Chapter 29
‘Come on, let’s go.’ I flick the Sunday Times Gregory is reading cross-legged.
‘Go where?’
‘Let’s take the dogs and go for a walk; it’s a gorgeous morning and we’ve got hours before we go to your mum’s for lunch.’
He folds his newspaper at an almost comically lazy pace and places it on the coffee table.
‘It’s freezing but I’m impressed with how quickly you got ready, for a woman, so let’s do it.’
‘Are you a closet misogynist, Ryans?’
‘I thought that would rattle you.’
He disappears and returns as I’m buttoning my coat high up my neck at the rear entrance to the farm.
‘You were right; it is freezing!’
‘Of course I was right. I’m always right and it would pay you to remember that fact. Here, put these on,’ he says, handing me shiny, black, Hunter wellies.
Glowering, I take the wellies from him and pull them over my denim trousers. ‘Whose are these?’
‘Spares or Marian’s, maybe.’
Gregory’s also wearing a pair of wellies over his jeans and has buttoned his fitted Barbour coat to his neck. He really can look splendid in anything.
‘There’s a country boy in there just crying to get out,’ I say.
He flashes his sexy half-smile then puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles: an ear-piercing sound. Both dogs come running straight to him.
‘What are they called?’
‘This one’s Hugo,’ he says, patting the liver and white dog. ‘This one’s Betsy.’
‘You’re joking? Hugo and Betsy?’
‘No joke.’
‘For dogs?’
He shrugs and strides out into the field, illuminated by the low winter sun, the green grass sparkling with dew.
The dogs run to be the first to collect a stick he throws far out in front of us.
For a moment, a fleeting, unrealistic moment I could kick myself for, I wonder what it would be like to live here.
Our country retreat. Me. Gregory. Our dogs.
We could set up an office with two desks and spend days working from home, having indulgent, hot sex between calls and emails.
We’d drink an aperitif by the fire before dinner and eat at the large, oak dining table by candlelight, our chairs pulled close together at one end of the table, so close, we’re almost touching.
Shaking my brain back to reality, banishing my wishful thinking, I remind myself that I’m probably just Miss This Month for Gregory and next month, he’ll be back to dating royals and Victoria’s Secret models.
I run to catch up with him and walk by his side.
He reaches down and slips his strong, warm hand into mine.
I can enjoy it while it lasts.
‘Tell me, Gregory Ryans, how does one come to have all of this by the age of thirty?’
‘Greed, pride, arrogance.’
‘For the record, I don’t consider ambition to be any of those, although you can certainly be arrogant.’
He laughs: a short, tense sound.
‘Really, I’ve always wanted to be my own boss and control my own future. I get a kick out of deals, seeing the worth of a company grow, discovering an innovative product and getting it into a market. There aren’t many jobs where you get to do all of that and do it mostly the way you want to.’
‘I know what you mean. The close. For me, closing a deal is such an adrenalin rush. I don’t love my job all day every day but closing is what I live for.’
‘Until a few weeks ago, my job was the reason I got up in the morning. It was my purpose. And then this whirlwind lawyer burst into my office with her stiletto heels and tight-fitting dresses.’
‘You mean it wasn’t my razor-sharp mind?’
He stops and turns me to face him, then lifts my chin with his index finger and kisses me. When he withdraws, his expression changes; his brows furrow.
‘You should know that there’re times when I can’t be around, Scarlett. I want to be fair to you. I travel overseas and sometimes, there’s just a lot going on and taking up my time. And I’m not… I’m not like other men. I don’t do emotional.’
Panic booms under my ribs. A siren.
‘I just want you to know up front because I don’t want you to get stuck in something you’re not happy with.’
My torso relaxes on an exhale.
‘Well, that makes two of us. I know how the city works and I know what it takes to stay at the top of your game. As long as you respect me and trust me, I can cope with not seeing you every day.’ We can work on the emotional stuff, whilst ever this lasts.
He bites the tip of my nose, then slips his hand back into mine as we continue walking.
‘So, how did it all start? I know you have a degree from LSE, then what?’
He looks at me, bemused.
‘Oh, Gregory, come on, legal research, due diligence. I told you I know more about you than you think.’
‘I have a degree in Economics from LSE but it started before then. I’m not sure when but I used to idolise Lawrence.
I hadn’t known a good man, a role model, until Lawrence.
I used to watch him working in his office from home and making calls on one of those old, clunky mobile phones.
Do you remember those? With aerials? As I got older, I started offering to help and Lawrence would give me things to do: sums, basic things.
When I got older still, he’d ask me what I thought of deals and ideas he was working on.
By the time I went to LSE, I had an idea for a product.
’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘It was a sports bag alarm. A device to put in your sports bag while you were playing tennis, rugby, rowing or whatever. If anyone tampered with your bag while you were playing, the alarm would sound.’
‘Hmm, did it take off?’
‘I’d say it bombed but it never really took part in the race.
That was the start of everything for me.
I told Lawrence about my idea and in hindsight, he never really thought it was a flyer but when Easter break came around in my first year at LSE, Lawrence agreed to take me on a business trip to China.
He did his thing: met clients, networked and tried to strike deals.
In the evenings, he made me put on a suit and go with him but during the day, I visited factories and markets and learned a bit about manufacturing.
That’s when I realised that I wasn’t a creator and the money was in being the middle man. ’
Hugo and Betsy run towards us. I take a stick from Hugo’s mouth and throw it as far as I can. A few steps later, Gregory picks it up and throws it properly.
