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Blood Stones
By Evelyn Anthony OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1994 Anthony Enterprises, Ltd.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5040-2431-0
CHAPTER 1
'Darling,' Elizabeth Hastings reminded him, 'if you don't hurry up we're going to be late.' It was unlike James to sit with a drink when he should have been dressing to go out. She came into the handsome drawing-room, and stood beside his chair. He looked up at her and smiled.
'You look terrific,' he said. He held out his hand and she grasped it.
'I heard you come in, I was getting ready upstairs and I thought you'd be up. Anything wrong?'
He shook his head, touched by her anxiety for him. He was so lucky. He couldn't believe it sometimes. His beautiful, sweet-natured wife, the prize he had won from so many contenders.
'What's the matter?' she repeated. 'You look tense.'
He got up, finished his gin and tonic and held her in his arms.
'Not tense, sweetheart. Excited.'
'What, tell me?' She waited expectantly. 'Something good?'
'It could be,' James Hastings answered. 'Kiss me, and I'll tell you all about it while I get into my monkey-suit.'
He disliked wearing a dinner jacket. He liked being casual when he got home from the office. Open-necked shirt, sweater, loafers. He wore belts with designer buckles, which Elizabeth thought vulgar but didn't say so. Such tiny differences of taste between them. James wasn't hidebound like her father and her poor dead brother, conventional, hedged in by custom instilled in them by family and tradition. She was still inclined to be old-fashioned, even after five years of marriage to her human dynamo. She teased him with the nickname, mocking the restless energy and seeking mentality that didn't know how to sit still and take time off to look at life.
James had to be in the centre of things, he had even jazzed up the pace of her own interior decorating business. Since their marriage it was flourishing, with commissions for private houses and an office block. Elizabeth was swept along on his enthusiasm; she worked harder, became more positive, and the small one-woman business she had started with a legacy at twenty-one was now expanding daily.
'Darling,' he said, 'before I tell you my news, how was your day?'
'Busy,' she said. 'I had a call from Mitchels; the chairman loves his office! Everybody kept saying how difficult he was, always wanting changes, but not this time.'
'You're a clever girl,' he said fondly. 'Of course he liked it. Any news on the quotes for Westminster?'
Elizabeth said, 'No, not yet. It'd be a miracle if I got it. All the names are after that one.'
'I'll bet they are,' he said. 'But don't underestimate yourself. If you get that job, sweetheart, you're made.'
There was a new Lord Chancellor, and his apartments at Westminster were due for complete redecoration. Encouraged by James, Elizabeth had submitted designs and quotes in competition with the grandest household names in the world of interior decoration and design. The impudence appealed to Elizabeth, who had a mischievous streak.
'Colefax and Fowler, Nina Campbell ... God, wouldn't it be a joke if I pipped the lot of them?'
'And why not?' he insisted. 'You're every bit as good and half the price.'
They went upstairs together, and she sat on the bed while he showered quickly and then began to dress. He had a lean, virile body, and she loved the feel of him; she had a few cheerful love affairs behind her when they first met. Nothing serious, just encounters that were fun, with men she liked but didn't fall in love with. She was unprepared for making love with James. She was twenty-two and she discovered what sexual passion between two people really meant. And not just physical fulfilment ... but tenderness, humour and a sort of painful joy in being together.
They were so completely different as people; she was country born, a sportswoman who rode and fished, and loved long walks with the family dogs. He loved the theatre, modern art, classical music. He also swam every day and played squash, but she realized later that this was merely to keep fit, and not an enjoyment for its own sake.
He taught her to appreciate things she would have dismissed as boring before she met him. She knew her self-confidence had developed and she was richer for it. There had been a price to pay after they married, but she shrugged it off. Life in a big London house in Thurloe Square, fewer and fewer weekends with her family in Somerset, new friends with money and business interests, or politicians like the Chichesters who had invited them to dinner that evening, a more aggressive approach to her own career. She adapted to James's lifestyle without much difficulty because she loved him so much and she was so happy with him.
'Now come on,' she said. 'You know I'm dying to hear all about it ... What's happened?'
He had tied his tie, grimacing because he never succeeded at the first attempt and he hated failing at anything. 'Julius Heyderman's coming over on Tuesday night. He's called a special meeting of the whole Board for Wednesday. Kruger's coming back from France, the Wassermans are on their way from New York, and Reece is coming via Spain. The office is really buzzing. Arthur had gone down to the country, so his secretary was running round like a blue-assed fly trying to get in contact. It must be some kind of trouble; Heyderman never comes at this time of year. He's down at the Cape. Oh damn ... darling, can you do this for me?'
He pulled the tie loose in exasperation.
