out like her mother.
Mixing the drinks deftly, Emily said, over her shoulder, ‘Talking of my baby half-sisters, Gran, are you going to let them stay at Harrogate College?’
‘For the moment. But I fully intend to pack them off to finishing school in Switzerland this September. In the meantime, they seem to be happy at the college. Of course, I realize that’s because of my proximity. I suppose I spoil them, letting them come home so much.’ Emma paused, remembering the fuss and bother and upset the previous year, when her two youngest grandchildren had tearfully begged to come and live with her. Emma had finally succumbed under their constant pressuring, although her acquiescence had been conditional. For their part, they had had to agree to attend the nearby boarding school Emma had selected. The girls had been thrilled, their mother delighted to be rid of them, Emma relieved that she had averted a nasty family contretemps from developing further.
Leaning back against the cushions, she let out a tiny sigh. ‘Anyway, spoil them or not, I do feel those two need mothering, and a chance to lead a normal family life. They’ve had little enough of either with your mother.’
‘That’s true,’ Emily agreed, carrying the drinks over to the seating arrangement in front of the fire. ‘I feel a bit sorry for them myself. I suppose Alexander and I got the best of Mummy, I mean her better years. The girls have had a rough time of it … all those husbands. It seems to me that ever since she left their father, our mother has been on a downward slide. Oh well, what can you do? …’ Emily’s young breathy voice petered out sadly. She shrugged in resignation, and her whole demeanour reflected her disenchantment. ‘There’s not much you or I can do about your daughter, my mother, Grandy. She’s not likely to change.’
Emily now looked across at her grandmother, her blonde brows meeting in a frown. She said in a fretful tone, ‘The trouble with poor Mummy is that she suffers from the most terrible insecurity about herself, her looks, her figure, her personality … well, just about everything.’
‘Oh, do you think so,’ Emma exclaimed in astonishment at this remark. Her face changed and there was a glint of malice in her flinty green eyes as she remarked, with immense coldness, ‘I can’t imagine why.’ She lifted her glass. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers, Gran darling.’
Emma settled into a corner of the vast sofa, and, squinting in the sunlight, she focused on the attractive twenty-two-year-old Emily. The girl had a special place in her affections, for apart from being open and uncomplicated, she had a very lovable personality, one that was sunny, cheerful, and perennially optimistic, and she was a dynamic girl, filled with enthusiasm for life and her work. If Emily’s pink-and-cream blonde prettiness had the porcelain fragility of a Dresden shepherdess, it was, nevertheless, deceptive, belying an extraordinary drive that had the velocity and power of an express train running at full speed. Emma knew there were those in the family, specifically her sons, who thought Emily was scatterbrained and flippant. This secretly amused Emma, since she was fully aware that Emily purposely chose to give this fraudulent impression. In no way did it reflect her basic seriousness and diligence. Emma had long ago decided that her sons really disliked their niece because she was far too blunt and opinionated – and truthful – for their comfort. Emma had been witness to more than one scene when the intrepid Emily had made Kit and Robin squirm.
Emma looked into the clear green eyes, a reflection of her own as they had once been, saw the expectancy flickering in them, then noted the confident smile etched on Emily’s mouth. Emily had obviously convinced herself she was going to get her own way. Oh dear. Taking a deep breath, Emma said, with a faint laugh, ‘For someone with a serious problem, you certainly don’t look very troubled, dear. You’re positively glowing this morning.’
Emily nodded, and admitted, ‘I don’t think my problem’s all that serious, Grandy. I mean, it doesn’t seem to be today.’
‘I’m glad to hear that. You sounded as if you had the burdens of the world on your shoulders, when you spoke to me on Tuesday morning.’
‘Did I really,’ Emily laughed. ‘I suppose things seem so much brighter when I’m with you. Perhaps that’s because I know you can always solve any problem, and I just know you’ll – ’ She broke off when Emma held up a silencing hand.
Emma said: ‘I’ve known for some time that you want to go back to Paris, to work in the store there. That is what you want to discuss, isn’t it? That is your problem?’
‘Yes, Gran,’ Emily said, her eyes shining with eagerness.
Emma put down her drink on the butler’s tray table, and leaned forward, her expression suddenly serious. She said carefully, ‘I’m afraid I can’t let you go to Paris. I’m very sorry to disappoint you, Emily, but you will have to stay here.’
The happy smile vanished, and Emily’s face dropped. ‘But why, Grandy?’ she asked in a crushed voice. ‘I thought you were pleased with the way I handled things in Paris all last summer and through the autumn.’
‘I was. Very pleased, in fact, and proud of you. Your performance has nothing to do with my decision. No, that’s not strictly true. One of the reasons I’ve formulated new plans for you is because of the way you performed over there.’ Emma’s eyes did not leave her granddaughter’s face as she explained carefully, ‘Plans for your future. Which, in my considered opinion, is with Harte Enterprises.’
‘Harte Enterprises!’ Emily cried, her voice rising incredulously.
She froze on the sofa, staring at her grandmother dumbfounded. ‘Where would I fit in there? Alexander, Sarah and Jonathan are working in that company, and I’d just be a spare wheel! A dogsbody, with nothing to do. Anyway, I’ve always worked for you. In the stores. I love retailing, and you know that, Gran. I’d just hate, positively hate and detest, being pushed into that organization,’ Emily protested with uncommon fierceness, flushing bright pink. Breathlessly, she rushed on, ‘I really mean it. You’ve always said it’s important to enjoy one’s work. Well, I certainly wouldn’t enjoy working at Harte Enterprises. Oh please let me go to Paris. I really love that store, and I want to continue to help you get it properly on its feet. Please change your mind. Please, oh please, Gran darling. I’ll just be miserable if you don’t,’ she wailed, and her face was as woebegone as her voice as she clenched her hands together in her lap.
Emma made an irritated clucking noise, and shook her head reprovingly. ‘Now, now, Emily, don’t be so dramatic,’ she exclaimed with unusual sharpness. ‘And do stop trying to cajole me. I know all about your wheedling. Sometimes it works, other times, like right now, I am quite impervious to it. And incidentally, the Paris store is on its feet, thanks, in no small measure, to you. So you’re not needed there any more. Very frankly, I need you here.’
This remark, although uttered mildly, caused Emily to sit up swiftly, and she frowned, further taken aback. ‘You need me, Grandy. What for? What do you mean?’ Emily’s eyes widened and filled with worry. She wondered if her grandmother had a serious problem within Harte Enterprises. Hardly. Her health? That seemed unlikely too. But obviously something was amiss.
‘What’s wrong, Grandma?’ she asked, giving words to her spiralling anxiety, all ideas about Paris swept completely out of her head.
‘There is nothing wrong, dear,’ Emma said with a bright smile, detecting the girl’s concern. ‘Before I explain my reasons for wanting you here, I would like to clarify my remark about your future. Naturally I realize you like working at the stores, but you can’t get much further at Harte’s. Paula and your Uncle David have the real power there these days, and Paula will inherit all of my shares one day. Paula respects your ability, and she would love to keep you by her side, but Emily, you’d always be a salaried employee, with no financial interest whatsoever. I do – ’
‘I know that,’ Emily interjected. ‘But – ’
‘Don’t interrupt me,’ Emma snapped, cutting her off. ‘As you learned last spring, I have left you sixteen per cent of Harte