by Taylor, Lulu
‘I hate the press,’ he said frankly. ‘And I think that once you let them in, you’ve got no excuse to keep them out. But I know you need to do this. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.’
‘Even pose in your underwear?’ she teased.
‘If you feel the all-too-human desire to show me off, what can I do?’ Harry joked. ‘But I’d prefer it if we don’t make too much of a habit of it. I’m a lover of the quiet life, you know.’
‘I’m rapidly coming round to your way of thinking,’ Jemima answered with a smile.
Poppy lay on the sofa in her flat, staring at the ceiling. She had heard nothing from George last night although she had sent him a text: Where are you?
Then at work today she had had to break the disappointing news about Neave.
‘Don’t worry about it too much,’ Donna had said encouragingly, although her disappointment had been clear to read. ‘It would be great to get her on board for the launch. And in the meantime, I’m going to approach Kate Beckinsale’s people. There’s a chance she might be interested.’
Then, this afternoon, after Poppy had inspected the model of the bottle she had designed for Tea Rose and signed it off, her phone had beeped at last.
Sorry darling, read the text. Called home on urgent family stuff. Back tonight. See you later? G xx
Yes. See you later. Come to mine when you are back, she had replied.
Now it was just a matter of waiting.
At seven-thirty, there was a knock on the door. Poppy got up off the sofa and went to answer it. As she opened it, George bounded in like an excitable puppy.
‘Hello, hello!’ He seized her and kissed her quickly, smiling. ‘Did you miss me? I had to go back and see my family. Summoned by my papa. God, it’s miserable going back to our town. I never liked it. Witney must be the dullest place on earth.’
‘I thought your family lived in the West Country,’ Poppy said.
‘Oh – yes, well, some of them do. And my parents lived there till quite recently. Then they moved to Witney.’
‘I see. So the Fellowes family lives in Witney, does it?’ Poppy pulled away from him and scanned his face. It looked so open and honest, his clear brown eyes wide and trustworthy. ‘So if I went to Witney, I’d be able to look them up, would I? The very nice, very decent Fellowes clan. Is that right?’
George tensed a little. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I just wondered.’ She put a hand on her hip and stared at him, unsmiling. ‘I just wondered if perhaps I might find there was no one there by the name of Fellowes. No one you’re related to, anyway. In fact, I’m a bit confused about where I might find any of your relations. Where do the Marlow family live?’
George froze and his mouth fell open. After a second, he stuttered, ‘I … I …’
‘You’re surprised by that, aren’t you? But that’s not my only question. I wondered what you do with yourself all day, seeing as you’re not in the Earle Street Bookshop. They’ve never heard of you there. So much for your uncle Sylvester, he doesn’t seem to exist either.’
George’s gaze became agonised. ‘Poppy, please, let me explain –’
‘I don’t want to hear any more of your lies!’ she shouted. ‘Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? How stupid to tell me you worked somewhere I could easily go and ask about you!’
‘I do work there,’ he protested.
She laughed in bewilderment, hardly able to believe his affront. ‘The manager had never heard of you.’
‘That’s because my name isn’t George Fellowes,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re right about that.’
‘Who are you then?’
‘My name is Gideon. Gideon Marlow.’
She stared him disbelievingly.
‘I’m telling the truth,’ he said. ‘How did you find out my surname?’
She held out the envelope she’d taken from his flat. ‘This.’
He looked at it and then glanced up at her. ‘Oh. I see. A bit clumsy. The whole reason for calling myself George is that Mrs Fellowes really does have a nephew called that. It seemed to back the story up.’
‘But why?’ whispered Poppy. She sank down on a pine dining chair. ‘Why did you have to pretend to be Mrs Fellowes’s nephew? What could it possibly gain you?’
He ran his hand through his soft brown hair. ‘I can’t tell you that, Poppy, I’m really sorry.’
‘Get out,’ she said harshly.
‘What?’
