Cynthia Cleary had just popped out to the kitchenette to make herself a cup of coffee when the front door buzzer went off. It sounded like a mosquito tapping out morse code. Whoever was on the other side was in a hurry to be heard.

She balanced her cup and rushed back to her desk, where she hit the intercom button.

‘Good afternoon, may I help you?’ she asked.

‘So you are there. Open this door immediately,’ the voice on the other side demanded.

‘I am sorry, sir, but you will need to identify yourself.’ Miss Cleary peered into the monitor to see if she could recognise the man.

‘What! You don’t know me? I’m Morrie Finkelstein,’ the man hissed through gritted teeth.

Cynthia Cleary looked again. Of course it was Mr Finkelstein. She recognised him from those dreadful advertisements for his store.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Finkelstein, please come in.’ Cynthia released the door lock.

Morrie Finkelstein stomped into the reception with a sneer from ear to ear.

‘How may I help you, sir?’ Cynthia pushed the visitors’ sign-in book in front of Morrie, who ignored it completely.

‘Jilly Hobbs,’ he demanded.

‘Yes, sir, what about Miss Hobbs?’ Cynthia Cleary gulped. Morrie’s eyes darted around the room like a squirrel in the park.

‘Get her for me, you idiotic woman,’ he ordered.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Finkelstein, but Miss Hobbs is in a meeting right now and she has asked not to be disturbed.’ Miss Cleary clasped her hands together tightly, wondering what he was going to say next.

‘I don’t care if Miss Hobbs is taking tea with the President of the United States, you tell her that I want to see her and I want to see her NOW!’ he roared at the young woman.

Miss Cleary jumped as Morrie’s hand slammed down onto the counter top, causing Miss Cleary’s coffee to slosh all over the papers piled neatly on her desk.

‘Yes, sir, I’ll see if she’s available,’ Cynthia stood up from her seat. She was trembling like a jelly as she made her way out from behind the reception desk and across the foyer to the headmistress’s study.

Morrie Finkelstein’s eyes followed her the whole way.

She was about to knock on the door when he pushed past her and slammed his hand against the timber frame.

‘So that’s where she is. Good grief, the woman doesn’t know the first thing about running a business, does she? Everyone can see her in there,’ he growled as he turned the handle and marched straight into the study.

Jilly Hobbs was entertaining one of the school’s most generous benefactors. Between tea and finger sandwiches, the woman, now close to ninety, was telling Jilly that she intended to leave a significant portion of her vast estate to Mrs Kimmel’s, seeing that she had no children of her own and wasn’t at all fond of her only nephew.

Maisy was lying on the floor near the old woman’s feet, her nose dangerously close to the sandwich tray.

Cynthia Cleary raced around in front of Morrie Finkelstein. ‘I am sorry, Miss Hobbs. I tried to stop him but Mr Finkelstein insisted that he see you right now.’

The frightened look on the receptionist’s face told Jilly Hobbs as much as she needed to know.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Finkelstein. How lovely of you to come.’ Jilly oozed charm as thick as cold custard. ‘Now, sir, I’ve just been having a wonderful meeting with Miss Heloise Horowitz.’ The old woman stood up and turned around. Morrie gulped loudly. His shoulders slumped as though someone had just stuck a pin in him and let out all the hot air.

‘Aunt Heloise,’ he twitched. ‘How lovely to see you.’ Morrie shuffled forward and, with quivering lips, brushed the old woman’s heavily powdered cheek.

‘I hope everything’s all right, Morrie. Barging in here as if you own the place,’ she tutted. ‘I’d have expected more of you – oh, except that it’s you.’

Morrie’s face fell and at that moment he was again nine years old, being told off for some or other misdemeanour.

‘And how is your mother, Morrie? I haven’t seen her for a week or so but I’m having tea with her tomorrow.’

‘Mother is fine, thank you for asking.’ Morrie hadn’t spoken with his mother in over a week either but he wasn’t about to let his aunt know that.

‘Well, Miss Hobbs, it has been a most marvellous luncheon. I must be getting home and I will send those papers via my attorney next week.’ Heloise Horowitz gathered her walking stick and handbag and tottered towards the door.

