London and New York, 1983
ROZ WAS SO angry when she heard about the store she actually threw up. Julian had told her about it over lunch at the Ritz, presenting the event as something to be celebrated, and explained he was giving it to Phaedria for a wedding present, and that he was sure they would be able to work together on it amicably if they put their minds to it. He had said much the same thing to Phaedria the night before; for probably the first and last time in their lives Phaedria and Roz were in total agreement. This, they could both see, was the beginning of a very long war. They also both had great difficulty in believing that Julian could actually think they would be able to work together. There was a particular expression in his unfathomable brown eyes, which Roz had grown up with, and Phaedria had begun to recognize, which meant danger, meant games were being played, meant checkmate. It was there now.
‘Excuse me,’ said Roz and half walked, half ran to the lavatory.
Kneeling on the floor, trying to recover herself, tears streaming down her face, she wondered where this fearsome situation was going to end. Here she was, married to a man she could now scarcely bear, who drove her to such a frenzy of irritation if he so much as commented on the fact that it was raining or asked her if she wanted a cup of coffee, that she tried to avoid being in the same room as him most of the time; the mother of a child who she did admittedly love, but would really have been better off without; and the man she had loved, and still hungered for, lost to her, all in the cause of becoming the heir to her father’s kingdom. And now not only was a new Queen on the throne, and not only was she beautiful and (or so most people kept on and on saying in the most enraging way) charming, truly engaging, and had her father under control for the first time in his life, she was clever. And she was young. Roz still found beauty in other women, and particularly those close to her father, painful to accept.
She often wondered if Susan was right about Phaedria not being sexy; that would be a fatal flaw. Roz allowed herself a moment’s complacency at the very suspicion; highly sexed herself, she regarded with contempt any man or woman who was not. Not that it did her any good at the moment (her husband having proved himself very much among the contemptibles). Now that she had quite recovered from Miranda’s birth, Roz wondered almost daily how soon it would be before she was driven to take a lover, to ease the longing, the sense of physical emptiness in her body. She went restlessly to sleep at night and frequently had sharply erotic dreams; Michael Browning figured largely in them.
But if she was weary of the beauty and the charm, she was still more weary of the assertions that Phaedria had Julian under control. Moreover she disputed them. She had watched women trying to do it and failing all her life, and had enjoyed their failure. It was true that Phaedria was very cool and apparently in command, and Roz had heard interesting reports of fearsome rows and battles of will, which on past experience usually resulted in a relationship drawing very swiftly to a close; this one went on, and the ridiculous plans for this absurd wedding with it. Nevertheless, there was plenty of time for the balance of power to switch. And the more Phaedria felt confident of holding it, the more Julian would see that she did not. There was hope there.
But the most frightening weapons Phaedria possessed were her youth and her brains.
Phaedria was very clever; she was also ambitious, she wanted a career, and she wanted to work with Julian. Writing had become second choice. That was bad enough. Far worse though was her youth, and the indisputable fact that she had probably, at the most modest estimate, fifteen childbearing years ahead of her.
The spectre that had haunted Roz all her life, ever since she could remember, that of a small sibling, seemed suddenly terrifyingly close.
She stood up slowly and wearily, went out into the cloakroom and washed her face. She studied it as she put her make-up on, and brushed her short dark hair. It might not have beauty, but it had a great facility that face, something inherited from her father; a capacity not to show the emotion behind it. She was going to need that capacity a great deal, she realized, in the months ahead.
‘Sorry, Daddy. I suddenly felt awfully sick.’
‘Are you all right, darling? You do too much.’
‘Rubbish. You can’t do too much. You’ve taught me that all my life.’
‘Maybe, but I didn’t really extend that philosophy to a period just after having a baby. Miranda is only – what – four months old? You don’t realize it, but you’re still recovering.’
‘Oh, Daddy, you sound like Mr Partridge. Silly old fart,’ she added.
‘You’re referring to Mr Partridge, I trust, and not myself.’
‘Of course.’
‘From what I hear, he is a silly old fart. But if he’s been telling you to take life a bit easier, I would echo him.’
‘Well I’m not going to, so you can both stop. Now tell me exactly what this business with Circe and Phaedria means.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, I am the president of Circe Europe, am I not?’
‘You are.’
‘Circe London therefore has to come under my control.’
‘Well, yes. But only officially. I want this store to be Phaedria’s. She has a considerable feel for fashion and for decor. I think she’ll make a good job of it. She has some interesting ideas.’
‘Oh good,’ said Roz.
‘Obviously I can’t ask her to report to you.’
‘Obviously.’
‘But she’ll need help, particularly on the administrative side, budgeting and so on.’
‘Temporarily, I presume.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, if the store is to be hers, surely she will want to handle the whole thing. She won’t want anyone interfering in her budgets, or her staff or her long-term planning, come to that. Not after the early stages. It would be an untenable situation for her.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Not possibly, Daddy, obviously.’
Expressionless face met expressionless face.
