Chapter 7
Charles and Jasmine arrived the next morning.
Everyone came down for breakfast at the same time.
Miranda, who didn’t make eye contact with me, made bacon sandwiches for herself, Zack and Lewis.
Holly, who had insisted there had been nothing competitive about the sex we’d had last night – ‘I was just really enjoying myself, that’s all’ – took three painkillers and made scrambled eggs for me and her.
She was a vegetarian and I had recently agreed to give it a go.
I must have been on my way to being fully converted because the smell of bacon turned my stomach.
Or perhaps that was the tension. Unlike the others, this had nothing to do with Jasmine.
I was finally going to meet the famous Charles Grant.
Zack, who had arranged the car service, had asked for regular updates from the driver. ‘They’ll be here in an hour,’ he said.
‘What?’ Holly jumped up. ‘I’ve only got an hour to get ready? Thanks, Zack.’
She left the room, and Miranda followed, shaking her head at her husband. Lewis appeared agitated, too, despite his attempts to play it cool. He left half his sandwich uneaten on the table and went upstairs. Zack tossed the remains to the dog and opened his laptop, ignoring me.
I went into the living room and browsed the bookshelves, looking for something to distract me. One whole shelf was taken up with different editions of Charles’s book, The Dealmaker: Lessons from Business for Everyone.
This book had been a huge bestseller, the kind that people buy and always mean to get around to reading, perhaps flicking through it and feeling like they’d taken at least one step along the road of self-improvement.
I plucked a paperback from the shelf and read the blurb on the back, which was written as a quote from Charles.
Twenty years ago I borrowed ￡50 from my neighbour and started my own business selling computer keyboards on a market stall.
I started with nothing. Now I’m a multimillionaire, employing thousands of people.
My secret? I’m a dealmaker. Spotting opportunities, negotiating, getting what I want.
My offer to you: Read this book and I’ll show you how to apply everything I’ve learned to your own life, whatever you do.
Deal?
Beside this text was a picture of a much younger Charles offering his hand to shake. I checked the publication date: 2005. Two years before Elizabeth died.
I opened the book at a random page and the following lines jumped out at me.
The most important asset you will ever have – greater than money or beauty or strength – is your reputation.
These days, people talk a lot of nonsense about ‘branding’, but that’s just a fancy way of saying the R word.
The only asset that might be even more important than your reputation is your family, and you should make sure they don’t let you down and spoil your image.
You might want to cut off an embarrassing relative or anyone who drains your energy and steals your time.
Fortunately, my family is a source of great pride …
Cut off an embarrassing relative? I wondered if Charles had distanced himself from anyone in his family. And did son-in-laws count as potential reputation wreckers? I wondered what he would do if he decided I wasn’t good for the family brand.
I slid the book back on to the shelf, intending to read some of it later. Holly, Miranda and Lewis had reappeared and were hovering. All three of them seemed equally nervous.
Holly was wearing her favourite jeans, a lovely soft pair that she’d got from the clothes shop where she worked, and a green sweater that set off her hair.
She paced around the living room, going to the front window, then sitting down, then getting up again.
Lewis sat on the sofa, sunglasses perched on his head.
He had grabbed a book from the shelf and was pretending to read it: Kerouac’s On the Road.
Miranda was obsessively attending to the fire, complaining that Morag had been doing a lousy job and should have ensured the heating was turned on at least a week ago.
I went over to Holly and put my arm around her. ‘Don’t forget, you need to breathe,’ I said.
‘I know, it’s very important.’
The Karate Kid was another of our favourite films.
Zack came into the room holding his phone. ‘They’re less than five minutes away.’
‘Be nice, everyone,’ Miranda said, which made Lewis laugh.
‘Be cool,’ he said.
‘Be yourself,’ added Holly.
They all went out through the front door, leaving Zack and me in the living room. Zack had a tiny smile on his lips.
‘Here we go,’ he said.
‘Do you have any tips?’ I asked. ‘To get on Charles’s good side?’
‘Don’t date his daughter.’ He smiled. ‘I’m kidding. Charles is a great man. You’re also meeting him at a good time because he’s loved up at the moment. I just …’ He trailed off.
‘What is it?’
He lowered his voice. ‘There’s going to be some … stormy weather over the coming days. My advice? Don’t get involved. It will pass.’