‘Then what happened?’
‘Well, then I came home, took exams and soon, it was summer break. Williams graduated that year and had nothing lined up so I told him to come out to China with me. He explored during the day but I did the same thing again: went to factories and markets and introduced Williams to some of the men I’d met with Lawrence.
One of them told me about these LED lights, said they’d be the future.
I agreed to visit his factory the next day and that was my first product.
I agreed to take a shipload on a sale or return basis and try to sell it into the UK.
When I got home, I lined up some big wholesalers who supplied big retailers and slowly but surely, the lights took off.
The business still exists. I place people there when they start working for me.
It’s a relatively small business so I figure if they can’t do a good job there, they’re no good at all. ’
‘Where does Williams come into it?’
‘I still had two years left at LSE and I knew I needed a fallback. Plus I was too competitive to back out without kicking the arse of every guy on that course.’
‘I hadn’t noticed that competitive streak,’ I say sarcastically, receiving a glare in return. ‘So Williams ran the business for you?’
‘It was always my business, I called the shots and Williams ran all decisions by me. He’s more numbers than commercial, but he managed the business day to day during term time. Within a few months, we made enough money to pay him well so he stayed.’
‘Then you branched out?’
‘Mmm, by the time I graduated, we had five or six high-value products and we were selling into all major wholesalers in the country. A year after graduating, we were selling into America, Australia and Europe. Then we diversified, acquired some additional companies, set up some sub-divisions and here we are.’
‘You make it sound easy.’
‘It definitely wasn’t easy but it was fun, still is, but the bigger you get, the greater the impact of your decisions. The stakes are higher.’
A pheasant flaps its way from a bush in the distance and the dogs shoot off after it.
‘Hugo! Betsy!’ I shout.
Gregory bends forwards on a chuckle. ‘Scarlett, they’re not really called Hugo and Betsy.’
‘You’re an arse.’ I laugh, nudging into his arm. ‘Aren’t you going to get them?’
‘Buster! Bramble!’ Gregory growls.
The dogs stop the pursuit and immediately turn back towards Gregory.
‘Good boy. Good girl,’ he says, giving each a treat. The dogs sit, waiting for their master’s next instruction. Gregory flicks a hand forwards and both dogs sprint out in front of us.
‘Even your dogs are intimidated by you.’
‘They know what’s good for them. And you, Scarlett Heath, how did you come to be a yuppie in one of the best law firms in the city?’
I shrug. ‘There’s really not an exciting story.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
I drop my hands into my coat pockets and stroke the bobbled wool lining.
‘I went to Cambridge. Girton College. I read Law. In my second year, Saunders approached me and I accepted their offer of a training contract.’
‘They approached you? Isn’t that unheard of?’
I shrug again. ‘Depends on the circumstances, I guess.’
‘You were top of your class, weren’t you?’
I nod once and feel my cheeks flush. ‘After I graduated, I had to study legal practice for a year. Saunders runs a course specific to the firm so I had to do that. Then I trained for two years and whilst I was training, Saunders paid for me to study for a Master of Laws.’
‘And you got a distinction in that too.’
I glance at him. My brow scrunched.
‘Due diligence, Miss Heath. Believe it or not, I didn’t take you on for your looks.’
‘I can well believe that.’
He shakes his head. ‘Did you always want to be a lawyer?’
‘I wanted to be a lot of things, exciting things, but definitely not a lawyer.’
‘So how? Why?’
‘Your perception of what constitutes excitement changes as you get older.’ I laugh.
‘Probably when I was making a decision about my college courses, I had a realisation that I wouldn’t be a ballet dancer, or an astronaut or whatever else I’d considered.
When I thought about it, I mean seriously considered career paths, I didn’t think much further than being a doctor like…
’ I pause and unwittingly glance up to Gregory.
‘Like your dad.’
I nod once and watch my wellies as I step forwards.
‘My dad kept telling me I was only to be a doctor if that’s what I really wanted to be.
He told me that I should study sciences but also study something I enjoyed.
I remember thinking it was a strange thing to say because I hadn’t thought about whether I enjoyed studying or which subjects I enjoyed; I just saw everything as a challenge, a competition that I had to win.
I don’t know when that happened to me. Anyway, I decided I enjoyed English as much as anything and I was good at it so I studied Biology, Chemistry, Maths and English. ’
‘So when did you change your mind?’
‘When a good friend of my dad’s got sick. He worked all his life to help others with medicine and care, then when he needed help, there was nothing that could be done. It’s not like I don’t think doctors do an amazing job but I just sort of fell out with the idea of medicine.’
‘I get that.’
‘Falling out with medicine opened my eyes again, I think. I realised I really did like English, writing and creating something. So it came to university time and my English teacher suggested some career paths. Law was one of them and I thought to myself, well, that’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard. ’
He laughs. ‘That’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard?’
I shrug and laugh too. ‘I love it now, though – the law, I mean. I like the order of it, the logic and rationality, and I still like creating something, using and manipulating language.’
‘And kicking arse?’
‘That’s the best bit.’ I glance at my watch and reluctantly tell Gregory, ‘We should head back if I’m going to be ready in time for lunch.’
He whistles through two fingers and the dogs bound towards us. He takes a stick from Buster and throws it in the direction of the farm.
‘You really studied for a masters whilst you were working?’
‘Yup.’
‘You’re a glutton for punishment.’
In more ways than one, Mr Emotionally Detached.
In more ways than one.