Hold the Dream by Barbara Taylor Bradford
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Look here, you don’t have to tell me where she is, but would you agree to tell me where she’s not?’
‘What do you mean?’ Vivienne asked warily.
‘If I name a place where Sally has not gone, will you tell me? All you have to say is no.’
Vivienne laughed hollowly. ‘You’re trying to trap me, Paula. If I’m silent when I hear a particular name you’ll know immediately that’s where she’s staying.’ Vivienne laughed again, her incredulity echoing down the wire. ‘Do you think I’m daft? Or green? I haven’t fallen off a banana boat, you know.’
‘I need to know where your sister is hiding herself,’ Paula snapped, growing exasperated, ‘and for a variety of reasons which I don’t propose to go into with you.’
‘Don’t talk to me as if I’m a little kid. I’m nineteen,’ Vivienne cried, her own temper flaring.
Paula sighed. ‘Let’s not argue, Viv, and I can only add this…if Sally’s gone dashing off to Ireland she’s a bigger fool than I thought, because she will only be creating problems for herself, and for Anthony.’
‘Sally’s hardly a fool! Obviously she wouldn’t be stupid enough to go to Ireland –’ Vivienne stopped abruptly.
Success, Paula thought with a faint smile. Her ruse had worked. She said, ‘If Sally happens to phone you, tell her I’m having dinner with Alexander and Emily at the White Elephant tonight. Just in case she wants to join us.’
‘I’ve got to go, Paula,’ Vivienne said hurriedly after a short pause. ‘Daddy needs me in the stables. So I’ll say goodbye now.’
‘Tell Sally to get in touch with me if she needs anything. Goodbye, Vivienne dear.’
Paula stared at the phone for a long moment, reflecting on their conversation. Well, Sally was not in Ireland. More than likely she was not in London either, since it was not her favourite place. Could she still be in Yorkshire? If so, where? A phrase Vivienne had used echoed into her mind. She had referred to her sister as a wounded bird. A figure of speech to describe Sally’s state? Or had it perhaps been an unconscious association in the girl’s mind? Wounded birds tried to get back to their nests…Heron’s Nest? Of course. Sally loved Scarborough and many of her paintings were of the spots where they had spent so much time as children. That’s where I would go if I wanted to hide, Paula said to herself. It’s accessible, comfortable, the larder is always fully stocked, and old Mrs Bonnyface has a set of keys.
Lifting the receiver, Paula started to dial Heron’s Nest and then changed her mind. It would be infinitely kinder to leave Sally alone for the time being. Whether she was in Scarborough or not was irrelevant really. The important thing was that she was nowhere near Clonloughlin, and this knowledge now eased Paula’s anxiety about Sally Harte, of whom she was extremely fond.
‘Paula?’
‘Yes, Gaye?’ Paula asked leaning closer to the intercom.
‘Sarah’s arrived.’
‘Have her come in, Gaye, please.’
A moment later Sarah Lowther was walking across the floor, the expression on her pale freckled face as purposeful as her step. She wore a bottle-green gabardine suit so beautifully cut it did wonders for her somewhat plumpish figure. Also, the colour was a flattering contrast to her russet-red hair which framed her face in luxuriant waves and softened her broad but not unattractive features.
‘Hello, Paula,’ she said briskly, coming to a halt in the centre of the room. ‘You’re looking well. Thinner than ever. I don’t know how you do it…it’s a struggle for me to lose an ounce.’
Paula half smiled, and brushing aside the personal comment, said, ‘Welcome back, Sarah.’ She stepped around the desk, kissed her cousin on the cheek. ‘Let’s sit over there by the fire,’ she went on. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘No, thanks anyway.’ Sarah turned smartly on her high heels and moved in the direction of the sofa. Seating herself in the corner nearest the fireplace, she leaned back, crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt. She let her eyes rove over Paula, admiring the simplicity and elegance of the deep purple wool dress. It was a marvel, and as head of the fashion division of Harte Enterprises Sarah knew it was by Yves Saint-Laurent. Biting back the compliment which had sprung to her lips, she said, ‘Jonathan tells me the Irish lot are killing each other off…I’m surprised Grandmother hasn’t hot-footed it back here.’
