of going to another agency altogether and briefing them herself . . .

‘Well, I’m pleased to hear it,’ she said, ‘and I have to say that if they don’t come up with something very impressive, I would consider going to another agency altogether . . .’

When Athina had gone, Lara said, ‘She’s right. I was thinking it was getting on a bit.’

‘I know. But the thing is, everything’s up in the air now. Rethink all round. Including budgets.’

‘Oh, I see. Because of your idea?’

‘Because of my idea. It’s got a lot to answer for, my idea has!’

Right. She was probably beginning to relax, to think he was out of her life. Or at least calming down.

So, what should he say this time? It would have to be a bit different, scary still, but maybe lulling her into a sense of false security. Then it would be more of a shock when he pulled her out of it. God, he was enjoying this. It really was eye-for-an-eye, tooth-for-a-tooth time. Serve her right for thinking she could just dump him. Anyway, he hadn’t that long, he was meeting Zoe straight after work. There’d been another one in this afternoon, giving him the eye, almost as gorgeous; he really should have seen what an opportunity this job was, when it came to pulling. Worth the odd bit of sweeping up and being ordered about. For a bit anyway. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and moved into creative mode.

And then thought of how he could make it different.

As she passed Bertie’s office, Lara saw him engaged in a clearly rather intense conversation on the phone. He gave her a half-hearted smile and then got up and closed his door. It hurt Lara more than anything, that gesture. Bertie, who she thought was her friend, to whom she had felt at one point so close, fancied even, making this huge decision without even hinting at it. And moving away, for personal reasons. What did that mean? Only one thing, in Lara’s experience: he had met someone and he wanted to move to be nearer to her. God, it hurt. All those lunchtimes, those jokes, the growing closeness – all misread . . .

Well, the one good thing was that it would be one in the eye for that cow of a wife of his. But she felt such a fool. Thinking Bertie fancied her when clearly that had been the wildest fantasy, when obviously she wasn’t his equal intellectually, socially or indeed any other way.

In her office, she switched on her computer and started scrolling through the morning’s emails. She was trying to make sense of a report on stockholdings when Bertie appeared in the doorway. He smiled at her nervously.

‘Sorry about that. Did you want to discuss something?’

Lara shook her head. No way was she going to appear to be chasing him, when his sights were set so firmly elsewhere, and besides, he had asked Bianca to keep his news confidential so she certainly wasn’t going to so much as hint she knew or cared about it.

‘No,’ she said, briskly, ‘no, I didn’t.’

‘OK.’ He looked at her rather sadly and disappeared again.

Back at his own desk, Bertie looked at the piece of paper covered with notes from his conversation with the rather sharp solicitor he had briefed to handle the divorce, and sighed. It would have been so nice to talk to Lara about it, not just because she had been through it, but because he needed her friendship and warmth more than ever. He would have liked to talk about the new job too, and see what she thought about it, and even explain why he was going; but she had been so odd since the conference, so distant, so that was clearly out of the question too. He missed her; she had made every day funny and interesting, with her ability to see things differently and positively, her can-do attitude, her swift, pragmatic judgment. He wondered if she’d met someone at the conference: there’d been enough men there and one of the conference organisers had clearly rather fancied her, the one she’d been dancing with so much. He’d seen them laughing together, and dancing at the disco, which would explain a lot. He had thought at one point their relationship was rather special; had even – well, clearly he had been completely wrong. Poor, silly Bertie had got it wrong again.

Susie was asleep when her phone rang. She grabbed it, stared at it stupidly.

‘Hello?’

‘Susie, it’s Henk. I feel so bad, so terribly bad. I just can’t go on. Susie, you’ve got to help me!’

‘Henk, Henk, please!’ Her brain was still blurred. ‘It’s two in the morning – what do you want?’

‘You know what I want.
You
. I’ve got to see you tomorrow, OK?’

‘Yes, yes, OK, OK. Where and when, just say.’

Then he rang again, just after four, saying he wanted to make sure she was coming.

She was still wide awake, of course, terrified. But it was a dreadful shock, just the same. As it was when he called at five. What was she going to do, what?

