A Woman of Substance. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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don’t know. Who does with her? Anyway, perhaps this marriage will work better than the last.’
‘And all the others before the last,’ Emma commented dryly.
Paula was amused. ‘You’ve had several husbands yourself, Grandmother.’
‘Not as many as Elizabeth and furthermore I didn’t divorce them one after the other. Nor did mine get younger and younger as I got older,’ Emma pointed out. But she had the good grace to laugh. ‘Poor Elizabeth. She has such an idealistic attitude towards love and marriage. She’s as romantic now as she was when she was sixteen. I just wish she’d settle down.’
‘And grow up, Grandy. Anyway, I suppose she will bring Gianni and the twins with her. Emily was at the Bradford store this past week, so I guess she will drive over tonight.’
‘Yes, she’s going to do that. I spoke to her yesterday and she …’
Hilda knocked on the door and bounced into the room. ‘Lunch is ready, madame,’ she announced, and added proudly, ‘Cook has made all your favourite dishes, madame.’
Emma smiled. ‘We’ll be right down, Hilda.’ She was fond of the housekeeper who had been with her for thirty years and with whom, in all that time, she had never exchanged one cross word. Most of Hilda’s life had been devoted to running Pennistone Royal, which she did unobtrusively and with great efficiency, pride, and love.
‘What were you saying about Emily, Grandmother?’ Paula asked as they followed Hilda out of the room.
‘Oh, yes, I spoke to her yesterday and she said she would drive over in time to have dinner with us, and that perhaps Alexander would come with her. Otherwise he will drive over later.’
Hilda was standing in the hall, outside the dining-room door. She held it open for them and followed them into the room. ‘Cook has made that fresh vegetable soup you like, madame, and done a lovely fried plaice.’ She bustled over to the sideboard to serve them, adding, ‘Chips, too. I know you said no more fried food because of your diet, but just this once won’t hurt, madame,’ she said, ladling out the soup into Royal Worcester bowls.
‘If you say so, Hilda.’ Emma laughed, and winked at Paula, who was so startled by this unexpected facial movement in her grandmother she almost dropped the glass of water she was holding.
That afternoon, whilst Paula went riding on the moors, Emma sat upstairs in her parlour, where she always worked and went over all the legal documents which had been prepared by her solicitors before she was taken ill. She spent some time studying them thoughtfully and when she had finished she called Henry Rossiter in London.
She dispensed with the preliminary greetings quickly, as she always did, and said briskly, ‘Henry, where do we now stand on the liquidation of those personal assets of mine?’
‘I have all the papers in front of me, Emma. I was just going over them,’ he replied, clearing his throat.
To Emma his voice sounded suddenly quavering and tired. My dear old friend is getting old, she thought sadly. I shall miss him when he retires. Emma herself had no intention of retiring. She would die upright, sitting behind her desk.
‘Ah, yes. I have them all now, Emma. Everything has been sold and the prices were very good. Excellent, in fact. We realized just under nine million pounds. Not bad, eh?’
‘That’s marvellous, Henry! Where is the money?’
‘Why, right here in the bank. Where did you think it was, my dear?’ He sounded startled, even a little affronted, and Emma smiled to herself.
‘I know it’s in the bank, Henry, but which account is it deposited in?’ she asked patiently.
‘I placed it in your own private business account, E.H. Incorporated.’
‘Please transfer it today, Henry. To my current account. My personal current account.’
It was obvious to Emma that Henry was astounded. There was a silence for a few seconds and she heard him sucking in his breath. When he found his voice at last he said, ‘Emma, that’s ridiculous! Nobody puts nearly nine million pounds in a personal current account. You’ve got about two hundred thousand pounds in that account anyway. Look here, I know you said you needed about six million pounds for some personal project, but the remainder of the money from the sales should be working for you.’
‘I don’t want it working for me, Henry. I want it in my current account.’ She laughed and could not resist teasing him a little. ‘I might want to go shopping, Henry.’
‘Shopping!’ he exploded. ‘Come now, Emma! Not even you can spend that amount shopping! That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard you say in all the years I’ve known you.’ He was furious.
‘I certainly can spend that amount of money shopping, Henry, depending, of course, on what exactly I’m buying,’ Emma said acidly, thinking to herself that Henry’s marvellous sense of humour always seemed to evaporate into thin air when he was discussing money. ‘Please, Henry, no more discussion. Deduct the bank’s fee for handling the sales, and the taxes to be paid, and put the rest in my personal current account.’
He sighed in exasperation. ‘Very well. I suppose you know what you’re doing. After all, it is your money, Emma.’
You’re damn right it is, Emma thought.
Emma worked on her seating plan for the family dinner on Saturday night and prepared a suggested menu for Hilda. Then, after locking the legal documents in her briefcase, she went into her bedroom to rest. It was going to be an extremely difficult weekend, of that she was absolutely sure. Yet she felt no apprehension or the slightest twinge of anxiety, simply a cold detachment and a natural distaste as she envisioned the scenes which were bound to ensue after the family dinner on Saturday night.
She had an abhorrence of scenes, which in their inherent violence and futility both repelled and irritated her, and she tried to avoid them at all cost, particularly with her children. In spite of her reassurances to Paula, she knew that a few altercations would be an inevitability during the next few days. She accepted this fact with resignation and steeled herself in preparation. She was not sure whether any of her children, other than Daisy, had lately developed enough inner strength to help them withstand a sudden crisis with a degree of fortitude. If they had, it would be a staggering surprise to her, but she would welcome this development because it might conceivably alleviate some of the unpleasantness. At the same time, she did not have to speculate on how they would at first respond to her news.
Emma understood all of them well enough to anticipate and gauge their reactions. Apart from Daisy, who was not involved, each one of them would, in turn, be shocked and infuriated by the news she would impart. She realized she was going to strike a swift and terrible blow, a blow which would affect all of their lives. But she felt no disquiet or pity, for it would be a blow from the sword they had forced her to take up and wield in defence, through their own foolhardy self-interest and avariciousness.
Neither did she suffer feelings of guilt about the innumerable plans she had made for the future. And she certainly did not have one iota of compassion for those who would be the most badly affected. There was only a heartbreaking sadness buried inside her that at times felt like a constricting steel band around her chest. It was a sadness that sprang from her hurt and her disappointment in her children, and from a chilling horror at the knowledge that they had cold-bloodedly plotted against her. Years ago Emma had ceased to expect their love and she no longer sought their approbation but, in spite of that, she had never imagined she would have reason to question their loyalty at any time. The devastating implications of their scheming had at first left her thunderstruck, but this initial reaction had rapidly been replaced by a numbing anger and finally she had felt only pure contempt. She smiled grimly as she reflected on their duplicity, a duplicity so ill-conceived and lacking in skill and imagination that she had known about it from its very inception.
At least she could have had a degree of respect for them if they had been less transparent and a little more adroit