'Calm down,' Elizabeth told him. 'And keep still or I can't do it. There. I'll get you one on an elastic band if you make such a fuss. Go on ... why should it be trouble?' She watched him as he pulled on his jacket, and checked that he had his keys and an Asprey cigar case she'd given him as an impromptu present one day. Then she said suddenly, 'It's not something you've done, is it?'
'Oh God no, darling. I haven't cocked up. I'm not important enough to justify Heyderman making more than a telephone call.' He loved her for thinking that he was. 'My guess is, it's either a crisis blown up in South Africa that's going to affect the mines – the political situation is so bloody unstable it must be like sitting on a timebomb – or it's our Arthur Harris.' Arthur Harris was the London Managing Director of Diamond Enterprises.
She turned the big oval cut diamond round on her finger. That ring had been the only jarring note in her engagement. Elizabeth wanted a nice sapphire with a diamond each side, something she could wear every day of her life, as her mother wore hers, even washing-up or feeding the dogs. But James had been adamant. As the fiancée of an employee of Diamond Enterprises her ring had to be a statement. When she first heard that he worked for D.E. she asked him if he was a jeweller, and giggled because he didn't look like one. He had explained that he didn't know one stone from another; his job was strictly executive. She had never liked that big vulgar ring, but it upset him if she didn't wear it.
She pushed back the long silky blond hair that tended to fall over her face. James wouldn't let her cut it or pin it. He was crazy about her hair; loved to smooth and twist it between his fingers.
He often held her and looked at her. Just looked, and then told her how beautiful she was. And how incredibly lucky he was to be married to her.
'Why should it be Arthur?' Elizabeth asked.
'Because Heyderman hates him; he'd jump at the chance to kick him out. Arthur won't enjoy waiting for brother-in-law Julius to walk in on Wednesday!'
'I'd much rather have Heyderman than Arthur,' she said. 'I've always liked him.'
'You've never crossed him,' James said. 'Or failed him. You know ...' He paused, about to put his most secret ambition into words. 'You know if Arthur did get the elbow, it might open the door for me ...'
Elizabeth stared at him. 'You? For his job? But you're the youngest, what about Kruger and Andrews ...?'
'Kruger's past it. That business with the secretary didn't do him any good.'
'I hate that woman,' she said coldly. 'She deliberately broke up that marriage. After thirty years. She's a bitch.'
He shrugged. Nobody liked Ruth Fraser. Especially other women. She was just too clever and sexually attractive for her own good. He went on. 'Andrews is the only one. He should be in line ... but ... I just get the feeling Heyderman might be tempted by new blood.' He grinned at her. 'Mine.'
He looked at his watch. Another present from Elizabeth. She was so generous with money. She was always giving him surprises. He had been brought up to be careful, not to indulge in needless extravagance. But, unlike his wife's family, the Hastings money was very new.
He stood up. He said, 'I've been there twelve years. I reckon I'm ready for the top job if it's offered to me. Come on, darling, we'll be late. I hope you won't be bored – they're not very exciting, the Chichesters. I'll make it up to you later.'
'I bet you will,' Elizabeth said. They had a wonderful love life; it had got even better as they grew together. And now there was the added incentive of the baby they both wanted. Two years of waiting and hoping, no medical reasons except the prolonged use of the Pill. 'You can't expect Nature to oblige immediately,' the gynaecologist had said. 'You'll have to be patient. It'll happen. Most likely just when you want to go skiing.' They had laughed and gone away reassured.
But so far Nature had remained obdurate and Elizabeth would cry with disappointment as her hopes were dashed again.
James was kind and supportive, comforting her. 'It'll be all right,' he soothed. 'The more you fuss, the longer it'll take. You're twenty-seven, sweetheart, for Christ's sake ... we've all the time in the world.'
He was an aggressive driver; Elizabeth winced as he shot over a changing traffic light. She looked at him and bit back a protest. She knew he was impatient, consumed with that amazing energy she found so exciting. He had given her so much love, so much enthusiasm for life. He'd made her grow up. 'Jamie,' she said, using his pet name, 'you've got more brains than the rest of them put together. If Heyderman gives you the chance, you go for it!'
He drew into the kerb by the Chichesters' house in Lancaster Gate. Chichester was a rising Tory politician. He could be very influential. James put his hand on her knee. Go for it. She could say that with the self-confidence that comes from living in the same house in the same place for generations, and never having to worry about money or what other people thought. Such a different background from his own.
The politician and his wife were good hosts; James carefully noted the signs of affluence, like good claret, superb food, and some very expensive antiques. The wife was tailor-made for constituency work: rather plain, jolly, no threat to the ladies of the local Association, with two bouncing blond sons and an appetite for charity committees. She would help her ambitious husband reach his goal. James was no fool; he recognized a steely gleam in the eyes. As usual, Elizabeth charmed everyone. She was so naturally nice, he thought, feeling proud of her. Strangely she was no threat to other women either. She was so blatantly in love with her own husband, and she didn't flirt. He often wondered how she managed to be so beautiful and so unselfconscious about it. Confidence again, he supposed. That precious commodity he had acquired so painfully and with such determination.
