Chapter 37
For the past few days, it felt like all I’d been doing was driving to showdowns. At least this time, I wasn’t behind the wheel, as Katy had insisted on coming with me. Plus, now I’d confronted Eliza, this was truly the final reckoning.
While Katy drove at speed — she didn’t know how to do anything else — I stared out at hedgerows that blurred past in shades of green.
We’d barely spoken since leaving London, both of us wrestling with our own versions of what we’d find when we reached Margot.
The radio had kept us company, providing background noise to our crowded thoughts.
Her cottage sat tucked behind an overgrown hedge at the end of a narrow lane, its thatched roof and honey-coloured stone walls looking like something from a postcard.
I’d been here a couple of times before, and I was always struck that Cotswolds Margot wasn’t the aunt we knew: the one with the Mayfair penthouse and the driver. Cotswolds Margot was usually far more relaxed and laissez-faire. Which version were we going to see today?
When we pulled up, Katy killed the engine and sat for a moment, staring at the cottage through the windscreen. Then she thumped the steering wheel with the heel of her hand and blew out a long breath.
“Right. Before we go in there and potentially have our hearts ripped out again, I need you to know something.” She turned to face me properly.
“Whatever you decide about the company — keep it, sell it, turn it into a bloody artisan cheese operation — I’m with you.
After how she’s behaved, my half is your half.
Margot doesn’t get to steamroller us anymore. ”
Hearing those words, it was as if someone had lifted a crushing weight from my chest. For months, I’d felt like I was fighting this battle alone, carrying the responsibility for both our futures. But here she was, my big sister, finally standing beside me.
I was not going to cry before we even got in the door.
“Katy—”
“I mean it, Pops. I’ve been a rubbish sister, letting you carry all this alone. But you can count on me from now on. And who knows, once the girls are in nursery, I might even want a job.”
She gave me her cheesiest grin, and it lightened the mood, even though tears still pricked my eyes. However, these weren’t the frustrated, angry tears I’d been crying of late. These were tears of gratitude that somebody was finally in my corner.
“Oh, and I wanted to give you this.” She held out a blue box.
I knew what was inside: Mum’s favourite Montblanc pen. I started to protest, but Katy shook her head.
“You earned this. Mum’s pen should be involved in running the company. It should be yours. She would have wanted you to have it, too.”
“Thank you,” I said. “But honestly? The thing I want most from today isn’t about the company. I want our family back. I want to understand how Margot could keep secrets from us, lie to us, and still expect us to trust her. I want my aunt back, not this corporate stranger.”
Katy nodded, then reached over to squeeze my hand. “Then let’s go get some answers. And maybe our aunt back too, if she’s still in there somewhere.”
Margot answered the door in jeans and a jumper. Without her usual designer armour — even though I’d no doubt the jeans and jumper were a label — she looked more fragile. The vulnerability in her eyes was stark and immediate.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she said simply, stepping aside to let us in.
The interior was nothing like her gleaming London pad.
Here, there were exposed beams and worn flagstones, along with mismatched furniture that actually looked lived-in.
Books were stacked on a dresser and a side table, her reading glasses abandoned on the coffee table. Margot actually relaxed here.
We got water and settled in the lounge, the windows partially open to let in some July air.
A cafetiere of coffee was half-drunk, the dirty coffee cup sat next to it.
Margot motioned for us to sit on the sofa, while she sat on the armchair opposite.
She took a deep breath, then looked at us with defiance.
“I know you’re both furious with me, and you have every right to be. To the outside, what I did looks terrible. But there’s something you need to understand about why I pushed so hard for the sale. And not just any sale: the right sale.”
Katy and I exchanged glances from the sofa, its cushions soft with age and use.
“Your mother came to me,” Margot continued, and my blood went cold.
Not more visitations.
My mum was not relaxed in death.
“Not in a dream, not in some mystical vision,” Margot clarified.
“She came to me three weeks before she died. It was almost as if she had a premonition her aneurysm was going to happen.” She shook her head, remembering, her face grey.