Chapter 44

He knew he should be going back to London: the whole trip had come out of nowhere and he’d promised Bianca it was only for two days. Now he was running into the fourth, but it was the most intriguing – and potentially most important – case yet. It could make billions for Saul. Or prevent him from losing them.

Of course Saul had said there had been no need to go out there in the first place, but he’d been wrong. The chap Patrick had talked to on the first morning had set him on a trail he’d never have found just from trawling through documents. More and more it seemed necessary to be personally involved. And Saul was so appreciative of his efforts, kept saying he’d never known anything like Patrick’s dog-at-a-bone approach so it really did seem he was bringing more to the job than Saul had expected. Which was a great feeling. Heading up a family business, seeing it go smoothly along, keeping its clients happy – how could that compare with the almost physical excitement of following a twisting, convoluted trail, leading he knew not where, knowing he was doing something very very few other people could?

All of which was making him feel differently about life: about Bianca, about his role in their marriage, their marriage itself. Once, they were his main priorities, central to his life; now what she demanded of him, what had seemed right, looked increasingly questionable. His own career, his own progress, were growing in importance day by day; and thus his own needs and requirements. It was subliminal, much of this, and he was most aware of it in a deterioration in their relationship and an interesting reluctance, a refusal indeed, in him to face what was clearly necessary to restore it to what it was. Had he been asked if he loved her still, he would have said unhesitatingly yes; but increasingly he saw her as selfish as much as ambitious, demanding as much as driven, and her success dependent on him to an extent he had never properly realised. The price had been his own fulfilment – and was beginning to seem most unfairly high.

So – he was going to stay on. Bianca would have to cope. Which was exactly what he had been doing for the last thirteen or so years.

Patrick settled down at the desk in his room on the fifteenth floor of his absurdly luxurious hotel and abandoned himself, not to the delights of room service, or the excellent TV and media channels, or even the complimentary bottle of champagne that had been waiting for him on arrival, but the notes he had been making throughout the day and the slightly mysterious rise in construction costs over the past six months in the electronics company he was investigating and which had declared, as its policy, a five per cent reduction each year . . .

Jemima was increasingly intrigued by the stories she heard of Henk. She would not have dreamed of saying anything to Susie, but her description of his behaviour bore no resemblance to any case involving suicidal tendencies she had ever heard of or studied and something just didn’t ring quite true. Henk’s calmness, his openness to Susie’s suggestion to seek professional help, the fact everything was going well with his new job – a humble job, moreover, that seemed unsuited to someone of his arrogance and aggression – and above all the cosy walk back to the flat with Susie; it just . . . niggled.

She had spoken to her tutor about it in theoretical, not actual, terms and he was dismissive.

‘You cannot leap to conclusions, Jemima, or generalise in any way the behaviour of the person you describe. This theoretical creature you’ve pieced together as an exercise – who I suspect is as factual as you and I, but we won’t go into that – is clearly complex in the extreme and he’s a nasty piece of work by any standard. That does not, however, mean he is an unlikely candidate for suicide. I would only beg of you not to express your views to anyone concerned with the case.’

‘Of course I won’t,’ said Jemima. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it!’

‘Good. Now, if we could turn our attention to last week’s case study . . .’

Nevertheless, she continued to fret and next day she found Susie white-faced, and heard about the night calls.

‘So, will you meet him tonight?’

‘I have to. From everything you said, everything I’ve read even, it would be dangerous not to. It’s so scary, Jemima, you’ve no idea.’

‘I think I have – totally awful. But let’s see what he says, shall we? And what will you do if he tries to come home with you, or won’t let you go?’

‘Oh, Jemima, I don’t know!’ Susie’s voice cracked.

‘Look, I’ve got a lecture this evening,’ said Jemima, ‘and the Institute’s not that far from here. I’ll be away about nine, so fix it somewhere near-ish and if you’re in trouble, text me and I’ll come right over.’

‘You’re such a good friend,’ said Susie. ‘I couldn’t cope with any of this without you. I feel so totally terrified.’

‘Of course you do, anyone would. But we’ll get it sorted, Susie, promise. No news from Jonjo?’

