His Lordships Daughter (13 page)

Clive shuffled his feet nervously and looked worried. “My father has learned about June and I.”

“From whom?”

“My mother.”

“Oh” his visitor bit into her lunch.

“He also knows that you work at SG Packaging.”

“Who told him?”

“Your father.”

Phyllipa sipped her wine. “What I do with my life has nothing to do with your father or your family.”

“That’s what I said.” Clive retorted. “But apparently, father has been fishing and landed some awful conclusions. He knows that June works at the same place as you, and he also knows that you and I will not be marrying one another.” He looked at her anxiously. “We won’t will we?”

“
Definitely
and
categorically
not! Clive, and you know very well that we won
’
t.”

He shrugged his shoulders “Sorry! Just my little joke.”

“So? What else?”
Phyllipa knew the bad news was being left to the last.

“He’s been in this morning and given me certain instructions.”

Clive nervously washed his hands with invisible soap. “As you know he owns this bank
. When he dies I shall own it, but until then I must carry out his wishes. I can stand and fight him on any ground other than family, so, when orders are presented to me from the masthead, I
obey
. Right or wrong that is how it is. It’s Braseby’s law.”

His guest stopped chewing. “For god’s sake Clive! Will you skip the commercial and tell me what it is you wish to tell me.?”

“I have been instructed to
foreclose
the SG Packaging account..”

Phyllipa stood up! “Pardon?”

“This bank is calling in the overdraft!”

The happy sparkling light in her eyes turned cold and left them almost without colour. She felt as if something heavy had hit her body and her stomach did something funny causing the blood to drain from her face leaving her white with anger. With a huge effort she
got
control of herself before she started trembling.

“He has got some stupid idea in his head that Steven Grant has come between you and
me
.” Clive continued. “So in a fit of sheer pique he has decided to put you out of work and SG out of business.

Phyllipa sat down and closed her eyes. Her body felt absolutely drained
, but amid all the turmoil of the shock and the frenzy overworked
psyche
, her brain was ice cold and working to perfection. For a few moments she remained perfectly still, then abruptly got up as Clive topped up her glass and handed it to her. He had seen her temper before and knew that she could handle it. “When will Steven know?” she asked, taking the wine from him.

“There will be a letter going out tonight to him. But, I just thought I should tell you about it first.” Crossing to the bar he helped himself to a large Scotch and soda. “From what I know Phyllipa, it will close him down!”

“Not if I can help it.” Phyllipa vowed. “If SG shuts I lose the bet and I can’t stand by and let that happen.” She got to her feet and drank the last of her wine. “You do what you have to do and I’ll see how I can help Steven.” Her cold eyes stared into his. “And this conversation never happened, right?”

“Right!” Clive agreed, nodding his head.
“I’m sorry it has turned out this way but, my hands are tied .
Father
is the boss!”

“So you keep telling me.” Phyllipa replied
drily
*
.
“But he’s not mine.”

Clive kissed her cheek and put his hand on her arm. “Perhaps you’ll keep it in

Mind
that after this morning’s little talk, you owe me one! Or perhaps we could lock the door again and work something out.

Some of the colour flowed through Phyllipa’s cheeks again as she smiled. “Ask you fiancée, if she says O.K, we’ll arrange a threesome.”

“I thought we may keep this one strictly between you and I.” his eyes narrowed. “Just for old time’s sake!”

*
-  Drily (meaning) a dry laconic manner

She
shook her head. “Old times are gone times, Clive. But, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, I’ll send you a couple of tickets to our Christmas party! How will that suit you?”

He hunched his shoulders. “That’s a terrible swop Phyllipa, and you know it, but I suppose it will have to do.”

Walking back to her car, Phyllipa was deep in thought, “Bloody Braseby!” she suddenly blurted out so loud that a passing newspaper boy looked at her expectantly. She smiled at him, he whistled and was gone. Pulling the plug on SG’s finances could have serious repercussions far removed from her just losing the bet. It would shut the shop, the job she liked would be history and god knows what it would do to Steven . “Damn it!” she said, voicing her thoughts loudly again as she unlocked the car and sat behind the steering wheel. “
It’s
that bloody Braseby!” she said over and over again, banging the palm of her hand on the ste
ering wheel in sheer frustration. Of course, her alter ego whispered, you could walk away from it all, you could say goodbye to the packaging industry and watch the “
Receivers
” move in, but she shook her head. That would be running away and she had never run from anything in her life. Besides, she felt a little guilty about it all, if she hadn’t taken a job with SG Packaging, what was about to happen to the business, couldn’t have happened.

For a few minutes she sat there working out what she must do and the best way to do it. Suddenly grunting with satisfaction, she switched the engine on, let in the clutch and pulled away from the car park. Avoiding the main stream traffic, she drove through back streets until coming to a stop outside a small block of offices. Locking the car door she entered the building and a few minutes later was sitting in the comfortable office of her financial advisor who stood up from her desk and welcomed her. Maisie had been with the Inchcape-Gore family for years looking after a small banking operation which belonged to the family.

“I was thinking about you the other day.” She said as Phyllipa sat down. “There seems to be a lot of your money swilling around and I wondered if you had any plans for it?” she tapped the side of her nose. “It’s all new money!
”

“This is not just a courtesy call Maisie.” Phyllipa said, I have some other business which I would like you to attend to.

Both women looked up as Maisie’s secretary entered the office with two steaming mugs of black coffee. Placing them on the desk, she smiled at Phyllipa then left quietly.

