Persuading Annie Read online

  ‘Shall we start, George?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘As long as it doesn’t take too long,’ he said, his eyes suddenly fixed on his Gucci shoes. ‘Bought an E-type yesterday. Wanted to give it a turn before lunch.’

  4

  THE FAMILY MEETING was underway. Katherine and Annie had both joined their father at his office and after Victoria’s emergency phone call, Charles had popped in after rushing home from his beloved golf course and flinging on a suit.

  They all sat silently round the polished oval table, waiting for Mr Cavendish, the solicitor, to arrive.

  George looked across at his two daughters. Katherine, her blonde hair coiffed to within an inch of its life, her blue eyes lidded with just the right amount of smudged amber to lend them a superior air, gave him a slow, feline smile that told him Daddy was all.

  With an effort, he looked away from Katherine to Annie.

  Annie looked out of the window, showing George her elegant profile.

  George sighed deeply.

  He would never get over Annie’s obstinate red hair. Never. As if she couldn’t just go to the hairdressers.

  It seemed that George had only recently got over the initial shock of seeing his youngest daughter for the first time. It was bad enough she hadn’t been a boy, which meant that his chances of a son were now as good as lost. Four years earlier, he had been devastated when Katherine had first been brought to him, furious, pink and undeniably female. Yet it had proved impossible, even for George, not to fall in love with such a beautiful, bouncy, gurgling child – and anyway, there was still hope that his other children would all be sons. When Victoria followed Katherine two years afterward, he had become used to disappointment and had simply not expected any better from his wife.

  But, by the time Annie arrived, two years later, he knew that now all chances of a son were gone. Annie personified his loss of hope.

  Perhaps that explained why he had reacted so violently to the colour of her hair.

  ‘Good God, woman, what’s happened?’ he demanded of Caroline.

  ‘What do you mean, what’s happened?’ she asked, exhausted, hugging her infant to her chest.

  ‘It’s got orange hair!’ he exploded.

  ‘She has auburn hair,’ said Caroline firmly, gently touching one of the golden curls with the tip of her finger.

  ‘Listen here, old gal, have you been having an affair with someone uglier than death?’ continued George, not knowing which he would prefer most – to be a cuckold, or the begetter of Beelzebub’s daughter.

  Caroline fought back the angry tears.

  ‘She is our daughter and she’s beautiful,’ she said in a tone he had never heard before.

  ‘IT’S UGLIER THAN HIMMLER, WOMAN—’ he shouted, disgusted.

  ‘SHE!’ cried Caroline.

  ‘All right, SHE’s uglier than Himmler!’

  And he had slammed the door shut after him, shaken to the core that he could have produced such a hybrid.

  Twenty-six years later, Annie’s hair still troubled him. It had softened into a Titian blur now, the thick curls pulled off her pale face. Of course, thought George peevishly, Annie would never lower herself to have her locks cut into a slick, modern style. If only she would have her hair highlighted, he thought morosely. Wear make-up, high heels, make an effort.

  Annie felt her father’s harsh eye on her and stayed looking out of the window across the streets of London.

  She eventually looked over at Susannah, who gave her a tender, supportive smile. Annie’s heart warmed slightly. Without Susannah’s presence, her family’s silent condemnation would have weighed even more heavily on her slight shoulders.

  Eventually there was a knock on the door and they all looked towards it expecting Mr Cavendish the solicitor to sidle in. When instead, Davina Barker, the new marketing director, entered the office, her neat little face showing just the right amount of concern and respect, all four of them experienced a severe change in their emotions.

  ‘Ah, Davina, my dear!’ greeted George warmly, gratified by the sight of Davina’s extremely long legs in an extremely mini skirt.

  She walked purposefully towards him and let him kiss her on both cheeks, tilting her head back just the right amount for him to smell the dabs of Chanel No 5 behind her ears and see an enticing glimpse of cleavage. She pulled out the chair next to Katherine.