‘My pleasure, Miss Horowitz. And thank you for your extraordinary generosity. I’ll see you to the car,’ Jilly Hobbs offered.

‘No, no, my dear, you’ve been too kind. My nephew will escort me. It’s not far. My driver is just outside.’

Morrie Finkelstein sighed loudly and let out a shallow growling sound.

‘Is there a problem, Morrie?’ Heloise enquired, raising a drawn-on eyebrow.

‘Of course not. It’s my pleasure, Aunt Heloise,’ he gulped.

He spent the next ten minutes escorting his aunt the short distance from Jilly Hobbs’s office door to the pavement in front of the school. Morrie made sure that the front door didn’t click shut on his way out, suspecting that the receptionist might not be so keen to let him in again. His lip curled as his aunt told him a story he’d heard at least a hundred times before, and he couldn’t help wondering what the old bat was doing there and how much of his family’s money she was giving away.

Morrie deposited Aunt Heloise into her car and sped back inside.

This time Jilly Hobbs was ready for him.

‘Come in, Mr Finkelstein,’ she instructed. ‘Wasn’t it a charming coincidence that your mother’s sister was here today? Heloise is such a sweet and extraordinarily generous woman.’

Jilly motioned for Morrie to take a seat on one of her plump armchairs, and she sat down opposite.

‘She’s a gold-digging man-eater,’ Morrie retorted. ‘Six dead husbands, all of them billionaires and a fortune she’s done nothing to earn. And you, Miss Hobbs, you’re completely reprehensible.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jilly replied and pushed herself further back into her chair. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh yes, you do. Allowing Cecelia Highton-Smith’s daughter to come here and corrupt my child’s mind. You’re a disgrace. I’m pulling Lucinda out of school effective immediately,’ Morrie erupted.

‘I don’t understand.’ Jilly was using her very best soothing tones.

‘Well, understand this. I have long given my financial support to this institution but no more. I am withdrawing my child and my money – unless you remove that brat today.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Jilly Hobbs was fast losing patience. ‘Alice-Miranda is no brat I can assure you, and I’m quite certain that Lucinda can decide for herself who she wants to be friends with.’

‘No, she can’t!’ Morrie stood up and stamped his foot. His nostrils flared in and out like sheets flapping in a breeze.

‘It’s bad enough that my daughter has taken up with two other most unsuitable girls, but to find out today, from Cecelia Highton-Smith herself, that my Lucinda has befriended her daughter . . . I am in utter disbelief! I can only imagine that she’s as beguiling as her mother, with the same sinister undertones,’ Morrie ranted.

Jilly Hobbs was beginning to think that Morrie Finkelstein had completely lost the plot. Nothing he was saying made any sense at all. She knew he had a reputation for being a rather controlling and jealous fellow but, judging by the display in front of her just now, she thought that was a very mild assessment of his personality to say the least.

‘Mr Finkelstein, sit.’ Jilly’s voice now had a sharp edge to it, one not often heard. She stood up and walked to her telephone. ‘Miss Cleary, please bring us some tea. Chamomile, please.’

She walked back around to the other side of her desk and sat down opposite Morrie. Maisy was helping herself to the last of the sandwiches on the plate beside Morrie’s chair.

‘Mr Finkelstein, I can hear that you’re upset. Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what’s really troubling you.’

‘You can stop all that psychobabble, Miss Hobbs. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. I’m Morrie Finkelstein. I’m rich and I’m important and I run the best darn department store this town has ever known. Now get my daughter. We’re leaving!’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Finkelstein, but the girls are at lunch so it will be difficult to locate her until the bell goes.’

‘That’s fine.’ Morrie stood up. ‘I know where the cafeteria is. I paid for it.’ He barged past Jilly and stormed through reception towards the back stairs.

‘Lucinda Finkelstein, where are you?’ he shouted, sending little girls scattering this way and that.

‘Miss Cleary, call Mr Staples and ask him to go to the cafeteria, immediately,’ Jilly shouted as she raced after him.