If she had been sitting on the sidelines, whose fault was that? Her own.
I wasn’t ready. I didn’t feel old enough, Becky admitted to herself as the gleaming black car pulled over in the London drizzle. Part of me is still the kid playing tennis and sailing. Twenty-one is when most kids go to college or drop out and get an apartment and a drug habit. I let them shame me into thinking that older heads should make all the decisions, but twenty-one was when Daddy said I should inherit, not thirty-one.
Well, that time was over now. Sharon was right. She had to stop making excuses.
Lancaster Holdings was a large, modern building located on a narrow, cobbled hill that sloped down to the Thames. It was bang in the middle of the City of London, close to Canon Street Station, and Becky wondered idly how much the company paid in rent. Overheads must be massive. Was it necessary? It looked good on the front cover of the annual report, but …
She wandered into the lobby. It was decorated in the most modern style, with a large Andy Warhol print, black’leather couches and a glass coffee-table perched atop a furry white rug. It reminded her a bit of the lair of any Bond villain you cared to name; she half expected to see Sean Connery stroll out from behind the desk. But there was a pretty gift sitting there in a suit and pearls instead. She looked Becky up and down curiously. Becky guessed she didn’t see many twenty-something girls in
jeans in her office. She smiled.
‘Hi.’
‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes. I’m P,.ebecca Lancaster.’
‘And whom are you here to see, miss?’ The receptionist looked
dubious, but wasn’t actually insulting, Becky noted approvingly. ‘I don’t have an actual appointment …’ ‘Everybody needs an appointment. I’m sorry.’
‘I own the company,’ Becky explained patiently.
‘Ohh-kayy,’ the girl said, looking around slightly for a security guard. Becky grinned.
‘Look, Lancaster Holdings. P,.ebecca Lancaster. That’s me.’
c
‘I never saw you before, miss,’ the girl said patiently, as if Becky were a bit thick.
‘Just call up to any member of the board.’
Who had taken over from Henry Whitlock? Most of them were previous vice-presidents that had been promoted until 1Lupert could find her some ‘better executives’, as he had promised. She tried to dredge up some names from her memory of the company report, but none came to her, except that of the accountant who had presented the thick pages of figures towards the end; she remembered him because Rupert had cursed the guy out so thoroughly. Kenneth Stone. Becky flushed. She had been so wrapped up in racing to London and getting her hands on her own firm that she hadn’t actually thought about what she would do once she got here.
But what the hell. She owned this place. It was only her good-girl side that felt she had to explain herself to a receptionist.
‘Kenneth Stone. Call his office and tell him Rebecca Lancaster is here to see him.’
‘Hold on a second, please.’ The girl lifted her receiver and dialled, keeping one eye on Becky as though she might start stealing the pot plants. She spoke to someone in a hiss, then hung up, looking surprised.
‘He’ll see you. Fifth floor, room 5o62
‘Where are the elevators?’
‘The lifts are that way,’ the girl said sternly, as though she’d had enough of Ikebecca’s nonsense.
Becky walked over to them and punched the button. The elevator car was a fantasy of brass and velwt and it looked as though it belonged in the Pierre back home. Obviously no expense had been spared in this place. No expense that came out of her pockets.
As the elevator whisked her smoothly up the building, Becky thought briefly about the girl in the lobby. That was how the world saw her. As a bit ridiculous, a teenybopper heiress who had no business sticking her nose in business. She was technically a college drop-out. It was amazing to people that she would even consider turning up at her own offices. Her own assistant resented her and had no fears about letting her know it. If she were ever going to change perceptions, he had a lot of work to do. A lot. And letting Rupert ‘rescue’ her had been just another way of putting it off.
She stepped out on the fifth floor. A small plaque on the wall, in brass, read ‘Accounting’. It was much sparser-looking than the lobby, with thinner carpeting, no plants and no art on the walls. They were painted a cheerful yellow, and that was the sum total of the decoration.
I57
Becky walked down the corridor and introduced herself to the secretary
who sat outside room 5o6.
‘I’m Rebecca Lancaster.’
