Emma’s Secret

‘No, it isn’t, actually,’ he answered. ‘That’s my great-grandmother.’

‘I see.’

‘And you are?’

‘Oh excuse me, I’m forgetting my manners. I’m Evan Hughes.’

‘A Welsh name. A boy’s Welsh name, to be precise,’ he responded.

‘My grandmother was Welsh, and she told her son, my father, that she expected him to name his first child Evan. She was sure I was going to be a boy. I turned out to be a girl.’

‘So I can see,’ he said, giving her a swift appraising look.

‘But now I think the name Evan is used for a boy or a girl,’ she went on, ignoring his gaze, and then very gently extricated her hand from his.

He said, ‘Let’s go along to the management offices,’ and began to walk slowly down the corridor.

Evan fell into step with him.

After a moment’s silence, Gideon said, ‘You’re an American, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I am. From New York.’

‘Great city.’ He glanced at her. ‘And are you in London on business?’

‘Well, no, not exactly. I decided to come to London for a year or so,’ she quickly invented. ‘And that’s why I’m here at Harte’s today. I’m looking for a job.’

‘Are you now? In what area?’

‘Fashion. I studied design in New York, and worked in the fashion departments of several stores. I also did a year’s apprenticeship with Arnold Scaasi, the American couturier.’

He nodded, seemed about to say something, then merely cleared his throat. ‘Here’s where you want to be … Human Resources,’ he explained, indicating the door. ‘But Miss Hughes …’ He stopped, cleared his throat again, and then said, ‘Do you have a work permit?’

‘No, I don’t, but I don’t need one. I was born in London. I have an English passport and dual nationality.’

‘Well then, that’s fine,’ he answered, giving her a broad smile.

Opening the door for her, he ushered her into a large office. A young woman seated at a desk looked up as they entered.

‘Oh hello, Mr Harte,’ she said.

‘Hello, Jennifer. This is Miss Evan Hughes. She’s come to apply for a job at Harte’s. In fashion.’ Looking at Evan, he added, ‘I wish you lots of luck, Miss Hughes.’

‘Thank you, Mr Harte,’ she answered, smiling up at him again. ‘Thanks for everything.’

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_6f440066-3531-5df5-9f69-46fd5def51e1)

Gideon Harte walked down the corridor, thinking of the young woman whom he had just ushered inside.

Evan Hughes. Unusual name. Unusual woman.

From the moment he had set eyes on her he had been intrigued, instantly struck by her amazingly fine looks, and not the least by her curious likeness to Paula O’Neill. For a second he had thought this uncanny. Their facial characteristics were very similar, as was their colouring, and he had recoiled in surprise when she had swung around to face him.

But then he had realized the likeness between them meant nothing. A lot of people resembled each other without being in any way related. In any case, how could this young American woman be related to Paula, of all people? There was no way.

Moving away from the door, Gideon walked on, heading for Linnet’s office, where he had been going when he had come across Evan Hughes looking lost in the middle of the corridor. But, in fact, she had been studying the portrait of Paula, he realized that now. Maybe she herself had noticed her likeness to the boss of the store.

Opening the door to the executive offices from which this venerable old store was run, he crossed the small central foyer and turned right.

Linnet’s outer office was usually occupied by Cassie Littleton, her secretary, but this morning Cassie was nowhere in sight. His cousin’s office door was wide open and he strode toward it, but paused in the doorway when he saw she was busy.

Linnet was on the phone, staring out of the window as she talked, and he hovered on the threshold, not wanting to intrude on her privacy. Suddenly she swung around, saw him and beamed, then beckoned. Immediately, she hung up the phone, exclaimed, ‘Gid, come in and sit down!’

He hesitated.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, frowning, seating herself behind her desk.

‘I’m not sure where I could sit, nor how I could possibly navigate myself through this—’

‘Don’t you dare say mess,’ she cut in peremptorily.

‘I wasn’t going to,’ Gideon answered, strolling into the room, being careful not to knock over any of the precariously balanced boxes. ‘I was going to call it a minefield, because I know if I did accidentally tangle with something you’d explode.’

‘Ha! Ha! Very funny, Gid. But seriously, just manoeuvre your way through and come and sit here.’ As she spoke, Linnet leapt to her feet, ran around the desk and lifted a pile of manila folders off the chair on the other side. ‘You’ll be comfortable here,’ she remarked as she stacked the folders on the floor near the window.

‘Thanks,’ Gideon said as he stepped warily around the many boxes, sat down, crossed his legs and continued, ‘What did you think about the pictures I had them dig up in the photo morgue at The Gazette?’

‘They’re great. Grandy Emma gave some party in the fifties, by the look of the pictures anyway, and they’ll be helpful to us. So, we’re in charge it seems.’ She threw him a quizzical look.

‘We are indeed, but I don’t mind, do you? Stupid question!’ he exclaimed, answering himself. ‘I can see very well what’s going on here, and your Fashion Retrospective has become somewhat demanding, according to Julian.’

Linnet nodded. ‘Too true. I just haven’t had a chance to see him, and before you start chastising or criticizing me, I will have dinner with him, as I promised I would. But I’ve got to get some of this work under my belt first.’

‘I know that. By the way, where’s Cassie? She’s usually keeping guard out there.’ He half glanced towards the door as he spoke.

‘She has the flu. And so does India. Actually, poor old India sounds awful. Very chesty, and she has a nasty cough. I hope she doesn’t get bronchitis again. She’s prone to that, as you know. It’s a Fairley characteristic, at least that’s what Mummy says. Tessa’s got a weak chest, too. Anyway, not to digress … I’m trying to cope on my own while they’re both off nursing their ailments.’

‘So I can see.’

‘It’s going to be a super show, I can promise you that, and I know my mother’s going to be pleased. It’ll be a great boost for the store.’

‘I know it will, I’ve always said that to you. But listen, Linnet, getting back to the birthday party for our respective fathers for a moment, have you come up with any ideas yet? Ideas about a theme, that kind of thing?’

‘No, not really. But I haven’t had much time to focus on it. Are you going to Yorkshire this weekend?’

‘Yes, I am. Why?’

‘I’m staying in London for once, to work through this lot, and I was thinking we might have supper on Saturday or Sunday, and brainstorm the party. But if you’re going to Middleham …’ Her voice trailed off and she gave a small, dismissive shrug.