Pride and Avarice

by Nicholas Coleridge

  She was halfway across when a girl appeared leading a pony, followed by a blonde lady in jeans and riding boots she recognised as Mrs Clegg.

  ‘May I help you?’ called out Dawn rather sharply, before recognising the furtive scruffy figure of Mollie. ‘Oh, it’s you, Mollie. Are you lost?’

  Mollie explained she was walking home from college. ‘I’m sorry for trespassing.’

  Dawn insisted it didn’t matter at all, she could cut through the stable yard any time she pleased ‘or anywhere else you like in our grounds, you are most welcome.’ Mollie noticed how gushing Dawn was, almost as though she was nervous of her. ‘I don’t think you’ve met Debbie, she’s been out horseback riding on her new mount.’ The fact was, since the birth of Gemma’s baby, Dawn had been feeling perpetually awkward about the Strakers, not knowing how relations would be in the future with their nearest neighbours. It made her so uncomfortable, she felt quite sick. They had spent so much money and effort in building this house—her dream home—and they were making such nice new friends, and now this. Davina was being lovely about it all, really caring; she’d twice popped over to see Mandy, and called up regularly to hear how she was getting along. Although Davina never mentioned anything, Dawn realised from what she did not say, and from the fact that neither Miles nor any of the kids had been over to visit, that the Strakers were far from happy about the turn of events, and relations were strained. How awkward, how mortifying it all was. And how disappointing. Dawn had so wanted to be friends with the Strakers. She’d like to have invited them over to play tennis on the new court. Before coming to Chawbury, she didn’t know them from Adam, but round here they were the bees knees. Everyone talked about and admired the Strakers. When she told anyone where their new home was, people invariably said, ‘Ah, Chawbury, you must be near Miles and Davina,’ and Dawn replied, ‘We’re just across the valley. The Manor’s one end, and we’re at the Park at the other.’ Each morning when she drew back the curtains and sat up in bed with her first cup of tea of the day, her view was dominated by Chawbury Manor perched on the hill. Ross was up and gone long ago—he liked to be at his desk before seven—and Dawn had plenty of time to brood over the Strakers. She still felt angry with Archie about everything, but she liked Davina and resented the awkwardness of the situation. As she soaked in the en-suite, she could see the Manor from that window too, and often wondered whether Davina could see the Park from her bathroom. That’s what made this froideur between the two families doubly painful; they couldn’t get out of each others’ sight.

  ‘Can we offer you a cold drink, Molly? Or a coffee?’ Dawn asked her. ‘And I’ve just defrosted a strawberry cheesecake if you’d care for a portion.’ Mollie said she’d love that, and then the two girls trailed Dawn into the house. Entering through a side entrance they walked along a wide one-storey corridor, off which Mollie saw the sauna room and solarium with lockers for guests to leave their belongings, then a home-gym with Cybex weights machines and a stepmaster, and finally an enormous deepfreeze room with two matching chest-shaped freezers.

  ‘Yeah, that’s Dad’s favourite room,’ Debbie said, noticing Mollie’s interest. ‘He tests out all the new product lines for Freeza Mart. Like how long they take to defrost. Take a look if you want.’

  Debbie heaved open the lid of one of the freezers. It was packed to the brim with giant bags of deep-frozen croquette potatoes, pizzas, peeled pink prawns, cod in white sauce and several varieties of cheesecake.

  ‘There’s … so much food,’ Mollie said wide-eyed, ‘I’ve never seen so much.’

  ‘The other freezer’s fuller, it’s all chocolate bars and ice-cream.’

  ‘How come you’ve stayed so thin, then?’ Mollie asked enviously.

  ‘Dunno. Dad and mum are sticks too, and Gemma before she started having Mandy. But have you seen Greg? He’s our brother. He’s got really lardy. He’s twenty-four and Dad says it’s the drink that does it.’