‘Yes, Miss Lancaster. If you’d come this way,’ the woman said briskly. She was older and looked efficient. Her desk was very neat. She showed Becky into her boss’s office and quietly shut the door behind her.
Becky took the place in. It was functional, with a dark wood desk, a couch, a chair and some family photos on the wall next to professional diplomas. There was a short, middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard sitting behind the desk. He stood up and offered Becky a damp hand.
‘Miss Lancaster, please, take a seat.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I confess I’m a little surprised to see you.’
‘I decided to do this at the last minute,’ Becky told him.
‘Indeed.’ He nodded. ‘I thought Lord Lancaster would have wanted to do it himself, rather than sending you.’
Becky paused. ‘I think we’re at cross-purposes. I came here to discuss the company with some members of the board. I wanted to take a more active interest. No, scratch that. A full interest. Control, in fact.’
‘Then, if I may ask, what are you doing in my office? I run the accountancy division on this floor. As Lord Lancaster has probably told you.’
Becky tried to think of a good reason, but her wits deserted her. ‘Honestly? Yours was the only name I coul8 think of. I kind of rushed this.’
‘And why my name?’ His questions were penetrating, and the way he looked at her with that beady stare made her nervous. She placed his accent as lower middle class, a successful professional, but nothing like l
‘Your name is on the company accounts in the report, which I read.’ ‘There are hundreds of names in the report.’
‘Lord Lancaster mentioned you once or twice,’ Becky admitted.
He gave her a thin smile. ‘I’ll bet he did. And he wanted you to come here?’
‘He doesn’t know I’m here. Lord Lancaster doesn’t own this company, Mr Stone, I do.’
‘I know that, madam. But you appointed your cousin, didn’t you? Personally? I have to assume you approve of what he’s been doing here?’
Becky felt a nasty twist of foreboding in her stomach. She dodged the
158
question. ‘May I ask what it was you thought 1Kupert was going to do himself?.’
‘Fire me, Miss Lancaster,’ he replied calmly. ‘I have been expecting it for some days now.’
‘Why on earth would he want to fire you? Is there a problem with the bookkeeping?’
Another thin smile. ‘Your family in general doesn’t seem to like the
way I keep the books.’
‘And how is that?’
‘Accurately,’ Stone said. ‘I have given the board repeated warnings, both the previous board and Lord Lancaster’s regime. I have been told to change the “presentation” of accounts to fit the new company policy, and to reflect the new orders that he has brought in. I have, of course, refused to do that.’
‘I promise you, Mr Stone, nobody is going to fire you for doing your job. I’m not an accountant, and I have been relying on lawyers to give me a breakdown of what has been happening with the company. Lord Lancaster’s lawyers told me that it was in urgent need of changes, losing money … was that false?’
‘That was perfectly correct.’ The accountant hesitated. ‘Can I speak
frankly to you about this?’
‘Sure.’
‘Changes were needed, but not the kind of change Lord Lancaster has
implemented. The crisis has worsened substantially.’
‘But what about all the new orders?’
‘They are brought in with deferred payments. We undercut the competition to get those orders, ad we are operating with a razor-slim margin. The amount of money spent on “public relations” is ludicrous. Wages are high, strikes are frequent, productivity is down, and our overheads grow every day.’
‘Your offices don’t seem to be too extravagant.’
‘This floor is under my control. If you go to any other, you will see the waste that is endemic in this company.’ Stone sighed. ‘Frankly, I have been planning to resign. Being an accountant in a company
determined to spend itself into the ground is … embarrassing.’ I’m embarrassing this nerd now, Becky thought. Well, nerd he may be, but he sure sounded right. ‘This office building—’
‘A stupid expense, lKeal estate in Yorkshire would run our costs down by two thirds. But three successive boards have turned down flat my proposal to move. They said we needed the prestige of a London office, even though our interests are in Cornwall and Yorkshire.’
I59
‘There’s no prestige to going bust,’ Becky said angrily.
‘I couldn’t agree with you more.
‘So what should I do? Give me your advice, Mr Stone,’ Becky said. Somebody was watching out for her. If she had met one of Rupert’s glorified vice-presidents, she might have wasted a month in flannel before she found this out.