‘That’s not a very nice thing to say about Anthony, Sarah,’ Paula gently reproved, seating herself in a chair, frowning. ‘Min’s death was an accident, and why should Gran come back? The whole thing’s going to be over and done with by tomorrow at this time.’
Sarah gave Paula an odd look, raised an auburn brow. ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’
‘Tell me about the opening of the new hotel and our first boutique,’ Paula said, neatly changing the subject.
Sarah remained silent.
Paula insisted, ‘Come on, I’m longing to hear all about it.’
‘It went off well,’ Sarah said at last. ‘But then why wouldn’t it? I’ve worked very hard for months to ensure that it would. To tell you the truth, the whole trip was a hard grind. I was on my feet twenty-four hours a day. Miranda was tied up with the hotel, so I had to really buckle down, supervise the unpacking and pressing of the dresses, get the windows dressed, create eye-catching interior displays,’ she grumbled. ‘But the merchandise I selected turned out to be perfect, even though I do say so myself. My Lady Hamilton dresses and resort wear appealed to everyone. They said the colours were fantastic, the fabrics superior, the designs bang on. We were jammed the day we opened, so we should do record business right through the season.’
‘Oh I am pleased,’ Paula said with enthusiasm, deciding to ignore Sarah’s remarks about her contribution to the boutique which, in all truth, had been negligible. She asked, ‘How’s Merry?’
‘All right, I suppose. I didn’t see much of her. The O’Neills invited a plane load of celebrities to the hotel’s gala opening weekend. So naturally she was busy rubbing noses with the famous.’
Paula’s back went up at this remark, which she deemed bitchy and uncalled for, but she wisely let it pass. ‘Did Shane fly down from New York?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’ Sarah asked, her voice turning huffy all of a sudden. She gave Paula a challenging stare and her face settled in cold lines.
Instantly struck by the dislike in Sarah’s expression, Paula recoiled in surprise. Thrown though she was, she managed to say, ‘Surely you saw something of Shane and Uncle Bryan? Merry may have been rushed off her feet as head of public relations, but I can’t believe the O’Neills ignored you. After all they’re family, and they’re not like that.’
‘Oh yes, I was invited to the gala evenings. But I was generally to exhausted too enjoy them. I didn’t have much fun at all. That side of it was a complete bust.’
Sarah glanced into the fire, remembering her mortifying weekend of embarrassment, acute disappointment. Shane had been cruel, ignoring her much of the time. And when he had deigned to notice her he had been off-hand, patently uninterested in her as a woman. He wouldn’t have treated Paula in such a rotten way, she thought miserably, sinking back into herself. An image of his face leaped out at her from the flames, his expression one of immense passion and love. She blinked, wanting to expunge this from her mind. That look had not been for her, but for Paula…that terrible day of the christening…she would never forget that look or that occasion. It was only then she had realized, to her horror and distress, that Shane O’Neill loved Paula Fairley. That’s the real reason he has no time for me, she said silently. Damn Paula. I detest her. Jealousy rose up in Sarah so unexpectedly and with such force she kept her face averted, willing the emotion to go away, feeling faint and sick inside.
‘Well, I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time,’ Paula murmured, attempting to be gracious yet asking herself what she had done to engender such sudden dislike in Sarah. Paula sat back and her eyes narro
Paula could not resist adding, ‘So the work was gruelling – that’s retailing, you know, Sarah. And let’s face it, you were the one who insisted on going to Barbados. If I –’
‘And it’s a jolly good thing I did, isn’t it?’ Sarah interjected peremptorily, tearing her gaze from the fire, swinging her head to glare at Paula. ‘Somebody had to be there to organize things. We’d have been in a nice mess if we’d relied on Merry, in view of her abdication of her duties. Or if we’d left things to chance as you wanted us to do.’
