The Inheritance (49 page)

‘Yes.’

‘So … you’re gay?’

‘I’m in love with a man,’ Jason replied. ‘So I suppose so, yes.’

‘But … you were in love with a woman before. With me.’

‘That’s true,’ agreed Jason. ‘It was never quite right, though, was it? Something was always wrong. Right from the beginning.’

Tati nodded. It was a shock. She hadn’t suspected, not at all. But it
did
explain a lot. Something had always been missing between them. She’d just always assumed that she was the problem.

‘I adored you,’ said Jason. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think I married you under false pretences. But as time went on, I knew something was wrong. I was very depressed.’

‘I remember.’

‘I just didn’t know why until I met George. After that it all made sense.’

‘George …’ Tati rolled the name over in her mind. She tried to picture this ‘George’ but all she could think of was an image of Matt Damon from the Liberace movie, all blond hair and tight trousers and rhinestones. To her dismay, she found herself starting to giggle.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, blushing. ‘I’m not laughing at you. It was brave of you to tell me. I think I’m just in shock.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Jason. ‘I’d rather you were laughing than crying. I truly am sorry.’

They hugged each other.

‘So,’ Tati said, once she’d regained her composure, ‘what happens now? Presumably you and … George … want to be together?’

Jason rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘Actually it’s complicated.’

Tati raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘He’s married,’ said Jason. ‘He has kids.’

‘Oh.’ Tati winced. ‘I see.’ Suddenly she felt immensely tired. ‘Why don’t we go to bed?’ she said to Jason. ‘I know there’s a lot to talk about. But we don’t have to rush into any decisions right away.’

‘All right,’ said Jason, visibly relieved. ‘Thanks for being so good about it, Tati. I’ll move my stuff into the spare room.’

‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘Not yet.’

He gave her a puzzled look.

‘I realize it probably sounds ridiculous,’ she explained. ‘But I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. I don’t want to lose you. Not completely. Not yet.’

Jason wrapped his arms around her. ‘Nor I you,’ he said truthfully. ‘I’ll always be there for you, Tatiana. Whatever you need. I promise.’

When Tatiana woke the next morning, it was almost noon. A single shaft of brilliant sunshine pierced a crack in the curtains, throwing a laser-bright slice of light onto the bed and into Tati’s eyes.

Groaning she rolled over onto her stomach, as the events and revelations of last night gradually came back to her. Jason lay next to her, still deeply asleep, his chest rising and falling like a baby’s. Looking at him, she felt a wave of affection. It was an immense relief to have the truth out in the open at last, at least between the two of them. The future would be different, and complicated. She assumed they would divorce at some point, but she felt no sense of urgency, only a deep peace that somehow, things would all work out all right in the end. All the guilt she’d been carrying around about her one-night stand with Leon DC in the Hamptons had been blown away like a dandelion seed on the breeze in the light of Jason’s revelations. She felt lighter this morning, renewed and happy to a degree she hadn’t felt in years. Like Scrooge on Christmas morning, after all the ghosts had gone.

Creeping out of bed so as not to wake Jason, Tati slipped into the bathroom and switched on her iPhone to check her emails. Twenty-two new messages, unusual for a Sunday. The last two were from Leon di Clemente, both overtly flirtatious, and the latter, sent very late New York time, positively graphic. Tati smiled. Just twenty-four hours ago she’d have deleted any overtures from Leon in a fit of guilt. Now she allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of being wanted by a man that, if she were honest with herself, she knew she wanted too. She’d told Jason it wasn’t serious with Leon, and that was the truth. But now that she was to be a free woman, she allowed herself to entertain the possibility that it
could
be serious, one day. Once the New York deal had cleared escrow and the business side of their relationship was over and done with … well, who knew what might happen? Tomorrow was another day.

Tati’s good mood soon evaporated, however, as she scrolled further down her inbox. Having not returned a call or responded to an email in weeks, it appeared that the Hamilton Hall board were now peremptorily summoning her to an extraordinary meeting first thing tomorrow morning. It did not bode well that the note had been written by Arabella Boscombe and sent from her account, despite being undersigned by the entire eight-man board
and
the three non-executive directors on the advisory committee. Clearly they’d all been plotting against her. Lady Arabella’s tone was direct to the point of rudeness:

‘An extraordinary meeting will be held … You are required to attend … By unanimous agreement of the board …’

She thinks she can bully me into submission
, Tati thought furiously.
But I’m going to have the last laugh. With Leon’s millions behind me, I can take Hamilton Hall Stateside, with or without them. Whatever coup she thinks she’s got planned, she can stick it up her capacious, aristocratic arse.