‘You heard me! Get out! Get out!’ She stood up and started to shriek. ‘I never want to see you again. You’ve lied to me, I can never trust you. Get out of my flat! Go away!’
‘No, Poppy, please, just let me explain –’
‘You’ve just said you can’t tell me the truth. I don’t even want to know. I just want you to leave and never come back.’
‘But I love you,’ he protested. ‘I can’t go like this.’
Her eyes flashed fury at him. ‘How can you love me? You’ve lied to me since the first day I met you.’
‘I didn’t want to!’ he shouted. ‘I … had to!’
‘Why?’ she demanded. A small quiet moment followed her question and for a second, she thought she had reached him and that he was about to tell her. Then he screwed up his face in frustration.
‘I can’t tell you! Not yet!’
‘Please, please, just go …’ She could feel herself losing control and she desperately didn’t want him to be there when she cried. ‘George … Gideon … whoever you are. Get out. I mean it.’
He heard the desperation in her voice and reluctantly he turned to the door. ‘Poppy, please can I come back later when we’re both a little calmer and I’ve had a chance to sort this out?’
‘No.’ Her voice was like ice. ‘I never want to see you again.’
45
THE BOARDROOM TABLE was littered with samples again and the women were having a wonderful time trying out all the treats Claudine had brought back with her from France. She looked as chic as ever, her dark bob freshly cut and dressed in her favourite Chanel, this time a light summer dress sprinkled with tiny stars.
‘These are fabulous, Claudine. How did you manage to come up with so many products so fast?’ Donna said, smoothing a soft milk into the skin on her forearm.
Claudine gave a little smile. ‘I have some very good friends who create these skin products in their laboratory. They develop ranges for many of the top names in skin care. I explained what we needed and they gave me access to their newest ranges. They are top class and all plant based.’
‘Fantastic,’ breathed Tara, sniffing a small tub of rich cream. ‘This is Tea Rose, isn’t it?’
Claudine nodded. ‘We have a rich moisturiser, a light moisturiser, a night cream, hand cream, face and body wash, and soaps. There is scope for more in time.’
‘I love these candles,’ declared Jemima, holding one of them up. ‘They smell divine. Can I take one home?’
‘Of course,’ Claudine said, smiling at her.
Only Poppy seemed unable to work up the enthusiasm of the others. She tried all the lotions and murmured her praise, but she was distinctly low key.
‘This is so inspiring,’ Donna said, clearly delighted with Claudine’s work. ‘Now we can recruit staff and start designing treatments. Claudine, come and see what we’ve done downstairs. You’ll love it.’
They all went down to the newly refitted shop. It was almost finished, just waiting for the final decorative touches and the new products. Claudine admired the fresh, white interior and the feeling of space and light that had been created. She was charmed by the booths where customers would be able to mix scents and experiment with creating a fragrance, and she thought the treatment rooms had just the right feel of luxurious spa meets healthy living.
‘There is only one thing,’ she said, frowning and pointing outside. ‘What colour are those men painting the shop front?’
‘Pink,’ said Donna. ‘Our signature nude pin
k, the one we chose for Tea Rose.‘
‘It is all wrong.’ Claudine waved a dismissive hand.
‘What?’ Poppy said dismayed. ‘But why?’
‘Come outside and look.’ They all trooped outside and stood on the pavement, watching the men in their overalls slapping pink paint on the old navy blue woodwork.
‘You see?’ Claudine pointed upwards. ‘What looks charming on a bottle of perfume or on its box does not look so good all over the shop! This is far too pink. Your shop looks like a place for little girls. Or like one of those cheap high-street sex shops where women buy nasty feather boas and dirty little toys.’
They all looked up, dismayed.
‘She’s right, I’m afraid,’ Jemima said softly. ‘Not about the sex shop bit, of course. But it’s just too pink. We’ll have to think again.’
‘And fast,’ said Tara grimly.