  Katherine flashed a grin at her friend. Now the fun would begin! Davina was the only person Katherine liked who wasn’t moneyed, whose family had no history and who thought Belgravia was a country. In fact she was the only paid employee of her father’s she had ever deigned to talk to properly. And there was a simple reason for that. Davina was a hoot.

  Davina slid her chair out and sat down, smiling pleasantly at everyone round the table, her long, straight blonde hair swaying gently as she did so. She turned to grin at Katherine as she took her little jacket off, revealing a shimmering attempt at a blouse that left nothing to the imagination. Which made sense, surmised Annie, considering that her father didn’t have one. Davina wasn’t the type to leave anything to chance.

  Davina looked over at Katherine and gasped loudly. ‘I adore your earrings,’ she whispered loudly, touching Katherine’s tiny diamonds glistening in her downy earlobes. ‘They’re divine. How do they make them so small? If I had a pair of those, I’d swallow them or something.’

  Katherine laughed with delight, feeling classier and daintier than a moment ago.

  Davina took out her pad and pen and smiled over at Annie and Susannah. They smiled back.

  Annie didn’t need to wonder how on earth Davina had been invited to such a highly private family meeting. Susannah could only mourn silently that her Annie should be treated so obviously differently to Davina by those who should know better.

  After Shirley had poured everyone more coffee, Mr Cavendish appeared.

  ‘Ah, Cavendish,’ said George. ‘Come on in, come on in.’

  Mr Cavendish wiped his brow and took his jacket off.

  ‘Right,’ he said, and opened his bulging brief case.

  * * * * *

  ‘Are you gone stark, raving mad, man?’ shouted Katherine. ‘Do you want me to get ill, ugly and fat, is that it?’

  Mr Cavendish went pale. ‘I am merely saying,’ he attempted, ‘that if you can manage, for just one year to do without these … luxuries—’

  Katherine screamed and looked at her father. ‘Did you hear him, Daddy? One year? Luxuries?’ She turned to Mr Cavendish and her tone changed sharply. ‘Do you have any idea what happens to your colon if it isn’t washed out regularly, Mr Cavendish?’

  Fortunately for Mr Cavendish, he did not have to find out.

  ‘Calm down, pumpkin,’ said George before turning sadly to his solicitor. ‘It simply won’t do, Cavendish.’

  Mr Cavendish sighed and looked at his paperwork. He didn’t know how to broach the subject. Luckily, he didn’t need to.

  ‘George,’ cooed Susannah. ‘There might be another way.’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘You could – temporarily –’ (she twinkled her eyes and hushed her voice) ‘visit New York.’

  She let this sink in before continuing.

  Katherine’s eyes lit up.

  George liked the idea, but wasn’t sure how this was going to help.

  ‘You see,’ continued Susannah slowly. ‘You have two choices. You could either sell your New York apartment and pour that money into the company—’

  Her audience gasped. Sell the New York apartment? It was too painful to contemplate. What was life without its little joys?

  ‘But that would be very obvious to the press that you are in need of money, which would be no good for the company at all. Or, we could tell the press that you have grown bored of London lately and have decided to spend time in New York. The business is expanding and New York needs your attention. You could go and live in your apartment there for six months, maybe a year. Then, as a last-minute thought, you quiet
ly sell the wonderful Hampstead Village apartment—’

  Charles started. Wasn’t that where he lived? Victoria would kill him.

  ‘And Victoria could move back into the family home with Charles and the boys—’

  He relaxed. Victoria would be beside herself with happiness at this compromise.

  ‘And we’ll have put the newshounds off the scent!’

  She looked round the room. Everyone’s breath was held, their eyes bright.

  ‘Just think of the money you could make on that Hampstead Village apartment, George. Katie and Annie could go with you to New York if you wanted – to make it look more like a family decision.’ Susannah felt that Annie needed a break from London. Maybe New York was just the place to bring back the colour in her cheeks. ‘Meanwhile,’ she continued, ‘Victoria and Charles and the boys would have all the space they need in Katie’s quarters. With the proceeds from their flat, we’ll be able to get the very best management consultants in—’ she suddenly spoke faster, ignoring the sharp intake of breath that came from all around the table, ‘—who I’m sure will turn the company around so we can float it for millions and then you can come back to live here for good.’

