The Party Season (10 page)
C h a p t e r 7
O
n Wednesday evening I take my straggly set of belongings to Liverpool Street station and catch the next train to Bury St Edmunds. I have realised I am hopelessly ill-equipped for any sort of country estate thing. Whenever we go for walks at Aunt Winnie's we just put on whatever is in her cloakroom. It's not pretty but it does the job and certainly has a scarecrow effect on the cows, pigs and other local wildlife we encounter on the way. Hopefully there will be a similar system in effect at Pantiles as I lack both wellies and any outdoor clothes.
I then discover I don't own very much luggage. I should have thought ahead and borrowed something off Sophie. Dom and I have had to pool together as many hold-alls as we can possibly find, which are misleadingly named as they don't seem to hold very much at all. I don't plan to get caught standing next to them.
I emerge in Bury St Edmunds and find Monty waiting outside in a very much working Land Rover as opposed to the rather clean, bred in captivity ones we have in London.
I dump my bags in the back and rather inelegantly haul myself in. It's not easy in the tight pencil skirt I was determined to wear this morning as it's the first time in over three weeks I've been able to fit into it. 'Hi Monty! Thanks for coming to pick me up!'
'My pleasure, me dear! Good journey?'
'Fine, thanks.'
'Sorry I couldn't get something a bit cleaner to pick you up in; we operate a first-come first-served operation with transport at Pantiles!' This bodes well for the wellie situation. 'Flo's taken me Jag.'
'Flo?' I ask politely.
He glances over at me. 'Actually, come to think of it, I don't think you would ever have met her.'
'No, I don't think so either. I don't remember her anyway.'
'You would remember Flo if you'd met her! She's my sister! Came to live with us when Elizabeth died. She's lived abroad for most of her life. I don't think she visited when you were at Pantiles.'
'No, I don't think she did.' After a small pause I ask tentatively, 'Is Simon home yet?'
'Hmm? Oh, no. Not yet.'
I breathe a small sigh of cowardly relief and get out the long list of questions I had prepared for Monty regarding electricity supplies, staffing arrangements and other such trivialities for the ball. Monty gives me his very distinct views on Porta-loos for the rest of the journey to Pantiles.
'I promised we would go down and collect Will. He's with the deer,' he announces as we turn into the driveway.
'Great!' I say, when I would have been much better off saying, 'Oh shit!' as we plunge off the driveway and rocket down the hillside. I cling grimly to that handy little strap just above the top of a car door that I have never had much use for before and hang on for dear life as we bounce and zoom along, the four wheels rarely in contact with the ground at the same time. Aunt Winnie is a Sunday driver in comparison. Monty seems to know exactly where all the large ruts are and exactly where to hit them for maximum air time. Quite a skill, I'm sure, in some parts of the world. If only I had known to wear my sports bra for such an activity. I seem to be panting unattractively but I don't know whether it's due to an aerobic exertion or an I'm-going-to-die panic.
We eventually draw to a standstill and not a second too soon. I lurch out of the passenger door, sway around for a bit and then rest my hands on my thighs. I wonder briefly, as I manage to persuade my stomach to come out of my boots, whether I'm going to be sick. All in all not a state a girl feels at her best in nor, I think as I watch a rather attractive man stride towards me, one she wishes to be observed in.
'Good God!' exclaims the figure. 'Is that really you, Isabel?'
'Will?' By the time I ask this he has already reached me, seized both my shoulders with, I can't help noticing, two very large tanned hands, and warmly kissed me on both cheeks.
He looks an awful lot like the pictures of Simon I've seen. Handsome and rugged with wide, long-lashed eyes and long, floppy brown hair. The only difference is that Will's personality directly enhances his looks, making him an altogether more attractive prospect than his brother.
'How wonderful to see you again! How's Sophie? And your parents?'
'They're fine, they're all fine.' I smile broadly, instantly feeling that the world is a more friendly place.
'I couldn't quite believe it when Dad told me you were coming back! And as a party planner too! Must have picked up a thing or two about sandwiches on our picnics, eh?' He gives me a little nudge with his elbow and I laugh.
