Chapter 37: Let’s Not Fight

“She’s locked herself in her room and won’t talk to me,” Christine said as she came back into the lounge. She’d followed Clarissa after she stormed out, leaving me alone with Will and Pete. We’d discussed the implications of a possible sale of Liddington-Phipps and the consequences of not selling during the ten minutes she’d been gone.

“Let me try,” I said.

Christine waved her hand dismissively. “Feel free. But it won’t make any difference. I doubt you’ve ever seen her when she gets in one of these moods. She can be stubborn as her father was. Worse, probably, because I know I can be stubborn too. She gets it from the both of us.”

I left Clarissa’s three trustees behind, climbed the stairs and walked along the landing until I found myself outside her bedroom. I knocked once.

“Go away, Mom!”

“Riss? It’s me.”

“Paul?”

“Yeah.”

“Go home.”

“What?”

“Go. Home. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Riss, Please—”

“I said go home. What are you, deaf or stupid? I said I’ll talk to you in the morning.” This was a side of Clarissa I hadn’t seen since we got to know each other. The side that had earned her the Ice Princess label at school. And I didn’t particularly like it.

“Fine, I’ll go. But there’s no need for the attitude, Riss. I’m on your side. Just you remember that.”

I turned to walk away but I’d hardly gone a few steps when the door behind me opened and she spat, “Are you? Are you really on my side? Because it didn’t fucking sound like it down there. It sounded like you wanted me to sell out my family’s legacy just like the rest of them.”

I took a deep breath before answering. “If it were me in your position, then yes, I’d seriously consider selling. And I might not sell. But what I wouldn’t do is jump to a snap decision. I’d think it through. I’d listen to the advice of the experts. And if you ask me, you’ve got two pretty knowledgeable experts downstairs. Experts who just happen to have been your father’s best friends. But it’s up to you, Riss. It’s pretty much your company now, so...” I shrugged. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As I started to walk away again, she called out for me to wait. When I stopped, she said, “I love you.” There was a hint of sadness in her eyes that I couldn’t quite explain.

I nodded. “Love you too.”

Her eyes brightened, she smiled and then turned and went back into her room and closed the door.

Back downstairs I explained what had happened and that it was time for me to leave. Will and Pete decided it was best if they left too. As the three of us walked up the driveway to our cars parked along the kerb, Pete said, “Well, at least she didn’t sign the forms. That means it doesn’t matter what she said tonight, it’s not a final decision. We’ve still got time to change her mind.”

I fixed him with a questioning stare and said, “Are you sure that’s the right thing to do? Sell the company I mean.”

He nodded. “Andy brought me in to consult on the sale before he died. And things at the factory have gotten worse since then, not better. Trust me, the only way to keep that place open long term is to sell it. Otherwise, I think it’s got five years at the most. And if that happens, the Germans will swoop in and buy the brand anyway at a knock-down price.”

“But wouldn’t the brand be damaged if the factory was closed?”

He nodded. “To some extent. But after a few years, as long as the goods remain the same quality and are still on the shelves, it won’t matter. Ultimately, the brand will survive, even if it does so outside of Micester.”

Clarissa usually got to school before me and would greet me at my locker with one of those trademark seismic kisses of hers. That Friday morning, she did greet me at her locker, but the kiss was missing. Instead, she stood in front of me, her arms wrapped around her, holding her books against her chest like a shield and addressed my feet rather than my face.

“You didn’t call me last night before bed.”

I shrugged. “I kind of thought you didn’t want me to.”

She lifted her head to look at me, her eyes ablaze, and said, “Of course I wanted you to!”

“I’ll talk to you in the morning, you said. To me, that means don’t call me tonight.”

“Paul, I’ve told you—” She must have realised her voice was rising and people were looking over at us because she glanced around the room then continued quietly. “Yours is the last voice I want to hear before I go to sleep. I told you that.”

I nodded. “I remember, but...”

She sighed. “Do you realise that last night is the first night I haven’t spoken to you before bed in ... I don’t... Ages. Even when we weren’t together and Mom was making me see other people, we still spoke to each other before bed.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

She nodded and looked at her feet again. “Me too.”