‘There’s not all that much you can do. The situation is beyond repair
nOW.
‘Nothing is beyond repair,’ Becky said fiercely. ‘We’ll start today.
How often do we renew our lease here?’
‘Every six months. It’s up in June.’
‘That’s less than a month. Get rid of the lease. Find me something
cheap in London. Sell all the paintings. If we have expensive perks,
eliminate them. Anybody who doesn’t like it, you can fire.’ ‘It’s not in my power to hire and fire, Miss—’ ‘It is now. What is your title, exactly?’ ‘Vice-President of Accounting.’
‘Now it’s Chief Finance Officer. Personnel will report to you. You
will start taking a board member’s salary right away. I hope I can convince you to stay.’
He nodded. Tll stay, Miss Lancaster, but I warn you, I think it may
be too late for this company.’
‘Please,’ she said, ‘call me Becky.’
,
6o
Success never came quite as soon as she thought it should.
Lita didn’t need Harry Weiss to tell her twice. She had gotten rid of Norman Doyle, hired her own assistant and aggressively gone after accounts. And it was working, within the system. Her job was her life. She worked late at the office, sometimes falling asleep at her desk. Men asked her out, some of her colleagues at Doheny even, once they got used to the idea that she wasn’t going to quit or be fired. But Lira never even considered them. She was so brutal in turning them down that the rumour ceased that she was sleeping with Harry and one started that she was gay. The bitchy comments from other women didn’t stop, not least because Lita made no effort to get any of the rest of them promoted.
That’s their problem, she thought. I had to make it on my own, why shouldn’t they?
Over the last year she had made her own way, and she had also become hard and bitter. Lita didn’t think about that. She softened only on holidays, when she went back to her parents’. The rest of the time she thought she was just too busy to have an emotional life. She had tried that once, and it hadn’t worked.
Love was unreliable. Success wasn’t.
The only problem was that success wasn’t coming as soon as she had hoped. Despite a year’s worth of new accounts, sparkling successes with only one or two dips, a fancy company car that she never used because the subway was quicker, and a better apartment a few blocks away from the old one, she felt like she wasn’t making any progress. She had been to Harry’s office six or seven times, asking for a promotion, a small cut of the profits. Lita wanted to be made a partner. That wasn’t a lot to ask, with the revenue she was making.
‘Your campaigns have brought us a couple of million in new business. That’s great, but it’s hardly the lion’s share of what we do here.’
Lira said impatiently, ‘But what about all the indirect revenues? I’m making this firm hot.’
Harry had stared her down. ‘All by yourself, huh? Doheny did
I6I
survive before you got there. What about George Waters, Pete Bessel,
Hank Abrams and Matt Lauder?’
‘They do good work.’
‘Not just good. They are bringing in countless new customers. You
aren’t the only one that does good work here, Lira. And these guys all have seniority on you. Keep doing good work, and we’ll talk about it later.’
Later. Later. Later. Lita had worked her ass off all through 1971 and
into 1972. She had built her reputation and Doheny’s reputation. And
now she was getting sick of it.
She sat in her latest perk, a corner office on the upper floor, and stared morosely out of the window. It was June, and her latest campaign, rather surprisingly, had flopped. Lita was kicking herself. She had let herself get seduced by her own press, let herself believe she could sell anything. Brite-White toothpaste was the latest release from a large pharmaceutical company, and had higher levels of fluoride than other toothpastes. Lita had fought for the pitch and gotten it, against the wishes of Hank and Matt, who both wanted a shot. What she hadn’t done was wait for the Beta testing. She had persuaded the client to rash out with the campaign, get out there first … Lita loved to be first. Madison Avenue was all about new, fresh, attention-grabbing. But in this case it had been a disaster. The toothpaste didn’t taste too good. People liked her catchy jingle and her pearl-toothed models, but they hated the product. After an initial sales spike,, the toothpaste gathered dust on shelves nationwide. But much, much worse for Lita was the fact that she had tagged the name of the company on to the end of the spot she was so proud of. ‘From your friends at Robinson, the family company.’ Now not only was the R&D money on Brite-White up in smoke, but the other Robinson products were suffering. And so was she.