  They passed through a swing door into one of the biggest kitchens Mollie had ever seen, bigger than the one at Chawbury Manor which was itself large. It was fitted out with everything matching in pearl and grey, not just the units which hung in long rows from all the walls, but the cupboards beneath the work tops, the kitchen table and chairs, a breakfast peninsular and stools, the ovens and hobs, all glistening new and smelling overpoweringly of citrus. Although Mollie was unaware of this, Dawn had seconds earlier wiped down the already impeccable granite counters and freshened the room with a fragrance spray. Sunshine streamed through big panes of glass and French windows leading on to newly-turfed lawn; you could still see the joins between the rolls of grass like stitched-together doormats. The kitchen floor was laid with pearl and grey Amtico tiles, which led through into a living area with wall-to-wall pearl coloured carpet, a giant wide-screen TV and several black leather sofas including an L-shaped black leather corner-unit. Perched on the corner unit was Gemma in her nightdress, gazing into a Moses basket.

  ‘Cheesecake and a coffee, Mollie,’ said Dawn. ‘Carry them through and relax in the day room. This is where we live, unless we have company.’

  It was Dawn’s regret that, so far, she and Ross had never once entertained at Chawbury Park, and one of her ambitions was to throw a formal supper party and show off the new lounge and dining room. Thus far, she didn’t feel she knew quite enough people to make it possible, though she was close. She was conscious that, had she been able to count on the Strakers coming, it would have been so much easier. With Davina there to support and advise her, it would all have fallen into place. It would have given her the confidence to invite the Mountleighs and some of the other ladies from the committee with their other halves, but without Davina she didn’t feel she could pull it off. It was such a shame, because the house had finally come together. The new couches had arrived and the tapestry-backed chairs for the dining room, and Ross had spent half last weekend, bless him, on hands and knees with his drill installing lights in the china cabinet to show off their collection of Wedgwood tea cups. It was upsetting they couldn’t show it off to company.

  Mollie hurried over to say hello to Gemma and see Mandy, who she’d been longing to meet for so long. The little thing, so sweet and serene, was sound asleep in her basket. Mollie asked Gemma if it was ok to touch her and brushed her hand against Mandy’s soft face, and felt warm breath from her nose against her fingertips. She was so adorable, Mollie wanted to cry. Pretty too, just like Gemma, though Mollie reckoned she could detect something of Archie in her eyes and shape of her chin.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ Mollie said, staring in wonder at the first small baby she’d really ever seen. She couldn’t understand how Archie could bear not to visit her; didn’t he realise how lucky he was to have a tiny daughter? She was a miracle.

  Mollie sat there eating cheesecake with a fork, gazing at Mandy.

  ‘How’s … Archie?’ Gemma asked, when her mother was out of earshot.

  ‘Er, fine, I think,’ Mollie replied. ‘He hasn’t been around that much.’ She didn’t say he’d been made Captain of Games at his house at school and Miles had been so pleased he’d sent him a cheque for five hundred pounds.

  ‘Give him my love,’ Gemma said heartbreakingly, her eyes filling with tears. Instinctively Mollie hugged her. ‘I only want him to see Mandy,’ Gemma blurted between sobs. ‘He doesn’t even have to see me, if he doesn’t want to. But he should see Mandy. He’s got to visit her, she’s so sweet and he is her dad.’

  Mollie felt terrible, and entirely on Gemma’s side. ‘I’ll try and persuade him,’ she promised. ‘When I tell him how lovely she is, I’m sure he’ll come. It’s just it’s all been a bit awkward … all this happening … and my dad’s being weird too.’ And Archie’s a selfish creep, she felt like adding. ‘I can’t really exactly explain, Gemma, I’m sorry about everything. It’s not your fault, it really isn’t, and Mandy’s a little angel. I wish she was awake now so I could say hello properly.’

  Right on cue Mandy began to s
tir, and a few seconds later to grizzle. Gemma lifted her from her basket, opened the top of her nightdress and fed her from a swollen breast. Mollie had never seen a baby gulp like that before.

  ‘Really, Gemma,’ Dawn said censoriously, returning from the kitchen. ‘I don’t think it’s very nice to do that in front of a guest. I do apologise, Mollie. I’m sure no one would behave like that at the manor.’