Then he went to the front window and looked out, like a lighthouse-keeper waiting for the thunderclouds to roll in.
I went out to the front of the house, where the three siblings waited in silence.
We all heard it at the same time. A car, coming up the road, pulling up on the drive.
It was a black saloon. The driver got out and opened the boot, heaving out a massive hardshell suitcase, then another.
While he did this, the back door of the car opened and a man got out.
Charles.
In my mind’s eye, Charles was always wearing a suit, something dark and double-breasted.
I had seen pictures of him at family events, giving speeches, accepting awards for services to industry, including a CBE, which had been presented to him by the Queen, and in all of them he had been wearing a jacket and tie.
Now, though, he was in jeans, an expensive-looking grey sweater and white Adidas.
With his grey hair and matching, neatly trimmed beard, he looked like an ageing tech bro.
He was also, at around five foot nine, a little shorter than I expected, but he was one of those men for whom height doesn’t matter. He had presence. Charisma.
He nodded hello to his children, not even looking at me, then came around to the other side of the car and opened the door.
He held out a hand and, a moment later, Jasmine emerged.
She stood there for a moment, smoothing down her clothes.
Like Charles, she was wearing jeans and a cashmere sweater.
I’m not sure if it was her boots, but she stood at least two inches taller than Charles.
She was willowy, lightly tanned and undeniably beautiful.
I glanced at Holly, who exchanged a stunned look with Miranda.
Lewis, beside them, was smiling, though he was wearing his shades again so I couldn’t tell if it reached his eyes.
Then Zack appeared. While Charles tipped the driver, who drove away, crunching across the gravel, Zack – who had his head down, avoiding his wife’s eye – grabbed the suitcases and said, ‘I’ll take these upstairs. ’
Charles said something into Jasmine’s ear.
Reassuring words, perhaps, because she seemed nervous.
And who could blame her, when none of Charles’s offspring were saying anything.
Holly and Miranda were just staring at her: the long red hair, her green eyes, the gap between her front teeth, her sharp cheekbones.
There was a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
‘What’s the matter with you all?’ Charles said, breaking the silence. ‘Are you all sick or something?’
There was another second of silence, one that stretched out agonizingly. I was thinking I might have to break the terrible tension by stepping forward and introducing myself, when Lewis finally acted.
‘Hi, Dad,’ he said, going towards Charles and giving him one of the most awkward hugs I’ve ever seen, flinging both arms around his dad’s back while Charles stood there, stiff as a mannequin, gently patting Lewis’s shoulder blades, face impassive.
Then Lewis went to Jasmine and stuck out his hand.
He put on a ridiculous James Bond villain voice. ‘We meet at last.’
Jasmine looked at his hand and, with a warm smile, said, in her soft American accent, ‘I’m a hugger.’
She drew him into an embrace. Charles watched, seemingly amused, as the hug lasted for several seconds.
Lewis raised his eyebrows when she finally let go. ‘Wow. You certainly are a hugger.’
Finally, Holly and Miranda acted, moving towards their dad in tandem, talking over one another.
‘How was the flight? How was the drive here?’
They hugged him – more successfully than Lewis – and then they both turned to Jasmine. Holly said, ‘Are you hungry? Do you want a cup of tea?’ There was a slight tremor in her voice. She really was nervous.
‘Tea would be awesome. But you girls aren’t escaping without a hug,’ Jasmine said, reaching her arms out towards Holly.
I was surprised by how reluctant she seemed as Jasmine embraced her.
In fact, she looked slightly panicked. Miranda was even worse.
She struck me as someone who had a horror of being touched by people she didn’t know anyway, but she acted like a small boy being forced to hug some ancient aunt.
I think it might have been the first time I’ve ever seen an ‘air hug’.
Then, and I have never been so pleased to see a dog, Watson ran out, tail swishing from side to side.
He trotted up to Charles and immediately rolled on to his back, paws in the air.
Charles crouched beside him – easily, I noticed; no crunch in his knees – and rubbed the dog’s ears, telling him he was a good boy.
Jasmine was gazing at the house. ‘Charles, when you told me you had a little place in Scotland, you didn’t tell me it was a little castle.’
‘That’s what I said.’