Page 155 of Guilty Pleasures

‘Come now, Cassandra …’

‘How interested is he in Milford?’ interrupted Virginia. ‘Are we talking about a minority shareholding or something much bigger?’

‘Oh, the whole thing,’ said Roger blithely. ‘Naturally the renaissance of the company is making waves in the industry and everyone is saying we’re the new Burberry and Emma here is our Rose Marie Bravo, guiding our company from the ashes back to the top of the fashion tree. Of course people are going to see Milford as a good investment.’

Emma and Tom glanced at each other.

‘Have you any idea of how much he’d be willing to pay?’ asked Virginia.

Roger shrugged.

‘Who’s to say without a valuation, and anyway, a company is only worth as much as somebody is prepared to pay for it. Look at the sale of J Crew. Sold for four billion dollars off the back of profits of only four million dollars. The value is the brand. And our brand is back in business.’

People started talking amongst themselves and an excited twitter ran around the table.

‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Emma raising a hand slightly.

Roger’s smile began to fade.

‘VCT’s interest is flattering but immaterial. I don’t want to sell. Serious interest from a big group like VCT is a greater indicator that we’re doing something right, but that’s all. I think we’ve got something really valuable here – we’re just at the start of our journey.’

‘But surely we should at least wait to see what the offer is, darling?’ said Virginia, a note of reproach in her voice. ‘You can’t be saying no to a sale full stop?’

‘Yes, I am,’ said Emma firmly. ‘For the foreseeable future at least. I have a five-year plan I want to see through. The plan is to build the business, not prime it for sale.’

‘Do you appreciate how much I am doing for this company?’ said Roger, unable to hide his anger. ‘I’m going to great lengths to sound out interest and follow up leads.’

‘No one has asked you to do that, Roger,’ said Emma calmly.

Roger got up from the table and stalked across the room, going outside onto the balcony.

‘Look what you’ve done, Emma. It’s Christmas, you know,’ said Virginia.

‘The subject is closed,’ said Emma, meeting her gaze. ‘We’re not interested.’

‘How can you be so damned stubborn!’ cried Virginia, throwing up her hands. ‘You have no idea what they are even offering. Perhaps you should consult a few other people before you start making such sweeping statements as “We’re not intere

sted”. The nerve! This isn’t your company alone, Emma.’ She glared at her daughter for a moment before continuing.

‘As we’re talking about this and as you seem to have destroyed the atmosphere, I might as well tell you that Jonathan was talking to Harry Wilcox, a lawyer friend of his, and he recommended that we go public. We are hot news and we may never get any hotter. Harry said something about us being over-valued which, in share terms, means a very good return for us.’

‘And why would we want to go public?’ said Emma, raising her voice just slightly. ‘Having to answer to so many shareholders? Do you really want that, Mother? We need to have a longer-term strategy to build a valuable luxury goods empire instead of selling out at the first opportunity. We should be trying to build something that could be worth ten, twenty times as much in ten years. And we should be building it our way. The Milford way.’

‘Your way,’ said Rebecca, sarcastically.

‘Look!’ said Emma, rapping her knuckles on the table and sending her glass of water flying. ‘We are not selling the company to VCT or anyone else right now. We are not going to float the company either. I’m sorry if that spoils your Christmas but that’s the way it is.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma felt sure she had seen Cassandra smirking, but when she looked around, the expression had gone. Julia looked at her watch and sighed.

‘Look at the time. Let’s go to church.’

Emma was glad of the break and found the tranquillity of the church soothing after the confrontation at dinner. She wasn’t religious but it felt like a safe haven, somewhere she could be alone with her thoughts away from the accusing stares of her family.

After Mass the rest of the family drifted out slowly and Emma hung back, hoping to avoid another argument. Unfortunately for her, so many people were eager to exchange Christmas pleasantries with the priest, the church doorway became a bottleneck and when she finally stepped out into the night, Emma found herself walking next to Cassandra. Her cousin was wrapped up in a long sable mink fur and black boots, like a ghost from a more glamorous age. They walked in silence, the others moving on ahead until all that Emma could hear was the soft crunch of Cassandra’s boots in the snow.

‘Why did you stick up for me at dinner?’ asked Emma suddenly. It had been bothering her since Cassandra had spoken; it was so out of character.

Cassandra thrust her hands in her pockets and shrugged.