Monty has wandered off to talk to one of his workers so Will links his arm through mine and leads me down to the fence he was inspecting when we pulled up.
'You certainly have grown up well!'
'Thank you. So have you,' I say while fervently thanking Dom for forcing me to lose that weight. My high heels keep sinking into the ground as it is. If I'd been any heavier they would have had to tie a rope around my waist and drag me out with the Land Rover.
'I'm so glad you're here! What do you think? Is it as you remember?' He sweeps his arm out to indicate the scene before us. It nearly takes my breath away. Lush, undulating pastures of an unbelievable green, dotted with ancient oaks, rise and fall before me. I breathe in the unmistakable scent of fresh grass and summer air. It's exactly as I remember.
'Wonderful.'
Monty has joined us at the fence now. 'Can you see the deer?' he asks. He points towards a distant copse of trees. I can vaguely see some shapes.
'Just about. How long have you had them?'
'Only just got them. New venture of Simon's.'
'And what are they, er, you know, used for?' I ask innocently, thinking somewhere along the lines of the countryside equivalent to seaside donkey rides.
'Venison, of course.'
'Venison?' I ask in horror. 'They get slaughtered?' Pictures of little Bambis with their heads on the block come to mind. Like most of the population, I am perfectly happy to eat meat when it comes in little clingfilm-wrapped trays and bears no resemblance whatsoever to the actual animal.
'How else will they make us any money?'
'What sort are they?'
'Disabled.' Oh my God! Not content with slaughtering innocent able-limbed creatures, which is bad enough, Simon has to slaughter disabled animals who can't even run away. Probably cost less to buy them or something, I think to myself grimly.
'Disabled?' I whisper. 'Have they no tail or just one eye? Or have they only got three legs?'
The men are looking at me as if I'm a little disabled in the head myself. 'I said sabled deer, Isabel. Not disabled,' Will says gently.
I feel a bright red flush coming up from my toes. Both of them let out great guffaws of laughter. Really, it isn't that funny, I think to myself as I watch them clutching each other, tears of laughter in their eyes. I give a half-hearted chuckle just to join in. My goodness, do they have to go on so?
'Oh dear, Izzy, you are priceless! Did you think there were little ramps everywhere for their wheelchairs?' asks Will finally, gasping for air.
'Nooo,' I say lamely as though the thought had never crossed my mind.
'And their pens are over there. That's P-E-N-S, Isabel. Where they sleep. Don't want you thinking we're running opium dens or something.'
'Ha, ha.'
'Come on, let's get back to the house. I'm ravenous!' Will rubs his hands together. 'Hopefully Mrs Delaney will have cooked something absolutely marvellous in anticipation of your first night, Izzy.' I wouldn't count on it.
Back at the house, Will takes all my bags upstairs while Monty pours me an enormous glass of wine and I pet all the dogs. Mrs Delaney is busy peeling carrots at the sink so like a creep I ask if I can help and am rewarded with an enormous bowl of French beans to top and tail. Monty leans against the Aga, still chatting non-stop, and Will returns after having changed out of his dirty clothes into a pressed shirt and faded jeans. He is accompanied by a lady I can only assume is Flo. As soon as she enters the room she flings her arms open wide which, to be honest, is a little alarming. She walks towards me, arms still outstretched, places her hands on my shoulders and kisses me lightly on both cheeks. 'Isabel, my dear! I have heard so much about you and your family! How lovely to meet you!' She has a wonderful husky voice and smells incredibly romantic; I think I recognise jasmine and ylang-ylang. She has an awful lot of soft grey hair, scraped back into an enormous bun but with wisps escaping around her face, and her clothes would not be out of place on a Parisian catwalk, divine little bits of floaty material. A huge turquoise stone lies at her neck and her wrists and fingers are positively littered with bangles and rings. She is simply the most exotic creature I have ever met and in my line of work I tend to meet some rather glamorous people. 'I'm so sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived but I was walking in the grounds and completely lost track of the time. I stopped to watch two beetles mating. Absolutely fascinating. Have you ever seen beetles mating?'
