Belle asked Milly where the Stone manufacturing bases were. No one had ever told her anything about them.
‘Why d’you want to know that?’ asked Milly.
‘Because I want to do something. Work at something.’
Milly looked at her old pal in amazement. ‘But you don’t have to.’
‘I know I don’t have to. I want to. I’m bored with hanging about doing nothing. I want to do something with my life, OK?’
‘Well yeah. Sure. If that’s what you want.’
‘So . . . ?’ Belle looked at Milly expectantly.
‘I don’t know where they are. How would I? You know the parents don’t like us even asking about the business. And anyway it’s dull as fuck. Sofas and armchairs? Beechwood frames and fabrics? Not exactly exciting, is it?’
‘You really don’t know where the business addresses are?’
‘I really don’t. Harlan does, but he never talks about any of it. And me? Kept in the dark and fed bollocks, that’s me.’ Milly pouted. It was one more example of her being treated like the useless one, while Harlan was the favoured son, granted all the inside knowledge. All right, she didn’t want to know about the bloody business that kept them all in such style, but still – it did sting.
‘So how are we going to find out where they are?’ asked Belle.
‘We’re not,’ said Milly, disinterested. Belle was off her head, wanting to schlepp to some damned factory or office to spend her days there grafting. The way Milly saw it, they were fortunate. They didn’t have to lift a finger. OK, sometimes that was a bore. But then – so was working for a living.
‘Oh come on. There must be a way.’
‘Well – really? – all right then. I think you’re mad, but maybe there’s something in Mum’s journals?’
‘What?’
‘I bet there’ll be something about the furniture factories in there. But look, Belle, there’s no point. If your dad or mine got wind of you working at one of their places, they’d blow a bloody gasket and you’d be straight out the door.’
Belle considered this. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’
Milly was thinking too. ‘They do visit the factories. They’ve got the manufacturing bases for the big retailers, but they’ve also got the accounts offices and admin departments and so on.’
‘So?’
‘Harlan said something about the staff at the admin and accounts offices never seeing your dad or mine at all these days.’
So they had to wait for Nula to go out, then creep into the sitting room and open the big pouffe where Nula stashed her current journals. There were a lot of them in there and they sweated for over an hour to find details of the family business.
‘This is ridiculous. Can’t we just ask your mum?’ said Belle, getting impatient.
‘Nope. She won’t tell us anything. She never has, and never will. I’ve asked her before, and she always shuts me down.’
‘This is so fucking silly,’ said Belle, thumbing through. Then she stopped. ‘Wait. What’s this?’
There was an address in Clacton. She showed it to Milly.
‘Do you know this address?’ she asked.
‘Nope,’ said Milly.
‘This could be it. One of the admin offices?’
‘Yeah, but look, Belle. You won’t get anything except a kick up the arse for your trouble.’
Belle ignored that. She made a quick note of the address and tucked it in her jeans pocket. Then she helped Milly load the journals back into the pouffe. Through the lounge window they could see the Bentley coming up the drive, Paul at the wheel this time. Nula was back.
‘You’re so fucking obstinate,’ said Milly as she and Belle left the lounge.
‘Quitters never win,’ said Belle. ‘And winners never quit.’ It was something she’d heard Milly’s dad say, more than once. And in that he was absolutely right.
As they were crossing the hall, Charlie came out of his study. Spotting Milly there, he hooked a finger at her. ‘In here,’ he said, and turned and went back in.
‘Catch you later,’ said Milly to Belle, and followed him into the study, closing the door behind her.
Charlie was pacing the floor, his face thunderous.
Feeling increasingly nervous, Milly waited.
‘What the fuck,’ he said at last, ‘are you doing, mucking Javier about?’
‘What?’
‘You heard. He’s a valuable business associate and would it hurt you to be nice to him? He’s just been on the phone telling me you’ve cancelled a date with him. You’ve broken the poor bastard’s heart.’
‘What the . . .’ Milly was gobsmacked. ‘That’s ridiculous! I don’t like him, Dad. For God’s sake, he’s a horrible little—’
Charlie flew at her. He grabbed her arms and shook her, hard.
‘You listen to me,’ he snarled. ‘You be civil to Javier. You hear me?’
Milly was staring straight into her father’s face. She saw anger there, and in his eyes a hint of desperation. Suddenly, as if realizing he was going too far, Charlie let her go. He drew back, scraped a hand over his face.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Off you go.’
Milly didn’t need telling twice. She bolted out the door and was gone.