His father had made money, that and his son's advancement were his only interests. His mother was unhappy in a silent way and drank in secret. When James was up at Oxford his parents finally got divorced. They had only stayed together because of him, and he knew it. He wasn't grateful. He only felt guilty.
He had learned how to cultivate people who would accept him and ignore the ones that never would. He was a brilliant scholar, and he left Oxford with a first and a fine record of academic achievement behind him. He was popular and handsome, and he knew everybody. When he joined Diamond Enterprises it was a surprise to some of the people who knew him. He had been marked down for politics. But D.E. knew their men; they knew what to offer to entice the best potential and they knew how to push them aside and forget about them if they failed in their promise. James hadn't failed; he had got his seat on the London Board at an age when most men were just coming up to the managerial level. He had loved every moment of the climb. And he had studied his colleagues very carefully. They were all possible rivals and he knew they viewed him from the same angle.
He focused upon Dick Kruger, South African born, clever, a man who had failed to fulfil his promise because of his obsession with his secretary. James didn't like Kruger because he was loyal to Arthur Harris. Whatever his ambitions had been in the past they were finished now, and he had settled for loyalty. He was shrewd and could see through people. James felt that Kruger could see through him more clearly than someone like Andrews with his English lack of imagination.
If Arthur fell eventually, and James's ultimate ambition was realized and he succeeded him, then Kruger would have to go, because he had showed himself to be an enemy; there was always danger in keeping someone on when they'd once shown you the knife. The founder of one of the great armaments industries once said of fights in business, 'Never wound, kill.' James took that seriously. He knew his own reputation from the Board down: Hastings is a ruthless bastard. And they were right, he was proud of it.
A year ago Heyderman had drawn him aside after a meeting in England and suggested that he might come out to Johannesburg for a trip. The invitation hadn't come to anything, but it was very significant nevertheless. It was a sign that Heyderman had noticed James.
So he had tried to make an ally of Reece. Reece had signed the cable. He would be coming with Heyderman. Reece was the alter ego of Julius Heyderman. His private secretary, personal assistant, and God knew what else. Reece was the X quantity, completely unknown. There was the one point that united all the members of the Board of the London office; from the Managing Director Arthur Harris down to Andrews, who didn't really hate anybody: they all loathed Reece. Reece was Heyderman's spy. Everyone knew that, but nobody could ever catch him out. Reece spent half the year in London and half in South Africa. He had worked with Heyderman in Johannesburg for many years. James wished he knew a little more about the man, because he felt certain it would give him an entrée to the way Julius Heyderman's mind worked. He had tried hard to cultivate him, asking him to lunch away from the boardroom lunches where it was impossible to talk privately, but Reece never accepted. He wasn't intimate with anyone; no-one had ever seen him smile or heard him laugh, or make any remark except of the most general nature. He was dull and sinister at the same time, and James gave up trying to make contact with him.
He glanced across at his wife and made a signal that it was time they went. She was talking to the politician's wife, and the older woman was obviously enjoying herself. It was extraordinary how well Elizabeth got on with people with whom she had nothing in common. It was part of that alien background of hers that you were always polite and took trouble with people.
They said goodbye to their hosts, and James reminded the politician that he had promised to come to lunch with him and meet some of his fellow directors. They'd be so interested to hear his views on monetary union.
They drove home in silence, but when they stopped outside their own house in Thurloe Square, James put his arm round Elizabeth and kissed her.
'Sweetheart,' he said. 'Wasn't a bad party, was it?'
'I enjoyed it.' She smiled the warm, fond smile which was only given to him. 'I always enjoy things when we're together.'
James said, 'You seemed to be getting on very well with Sally Chichester. What on earth were you talking about?'
'Oh, where to take the boys skiing – she couldn't make up her mind, didn't really want to go to Switzerland. I suggested Austria – it's lovely, and much cheaper. I thought she was quite tough – so was he.'
'You've got to be if you want to get off the Back Benches,' he said. 'He could be very useful. I've asked him to lunch with the Board. Come on, darling, let's go in.'
He wanted to sit on in the car for a bit, holding her and talking, going back to the days before they were married, but it was nearly one o'clock in the morning, and he had a heavy day in front of him. Everyone in the office was keyed up. His fellow director Kruger was expected back from France tomorrow, and the day after was the twenty-fifth. He could hardly wait to see what it was all about. He had wanted to make love to Elizabeth, but he had to be fresh for his work. When they made it to bed at last, he turned on his side and went to sleep.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Blood Stones by Evelyn Anthony. Copyright © 1994 Anthony Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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