“Anyway, she was very insistent. She made me promise to sell the company if anything ever happened to her.”
That snippet of information sucked all the air from my body. Beside me, Katy went rigid. I reached out and took her hand.
She squeezed it tight.
“She said she couldn’t bear the thought of you two carrying that burden, especially you, Poppy.
She’d asked you, and you’d told her you wanted nothing to do with it.
She knew how the responsibility ate away at relationships and happiness.
She wanted you both to be free to choose your own path without the weight of family legacy crushing you. ”
“But she loved Voss,” I said. “It was everything to her.”
“She loved you more.” Margot’s voice cracked, and she balled both her fists in her lap.
“She made me swear I wouldn’t tell you. She wanted it to seem like business, like my decision.
That’s why I was so adamant about selling, but I had to wait for the right buyer so we could secure the Goldloch jobs.
I was keeping a promise to her. I never intended to undermine or hurt you. ”
The cottage seemed to spin around me. Every assumption I’d made about Mum’s wishes, about honouring her memory, about my duty to the family legacy — it was all bullshit. She’d actually wanted the complete opposite.
I thought back to all the times with Sage, what she’d said. Mum had sent me warnings, and told me she was proud. She’d never said she wanted me to run the company. I’d read that into it because of her life.
I decided there and then, perhaps it was best to live my life with the guidance of the living, not the dead. To look forward, not back.
I vaguely recalled Eliza telling me that during our time together.
She was wise, that one.
“But I can’t do it anymore.” Margot sat forward, stroking her chin.
“I’m not the villain in this story. These past months, watching you throw yourself into the company, seeing how much you’ve grown and what you’ve accomplished — your mother would love it.
And maybe, just maybe, she was wrong about what would be best for you. ”
Before I knew what was happening, silent tears dripped down my face. This was the first honest conversation we’d had since Mum’s death about what she wanted and why.
“I thought I was disappointing her. That I was failing everything she built.”
Margot closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “Oh, my darlings.”
She stood up and walked over to us, holding out her arms.
We both stood and fell into her, months of grief and confusion finally finding their outlet. Margot hadn’t hugged us since we were kids. This embrace felt like coming home after being lost for years.
“You could never disappoint her,” Margot whispered. “Never.”
Katy was crying too now, and she wrapped her arms around both of us, the three of us clinging together in this cozy cottage sitting room, all the pretence and lies stripped away.
When we finally pulled apart, tear-stained and breathless, I found my voice again. “None of it made any sense, but it does now.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry for anything I said that was out of line.”
Margot smiled, then shook her head. “Consider it forgotten.”
We all sat, this time in a row on the sofa.
“Is Max here?” I winced as I asked.
Margot shook her head. “I told him to stay in London, I needed a little time.” She exhaled.
“But I hope you’re okay with him. He wasn’t the one pushing the sale.
It’s true I asked him to push Eliza, but he was doing it for me.
He was uneasy about it.” She shook her head. “As was Eliza. What a mess.”
Where was Eliza right now? My heart lurched thinking about her. I missed her.
“But you and Max are still together?”
Margot nodded. “Very much so. I hope you like Max, because he’s here to stay. He makes me happy, and I hope I do the same for him.”
Katy reached over and squeezed Margot’s hand with her own. “We like him very much, don’t we, Pops?”
I nodded. “We do.”
“He looks out for me, takes care of me,” she said softly.
“And that hasn’t happened since your mum died.
She was my best friend. I miss her so much.
” Margot glanced up at me. “Don’t let what’s happened stop you from being with Eliza, either.
She stuck up for you, and pushed back on what Max was asking her to do.
He was surprised. She normally did whatever he asked of her.
She’s got feelings for you. If you like her too, don’t let it slip away. ”
I bit my cheek and nodded. I couldn’t speak about Eliza too right now. That was for another day. Perhaps tomorrow. Tonight was all about us.
We sobbed and hugged, and talked for another couple of hours about how we’re going to be honest going forward, about the weight of secrets we’d all been carrying.
