Be Careful What You Wish For (The Clifton Chronicles) Read online

  “Can we do anything to prevent that?” asked Sebastian.

  “Yes, but we’ll have to make sure our timing is even better than Martinez’s.”

  “But something isn’t quite right. If Martinez is likely to get most of his money back on the sale of the shares, why does he also need to sell his art collection?”

  “I agree that is a mystery. And I have a feeling that once we’ve solved it, everything else will fall neatly into place. It’s also just possible that if you ask the young lady who’s taking you to supper tomorrow night the right question, we might be able to fit one or two more pieces of the jigsaw into place. But remember what I’ve just said: an unguarded comment often proves every bit as valuable as a response to a direct question. By the way, what’s the young lady’s name?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sebastian.

  * * *

  Susan Fisher sat in the fifth row of a packed audience and listened attentively to what Emma Clifton had to say about her life as the chairman of a major shipping company, when she addressed the annual meeting of the Red Maids’ Old Girls’ Association. Although Emma was still a fine-looking woman, Susan saw that little lines had begun to appear around her eyes, and the head of thick black hair that had been the envy of her classmates now needed a little help to retain its natural dark sheen and not reveal the toll grief and stress must surely have taken.

  Susan always attended school reunions, and had been particularly looking forward to this one, as she was a great admirer of Emma Barrington, as she remembered her. She had been head girl, had won a place at Oxford and had become the first woman chairman of a public company.

  However, one thing puzzled her about Emma’s address. Alex’s resignation letter suggested that the company had made a series of bad decisions and could be facing bankruptcy, whereas Emma gave the impression that as the first booking period for the Buckingham had been an unqualified success, Barrington’s could look forward to a bright future. They couldn’t both be right, and she wasn’t in any doubt who she wanted to believe.

  During the reception that was held after the speech, it was impossible to get anywhere near the speaker, who was surrounded by old friends and new admirers. Susan didn’t bother to wait in line, but decided to catch up with some of her contemporaries. Whenever the subject arose, she tried to avoid answering any questions about Alex. After an hour, Susan decided to leave as she’d promised to be back at Burnham-on-Sea in time to cook supper for her mother. She was just leaving the school hall when someone behind her said, “Hello, Susan.” She looked back, surprised to see Emma Clifton walking toward her.

  “I wouldn’t have been able to make that speech if it hadn’t been for you. It was very brave, because I can only imagine what Alex had to say when he got home that afternoon.”

  “I didn’t wait to find out,” said Susan, “because I’d already made up my mind to leave him. And now I know how well the company is doing, I’m even more pleased I supported you.”

  “We’ve still got a testing six months ahead of us,” admitted Emma, “but if we get through that, I’ll feel a lot more confident.”

  “And I’m sure you will,” said Susan. “I’m only sorry that Alex is considering resigning at such an important moment in the company’s history.”

  Emma stopped just as she was about to get into the car and turned back to face her. “Alex is thinking of resigning?”

  “I assumed you knew about it.”

  “I had no idea,” said Emma. “When did he tell you this?”

  “He didn’t. I just happened to see a letter on his desk tendering his resignation, which surprised me because I know how much he enjoys being on the board. But as the letter was dated August the twenty-first, perhaps he still hasn’t made up his mind.”

  “I’d better have a word with him.”

  “No, please don’t,” pleaded Susan. “I wasn’t meant to see the letter.”

  “Then I won’t say a word. But can you remember the reason he gave?”

  “I can’t recall his exact words, but there was something about his first duty being to the shareholders and that, as a matter of principle, someone had to let them know that the company could be facing bankruptcy. But now I’ve heard your speech, that doesn’t make sense.”

  “When will you be seeing Alex again?”

  “I hope never,” said Susan.

  “Then can we keep this between ourselves?”

  “Yes, please. I wouldn’t want him to find out that I’d talked to you about the letter.”

  “Neither would I,” said Emma.

  * * *

  “Where will you be at nine a.m. on Monday the seventeenth?”

  “Where you’ll find me at nine o’clock every morning, keeping an eye on the two thousand jars of fish paste as they came off the line every hour. But where would you like me to be?”

  “Close to a phone, because I’ll be calling to advise you to make a substantial investment in a shipping company.”

  “So your little plan is falling into place.”

  “Not quite yet,” replied Cedric. “There’s still some fine-tuning to be done, and even then I’ll need to get my timing spot on.”

  “If you do, will Lady Virginia be angry?”

  “She’ll be absolutely livid, my darling.”

  Bingham laughed. “Then I’ll be standing by the phone at one minute to nine on Monday,” he checked his diary, “the seventeenth of August.”

  * * *

  “Did you pick the cheapest thing on the menu because I’m paying the bill?”

  “No, of course not,” said Sebastian. “Tomato soup and a lettuce leaf have always been my favorites.”

  “Then let me try and guess what your second favorites might be,” said Samantha, looking up at the waiter. “We’ll both have the San Daniele with melon followed by two steaks.”

  “How would you like your steak, madam?”

  “Medium rare, please.”

  “And you, sir?”

  “How would I like my steak done, madam?” Sebastian mimicked, smiling across at her.

  “He’s also medium rare.”

  “So—”

  “How—”

  “No, you first,” she said.

  “So what brings an American girl to London?”

  “My father’s in the diplomatic service, and he’s recently been posted here, so I thought it would be fun to spend a year in London.”

  “And your mother, what does she do, Samantha?”

  “Sam, everyone except my mother calls me Sam. My father was hoping for a boy.”

  “Well, he failed spectacularly.”

  “You’re such a flirt.”

  “And your mother?” Sebastian repeated.

  “She’s old-fashioned, just takes care of my father.”

  “I’m looking for someone like that.”

  “I wish you luck.”

  “Why an art gallery?”

  “I studied art history at Georgetown, and then decided to take a year off.”

  “So what do you plan to do next?”

  “I start work on my PhD in September.”

  “What’s the subject going to be?”

  “Rubens: Artist or Diplomat?”

  “Wasn’t he both?”

  “You’re going to have to wait a couple of years to find out.”

  “Which university?” said Sebastian, hoping she wouldn’t be returning to America in a few weeks’ time.

  “London or Princeton. I’ve been offered a place at both but haven’t made my mind up yet. And you?”

  “I haven’t been offered a place at either.”

  “No, stupid, what do you do?”

  “I joined the bank after taking a year off,” he said as the waiter returned and placed two plates of ham and melon in front of them.

  “So you didn’t go to university?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Sebastian. “Another time perhaps,” he added as he waited for her to pick up her knife and fork.