Emma Harte - Hold The Dream Part 26

After taking her leave of Hilda, Emily ran outside to the Aston-Martin, threw her bag on the back seat, and within seconds had reversed the car and was spinning down the driveway, heading back the way she had come.

On her return trip to Harrogate she kept a firm hold on the positive feelings she had experienced.at Pennistone Royal, and she kept telling herself that Anthony had been truthful and that Min's death was an accident.

In fact, Emily had so braimvashed herself she was in exceptionally good spirits when she drove into the garage at Long . Meadow. Although she had made the journey to Pennistone and back in record time, it had taken her a good hour, and she was beginning to feel faint with hunger. She was looking forward to a pleasant supper and her mouth watered as she thought of cold lamb, bubble and squeak, and a gla.s.s of icy white wine.

But all such thoughts were swept out of her head as she went into the kitchen. She could not fail to notice the disarray at once. Food lay abandoned on the counter top. The lamb was only half-carved, the bubble and squeak had congealed in a frying pan on top of the stove, and cupboard doors were open.

Paula sat inertly at the kitchen table and there was such a stricken look on her face Emily's worries sprang to life.

"What is it?" she cried from the doorway. "Something awful's happened at Clonloughlin. They haven't arrested-"

"No, no, nothing like that," Paula a.s.sured her, lifting her eyes. "I haven't even heard a peep out of them."

Her voice was exhausted.

"Then what is it?" Emily demanded, joining her at the table, scanning her troubled face. . Paula sighed, remained mute.

Emily suspected her cousin had been crying, and leaning forward she took hold of her slender, tapering hand and patted it. "Please tell me," she said softly.

"I've had a terrible row with Jim. He phoned a little while ago and he was so snotty with me I can't get over it."

"But why?"

"Sam Felloives. He ignored my warning and called Jim. He left three urgent messages at the hotel inToronto. When Jim got in, he rang him back, and Fellowes told him about the accident, and my instructions not to run a story, or an obituary. Fellowes said I'd treated him in a most rude and highhanded manner, that I'd even threatened to give him the sack. Jim was obviously furious, yelled at me, chastised me. He thinks I handled things most undiplomatically. He said he'd had to spend twenty minutes placating Fellowes, and had finally convinced him not to resign." Paula reached for a handkerchief and blew her nose.

"I can't believe it!" Emily was aghast. "Surely Jim apologized once he understood your reasons for putting a lid on the story, when you explained about Anthony being under suspicion."

"Oh, he did ease off a bit," Paula told her morosely, "but his nose was definitely out of joint. And, no, he didn't apologize. He was more concerned about whether he could get a flight to Ireland tomorrow. He thinks he should be with Edwina and Anthony to give them moral support."

Emily made a disagreeable face. "He would." She shook her head slowly. "What's wrong with Jim? Has he forgotten Grandy's rule about the family not being mentioned in our newspapers?"

"No. At the outset of our conversation he said this was different, that since reports of Min's death would probably appear in the nationals, we'd look ridiculous if we didn't carry an obituary. Once he was fully aware of the facts, he sort of calmed down, but he still insisted I had handled Fellowes in the wrong way."

"What the h.e.l.l did he expect you to do?"

Paula smiled thinly. "He said I should have told Fellowes not to run anything m the early editions, but to have the obituary prepared, and then to hold it until either Winston or he had been contacted in Canada. He told me it was their decision-his and Winston's-not mine." Emily's jaw dropped and she gave Paula a hard and baffled stare. "Doesn't he know that you have Grandy's power of attorney, and Winston's, to act on their behalf in an emergency?"

"I didn't see any reason to say anything before he left," Paula murmured. "I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I'd have had to break the news that I'm the trustee, with Winston and Alexander, of our children's shares in Consolidated, not he." When Emily said nothing, Paula insisted, "How could I tell him that, Emily?"

"Well, you should have," Emily retorted crossly.

"Perhaps," Paula admitted, ignoring her tone.