'Er, no, I can't say I have.'
'Wonderful. They perform a sort of dance. Next time I see them, I'll come and fetch you.'
'Er, great!'
'You must call me Aunt Flo, like the boys. After all, you're practically family!' This makes me smile broadly with pleasure.
After I have finished my beans, a mere snip for me after my kitchen days, I make the excuse of needing the loo, but take my handbag with the sole intention of touching up my make-up. Aunt Flo is making me feel positively dowdy. 'Just popping to the loo!' I announce. 'Is it still … ?' No, Izzy, they've moved the lav just for the hell of it. Quite fancied it in the library.
When I return, Mrs Delaney is ladling the coq au vin on to plates, while Will lays the table by chucking a few mats around, ripping off some kitchen towel for napkins and then dumping a heap of cutlery on the table. Monty looks over at me. 'You'll excuse the informality, won't you, Izzy? I know Elizabeth would have been absolutely horrified!'
'No, it's fine!' I protest, 'I would hate you to go to any extra trouble for me! It's sweet of you to let me stay at all.' I quite like the cosy family casualness of it all, not just because it's the complete opposite to what I do all day.
We all sit down and after the vegetable-passing and claiming of cutlery the conversation naturally settles on the subject of the charity ball.
'I must say, it's terribly exciting!' says Aunt Flo.
'But what next, Aunt Flo?' interjects Will. 'Simon has been talking about making Pantiles more commercial for a while, but now that it's started where will it stop? He's talking about water-skiing on the lake! He's even got hold of a mini speedboat for it! What's next? A theme park?'
'Simon wouldn't do that!'
'Don't be too sure!'
'When exactly is he coming home?' I ask between mouthfuls. The coq au vin is absolutely delicious, especially after the amount of salad I have had to eat this week. I smile appreciatively at Mrs Delaney.
'I spoke to him earlier. He's in Chicago at the moment,' says Monty. 'He's coming home next week sometime. He's not altogether sure when.' This has a curious dampening effect on my spirits. It's almost as though I want the family to myself for a while longer and now he's going to come back and spoil it all. 'This takeover is all-consuming for him.'
'The takeover was announced last week, wasn't it?' I say with an unmistakable air of oh-yes-I-read-the-papers-too. In actual fact I asked Stephanie to give me the low-down before I left the office so my ignorance wasn't neon-highlighted. 'A manufacture company.'
'That's why he's over in America. He's trying to get some of the company shareholders to part with their shares,' says Monty. 'It's a hostile takeover.'
'What does that mean exactly?'
'Well, I'm no expert. From what Simon has told me, it's when a company gets taken over against its will.'
'Can you do that? Take over a company against its will?' This sounds fairly typical of Simon. A corporate bully as well.
'If you own the majority of their shares you can do anything you want. I'm not as much of a businessman as Simon but I understand his company has been buying up shares in this company on the stock exchange. Once they reached a certain percentage they had to announce their intention to launch a hostile takeover – hence the recent press report. Now he's approaching people who already own some of the company's shares and offering to buy these shares at a higher price than they would currently get on the stock market.'
'And will these people definitely sell their shares to Simon?'
'Oh no! They don't have to, but the company he's trying to buy is struggling financially. They have just issued their sixth serious profit warning so understandably the share price is dropping. Long-term the company might end up bankrupt, and then the shareholders would get absolutely nothing for their shares. So they're probably better off selling to Simon now.' Monty shrugs.
'But why does Simon want the company if it's struggling?'
'Because he can see a way for it to make money again. I think he offers the shareholders a stake in the future profit of the company. Obviously he'll have to make a huge amount of change. Sack all the directors and management for a start. But once they start to make a profit again, the share price increases and Simon gradually sells off his shares at a higher price than he bought them for. It's no small undertaking; his company has a huge amount of financial backing from banks and a big team of advisers whose bill will probably run into millions.'