  Mollie felt it wasn’t actually an option, what with her mother being way over the hill at forty-eight or whatever, and neither Samantha nor herself having a baby themselves. So she said, ‘It’s fine, really. I’m madly in love with Mandy, isn’t she so adorable?’

  Debbie joined them with more cheesecake and the four women doted on Mandy. ‘Say how-do-you-do to Auntie Mollie,’ Debbie kept telling Mandy. ‘Pleased to meet you Auntie,’ she then responded, in pretend baby voice.

  Mollie and Debbie soon decided they liked each other rather a lot, and Dawn asked Mollie what Mid-Hampshire College was like, since Debs was thinking about enrolling there herself. ‘Now we’ve decided to make the move south permanent,’ Dawn said, ‘we’ve got to find Debs a new school. And get Gemma back into education too.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to school,’ Gemma said. ‘I want to stay home and look after Mandy.’

  ‘Not now,’ said Dawn, looking sympathetically at her elder daughter, who had never been a great one for schoolwork in any case. ‘It’s something we’ll have to discuss with your dad, and you know his views. He’s a big one for education,’ Dawn told Mollie. ‘Always has been. We’re just going to have to see. As for you, Debs, we need to get you enrolled somewhere quick. And if Mollie says college in Andover’s a good option, that could be the answer.’

  By the time she departed two hours later, Mollie felt the Cleggs were really nice people and she’d promised to call in again for tea next Wednesday. Gemma let her pick up Mandy and hold her in her arms, and she couldn’t get over how warm she was, this tiny doll-like creature, her niece. And then they’d all sat round watching Bewitched videos—the Cleggs had every episode in three boxed sets—until it became dark outside, and Dawn dropped Mollie off by car at the top of the drive at Chawbury Manor.

  20.

  It had been a particularly satisfying few weeks for Ross. You couldn’t be complacent, but the Andover store had got off to a cracking start. They were way ahead of budget, and it wasn’t like he’d set soft targets either. You only had to walk round the place, as he did several mornings a week, to see it heaving with customers. He felt constantly excited, and vindicated too. All those gainsayers who’d said folks down south didn’t care about price, and it was all about providing a poncey retail ambiance, well, they’d been proved wrong, hadn’t they? Everyone cares about price. Everyone wants a better deal. Ross had always believed it, and here was the proof.

  What’s more, his investors were happy. In fact, they were pressing him to roll out new stores even faster than he’d planned, which suited Ross just fine. So long as he had access to capital, he was up for it. He was working with a logistics consultant recommended by Callum and Brin, and they’d been identifying target towns for expansion across the south. Basingstoke was next, then Salisbury and Winchester. Towns dominated by Pendletons were the ones to go for, Ross reckoned.

  When he thought of the recent launch event, he flinched. It had been a total cock-up from start to finish, the steepest learning curve. He’d fired the PR agency first thing next morning; next time—if there was a next time—he’d check out the band himself, and it wouldn’t be a bunch of drag queens either.

  Ironically, the press had been very positive. The Andover Daily Echo led with Princess Margaret arriving at Pendletons, of course. But the rest of the page was dominated by a huge photo of Dawn’s friend Philippa Mountleigh in the trolley dash, beneath the headline ‘Lord Lieutenant’s Lady is a trolley dolly.’ Philippa was pictured roaring with laughter and gave some very helpful quotes, saying what great value Freeza Mart was and how she couldn’t get over the low prices. Furthermore, the local radio station was running items about Freeza Mart non-stop. They’d broadcast an interview with the single mum who’d been one of the trolley-dash winners, and were now asking listeners to phone-in and say how they’d fill their own trolleys, if they’d won. The best answer would get a one-hundred-pound voucher. Ross’s one niggling concern over the Andover store was the dirty tricks campaign by Pendletons. First there had been the coincidence of the clashing party date, which had actually worked in their favour in the end. Then those girls handing out Pendletons vouchers inside Freeza Mart, which wasn’t ethical. And every Saturday since then Pendletons had put girls in lime-green t-shirts at the entrance to the car park, distributing vouchers and coupons and telling shoppers good food costs less at Pendletons, which was an out-and-out lie. Last week, Dawn had been targeted when she was parking the car, and she’d given them a right earful. Good on Dawn, what a trooper. Not generally one for romantic gestures, he made a point of picking up a dozen roses from the Freeza Mart flower stand (grown in Kenya and air freighted, partially-frozen, direct to Southampton airport) which he thrust at her with a kiss.