I bet she still hasn't told him, Emily thought, but said, "Is Jim really going to rush to Ireland?"

"I'm not certain. He was anxious to talk to Winston. Jim had been trying to reach him in Vancouver before he called here."

"You mean we were the last on his list, and after all the urgent messages I left?" Emily was flabbergasted.

Paula nodded. The two cousins exchanged long, very knowing looks, remembering their grandmother's strictest rule, one that had been drilled into them. Emma had told them to always check with at least one member of the family in any emergency before acting, to resist talking to strangers, to be supportive of each other, and, most importantly, to close ranks to protect the family.

Paula said hesitantly, "I suppose he thought there was something wrong at the paper-' "He might not have been brought up by Grandy, but he sure as h.e.l.l knows her rules!" Emily exploded. "He ought to have called us first, then he. would have had the facts. It might have prevented the row you two had, if nothing else." She sat back jerkily, her annoyance with Jim apparent.

"That's true. Oh, never mind, Emily, it doesn't matter. Look, I should have told you this the moment you arrived. . . Winston rang." Paula gave her a smile, determined to forget about Jim's unreasonable behavior.

"When?" Emily asked eagerly, then added pithily, "I bet he didn't have long dialogues with the whole world first!"

Paula laughed for the first time in hours. "You're absolutely right, darling. And he reached me just a few minutes after I'd hung up on Jim."

"Tell me everything Winston said, and please don't leave out one single word."

Paula looked across at Emily with fond indulgence, her expression warm and caring. "Winston had been having lunch with the chairman of the board of the paper mill, at the latter's home. When he finally got back to the hotel late this afternoon, afternoon in Canada that is, he found a pile of messages. Sam Fellowes had called-naturally-so had Sally, Jim, and you. Since you'd left this number, and since Fellowes had said it was urgent they speak, Winston immediately suspected there was some sort of crisis at the paper. Naturally he wanted to talk to me or you before anyone else. Grandy's golden rule is not something any of us is likely to forget. Winston was really thrown off-balance when I told him Min was dead, and he was particularly concerned about Sally. 'Keep that sister of mine as far away from Clonloughlin as you can,' he repeated quite a'few times. I set his mind at rest, of course, and he was awfully relieved I'd been tough with her. He asked a lot of pertinent questions, which I was able to answer, and he said I'd done"the right things, and that between the two of us we'd made all the right moves, too. He was also glad you're staying here tonight."

"Does he plan to fly home?" Emily asked.

"No, not unless the situation at Clonloughlin changes-for the worst. He reminded me that we'd all been trained in the same army camp by the same general, and pointed out that he couldn't contribute anything more than you or I could, and so therefore he intended to go about his business in a normal manner."

"He's right, of course." Emily paused for a fraction of a, second, before asking, "Did you say anything about the row- Jim's att.i.tude toward you?"

"Only in pa.s.sing, Emily. I didn't want to make a big thing about it, but I'm afraid Winston was fit to be tied. He was very down on Jim. He also said Fellowes was a fool, that his job had been in the balance for a long time. And then he sort of wondered aloud why Jim hadn't spoken to me before calling Fellowes back." Paula shrugged. "I told him his guess was as good as mine. In any event, he's going to talk to Jim about Fellowes, and also about going to Ireland. He thinks Jim should stay in Canada, but I got the feeling Winston wouldn't interfere if Jim insisted on leaving for Dublin tomorrow. That's about it, but he asked for you, of course, and he sends his love."

"I do wish I hadn't missed him. I was longing to talk to him," Emily said a little wistfully.

"Oh, you can do that, any time after midnight-our time," Paula immediately volunteered. "Winston's not going out this evening. He told me he would order something up to the suite, and he indicated he was going to ring Sally and Jim, and I suspect he's going to give Sam Fellowes an earful."