Poppy couldn’t tell the others what had happened with George. Or Gideon, or whoever he was. It was simply too humiliating. They had seen her tired eyes and miserable expression, so she had told them that she and George had broken up but that she didn’t want to discuss it further. Instead she sat silently flicking through colour charts, trying to find the right shade for the Trevellyan shop front.
Her phone rang and she picked it up. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, darlin’, it’s Neave. How are you?’
‘Oh, hi. I’m fine. Where are you?’
‘In New York. I’ve got a shoot here. I’m having my hair done as we speak. I’m gonna be here for hours, it’s so boring. So – did you find out what happened with that boyfriend of yours? I’ve been worryin’ about you.’
‘We’ve split up.’ Just saying the words brought a hammer blow of depression down on her.
‘So what was his explanation for his fake job and his fake name?’
‘His job’s real, his name is not.’ Poppy took a deep breath. ‘He says he’s called Gideon Marlow and that he’s not Mrs Fellowes’s nephew, so he’s nothing to do with the lady who owns his flat. But I couldn’t get anything else out of him. He refused to say a word. I couldn’t believe that he would rather let me send him away than give me a word of explanation.’
‘That’s bizarre. Run him through Google,’ Neave said, ‘or even better, get a private detective on to him.’
‘That seems a bit extreme …’ Poppy frowned. ‘Do you really think it’s that serious?’
‘You have to admit, it’s very odd behaviour, darlin’. It’s not right. You need to get to the bottom of it.’
‘Maybe.’ Poppy turned over another page of her colour chart. ‘I just don’t feel like I can face it right now. I can’t believe I’ve lost George. I loved him and now I’ve found out he doesn’t even exist.’
‘Ah, poor lamb,’ said Neave sympathetically. ‘Course you can’t face it. Don’t you worry – you just take care of yourself, OK? I’m comin’ back in a few days. We’re flying to LA tonight and then after a few meetings we’re catching a flight back to London. As soon as I’ve had a chance to catch my breath, I’ll take you out for a drink. We’ll have some fun; we’ll be single girls together, all right?’
Poppy smiled. That did sound fun. She had a feeling that while Neave might not enjoy glossy parties, she would certainly know how to enjoy herself when she felt like it. ‘OK.’
‘Good. Now cheer up, darlin’. I’ll see you soon.’
Jecca put the phone down, looking satisfied.
‘Who was that?’ Ferrera said from behind his newspaper. He had listened to Jecca’s side of the conversation but she had kept it brief and had done most of the listening.
‘My lawyers. They seem to think I’ve got a strong case. They’re confident it will be in court in just a few months. In other words, before Tea Rose is launched in November, which is exactly what I wanted. I want to be in there for that. I want to be a part of it.’ She walked over to him and sat down. ‘You know, that company should rightly be mine. All of it. It was my Italian ancestors who made it what it was. The Trevellyans have always been parasites, making their money out of my family’s talent and skill.’
‘They weren’t too bad at the business side of things,’ Ferrera said carelessly.
‘Yes, and I’m a Trevellyan too, don’t forget that. I have a right to everything those girls have got and I intend to get it.’
‘This is becoming an obsession for you,’ observed Ferrera.
‘So?’ demanded Jecca, quick to rise to the bait as usual. ‘You’re obsessed with your business. Why is it wrong for me to be the same?’
‘You take it further than I would.’
‘Perhaps.’ Jecca smiled to herself. ‘It’s only natural to feel passionate about something that is my family’s heritage. But yes, I do persist where most people would stop.’ She fingered the locket that hung on a chain round her neck. ‘But my challenges are more extreme than most.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Particularly as one of my best sources of information has just dried up.’
‘How so?’ Ferrera asked.
‘Oh, nothing … just someone who kept me abreast of things.’ Jecca smiled at him. Her charm was extraordinary when she chose to use it but Ferrera was beginning to learn not to let that sensuous smile and the melting dark eyes override his sense of danger where Jecca was concerned. ‘What’s your plan for the day, my darling?’
‘I’m going to New York this evening. I told you that.’