‘Of course not,’ said Susie, her voice brisk suddenly, ‘that’s obviously so over. I’m OK about it, actually.’ She managed a quick smile. ‘I’m much more worried about Henk now than about Jonjo.’

Which, Jemima reflected, was exactly what Henk wanted.

Lara sat listening to Tod, who had brought what he called his technical team – a team of one, called Jules – for a briefing meeting on Bianca’s idea. Her own head was still reeling at it. It was so original, so absolutely fit for purpose, so totally of today in concept. It was at such times that she realised how it was that Bianca had reached the pinnacle of her profession; she might make mistakes, she might take wrong turnings, but she had a brilliantly innovative mind and a capacity for lateral thought that made Lara’s head spin.

‘So let’s recap,’ said Tod. ‘There’s going to be all these little Berkeley Arcade lookalikes in the shopping capitals of the world, OK? And, of course, there will be virtual shops online, with a facility for internet shopping. People can wander in, select things from the shelves, that sort of thing.’

‘Ye-es.’ So far, the technical person seemed underwhelmed. ‘OK. Now, this is where it gets clever. Every shop – every
real
shop – will open at the same time, I mean literally the same time, ten a.m. UK time, because Farrell’s is an English company, and that’s what we’re making so much of as you know, the heritage thing, anyway. So eleven a.m. in Paris and Milan, six a.m. in New York, nine p.m. in Sydney or whatever – you get the idea?’

‘Sorry, you’ve got me there. Are people
really
going to go shopping at six in the morning in New York?’

‘Possibly not. But they’ll want to see it happening online. We’re talking a global launch here. How it will work is that when the punter logs on, the site will recognise the country she’s in and automatically divert her to the correct shop. Like here, it would be London obviously. And if there’s more than one shop in your country, like New York and LA, you’ll be able to go to your local, so to speak. And of course go to other countries, if you want to check out Tokyo, say. Anyway, you, dear customer, will be there in real time, outside the London shop and as soon as it’s open, you can start shopping. Be first in line at a global cosmetic launch, see the doors of each shop open for the first time. And it will be the real thing, filmed using a webcam and downloaded on to your computer. You’ll be able to watch people going in, wandering round, outside in the street, outside Farrell shops all over the world. So how amazing is that? And then you can start shopping. That’ll be virtual, obviously. And if you fancy nipping over to New York, you can. It’s going to be
huge
, the buzz we can get going. Nothing’s ever been done like it: we’re personalising internet shopping in a way that’s never been done and the PR will be incredible. The most hardened editors and bloggers will love it.’

The technical team turned to Bianca and grinned.

‘And this was your idea?’

‘It was.’

‘It’s fu— bloody brilliant.’

‘Well, thank you. I thought so too. Excuse my modesty. It wasn’t actually entirely my idea. Well, it sort of was, but Jay-Z, you know, the rock star—’

‘Yeah, I know, course I do!’

‘Sorry. Anyway, he did something a bit similar, you might even know about it?’

The technical team shook its head.

‘Well, he published every single page of his autobiography separately, but simultaneously, somewhere in the world, sides of trucks, posters, subways, so in theory people could download the whole book and read it. And I thought: how amazing to have all these people sitting by their computers, waiting for whatever time it is where they are, to be first in line, as all the little virtual shops open—’

‘Oh my God,’ said Lara interrupting, ‘are we doing lots of shops now?’

‘Yes, we absolutely are. We’ll have the shops because we’re going to do a franchise operation. How clever is that? Not my idea, that one. Had a bit of a time getting Mike and Hugh on side, and I’m not sure they believe in it even now, but they’re doing their bit, putting feelers out to their contacts where I don’t have any. No joy yet, but – well, it’s going to work, it’s got to.’

‘And – sorry to be negative – can we do it in the time?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Bianca airily. ‘Same reason, because we’ve got to. There is simply no room for failure And there won’t be.’

She smiled round the room. ‘So what do you think?’

‘I still think it’s amazing,’ said Tod. ‘Amazing.’ He smiled back at Bianca.

She was changed, Lara thought, from the humiliated, half-defeated woman of the conference and the following week; she had her confidence back, her sheen, her sure touch; she knew absolutely what she was doing.