Paula was further astonished by this criticism and the belligerence underlying the comment. Unwilling to let Sarah get away with it, she said with some sharpness, ‘That’s most unfair of you. I had no intention of leaving anything to chance. I had intended to fly out there myself, until you made such a song and dance about going. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about the other boutiques. I’ve hired Melanie Redfern from Harvey Nichols. She starts next week. She will be in charge of the Harte shops in all the O’Neill hotels, and she’ll be working closely with me. And Merry, of course.’
‘I see.’ Sarah shifted her position and cleared her throat. ‘Actually, the main reason I came to see you today is to make you an offer.’
‘An offer?’ Paula stiffened, wondering what Sarah was about to spring on her.
‘Yes. I’d like to buy the boutiques for my division. There won’t be any problem about money. We have stacks of spare cash. You see, in view of my considerable involvement with the boutiques, I’d like to have them under my aegis, make them part of Lady Hamilton Clothes. So just name your price – I’ll meet it.’
Flabbergasted though she was at Sarah’s ridiculous proposition, Paula retorted swiftly. ‘Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do that, as you well know. The boutiques belong to the Harte department store chain.’
Sarah stared Paula down. Her expression hardened. ‘So what – I’m offering you an easy way to make a fast profit. And a big one. That should please you, since your eyes are eternally glued to the bottom of a balance sheet.’
‘I’d like to remind you that the Harte chain is a public company,’ Paula exclaimed, thinking that her cousin had taken leave of her senses. ‘I do have shareholders and a board of directors to answer to, in case this has escaped your notice.’
Sarah smiled narrowly. ‘Don’t talk to me about the board at Harte’s. We all know about the board, my dear. It consists of Grandmother, you, your parents, Alexander and a handful of old codgers who’ll do anything you say. If you wanted to, you could easily sell me the boutiques. It’s your decision. Don’t expect me to believe otherwise. That board will acquiesce to your wishes no matter what, as they always did what Grandmother wanted in the past. She had them in her pocket, and so do you.’
Paula fixed a pair of immensely cold eyes on her cousin, and her voice was equally icy, as she said, ‘Harte’s have invested a great deal of money in the new shops, and I have personally devoted an incredible amount of time and effort to the project for many months. I therefore have no intention of selling them to you, or to anyone else, even if the board sanctioned such a sale, which believe me, they wouldn’t, not at this stage. You see, Sarah, I want the boutiques for Harte’s, they’re part of our growth and expansion programme. Also, I – ’
‘Your effort!’ Sarah cried, seizing on this particular point. ‘That’s a laugh. I’ve worked much harder than you, and I selected all of the merchandise. Under the circumstances, it’s only fair that – ’
‘Stop right there!’ Paula warned, her face revealing her growing annoyance and impatience. ‘I’m not sitting still for this nonsense, Sarah. Why you’re bloody preposterous. You walk in here, commence to criticize me, then try to take credit for the success of the Barbados shop…and at the moment that’s a moot point. Only time will tell us how successful it really is. But getting back to your efforts, I think you have a real nerve. It just so happens that Emily has done a lot more for us than you. She purchased every single accessory, which was no mean feat, and I recall that I picked out every bit of beach wear. Furthermore, Merry and I selected all of the clothing from your company – not you. I’ll concede that you made the best lines available at Lady Hamilton, and designed the special evening wear, and perhaps you have worked conscientiously for the past ten days. However, your contribution to the first boutique was minor, very minor indeed.’
Paula rose and walked over to her desk, and sat down behind it. She finished quietly, ‘As for trying to buy the boutiques from Harte’s –’ She shook her head wonderingly. ‘I can only add that that’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard, especially coming from you, when you of all people know how Grandy has structured things. Look, if you want to get involved in a new project, maybe we can put our heads together –’ Paula stopped, immediately regretted her conciliatory gesture. Sarah’s coldness was more pronounced than ever.
Sarah stood up without saying a thing. She made a beeline for the desk, stood facing Paula.
