twenty-first-century technology sitting oddly in an Edwardian club room like a space ship surrounded by vintage cars. CNN news was playing while Gerald sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen, one hand clamping a telephone to his ear.
‘Yes, yes, that’s just as I said! Well, tell the board I won’t take any of their whingeing. I intend to do it my way. That’s the way I’ve always done it and I have an infallible instinct, as everyone knows.’ He caught sight of Tara and waved at her. ‘Yes, all right, old man. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye.’ He put the phone down and stood up. ‘Hello, darling, how are we?’
‘We’re fine, or least, I’m fine, if that’s what you mean.’ She went over for a kiss. He brushed his lips across her cheek, leaving a faint wet trail.
‘You’re late back,’ he said reprovingly as he sat down again and picked up a crystal tumbler, swilling what Tara knew would be a Scotch and soda. ‘The children missed you.’
‘I know. I’ve just looked in on them.’ She perched on the slippery seat of a leather armchair.
Well? What were you doing?’ He fixed her with a steely gaze. It was always like this: he wanted to know every detail of her day and precisely where she had been when. Once it had made her feel safe. Now it was increasingly disturbing.
‘I told you we had the meeting at Trevellyan today. Once that was over, I had to go to the office. I’d missed so much, what with being away yesterday as well, that I had to stay late to catch up. I’m exhausted.’ Tara felt herself droop and she sighed. How long had it been since she had really felt rested? She couldn’t remember. The pressure was always on to keep going, to work harder, to stay on top of everything and succeed. She had to cope, she knew that. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at her husband.
‘And what is the situation with Trevellyan?’ he asked.
‘Not good.’
Gerald raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? How bad?’
‘I’m going to find out the details tomorrow but I think very bad.’
‘You surprise me.’ He sat back in his chair and put the tips of his fingers together.
He always manages to look like a tycoon
, thought Tara.
It’s as though he’s studied the part for a film role or something. And it never quite rings true
.
Her husband leaned forward, plucked a large cigar from the ashtray in front of him, put it in his mouth and sucked at it. A plume of heavy smoke floated from his mouth. He liked to smoke cigars – Winston Churchill was one of his great heroes and Tara always suspected that Gerald was trying to emulate him at every opportunity.
‘Your parents struck me as competent people, very competent. And Trevellyan is a quality brand, everyone knows that. What on earth can be so wrong?’
Tara prickled. Everything Gerald said sounded like a criticism these days. Now he was implying that she had misread the situation. ‘I don’t know the full facts yet,’ she replied coldly. ‘I’m getting a rundown tomorrow.’
Gerald nodded slowly. ‘Well, I’m sure it can’t be as bad as you think. But if you need any help or advice, you know I’m always happy to do whatever I can.’
‘Thank you, darling. And how was your day?’
‘Productive, very productive! My team have done some excellent work today and I’m more convinced than ever that we’ll be able to put together a very strong bid for the Fothergill group – or at least, a large part of it. That will give us the foothold we need for further growth. It’s all very exciting. I shall tell you more over dinner.’
There was a quiet knock on the door and the housekeeper came in bearing Tara’s glass of wine on a small round tray.
‘Thanks, Viv. God, I need this!’ Tara scooped up the glass and took a swig. ‘Is dinner ready?’ asked Gerald.
‘Five minutes, sir. Please come through to the dining room whenever you’re ready.’ Viv went out.
‘Come. Let’s go through.’ Gerald stood up and pushed his
‘Yes, yes, that’s just as I said! Well, tell the board I won’t take any of their whingeing. I intend to do it my way. That’s the way I’ve always done it and I have an infallible instinct, as everyone knows.’ He caught sight of Tara and waved at her. ‘Yes, all right, old man. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye.’ He put the phone down and stood up. ‘Hello, darling, how are we?’
‘We’re fine, or least, I’m fine, if that’s what you mean.’ She went over for a kiss. He brushed his lips across her cheek, leaving a faint wet trail.
‘You’re late back,’ he said reprovingly as he sat down again and picked up a crystal tumbler, swilling what Tara knew would be a Scotch and soda. ‘The children missed you.’
‘I know. I’ve just looked in on them.’ She perched on the slippery seat of a leather armchair.
Well? What were you doing?’ He fixed her with a steely gaze. It was always like this: he wanted to know every detail of her day and precisely where she had been when. Once it had made her feel safe. Now it was increasingly disturbing.
‘I told you we had the meeting at Trevellyan today. Once that was over, I had to go to the office. I’d missed so much, what with being away yesterday as well, that I had to stay late to catch up. I’m exhausted.’ Tara felt herself droop and she sighed. How long had it been since she had really felt rested? She couldn’t remember. The pressure was always on to keep going, to work harder, to stay on top of everything and succeed. She had to cope, she knew that. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at her husband.
‘And what is the situation with Trevellyan?’ he asked.
‘Not good.’
Gerald raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? How bad?’
‘I’m going to find out the details tomorrow but I think very bad.’
‘You surprise me.’ He sat back in his chair and put the tips of his fingers together.
He always manages to look like a tycoon
, thought Tara.
It’s as though he’s studied the part for a film role or something. And it never quite rings true
.
Her husband leaned forward, plucked a large cigar from the ashtray in front of him, put it in his mouth and sucked at it. A plume of heavy smoke floated from his mouth. He liked to smoke cigars – Winston Churchill was one of his great heroes and Tara always suspected that Gerald was trying to emulate him at every opportunity.
‘Your parents struck me as competent people, very competent. And Trevellyan is a quality brand, everyone knows that. What on earth can be so wrong?’
Tara prickled. Everything Gerald said sounded like a criticism these days. Now he was implying that she had misread the situation. ‘I don’t know the full facts yet,’ she replied coldly. ‘I’m getting a rundown tomorrow.’
Gerald nodded slowly. ‘Well, I’m sure it can’t be as bad as you think. But if you need any help or advice, you know I’m always happy to do whatever I can.’
‘Thank you, darling. And how was your day?’
‘Productive, very productive! My team have done some excellent work today and I’m more convinced than ever that we’ll be able to put together a very strong bid for the Fothergill group – or at least, a large part of it. That will give us the foothold we need for further growth. It’s all very exciting. I shall tell you more over dinner.’
There was a quiet knock on the door and the housekeeper came in bearing Tara’s glass of wine on a small round tray.
‘Thanks, Viv. God, I need this!’ Tara scooped up the glass and took a swig. ‘Is dinner ready?’ asked Gerald.
‘Five minutes, sir. Please come through to the dining room whenever you’re ready.’ Viv went out.
‘Come. Let’s go through.’ Gerald stood up and pushed his
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