  For Miles, it was a largely satisfying week, though it started better than it ended. He lured Serena up to London for Monday night and together they’d attended a private view at the newly-opened Tate Modern of rubber sculpture by the Dutch artist Roos van Rinjj, which was being sponsored, at Straker Communications’s suggestion, by their client Trent Valley Power 4 U. Miles efficiently networked all four exhibition spaces before taking Serena to dinner and bed at Zach Durban’s new London hotel, the Capital Grand Deluxe. Leaving her to make her own way home next morning, he was up and out before seven for a breakfast at Conservative Central Office, at which Paul Tanner was entertaining potential party donors. Miles always found these gatherings valuable, since the kind of men susceptible to bankrolling the party were also susceptible to retaining Straker Communications for strategic advice. On Tuesday, the satisfying news came through that Strakers had won a chunk of the Fiat account, on highly lucrative terms. Miles reckoned that, if they handled it correctly, there was incremental business to be won there too, and he would evaluate the merit of opening an office in Turin. Davina joined him on Tuesday at Holland Park Square, and irritated him by wondering whether Mollie really was alright on her own down at Chawbury, and how she felt bad leaving her. Miles, exasperated, said, ‘For heaven’s sake, Davina, she’s not alone down there. Mrs French is there. And it was Mollie who insisted on quitting her perfectly adequate boarding school to attend this socialist polytechnic or whatever it is, so it’s her look out. Now, we’re late already. We should have left this house three minutes ago, and you’re not even changed … What? You are changed? I’m sorry, but you cannot go to Harry’s Bar in that dress. Not with the Chief Executive of Tio Finca sherry. Wear that velvet thing, if you haven’t got anything else.’

  Thursday morning saw a long-scheduled strategic review at Pendletons. As usual Miles was accompanied by a posse of Straker Communications executives, including his son Peter who at least hadn’t brought his Walkman with him this time. From the beginning, Miles detected a slight chill in the atmosphere, coming from the Pendletons side. Not anything drastic, but a heightened anxiety which Miles’s antennae picked up immediately. A girl from Strakers presented the press from the anniversary event in Andover, which she claimed was ‘worth’ more than two million pounds in editorial coverage when the space and TV mentions were monetised at advertising ratecard prices.

  ‘We don’t have an issue with the publicity, you did a professional job,’ James Pendleton said at last, ‘but we do have to face the fact we’re losing share to Freeza Mart. The numbers tell their own story.’

  He handed over to his Finance Director and the picture was all too clear. Every week since Freeza Mart opened its doors, Pendletons in Andover had seen like-for-like reductions in sales. And, worse, they were deteriorating. Not across all sectors, but in the ones where they competed head-to-
head, such as frozen foods, household goods and wines and spirits. Freeza Mart was certainly having an effect. ‘In all these categories we’ve experienced high single-digit or even double-digit revenue reductions,’ reported the FD.

  ‘I must say, I’m surprised,’ Miles said silkily. ‘I’ve not visited a Freeza Mart personally, but I’ve heard they’re awfully basic. Not like a Pendletons, which Davina uses all the time, in Andover and up in London.’

  ‘Well,’ James replied, ‘that’s very generous of you, Miles, and please thank Davina for supporting us, it’s much appreciated. But the fact is, Clegg is providing competition. It’s unhelpful his Andover store is so close to us geographically. Makes it easier for price comparison, and they’re certainly cheaper on many product lines. We have to accept that. Laetitia tells me several friends have started buying their wine there, it’s very keenly priced.’

  ‘Surely they won’t be able to sustain it,’ Miles said. ‘They must be trading at a loss?’