“There is a company called SG Packaging who banks with the Imperial.” Phyllipa continued. The older women nodded her understanding.

“they have an overdraft situation which is about to be terminated by one of the more stupid people in your profession and I am hoping the Managing Director, Steven Grant, will be coming in to see you in the next day or so.” She sipped her coffee, appreciatively. “I want you to offer to take the overdraft over from the Imperial Bank using our services. Steven will be a lot safer banking with us, but do not mention my name.”

Maisie finished writing. “Will do Phyllipa, anything else?”

Her visitor shook her head, “No except that new stuff you have floating around
. Send it to my favourite charity.” Finishing her coffee, she stood up “You make a wonderful cup of java!” She
murmured
as she walked from the office and back to her car.

Driving back to the works, she parked her car, then popped in to see June whose face brightened when she saw her friend. “See you at sundown at the Bull’s Head.” She told her.

Steven Grant’s secretary looked surprised “Is something wrong?”

Phyllipa nodded as she walked through to her own office. “You could say that.”

For a few moments, June stared after her with a fi
xed expression on her face,
shrugging her shoulders resumed her typing.

Sitting at her desk, Phyllipa checked her answering machine, but apart from an out of town stationary supplier requesting her attendance at a small soiree they were throwing. “You’ll enjoy it!” they screamed down the telephone.

“No thanks buster!” she said absentmindedly, throwing some papers into her “OUT” tray. She had more important things to do with her time. She looked up as Steven entered, pulled up a chair, sat down and studied her with an apologetic look in his grey eyes. “You’re back then.” He ventured.

“If I didn’t know you better Steven I would swear you
were blessed with an extreme sense of perception. Of course I’m back.”

Her boss’s eyes narrowed. “And in a bad temper. I can always tell, your eyes always go
bluer
.”

“No, I am not in a bad temper Steven. Although I admit I do occasionally get temperamental but, that is the human condition isn’t it?”

“Is it?” he asked,
with raised eyebrows
.

Phyllipa smiled. “Did you want something or is this an official visit?”

His face coloured slightly. “I just wondered if we could talk about yesterday
morning.
”

“Why is it that you always want to talk about something that is already dead and buried?”

“I behaved abominably!” he admitted ruefully. “I don’t know why I did what I did, it just wasn’t like me.”

“I told you that at the time.” Phyllipa reminded him. “Do you remember when we discussed extended rain checks and I made the point that there may be things we would never see eye to eye on
?”

He nodded and sighed. “I’ve blotted my copy book, haven’t
I
?”

Phyllipa looked at his worried face and softened a little. “Well a little stained, perhaps! But, you understand masochism or you don’t!”

“And I didn’t, and I still don’t!” he ran his hand through his black hair. “It’s just that I will never be able to hurt you, physically, that is.”

“You don’t mind mentally then?”

“Oh come on Phyllipa, you know what I mean.”

“Oh let’s forget it.” She didn’t feel like going into a deep aesthetic discussion about an abnormal practice which took her to the height of her physical pleasure. “At the moment I’ve got other things on my mind. Oh and by the way, my father has invited you to lunch on Sunday!”

“I’d be delighted.”

“I have already told him you can’t make it.” She switched to her usual surveillance mode, watching him closely.

“Why?”

“Because I know my father. He’s picked up something between you and
me
.”

“What
has he picked up?”  W
ith
astonishment on his face.

Phyllipa shrugged her
shoulders. “I don’t know, something or other. Magnetism or vibes of some sort, whatever?” she chuckled. “Remember he is a first class poker player. That is how he won Sultan, he is superb at reading other people’s minds.”

Steven rubbed a hand over his chin. “I don’t walk around with my heart on my sleeve do I?”

“Of course you do.”

His face fell “As bad as that, eh? But what has that to do with lunch on Sunday?”

Phyllipa frowned. “Because
he’ll be pushing the marriage thing. It’s his number one priority.”

“In that case, I’m coming.”

Leaning over her desk, Phyllipa touched his face with her lips. “Not this Sunday please! I have a small problem to sort out and I don’t want any distractions.”

“Anything for me to worry about?”

“No, it’s personal.”

He got to his feet. “Well if there is anything I can do Phyllipa, you only have to ask, you know that!”

Sympathy worked its way through her eyes as she thought of the deep trouble that her employment with him was about to cause. “I must go.” Looking at her wristwatch , she picked up her car keys, “Make that lunch date for a week on Sunday and don’t forget dress is formal at my father’s table. You looked so goof the last time I saw you dressed for dinner.”

“So did you, and even better undressed” his eyes twinkled.

Phyllipa laughed and put a soft hand over his mouth. “Shush!” she told him jokingly, “The machines are listening!”

Leaving him standing there, she went to the door. “See you in the morning and don’t be late!”

Leaving the building she quickly walked through the side street to the Bull’s Head, where June already into her second Gin and tonic
, was impatiently looking at the time. “I thought you might have forgotten.”

She beckoned to the barman. “Soda water and lots of ice” Phyllipa ordered, sinking into a chair. “No I didn’t forget, Steven grabbed me just as I was about to come out.”

“Yes! He does tend to chatter at knocking off time.” June nodded her head. “So what’s gone wrong?”

Phyllipa took her drink from the barman and sipped it, appreciatively, then turning to her friend, told her about the Imperial Bank pulling the plug on SG’s finances.