Margot made tea and brought out home-made fruitcake that her neighbour dropped off, which was off-the-charts delicious.
By 6pm, we were emotionally exhausted, but happy.
I was going to get my family wish, and that was the best thing of all.
“The SwissTok deal: shall I tell Gabriel it’s off?”
I nodded. “I know Mum didn’t want to burden us, but you’re not. I want this.”
“And who knows, once the girls are at school, I might want a job at Voss, too,” Katy added.
Margot snorted. “Felicity will be rolling her eyes wherever she is. Both her daughters in the business when she thought you didn’t care at all. How wrong she was.” She shook her head. “We all need to talk a lot more about what we want.”
“Agreed.” Katy said. “When the time comes for the company to be passed down to the next generation – if that’s what they want – I don’t want this happening again.”
“But if we’re being honest, there is something I want from you, Margot.
” I shifted on the sofa until I snagged her gaze.
“Not business-related, not about the company. I just want my aunt back.” My voice caught.
“I want the woman who used to let me help her put on lipstick when I was little. Who taught me how to order wine. Who was Mum’s best friend before she was ever anything else. ”
Margot’s eyes went shiny, and she groaned. “You’re going to set me off again.” She reached for a tissue from the box beside her mug, and blew her nose. “But I’d like that, too. Maybe we can actually talk rather than be polite at our Sunday lunches from now on.”
I smiled. “Especially if Max is cooking, then we can focus on the wine.”
That drew a laugh from all three of us.
“There’s something else.” Should I say it?
It seemed trivial, but we had just agreed to be honest with each other.
“There was something Eliza shared that irked me. She said when you were at Max’s, you made her a mean fried egg.
I know it sounds ridiculous, but I got jealous.
I wanted you to cook me a fried egg. She’s not your niece. I am.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks.
Perhaps that was oversharing.
“You want me to make you a fried egg?” Margot’s smile broke through her tears.
“Is that the most pathetic request you’ve ever received from a grown adult?”
“Not even close. Last month, Max wanted a butterscotch Angel Delight after a particularly hard day. Whatever makes you happy.” She gave me a rueful smile.
“I like Eliza. She deserved a fried egg for what I was putting her through. I’ve apologised to her, and I want to apologise to you both, too.
But it was done with the very best of intentions. ”
She stood, smoothing down her jeans. “Though I should warn you, my fridge currently contains two bottles of champagne and some questionable cheese. We’ll definitely need to raid the village shop for eggs.”
“Perfect. Nothing says family reconciliation like a quest for eggs at the local Co-Op.”
Margot laughed, the sound lighter than I’d heard from her in quite a while. “Stay the night, both of you. We’ll go to the pub for dinner. They do an excellent steak-and-ale pie, and the fish and chips have great mushy peas.”
“Will there be more crying?” Katy dabbed at her mascara.
“Almost certainly. But also wine, so it balances out.”
Margot opened her arms again, and this time when we fell into her embrace, it was less a tearful reunion and more like three women who’d finally figured out how to be in the same room without family pressure weighing them down.
We weren’t staying because we had to. We were staying because we wanted to.
“Right then.” Margot pulled back with renewed energy. “Family dinner it is. Fair warning, though: I might actually be terrible at this whole emotional availability thing. I’ve been practising on Max, but he’s very easy to please.”
“We’ll muddle through,” I said. “We’re British. It’s what we do.”
Hours later, when I was lying in bed full of pie and wine and scrolling my phone, a message popped up. It was from Eliza.
My heart did one of its best somersaults, and I pushed myself up further in the bed.
I swallowed hard, then clicked.
I’m sorry how we left it, but I hope you know that everything I said and did was real. I didn’t fake any of it, Pops. I’ve sent a first-class sleeper ticket to your email. I’m in Scotland. Please come join me. Fiona and the gang would love it. But not as much as me. E xxx
The ‘Pops’ felt right.
And perhaps Eliza was right for me, after all.
The only way I’d find out for sure was to go to Scotland.