In a soft and uncommonly steady tone, Sarah said, ‘Grandmother might have other ideas about the boutiques. She may well like the idea of selling them to me – has that occurred to you?’ Not giving Paula a chance to reply, she continued in her oddly calm way, ‘Grandy’s not dead yet, and if I know her, I bet she hasn’t signed over her seventy per cent of the shares in Harte’s to you. Oh no, she’s hanging on to those, I’m quite certain, wily as she is. And so, as far as I’m concerned, she’s still the boss lady around here. I want you to understand one thing…I’m not letting the matter rest here. With you. Oh no, not by a long shot. I fully intend to telex Grandy. Today, Paula. I shall apprise her of our meeting, my offer and your rejection of it. We’ll see who really runs Harte stores, won’t we?’
Paula gave her a regretful look through saddened eyes. ‘Send a telex. Send ten if you wish. You won’t accomplish anything –’
‘You’re not the only grandchild Emma Harte has,’ Sarah cut in, her voice biting. ‘Although anyone would think it, the way you behave.’
‘Sarah, don’t let’s quarrel like this. You’re being childish, and you’ve always known Harte’s is a public –’ Paula’s sentence was left dangling in mid-air. Sarah had walked out. The door closed softly behind her.
Paula stared after her, shaking her head again, not yet fully recovered from her astonishment, Sarah’s preposterous proposition and irrational attitude. She sighed under her breath. Only two weeks ago she had remarked to Emily that tranquillity had reigned supreme since their grandmother’s departure in May.
I spoke too soon, Paula now thought, and she discovered that the most disturbing part of the meeting had been Sarah’s blatant dislike of her. As Paula continued to contemplate her cousin’s unexpected hostility she asked herself if it signalled the beginning of open warfare.
CHAPTER 26
Emily was awed.
‘Just look at this evening gown. It’s absolutely exquisite,’ she said in hushed tones, lifting the garment out of the large box lined with layers and layers of tissue paper.
Alexander, lolling on the bed in one of the guest rooms in Emma’s Belgrave Square flat, nodded in agreement. ‘It also looks as if it’s in perfect condition.’ A fond smile glanced across his serious face as Emily glided into the middle of the floor and held it against herself, carefully.
The gown was a long slender sheath of turquoise silk, entirely encrusted with thousands of tiny bugle beads in shades of pale blue and emerald green. Emily moved slightly and the dress undulated, the beads instantly changing colour as they caught and held the light. The effect was dazzling.
Cocking his head to one side, continuing to regard his sister intently, Alexander said, ‘You know, it contains all the colours of a summer sea in the South of France, and it certainly matches your eyes,
‘Oh I know, and I’d love it, but it’s far too valuable really. Anyway, I couldn’t do that to Paula. She needs the dress for her fashion exhibition next January.’
‘Has she found a name for that yet?’
‘She’s considering calling it Fashion Fantasia, with the subheading Fifty Years of Elegance and Style. I rather like it, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ He watched Emily as she expertly folded the gown into the box and covered it with the tissue, remarking, ‘Imagine Gran keeping the evening dress all these years. It’s easily forty-five years old, and it really pongs of moth balls.’ He curled his nose in distaste, then added, ‘But I bet our Gran looked smashing in it, with her red-gold hair and green eyes.’
Emily lifted her blonde head. ‘To say the least, and you’re right about its age. Just before Gran left she said we’d find it in one of her cedar closets on the top floor, along with the other clothes. Gran told us she’d first worn it at the supper dance she gave Uncle Frank and Aunt Natalie when they got engaged.’ Emily put the lid on to the box, patted it down, glanced over at her brother. ‘Do you know, there’s even a pair of emerald satin slippers from Pinet to go with it, and they’re in mint condition too. They look as if they’ve been worn once or twice and that’s all.’
‘Yes, everything’s been so carefully preserved,’ Alexander observed, thinking of his canny grandmother’s sense of thrift which was legendary. Swinging his legs off the bed, he ambled over to the long metal clothes rack positioned near the window, ran his hand along the rack. Peering at the labels on the suits, dresses and evening gowns, he read out loud, ‘Chanel, Vionet, Balenciaga, Molyneaux…these are all as good as new, Emily, and they must date back to the twenties and thirties.’