"I'm sure he is, and I'll give him a buzz a bit later." Emily rose, slipped out of her cardigan and hung it on the back of the chair. "What about your father? Did he reach Philip?" , "Yes, about an hour ago, only a few minutes after you d left for Pennistone. It was breakfast time at Dunoon and Grandy was up, having her morning tea and toast with Philip. She knows. Daddy spoke to her as well." Paula eyed Emily carefully. "What do you bet we'll hear from her before very long?"

Emily laughed. "Everything I have. It's a certainty Grandy'll ring us as soon as she's had time to think up a few penetrating questions which are bound to catch us off guard."

Paula could not help laughing too. "That's a bit naughty."

"Well, you know as well as I do that Emma Harte is always testing her grandchildren to see if they're on their toes. Why should tonight be any different?"

Throwing her a thoughtful glance, Paula said, "I don't suppose it is, and let's be thankful she brought us up the way she did. At least we're capable of handling any emergency."

"Yes," Emily agreed. "And in the meantime, I'm going to revive the bubble and squeak and make us a lovely supper."

Chapter Twenty-five.

"I'm beginning to think that Jim and I are always going to be at cross purposes, Daddy," Paula said.

David Amory, who was standing at the bar cabinet in the drawing room of his Regent's Park flat, swung around. The remark had startled him inasmuch as he had caught a most discernible hint of irritation in his daughter's voice. A dark brow lifted. "In what sense, darling?"

"He sees things quite differently than I do. Of course, that's all right, because everyone has their own vision of the world, of life, and each of us handles problems, people, and situations in our individual way, as best we can. But Jim will never admit he's wrong about anything, and he's continually accusing me of overreacting."

, David made no response. A wry smile flickered and his cool, intelligent eyes held his daughter's for a split second before he turned back to the bar and refilled their gla.s.ses. Carrying them over to the seating arrangement in front of the tall windows, he handed her the vodka and tonic, seated himself opposite her.

Settling back in the chair, David took a swallow of his scotch and soda, and asked, "Does he think you've reacted too strongly to the mess in Ireland? Is that it?"

"Yes."

David nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think you have?"

"No, I don't."

"Good girl. I've always rather admired your decisiveness, your unwavering att.i.tude, and you're one of the few women I know who isn't forever changing her mind. So stick to your guns, and don't let Jim upset you, especially when you're certain you've made the proper moves. We can't please everyone in life, Paula, and so the important thing is to be true to oneself. That's your priority."

"I know it is." Paula leaned forward, said now with some intensity, "I have enough common sense to admit it when I'm wrong, but in this instance I'm convinced 1 was wise to take the precautions I did, to clap a lid on everything, to cover us for any eventuality. It may be a status quo in Ireland, and the national papers may have treated the story in a routine way-so far. But that doesn't mean we're out of the woods yet."

"Naturally we're not, and we won't be until after the autopsy and the inquest." David gazed down into his drink reflectively. "I didn't particularly like the wire service story that ran today in some of the papers . . . about the police investigating the mysterious circ.u.mstances surrounding Min's death. On the other hand, there was no mention of Anthony. Thank G.o.d for the rather stringent libel laws in this country." He looked up, frowned. "I'm just praying that none of the more sensational dailies blow the investigation out of proportion. Well-" He gave her a kindly smile, finished, "We're just going to have to sit this one out, darling. And getting back to Jim, I don't wish to sound critical, but if you ask me, he's the one who has overreacted. It was quite unnecessary for him to fly to Ireland. Your mother is coping nicely."

"Yes she is, and I'm proud of her."

Reaching for a cigarette and lighting it, David remarked, "For what it's worth, you did exactly what Grandy would have done had she been here. Throughout the twenty-seven years I've known her, Emma has constantly told me she doesn't like unpleasant surprises, and that in her lexicon prevention is infinitely better than any kind of cure. Jim may not concur with your decisions, your actions, but Grandy, Henry, and 1 do, and we've all told you so in the last twenty-four hours."

"You've been very supportive, and when Gran called me again this afternoon, just before I left Leeds, she reiterated her confidence in me, arid in all of us, actually."

