Page 208 of Guilty Pleasures

She smiled. ‘It turns out for both of us that we weren’t really the enemy.’

In the last month, since the night of the drama at the Milford offices, she and Emma had met up several times. They might never be the best of friends – the situation with Julia, the car accident and the painting wouldn’t allow it – but they had begun to recognize in each other a mutual respect and understanding that might one day become a bond.

‘Are you going to take it? The directorship, I mean?’

She shrugged. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think you should,’ said Giles honestly.

‘Why?’

‘I think you and Emma are different sides of the same coin. And, darling, just think what fun you could have with all those bags.’

Stephen brought them out glasses of his punch and they walked down the steps at the side of the deck into a wide country garden. To their left by an old stone wall was a bed of freshly-turned soil.

‘What are you doing there?’ she asked.

‘I’m just finishing some planting.’

‘Can I help?’

Giles handed her a trowel. ‘I don’t think lunch is for another half an hour.’

Cassandra sank down into the flower-bed; clawing her fingers into the dirt she enjoyed the feeling of the soil as it ran through her fingers, clogging up under her nails. She felt dampness seep through the knees of her Celine trousers. It felt good.

‘Are you staying over tonight?’

‘We’d love to,’ she said, feeling the emerging sun warm her face.

‘Mind if I knock off early?’ asked Stella, popping her head around Emma’s office door. It was five-thirty and it was still light; a peach sun was beginning to descend down a hazy blue sky.

‘Of course not,’ replied Emma, smiling. ‘And you’re not in tomorrow, are you?’

‘No. It’s the big day. I’m helping Tom move in, remember.’

‘How could I forget?’ grinned Emma.

‘Yeah, well, it’s not such a big deal, because he’s hardly going to be there, is he? As a scout for Hollander Music he’s going to be travelling all around the country. Did you know that the Red Comets, that band he discovered, have been signed to Rob’s label?’

‘Of course I do,’ said Emma, ‘I’ve already been to see them play.’

‘You’ve been to a gig?’

‘I’m looking on it as personal growth,’ said Emma, with a straight face.

‘Well, send my love to Rob.’

‘Actually he can’t come over this weekend after all,’ she said, trying to hide her disappointment. ‘He’s had to fly to LA for a round of meetings with the studio.’

‘Well, why don’t you come round to mine for dinner?’

‘And disturb the newly cohabiting lovebirds? No way.’ ‘Don’t be silly, my dad is going to be there too. Tom and Christopher get on like a house on fire …’ Stella blushed. ‘Oops, I mean they get on brilliantly. Think about it anyway, yeah?’

Emma spun her chair around so she faced the window, watching Stella run happily across the car park to her car and drive off in the direction of Chilcot.

Turning back towards the office, it felt empty and hollow. Emma had to admit it: she felt terribly lonely here. Rob had finally moved out of Winterfold two weeks ago and was now living in New York full time. At first, it hadn’t been so bad. He still kept a wardrobe full of clothes in the master bedroom and his photographs were still dotted around the house. Every day she would find something of his that made her smile: a running shoe behind the curtain, cufflinks in a drawer, a sock that had lost its other half. They spoke to each other every night on the phone of course and the arrangement was that one of them would make a transatlantic trip every month, which meant they would see each other every fortnight. Yet here they were; this was the first weekend he was due to visit and they had tripped up at the first hurdle.

She grimaced; shouldn’t this be the time when she could finally enjoy her success? Milford’s sales were certainly soaring, exceeding even her most optimistic hopes and the business page analysts were hailing it as the greatest corporate fashion recovery since Fendi rejuvenated their fortunes with the baguette bag. Milford was the new watchword for super-luxury and the six-month waiting list for their bags only further enhanced the brand’s appeal. And to cap it all, that morning, Cassandra had called to confirm that she was going to take up the non-executive directorship. Emma wasn’t sure how it was going to work out; Cassandra wasn’t the easiest person to deal with, but what Emma did know was that her cousin’s flair and talent would be good for Milford. The challenge the company faced was to make sure it wasn’t just enjoying a brief moment in the sun. They needed to roll out a lasting brand that straddled both classic style and fashion. That was Cassandra Grand in a nutshell and that was why Emma knew she had made the right decision by inviting her on board.