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Authors: Penny Vincenzi
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absolutely unchanged, that you’d still got your majority share—’
‘I don’t think anything will remain unchanged,’ said Bertie. ‘These deals don’t allow for it.’
‘Well, I’d back your mother against a venture capitalist any day of the week,’ said Priscilla. ‘And anyway, if you’re right and you might be in a less certain position, all the more reason to move now, into something smaller and cheaper, rather than later on in a panic. I really think a flat at the Barbican would suit us very well and I thought you’d like the idea.’
‘Did you really? I can’t think why. And what about the children, where are they supposed to live in the holidays?’
‘Oh – we can get one with two or three bedrooms.’
‘Which will cost as much as this house. Priscilla, I love it here. And I love the garden – you know what it means to me. What would I have at the Barbican? A window box at best.’
‘You can grow herbs in window boxes,’ said Priscilla, swinging as always into a well-informed attack. ‘I was reading about it in the Sunday Times only last weekend. Or flowers, of course; whatever you like. Anyway, I’ve asked some of the local agents to come and do a valuation, but as a rough guide we should get at least three million for this house. Which, if you are going to be out of a job, will come in pretty useful. Bertie, I really want you to give it some serious consideration.’
‘I will consider it,’ said Bertie. ‘Of course. Now I’m going to go outside and have my gin and tonic on the terrace. Such a lovely evening.’
Bertie fixed himself a very strong gin and tonic and went out into the lovely March dusk. It had been an incredible spring, with temperatures at a record level, and the garden was thick with birdsong, the great clumps of daffodils he had planted years ago seeming to shine through the half-light. The magnolia tree was heavy with its hundreds of pink candles, the camellia studded with white stars, and he felt, as he always did on such occasions, the garden enfolding him, soothing his ever-present sense of anxiety. Esher might be laughably suburban to the metropolitan dwellers; to him it meant peace, the place where all was right with the world.
Priscilla’s desire to move was intensely worrying. She was so very good at getting her own way.
As was his mother. For the two of them, negotiations could only mean one thing: winning.
‘Mr Russell, no.’ Athina’s voice was icy. ‘It’s unthinkable. We cannot run the House of Farrell from an office in some squalid area in South London. I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it. It would seem to indicate a complete lack of grasp of the cosmetic industry. We need to be in the West End. Revlon are in Brook Street, Lauder in Grosvenor Street. Are you really suggesting the House of Farrell has an address in Putney ?’
‘Lady Farrell, Putney is not squalid. It’s extremely pleasant. Boots are there, in—’
‘Boots!’ Athina’s voice would have withered a row of vines. ‘Well, there you are. That makes my point.’
‘In magnificent offices on the river,’ Mike continued, without drawing breath, ‘probably at a fraction of the cost we are paying in Cavendish Street. I’m sorry, Lady Farrell, but you have to think about it. You can’t afford not to. Looking at alternative office sites was agreed in the Head of Terms – and I intend to put into the contract that when your lease expires, in January 2014, there will be no question of renewing because the rent will probably quadruple then. As will the rates. You’ve been very fortunate to have it for so long at the level you do. Now, I would also like to propose we dispense with your personal chauffeur—’
‘Out of the question! Colin Peterson has driven us for thirty years. There is no way I am going to tell him he is out of a job.’
‘Well, that is your prerogative, Lady Farrell, but I’m afraid you will have to pay him yourself.’
‘But Mr Russell, not
‘I don’t think anything will remain unchanged,’ said Bertie. ‘These deals don’t allow for it.’
‘Well, I’d back your mother against a venture capitalist any day of the week,’ said Priscilla. ‘And anyway, if you’re right and you might be in a less certain position, all the more reason to move now, into something smaller and cheaper, rather than later on in a panic. I really think a flat at the Barbican would suit us very well and I thought you’d like the idea.’
‘Did you really? I can’t think why. And what about the children, where are they supposed to live in the holidays?’
‘Oh – we can get one with two or three bedrooms.’
‘Which will cost as much as this house. Priscilla, I love it here. And I love the garden – you know what it means to me. What would I have at the Barbican? A window box at best.’
‘You can grow herbs in window boxes,’ said Priscilla, swinging as always into a well-informed attack. ‘I was reading about it in the Sunday Times only last weekend. Or flowers, of course; whatever you like. Anyway, I’ve asked some of the local agents to come and do a valuation, but as a rough guide we should get at least three million for this house. Which, if you are going to be out of a job, will come in pretty useful. Bertie, I really want you to give it some serious consideration.’
‘I will consider it,’ said Bertie. ‘Of course. Now I’m going to go outside and have my gin and tonic on the terrace. Such a lovely evening.’
Bertie fixed himself a very strong gin and tonic and went out into the lovely March dusk. It had been an incredible spring, with temperatures at a record level, and the garden was thick with birdsong, the great clumps of daffodils he had planted years ago seeming to shine through the half-light. The magnolia tree was heavy with its hundreds of pink candles, the camellia studded with white stars, and he felt, as he always did on such occasions, the garden enfolding him, soothing his ever-present sense of anxiety. Esher might be laughably suburban to the metropolitan dwellers; to him it meant peace, the place where all was right with the world.
Priscilla’s desire to move was intensely worrying. She was so very good at getting her own way.
As was his mother. For the two of them, negotiations could only mean one thing: winning.
‘Mr Russell, no.’ Athina’s voice was icy. ‘It’s unthinkable. We cannot run the House of Farrell from an office in some squalid area in South London. I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it. It would seem to indicate a complete lack of grasp of the cosmetic industry. We need to be in the West End. Revlon are in Brook Street, Lauder in Grosvenor Street. Are you really suggesting the House of Farrell has an address in Putney ?’
‘Lady Farrell, Putney is not squalid. It’s extremely pleasant. Boots are there, in—’
‘Boots!’ Athina’s voice would have withered a row of vines. ‘Well, there you are. That makes my point.’
‘In magnificent offices on the river,’ Mike continued, without drawing breath, ‘probably at a fraction of the cost we are paying in Cavendish Street. I’m sorry, Lady Farrell, but you have to think about it. You can’t afford not to. Looking at alternative office sites was agreed in the Head of Terms – and I intend to put into the contract that when your lease expires, in January 2014, there will be no question of renewing because the rent will probably quadruple then. As will the rates. You’ve been very fortunate to have it for so long at the level you do. Now, I would also like to propose we dispense with your personal chauffeur—’
‘Out of the question! Colin Peterson has driven us for thirty years. There is no way I am going to tell him he is out of a job.’
‘Well, that is your prerogative, Lady Farrell, but I’m afraid you will have to pay him yourself.’
‘But Mr Russell, not
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