"So you said. And that's the reason she's decided not to come back. Look, Paula, this may sound silly, when we're under such a great deal of tension, but please do try to relax. / certainly shall. And don't worry about Jim's att.i.tude. Whilst I'm fully aware you want his approval, you'd be wise to recognize you're not going to get it, because he doesn't understand-" David stopped short, regretting this slip, not wishing to criticize his son-in-law. He had long been disappointed in Jim, but he had managed to keep his feelings to himself thus far. He had not even voiced them to Daisy.

Paula, quick as ever, said, "Were you going to say he doesn't understand my reasoning, or that he doesn't understand me?"

There was an awkward silence.

Paula stared at her father. David met her questioning gaze unblinkingly. He was convinced Jim Fairley did not have the slightest conception of his daughter's character or her business ethos, but, electing to go with the lesser of two evils, he said, "Your reasoning."

She nodded. "I've known that for some time now. Jim can be very naive, which is especially surprising to me, since he's a newspaperman accustomed to seeing so many of the worst aspects of people, of life. Yet his judgment is way off more often than not, and it seems to me that he looks at the world through rose-colored gla.s.ses." She let out a tiny sigh. "And, to be honest, I'm also starting to think he doesn't understand the first thing about me, or the way my mind works, or why I do the things I do."

David was conscious of the misery in her tone and he looked across at her, filling with concern at the sight of her forlorn expression and her confirmation of his own suspicions about Jim. "You can tell me to mind my own business if you want-but look here, Paula, is your marriage in trouble?"

"No, I don't think so, even though we do have our differences. I love Jim very much, Daddy."

"I'm sure you do and that he feels the same way, but love isn't always enough, Paula. You've got to be able to live with someone twenty-four hours a day, year in and year out, and comfortably so on that continuing basis. And you can only do that if there is true understanding between the two of you."

"Yes," she agreed with a faint, hesitant smile, wondering whether to pour out her troubles to her father. She decided against'it. Tonight was not the right moment. Adopting a more confident tone, she a.s.sured him, "We'll work it out, I'm certain of that, because we really do care for each other. Please don't worry, and don't say anything to Mummy, will you? Promise?"

"I promise, and I'm not going to pry, but I do want you to remember that you can confide in me any time you wish, darling. I love you very much and naturally your happiness is important to me." David drained his gla.s.s, continued, "As it is to your mother too. However, you're right, she'd be disturbed if she thought your relationship with Jim was anything less than perfect."

"You've been so happy with Mummy, haven't you, Daddy?" Paula said, thinking about their long and extraordinarily tranquil marriage, which was the envy of the entire family.

"Yes. Very. Mind you, we've had our ups and downs." David chuckled, noticing the look of genuine astonishment registering in Paula's eyes. "It's nice to know you were never aware of our rough patches, and we did have a few. But then any marriage worth its salt is never all sweetness and light. There's a marvelous line in David Copperfield which I've always been partial to, and it's very apt when I think of my marriage to Daisy: The strongest steel goes through the hottest fire. Yes, my dear, we had our troubles just like most people do. Nevertheless, we overcame them."

Paula, still surprised at -his revelation, said, "Troubles. Were they really serious?"

Shaking his head and chuckling again, David told her, "Now, when I look back, they were very piddling, but when we were suffering through theni they seemed quite monumental. Which is why I'm inclined to agree with you when you say you'll work things out with Jim. I'm sure you will, and the marriage will be all that much better. But if it isn't"-he gave her a long, hard stare-"then don't be afraid to let go, to end it whilst you're still young and can find someone else. And don't fall into the trap of staying together for the children's sake if the marriage is seriously damaged. That kind of reasoning is c.o.c.keyed, in my opinion. In the long run, everyone's miserably unhappy, including the children. Self-sacrifice of that nature is for martyrs, and they usually end up being a pain in the rear end," he finished, deciding he had said enough, if not far too much, perhaps. Still, Paula was strong, sound of judgment, and determined to lead her own life. He knew she would brook no interference. And neither he nor anyone else would have much, if any, influence on her decisions. Not now or in the future.

