Chapter 36
Roka’s latest track thumped in my ears as I hurtled around Victoria Park, trying to process everything that had gone on. I’d put so much into the past three months, truly channelling the spirit of my mum while her ghost followed me around with a clipboard scoring my every move.
It’d been exhausting and exhilarating in equal measure: the late nights strategising, the easy chemistry with Eliza, the intoxicating rush of calling my own shots.
For the first time, I understood what Mum meant about being your own boss.
The responsibility I’d always dodged? It came with a freedom I’d never tasted.
No one else’s schedule, no one else’s agenda.
Just mine. It was what I wanted now. It was what Eliza wanted, too.
A couple jogged past, matching Fitbits glinting in the morning sun, and something lodged in my throat as I rounded the corner by the lake.
Eliza and I could have been like them, unstoppable together.
If both our families had just stepped back, stopped orchestrating from the wings, perhaps we could have made it work: the business, us, everything.
Now Margot was handing it all to SwissTok like a consolation prize. Every sleepless night, every breakthrough moment, every careful decision: wasted. She’d made up her mind before I’d even walked through the door. The realisation sat bitter in my mouth.
I was driving to see her tomorrow. I’d intended to go this morning, but Katy and Amina had persuaded me to take a day to cool down and get my gameplan together.
Not go in too hot-headed. It was good advice.
Katy had already messaged to say Margot had retreated to her Cotswolds house alone. That was where I’d have to go.
My phone buzzed through my earbuds, cutting through the playlist. Fiona’s name flashed on my watch face. I slowed to a reluctant stop, already dreading this conversation. She knew what a takeover could mean for the Goldloch setup, no matter what the initial good intentions were.
“Hi Fiona.” How much did she know? How much would I have to explain about the takeover, about what it meant for Goldloch, for everything we’d built?
“Hello to you, my favourite interim CEO and saviour of Voss Watches.”
I grimaced, catching my breath.
“Before you say anything,” she continued, “Margot called me this morning. Told me about SwissTok.”
That blindsided me. Of course she had.
“I’m not naive, hen. I knew this was always possible, regardless of how brilliantly you performed.” She paused. “Incidentally, I downloaded Roka’s singles — that girl’s got real talent. You chose well. Harvey and I had quite the kitchen disco last night.”
Despite everything, that coaxed a smile from me. Fiona had this gift for finding light in the darkest corners, while I seemed magnetically drawn to the shadows.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep it in the family. But I’m seeing Margot tomorrow—”
“What will be, will be. When you’re not holding the reins, you trust those who are to do right by everyone. You’re still interim CEO, and I have complete faith in you.”
If only I shared that confidence.
“How do you stay so relentlessly optimistic?”
Her laugh crackled through the connection.
“Decades of practice, love. Your mother faced takeover pressures too, you know. She considered selling more than once but couldn’t bear to let go.
That means something profound. But she wouldn’t want you doing this for her memory. You have to want it for yourself.”
“I know that.” The words came out sharper than intended.
“I’ll tell you another strange thing. I had the most vivid dream about your mum last night. Clear as day, wearing that gorgeous dress she wore to Katy’s wedding. Remember? Her eyes absolutely sparkled.”
A lump formed in my throat. I could picture it perfectly. Mum walking Katy down the aisle, radiant in powder-blue silk. Only five years ago, though it felt like another lifetime.
“The strangest part? She made me tea.”
I actually laughed. “Maybe she’s finally got domesticated in the afterlife.”
“If miracles are going to happen, I suppose it would make sense it’s there. Then she sat with a plate of your gran’s scones.”
Every nerve in my body suddenly came alive. I could taste them: buttery, perfect, exactly as Eliza and I had made them that magical morning. The memory turned acrid in my mouth. I really hoped I hadn’t ruined my gran’s scones forever.
“She told me to persevere, that everything would work out. Said she was grateful I’d always been there for the family. Then she pulled out that Montblanc pen she treasured.”
I bent forward, hands on my thighs, suddenly unsteady.
“She told me I’d made the right choice about the facility: reusing the old premises instead of building new. Which is excellent timing, since we’ve just signed the lease.” Fiona chuckled softly. “When I woke up, I swear I could smell her perfume lingering.”
A punch of grief hit then: raw, immediate, overwhelming. I sniffed, trying to capture Mum’s perfume, but I could only smell freshly cut grass. In the distance I could still hear the rumble of the lawnmower. Somebody had been busy this morning.
“I just hope SwissTok honour everything,” I told Fiona, verbalising my thoughts.
“Or maybe your mum knows something you don’t? She was very relaxed about everything in the dream.”
“Fingers crossed she’s in the know. I’m not 30 until next March. I don’t have a say in the fate of Voss until then. It’s all in Margot and Katy’s hands.”
“I’d say you should talk to Katy. She called me last night, too.”
It seemed like everyone had got to Fiona before I managed it.
“Whatever happens, come see us. See the new facility, get excited about the Roka prototype. I sent you a sample—”
A wasp appeared near my ear, its buzz unnaturally loud in the humid air. I shrieked, eyes squeezed shut, flailing wildly in the universal dance of wasp terror.
“—while you wait for it to arrive.”
“Sorry, Fiona," I gasped, spinning around frantically. “Wasp attack. What did you say?”
“I was saying if the sample hasn’t arrived, Eliza has one.”
Another reminder of how thoroughly she’d infiltrated every corner of my world.
“We need you up here. Eliza absolutely loved it. The lochs and glens gave her the clarity she needed about her future. They might do the same for you.”
She’d contaminated my gran’s scones and now the Scottish Highlands too. My initial wariness about Eliza had been spot-on. The dead weren’t the threat: it was the living who could destroy you.
“Once I know where things stand, I’ll definitely visit,” I said. “I could use the escape, too.”
“You’re always welcome to stay with us, although I know you prefer your independence. Eliza stays at the pub. I can have Marcus reserve you a room, too.”
“Perfect.”
“One last thing, hen. Whatever Margot’s decision, there’s reasoning behind it. She’s not heartless: she’s doing what she believes is right under impossible circumstances. Try to remember that.”