Jecca pouted. ‘Of course. Have you changed your mind about taking me with you?’
Ferrera shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. This is business. I won’t have time for partying and socialising and you’d just get bored in the penthouse with nothing to do.’
‘No, I wouldn’t!’
‘Yes, you would. You’re staying here. The matter is closed.’ He folded up his paper with the barest hint of irritation, to show Jecca she should stop pushing him. ‘Surely you’d rather stay where you can keep a close eye on things at Trevellyan.’
‘There is that, I suppose,’ Jecca said thoughtfully. ‘And I may make a rather startling move very soon. Surprise everyone.’
‘Beware of surprises,’ Ferrera remarked, getting up. ‘The harder you concentrate on planning them, the more likely you are to be surprised yourself. At least, that’s what I’ve always found.’ He walked towards the door. ‘By the way, I want you to keep me informed about anything you do. Do you understand? I will not be compromised by your actions, Jecca. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Crystal, darling, crystal!’ Jecca blinked big eyes at him, looking as innocent as she could.
He could see all too clearly that she had no intention of obeying him. She truly believed she could outwit him, and that he and his company were just a useful stepping stone towards her greater ambitions. ‘Good,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m glad we understand each other. You know how to reach me.’
46
TO EVERYONE’S SURPRISE, it was Claudine who enthusiastically brought together the last elements of the relaunch. She provided the wonderful products for the new Trevellyan range, and managed to persuade her friends to sell them at very reasonable prices, considering their properties. It was Claudine who spotted that the nude pink was quite wrong for the shop front, and Claudine who picked out the delicate blue that would replace it. Poppy had brought several suggestions to the table but Claudine, with her unerring good taste, knew which it should be immediately.
‘This one,’ she declared. ‘Chic. Modern. Still linked to your original navy blue but with a lavender, almost pinky base. This is the one.’
They had all agreed at once. The nude pink would be reserved only for Tea Rose. The subtle blue would become the company colour.
It was Claudine who went with Tara to the factory near Birmingham to oversee setting up the production of Tea Rose according to her new formula, and spent an afternoon training the lab workers there in her own, very special ways.
‘You’re brilliant, Claudine,’ Tara told her, and Claudine only shrugged as if slightly su
rprised that it had taken everyone so long to realise what she had known all along.
‘I’m glad to be of help,’ was all she said.
Then, back in the office, she provided the answer to what had seemed their biggest dilemma.
‘How did the Vogue interview go?’ Donna asked.
‘Very well,’ Tara said. ‘It was quite fun to get all dressed up again to be photographed, even if it did remind me of that awful night at Spencer House.’ She shuddered slightly. ‘But the interviewer was very polite. She didn’t even mention Jecca once. It was all about our glamorous lives and based around our successes and our talents. They loved Tea Rose. I had to promise to send over some bottles as soon as we have them.’
‘We can’t give away too much product,’ said Donna sternly.
‘No, but Vogue …’
‘OK, point taken. Yes, Vogue can have whatever they want. What about you, Jemima? How did the interview with the Chronicle go?’
‘Funnily enough, they wanted to know all about Jecca,’ Jemima said drily. ‘Unlike the ladies at Vogue, they couldn’t get enough of it. But thankfully they had no interest in anything to do with my home life aside from how much money I spent on clothes, where I get my hair done, and how much Herne Castle is worth. I have to go down there tomorrow for pictures. They want the lord and lady at home.’
‘When’s it out?’ Donna asked.
‘Saturday.’
‘I still don’t understand why you’ve done an interview with them,’ Poppy said, frowning. ‘Aren’t they a little bit downmarket for us?’
‘Good publicity,’ Donna said quickly. ‘I used a contact. Who cares if it’s upmarket or downmarket. It all helps.’ She swiftly changed the subject. ‘So that leaves us with two big questions. Who’s our face? And what’s going to happen with the States?’
‘Any news on Kate Beckinsale?’ asked Tara.