Thanks, Daddy, for being such a good friend," Paula said, "and for not pontificating as some fathers would. I see you've finished your drink, and I don't really want mine, so let's go to dinner, shall we?"

"Splendid idea." He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Why, yes, we ought to get a move on. 1 have a table for eight-thirty at Ziegi's.'

.They went out into the hall together and as David helped her on with her coat he bent and kissed the top of her head; making a sudden gesture of affection. She pivoted to face him, stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek in return. "You're a truly special man. Daddy."

His eyes, usually so cool and appraising, filled with great warmth. "So are you, daughter."

Out on the street, David found a taxi at once, and after whizzing across town to Charles Street in Mayfair, they were being seated in the upstairs dining room of the famous club fifteen minutes after leaving the flat.

David brushed aside Paula's announcement that she was not very hungry, as he had so often done when she was a child. He took matters into his own hands, ordered Colchester oysters, steak Diane, and pureed .vegetables for them both, perused the impressive wine list with a knowledgeable eye, finally selected a vintage Mouton Rothschild, then insisted Paula share half a bottle of champagne .with him whilst they waited for the meal.

By unspoken agreement, neither mentioned the difficult situation at Clonloughlin, wanting a respite from their worry. For a while Paula did most of the talking, discussing matters pertaining to the stores, of which her father was now chairman of the board since Emma's retirement. Paula had stepped into his shoes automatically, held the t.i.tle of managing director, and in consequence it was she who bore the brunt of running the chain on a day-to-day basis.

He was content to sit back and listen, enjoying her company, her wit and charm, not to mention her indisputably brilliant mind. But then his daughter had always intrigued him. When she had been growing up she had seemed, at times, more like Emma's child than Daisy's and his, in that Emma had made Paula her very own. He had vaguely resented this but had never been able to combat Emma's influence over her. Then when she was ten or thereabouts he began to understand that the child loved the three of them equally, played no one as a favorite, for 'with a wisdom that was remarkable, almost frightening, in one so young, she had made this perfectly clear to him, her mother, and Emma. David was amused when some members of the family implied that Emma had brainwashed Paula to such an extent she had turned her into a clone. He knew his daughter had far too strong and stubborn a mind to follow the leader blindly, to permit herself to become something she was not, to accept indoctrination without question. The truth was much simpler. Emma had indeed trained Paula in her ways, but his daughter was already so much like Emma this had hardly been necessary. The similarities of their characters aside, they had always been on the same wavelength and over the years this had become so finely tuned they appeared to read each other's thoughts, and frequently finished sentences for each other, much to everyone's amazement, including his own. But of all the qualities they shared, the one which truly impressed David was their'ability to bring the most intense concentration and single-mindedness to the matter at hand. He was aware of the amount of mental and physical energy this took, and he considered it a great virtue in both women, a mark of their extraordinary genius. For genius it was.

Sometimes David had to remind himself that Paula was not yet twenty-five, as he did at this moment, struck as he was by '' her maturity and her keen understanding of complex business matters. As he absorbed her words, he observed her closely, noting for the second time in the last hour her elegance and refinement. He never thought of Paula as being beautiful, and she was not, at least not in the accepted sense, because of her somewhat angular features, broad forehead, and strong jawline. Rather, she was arrestingly attractive with her vividness of coloring, her translucent complexion, and her superb grooming.

Yes, it's her immense elegance, he thought; that's undoubtedly what draws all eyes to her. For the half hour they had been in Ziegi's he had not failed to miss the discreet glances directed at them from time to time. He wondered, with a small flicker of amus.e.m.e.nt, if they thought she was his young mistress.

Detecting the laughter playing aroun'd his eyes, Paula abandoned the point she was making and leaned forward.

"What's so funny, Daddy?"