‘Good morning.’ Jason had walked up behind her, naked, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Tati smiled at him in the mirror. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Yes, fine. Some crap at work but it’s nothing.’

‘How about brunch at the Wolseley?’ said Jason, ‘My treat. I’ll take you shopping on South Molton Street afterwards if you like. They’ve got the new autumn collections in at Browns.’

‘Perfect,’ said Tati.

She could get quite used to having a gay husband.

At seven thirty on Monday morning, Tati walked in to the boardroom at Hamilton Hall’s City offices, braced for confrontation. Instead she found herself looking at a circle of smiling faces.

‘Tatiana!’ Lady Arabella Boscombe’s smile was the broadest of all. She stood up to greet her. ‘Good of you to make it. Please. Sit down.’

Tati took her seat warily, looking for the glinting dagger blade behind Lady Arabella’s smile. She did not appreciate being ‘invited’ to sit in her own boardroom.

‘I’ve never missed a board meeting, Arabella,’ she said pointedly, pouring herself a glass of water. ‘Even one called so suddenly and, if I may say so, secretively. And at such an ungodly hour. I’m hardly likely to start now.’

‘Yes, well, today’s a day for celebration, not for dwelling on our differences.’ Michael Guinness, Hamilton Hall’s largest individual stakeholder and a thorn in Tati’s side in recent months, looked positively aglow with bonhomie. ‘There have been a number of interesting developments while you’ve been away, Tatiana. We called today’s meeting to update you, and to take a vote.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Tatiana stiffened. ‘What do you mean “while I’ve been away”?’

‘In New York,’ said Michael breezily.

‘I got back to London days ago,’ said Tati. ‘Since when I haven’t been able to reach any of you.’

There was a moment’s silence, during which the smiles wilted just slightly. It was no more than a breath. But it was enough for Tati to realize with sinking clarity: Their silence had been more than a collective fit of pique. Something was up.

It was Eric Jenkins, her longtime ally on the board, who spoke up. ‘You’ve been distracted with the New York school for some time now,’ he observed, calmly. ‘At our last meeting you made it very clear that that was your priority. So we’ve been holding the fort and handling things here.’

Tati sat rigid-jawed. ‘What things?’

‘Relax.’ Michael Guinness was still beaming like a stadium floodlight. ‘It’s good news. Firstly, you’ll be happy to hear that we’re all now on board with the new American school. You were right. It’s time for the Hamilton Hall brand to extend its reach globally.’

Tati hesitated for a moment, then smiled. ‘Well,’ she said, leaning back and exhaling for the first time since she’d walked in, ‘that is good news. I must say I’m surprised. And delighted.’

‘Good. So are we. And so is the acquirer who’s made quite an astonishing bid for the business. Tracy, be an angel, would you, and pass Mrs Cranley her copy of the offering memorandum.’

A slim sheaf of papers appeared in front of Tati.

‘What the hell is this?’ She glared accusingly around the room, without touching them.

‘It’s an offer,’ said Arabella Boscombe.

‘For over a hundred million dollars,’ added Michael Guinness. ‘Your personal share would be north of thirty million.’

‘No it won’t be,’ said Tati furiously, pushing the papers away like a plate of rotten food. ‘Because Hamilton Hall is not for sale. How dare you approach buyers behind my back? For
my
schools!’

‘Nobody approached anybody,’ Eric Jenkins said reasonably. ‘This was an unsolicited offer, from an American consortium. It would include the planned New York school. Read the papers, Tati. By any standard they’re offering far more than the business is worth today.’

‘I will not read the papers!’ Tati shouted. She sounded borderline hysterical. ‘We’re not selling. It’s completely the wrong time. We’re on the cusp of becoming huge. This buyer can see that, even if you’re all too blind to be able to.’

‘Sit down, Tatiana,’ Michael Guinness said firmly. ‘Insulting your board is not going to help matters.’

‘Oh really? And why shouldn’t I insult you, Michael? You’re a bunch of two-faced snakes!’

‘Really!’ Lady Arabella thundered.

‘I don’t need you anyway,’ Tatiana ranted on. ‘It just so happens I have a private investor prepared to fund the New York school in its entirety. So you can stick your stinking takeover bid where the sun don’t shine.’