  George looked like he was thinking very hard. He was in fact, concentrating desperately on the image of his late grandmother on her deathbed. It helped him recover himself after a sudden and all-too effective image of enjoying Davina in New York.

  Susannah continued. ‘I will stay in London while the consultants are here and when everything’s sorted out, I’ll come and join you in New York for the New Year. Until then I’ll talk regularly with the New York office, and keep you informed every step of the way. Enjoy the sights while you’re there! Visit your club, go to the opera, and most importantly, relax. We can’t have our managing director, our chairman, having a nervous breakdown, not when we need him most. You must use this opportunity to recuperate at this time of stress. Be a guiding light for the rest of us. And of course, you can talk to us here in the office as often as usual and advise us how to run the company in your absence.’

  She held her breath. This moment was crucial to the survival of Markhams’.

  ‘Yes, I – I have felt a bit peeky, recently,’ nodded George, thinking very, very hard of his late grandmother.

  Susannah breathed out. Her relief at the ease with which this had been achieved overshadowed her surprise.

  Everyone except Annie clapped their hands in excitement and started talking animatedly about the delights of the Big Apple.

  Annie looked round the room, her stomach tensing with anxious frustration. She couldn’t possibly let Susannah dictate where she lived. She didn’t want to go to New York. She watched George and Katherine tell a wide-eyed Davina about how many society people you could see in one evening at the opera.

  I’m adopted, thought Annie. There’s no other explanation.

  ‘Um,’ she cleared her throat. ‘May I make a suggestion?’

  Susannah smiled confidently at Annie. ‘Of course, my dear.’

  ‘I would rather – if it fits in with everyone else, of course – stay here in London with Vicky and Charles and the boys, than go to New York.’ As Susannah’s smile subsided, Annie rushed on. ‘I could help with the boys, I could even move in there, I could rent out my place – that money might come in handy—’

  ‘Don’t see how a poky hole in Muswell Hell could help us – we’re not that stretched,’ interrupted her father.

  Surprised by Annie’s offer, Susannah didn’t even acknowledge George’s words. Annie’s requests were rarely unrealistic. And the occurrence of Annie asking anything with a selfish motive was so rare that it always deserved respect.

  If Annie seriously meant to help Victoria, they could even get rid of Victoria’s staff. She would hardly need a live-in nanny when there was a live-in sister on hand. And of course, if Annie were to stay in London, then Edward Goddard would have more of a chance to wear down her anti-romantic notions. In fact, she could ask Annie to get more involved in the business meetings – where she could keep her eye on the burgeoning relationship. She predicted an announcement by the New Year. Oh yes, it was perfect.

  ‘My darling,’ she said sweetly. ‘That is a generous offer that makes me proud of you.’

  Annie hadn’t finished. If the company was really in dire financial trouble, she might be able to help. And helping might ease the sense of impotence that always overcame her when she was with her family.

  ‘And I have some savings that might be useful.’

  ‘Savings?’ asked George, insulted. ‘What the devil have you got savings for?’

  Annie coloured. ‘A rainy day? Emergencies? A world cruise when I’m old and bored of daytime TV? Why do most people have savings?’

  Susannah intervened while George stared, baffled, at his flushed daughter.

  ‘Another unsurprisingly generous gesture, my dear. It would make your mother proud,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think we’ve come to that quite yet.’ She smiled indulgently at Annie. ‘Keep your savings for that rainy day.’

  For a flash, Annie felt herself dangerously near confessing her one secret from Susannah – she realised none of them had any idea how much money she really had.

  OK, she thought. Your loss. My secret. I quite liked the idea of a cruise anyway.

  ‘But my dear,’ continued Susannah gently, ‘we may have to re-address Markhams’ sponsorship of your lovely little artists.’