There was an uncomfortable silence between us until Clarissa said, “I have to ... I need to...” She shook her head, turned on her heel and left.

“Trouble in paradise?”

I damn near jumped out of my skin and spun around. “Grace, you really need to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

With a giggle, she said, “Sorry. I guess I should know you get lost in some other world when she walks off and leaves you like that. You know, if it was me—”

“Stop right there.” I held up a hand. “Riss is just ... She had some news last night and it’s shaken her up a bit. I think she realised that being who she is comes with some responsibility.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” I shook my head and said again, almost to myself. “It’s nothing.”

She hardly spoke to me for the rest of the day. It wasn’t like she avoided me, she was there, she just wasn’t there, if you see what I mean. As if her body was present but her mind was somewhere else. I guess this must have been how I appeared to other people the day after I got my inheritance—and I didn’t have a massive decision weighing me down like Clarissa had.

She wasn’t speaking to anyone else either. At lunchtime, despite the main topics of conversation being her dinner party the night before and her upcoming party the next night, she couldn’t have said more than a dozen words. She was usually an active participant in lessons, both asking and answering questions, but other than to acknowledge the register at the start of the lesson, it was as if she wasn’t even there and instead of holding my hand walking to and from those lessons, she walked beside me hugging her books to her chest.

And at the end of the day, she got in her car and left the site without even saying goodbye to me, Emily or Grace.

It felt strange entering the house alone, so used had I become to Clarissa coming home with me and doing our homework at the kitchen table. I dumped my bag on a chair and got myself a Coke from the fridge before sitting down, taking out my books and trying to decide which assignment was most pressing. I had it down to a choice between an English Literature essay, which I had wanted to do with Clarissa, and a translation for French when the screen of my mobile lit up and the classic opening riff to Sweet Child O’Mine started playing.

I slid my finger across the screen to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Paul, it’s Pete Williams.”

“Mr Williams? What can I do for you?”

“You can call me Pete for a start. I thought we’d already got past the Mr Williams thing.”

“Sorry, er, Pete.” I don’t care, calling adults by their first name still felt weird.

“Look, Paul, I’ve just taken a call. Do you know where Clarissa is right now?”

I shook my head—even though I was on the phone and he obviously couldn’t see me. “Not a clue. She took off straight after school without even saying bye. We normally go out on a Friday, but with the meal last night and her party tomorrow, I don’t know if we are tonight or not. I’m kind of pissed off about it actually.”

“Yes, well, she’s at Will’s office.”

“Will? As in—”

“Of course. Who else would I mean? She’s gone over there demanding to sign all the paperwork for her inheritance. She called me right after signing the Liddington-Phipps documents to confirm that she didn’t intend to sell and that I should tell the Germans that straight away since they were so desperate for an answer.”

“And have you?”

“Of course not!”

“But if she—”

“Look, it’s late on a Friday and it’s even later in Germany. They’re an hour ahead of us, don’t forget. So I can justify not informing them of Clarissa’s decision until Monday. But I really can’t delay it any longer than that.” I didn’t much care for the emphasis he placed on the word decision.

“Why are you telling me this, Pete?”

“Because you’ve got until Monday to change that girl’s mind, that’s why!”

“Why me?”

“Oh, come on, Paul, I thought you were smarter than that. It’s clear she listens to you. It’s clear that you’re the only one who has any chance of persuading her to sell. And make no mistake about it, Paul, if we have any chance of keeping this company alive and that factory open in the long term, you have to persuade her to sell.”

After a few hurried pleasantries, we ended the call. I held the phone in my hand, staring at the blank screen and shook my head.

“Bollocks.”

Can you come over at 7? I don’t feel like going out but maybe we could watch a DVD

I’ll say one thing for Clarissa’s new smartphone—it had improved the grammar and punctuation in her text messages. Guess it’s the advantage of having a proper keyboard on them. I parked in my usual spot on the roadside, walked up the driveway to the house and rang the bell. Christine answered the door and said quietly, “She’s in her room. Go on up. But I warn you, she’s in a foul mood. Hasn’t said anything at all to me since she got in, but I can tell.”