‘Well, the first thing we have to do is build a microsite,’ Tod said, ‘with a link to the main Farrell one. Built-in HTML5, I would say. Agree, Jules?’

‘Yeah, probably. There’d be animation in it obviously, movement within the site, interactive techniques – all kinds of fun.’

‘And timing?’ said Bianca. ‘I imagine it won’t be exactly easy.’

‘No, it won’t. But Bianca, it can be done,’ said Tod. ‘Trust us.’

‘OK. I have to, don’t I?’

‘You do,’ said Tod with a grin.

‘And the other thing I thought was: suppose it broke down under all the hits – millions, hopefully – how totally awful that would be?’

‘Totally,’ said Jules, ‘so the next thing we do is run a beta version of the site on a server which is not accessible to the public, and basically try to break the site. Throw as much as we can at it. So we know it’ll be all right.’

‘So there we are,’ said Tod, ‘lots of pretty little shops, fantastic website, excited public – how do we tell them about it in the first place?’

‘Well,’ said Susie, ‘press is too slow, really, although I’ve got some ideas for them. But in the immediate build-up, bloggers, the dailies, TV. I have a feeling that we need an event too. On launch day. Something simple, like totally stopping London’s traffic? No, seriously, I’ll think of something. And of course online, banners, that sort of thing. And a teaser campaign, that’s a must.’

‘Yeah, and we’ve got a line for you,’ said Tod. ‘See if you like it. It’s “Something beautiful is going to happen”. It will appear wherever the Farrell logo is. Just that, to begin with, nothing more.’

‘I like it very much,’ said Bianca.

‘Good. Then after a month or so we’ll add “June 1st” and anything else that we think necessary. It’s intriguing, and wherever they go, they’ll find it, in magazines, online, possibly even radio, on the website and the Farrell Facebook page and Twitter, of course. Those eight little words. No more.’

‘Great,’ said Susie. ‘Really really great.’

‘Good. Oh, and we think you should have a Face of Farrell,’ said Tod, ‘a supermodel or, better still, an actress, plugging Farrell’s with their every breath.’

‘Now that we can’t afford,’ said Bianca. ‘Totally impossible.’

‘Bianca,’ said Susie slowly, ‘I like that idea. Can I have a go at finding someone?’

‘Yes, if you really think you can. But it absolutely mustn’t cost anything. Well, hardly anything.’

‘OK,’ said Jules. ‘Now, do you want to be involved in building the site?’

‘Only on the visual side – I wouldn’t understand most of it.’

‘Of course. But that would come a bit later. Let’s get the technicalities out of the way, and you say there’ll be a dozen shops minimum?’

‘Maximum,’ said Bianca. ‘Minimum two. But there will be. Don’t look at me like that, Tod! It’s just that I really am dependent on finding people to put their money into us, and until they do . . .’

‘Of course.’

‘The minute there’s one, they’ll all come tumbling in. It’s that first in the bag that does it.’

‘I had to sell ad space once,’ said Lara, ‘for a new magazine. Total nightmare, no one would risk it. Then, finally, Revlon took a page and bingo! They were fighting each other off.’

‘I bet. So all we need is a Revlon. Notionally speaking. But – I’ll keep you posted.’ For the first time that morning she looked less confident, less positive even.

‘Right,’ said Tod, ‘one more thing. We wondered about having a countdown device, ticking away on the site, like a digital clock, marking every second till June 1st. I know it’s a bit corny, but it’s very intriguing, just the same. But we need to make it different, memorable – we don’t want it to look like the Olympic clock.’

‘How about,’ said Lara slowly, ‘some sort of device that starts as the tiniest dot in the corner of the page – I mean screen – getting bigger and bigger and then more and more recognisable as a face by June 1st. Just think of her, coming into focus, starting with a fleck of eye colour or a scrap of eyelash.’

‘That’s
genius
,
’
said Tod, staring at her. ‘I love it! It could be part of the teaser campaign. She could be our supermodel. How about that?’

‘Yes, yes, yes!’ said Bianca. ‘Goodness, this has turned into some brainstorm. Fantastic work, everybody. Thank you so much. Now—’

Jemima appeared looking as near to flustered as she was capable of.