  Annie’s face fell. She could easily give up her home, but not that, surely? Using a fraction of Markhams’ money to transform the lives of impoverished, gifted artists had been one of the few satisfactions in Annie’s life. Markhams’ money had single-handedly spring-boarded three young artists on to respectable careers by funding their first exhibitions in the two years that Annie had started doing it in conjunction with her boss’s gallery. For Annie, this was the only worthwhile thing Markhams had ever done. But it didn’t make profits and it didn’t hit the glossies, so of course, it would have to go. If she had more guts, she’d use her own money to fund the artists, but that silent, growing nest egg of hers was her protection against life and its uncertainties. It was her secret weapon.

  She looked calmly at Susannah. ‘Of course,’ she said quietly. ‘I understand.’

  George buzzed Shirley. ‘Shirley get your roller-blades on. Prepare the New York apartment to accommodate three, book three first class flights to New York and put Victoria’s flat on the market. Oh, and call my barber, I want a trim this afternoon.’

  He looked smugly round at everyone as if the entire idea had been his.

  ‘To accommodate three, George?’ Asked Susannah as mildly as she could. ‘Three flights to New York?’

  George looked over at Davina and patted her elegant hand. ‘Think it’s high time Davina saw the New York office,’ he winked, touching the toe of her stilettos with his Gucci loafer. ‘And she can live with us at the apartment.’ He coughed. ‘Nice for Katie.’

  Katherine and Davina both screamed and hugged each other, while Susannah and Annie looked on, mute, helpless.

  Katherine turned on Susannah.

  ‘At least this will make up for sacrificing everything else and getting a furred colon.’

  Susannah forced herself to look motherly at her eldest god-daughter.

  Within half an hour, the meeting was adjourned. Charles was preoccupied with returning to his game and giving Victoria the good news about the move. Once they were safely ensconced in the family mansion, she would stop resenting him for having moved her down the social ladder. This could transform their marriage. Katherine, Davina and George were preoccupied with the delights of temporarily living in New York. And Susannah was preoccupied with maintaining a bright façade. Annie alone was terrified for their future.

  5

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Annie felt no less terrified. She stared at the mirrored wall of Markhams’ office lift as it carried her up towards another meeting. Was it the unreal smoothness of the lif
t or the thought of facing her family that had thrust a clenched fist in the pit of her gut?

  The door slid open and Shirley appeared before her, smiling, proffering a cup of black coffee that, should Annie grow bored during the meeting, she could try to stand her teaspoon up in.

  Annie jumped. She’d never got used to the fact that the lift opened into Shirley’s office and more often than not, into Shirley’s face.

  ‘They’ve just started,’ whispered Shirley, her shoulders hunched for maximum volume control.

  ‘Oh,’ whispered Annie, hunching in response. ‘Shall I wait for the interval?’

  Shirley smiled a little uncertainly. ‘There is no interval. They’ll just keep going until—’

  ‘It was a joke.’

  Annie unhunched, gave Shirley a warm smile as an apology, gratefully took the coffee cup and pushed opened the heavy door with her free hand. The smell of polished wood and cloying perfume made her feel almost instantly claustrophobic.

  Susannah stood at the end of the table, dressed in a sharp business suit, her hair scraped back off her perfectly made-up face. George sat next to her, his Savile Row suit so pristine it almost glowed. To his right sat Davina, pert and pretty, and beside her sat Katherine, dressed head to toe in stylish black. Beside the empty chair sat Charles, looking wistfully out at the bright blue sky.

  None of them turned to look at Annie.

  Just your average cosy family, she thought, as she squeezed past them all to take her seat in the far corner. When she’d sat down, Susannah paused fractionally, and recapped quickly.

  ‘I was just explaining that we’ve been exceptionally lucky and managed to get the crème-de-la-crème of management consultants to come in and help Markhams’ back on its feet. They don’t come cheap but, well, I’m sure you’ll all agree that they’ll be worth every penny.’

  Davina was the only one who turned to Annie and smiled. Annie felt the corners of her mouth lift as her stomach plunged.