‘I’m afraid it’s too late for a white knight,’ Michael Guinness said smoothly. ‘If you’d talked to us about a private investor sooner, things might have been different. As it is, we’re all in agreement. This is an offer we can’t afford to refuse. We’ve come here today to take a vote on it.’

‘I’ll veto,’ hissed Tatiana.

‘A veto requires a minimum of two board votes,’ said Arabella Boscombe.

‘You’re with me, aren’t you, Eric?’ Tatiana wished her voice didn’t sound so desperate.

‘If you’d read the memorandum, you would see that this is a wonderful offer,’ the accountant said awkwardly.

Jennifer Engels, another of Tatiana’s former supporters, backed him up.

‘This truly isn’t personal. What they’re offering is a full forty per cent more than the takeover bid that Avenues turned down last year, from Innovation Private Equity. We’d be mad to decline.’

Tati sat down, shocked and deflated. This couldn’t be happening. How had she allowed this to happen?

‘I’m going to call a vote,’ said Michael Guinness.

‘No, you can’t!’ she shouted. ‘Not yet, please. We need to discuss this properly.’

‘We have discussed it,’ said Lady Arabella pitilessly. ‘And we’re all in agreement.’

‘You can stay on and work with the new owners if you choose to.’ Eric Jenkins clearly felt bad. ‘The terms for your continued involvement are outlined on page six.’

‘But you don’t need to,’ said Michael Guinness. ‘You’ll be so wealthy, you’ll never need to work again.’

I don’t care about the money!
Tati wanted to scream.
Hamilton Hall was never about the money. It was about building something that was mine. Something that no one could take away from me, the way they took Furlings. It was about proving Brett Cranley wrong. Brett, and my father, and everyone else who ever wrote me off as a failure.

‘I’d like a show of hands, please.’

Michael Guinness’s voice sounded distant suddenly, like a voice in a dream.
A nightmare. Why can’t I wake up?

‘All those in favour of accepting the HCL bid.’

Eleven arms fluttered towards the ceiling.

‘All those against.’

Tatiana closed her eyes and lifted her hand, alone. More alone than she had ever been in her life.

There was noise after that, people coming and going. Some of them stopped to talk to her. She heard conversations about press releases and legal fees. She heard excitement and happiness, the platitudes washing over her, like scum on the tide.

‘It was a terrific offer, Tatiana. Once the dust settles, you’ll see that.’

‘It’s for the best.’

‘Time for a new challenge. You’re still so young!’

At last the room was empty and she was alone.

Her head started to throb. She stood up to get some water, and the nausea that had plagued her the other day at Max Bingley’s wedding suddenly returned with a vengeance. Running out of the room, her hand over her mouth, she only just made it to the loo in time, throwing up again and again until her stomach was so empty it ached.

Splashing cold water on her face, Tati looked at herself in the mirror and was shocked at the pale, ghostly face that stared back at her.

Something’s wrong with me.

She just managed to dial Jason’s number before she collapsed on the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Madeleine Wilkes was exhausted.

School started again in a few days, thank God, and like most London mothers Maddie was counting the seconds. The summer holidays had been one gruelling round of activities after another. One son had cricket camp in Battersea Park, another went to karate and swimming classes in Notting Hill, and her daughter Caitlin had enrolled in some ghastly drama course in North London that meant Maddie spent her entire day in the car, shuttling between the three of them. Then there were the playdates sleep-overs and non-stop meals to be bought, prepared, cooked and washed up afterwards. Needless to say her husband had suddenly found himself
desperately
busy at the Mayfair gallery, as he did every summer. George Wilkes had a lot of lovely qualities, but nobody could describe him as a ‘hands-on’ dad.

Staggering through the front door, weighed down with Waitrose bags (miraculously Caitlin’s modern dance recital had been moved to next Wednesday, giving Maddie a chance to go to the supermarket on her own, without screaming children), she dumped the frozen stuff into the freezer before switching on the kettle for a cup of tea. Magnus’s Beyblades were all over the floor, and Hannah, the Wilkes’s cleaner, clearly hadn’t bothered to show up this morning, judging by the pile of dirty washing-up still festering in the sink.
I really must fire her
, thought Maddie, for the umpteenth time, poking at Frosties stuck to the side of a bowl with a cat-food encrusted fork. The kitchen clock said three o’clock, a whole hour till she had to be at Battersea to pick up Henry. Leaving the groceries in their bags on the floor, Maddie made her cup of tea and retreated upstairs for that rarest of treats, a siesta.