‘So,’ Roz went on, ‘long term, Circe London will be an oddball. Under different control. Out of the system. Is that going to work?’
‘I don’t see why not. Providing you are kept informed of what is going on. Clearly Phaedria will be working to guidelines. She’s not going to turn it into a down-market chain store.’
‘Roz, don’t be negative.’
‘Sorry.’ She threw him her most charming smile. ‘No, I’m sure she won’t. She’s a clever girl. And she has great taste.’
‘Doesn’t she? She’s beginning to do some extremely nice things to the house. And to Marriotts. Why don’t you come down this weekend? Bring Miranda, I don’t see enough of her.’
‘Are you hunting?’
‘Yes, we’re going out on Saturday with the Crawley and Horsham. Do come.’
‘I might. Yes, thank you. It would be nice. I’ll talk to C. J.’
‘Good. Now I’ll think over what you said, about Circe. I can see there might be the odd anomaly. Nothing that can’t be sorted, but it could need some thought.’
Round One to me, said Roz to herself. She gave her father her most brilliant smile. ‘Thank you for lunch, it’s been lovely. I’ll see you on Saturday.’
‘Why not come on Friday night? Phaedria cooks dinner herself then, and it’s always delicious.’
‘No thank you,’ said Roz hastily, feeling sick again at the thought of Phaedria’s culinary skills. ‘It would be difficult. C. J.’s working late. No, we’ll come early on Saturday.’
‘It’ll have to be very early if you’re coming out hunting with us.’
‘It will be. Miranda gets me up at half past five. Bye, Daddy. Give my love to Phaedria.’
‘I will. You’ll enjoy riding with her, she’s very good.’
‘I look forward to it.’
She would defeat that paragon if it was the last thing she did.
As soon as she got back to the office, Roz phoned Susan.
‘Could I come and see you tonight? I’ve got to talk to someone sane. Just got to.’
‘Yes, of course. What’s the matter? Is it the Crown Princess?’
Susan could hear Roz smiling down the phone. ‘Yes.’
‘Well come and have supper. What about C. J.?’
‘Oh, I certainly don’t want him to come. He’ll find something to do, I expect.’
Susan looked at the phone sorrowfully as she put it down. She had never criticized or questioned Roz’s decision to marry C. J. (having a very shrewd idea what was behind it, knowing how much Roz’s mother and grandmother had to say on the subject) but she was saddened to see it coming to such a disastrous end. She had hoped that perhaps with a little goodwill on both sides it could have at least turned into a working relationship.
She listened patiently while Roz told her about her lunch with Julian and about Phaedria being given the store. She was appalled.
‘So what do you think?’ said Roz. ‘Am I being hysterical, minding so much, or not?’
‘I don’t think so, no,’ said Susan. ‘I think it’s very hard. Very hard. But I don’t think you can blame Phaedria for this.’
‘Why not? She probably just said she’d like it, and he went out and bought it for her.’
‘I don’t think so. He wouldn’t give her anything that made her so potentially powerful unless he really wanted her to have it. No, it would have been his idea.’
‘And don’t you think he did it deliberately to weaken my position?’
‘No, Roz, I don’t. I can’t see why he should do such a thing.’
‘Because he loves playing games, that’s why,’ said Roz. ‘Oh, Susan, why did I get drawn into his mesh like this? Why didn’t I stay with Michael and marry him and get some nice rewarding job in New York?’
‘The answer for that lies in your genes, I would say,’ said Susan, smiling at her regretfully. ‘The Morell genes. You’re driven by the same sense of – I don’t know what to call it – greed, I suppose, as your father.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Well it’s true. You are greedy. Greedy for power. Aren’t you? Just like him.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Roz sulkily.
‘No, I really do think he simply hasn’t thought it all through properly. What it must mean to you – both in personal and professional terms. He’s just obsessed with Phaedria, and he wants to give her the moon. It’s very sad.’
‘It’s pathetic.’
‘Well, maybe.’ She looked at Roz. ‘You don’t look very well. Is anything else the matter?’
‘Oh, nothing much. Just my work. My marriage. My self-esteem. Just little things like that.’
‘Is it really no good with C. J.?’
‘None at all. It’s hopeless. It was very wrong of me to marry him, and God, I’m being punished for it now.’
‘Poor Roz.’
‘Oh, well. It’s so nice to have you to talk to. The only person I can be honest with.’ She smiled at Susan. ‘What about you?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. You and Richard.’
‘Oh.’ She smiled. ‘Nothing really to report. No, that’s not true. Let me try and cheer you up a bit. We’re getting married next Saturday. At Chelsea Registry Office. We’re not telling a single soul until afterwards. Quite a bit afterwards, probably. Would you like to come and be my bridesmaid? I’ll need a hand to hold. I haven’t been married for over forty years.’
‘Oh, Susan, of course I will, I’d love to. That’s the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. Thank you.’
She kissed Susan and smiled at her. ‘It’s lovely news. I just know you’re going to be very happy. Give Richard a big kiss from me.’
‘I will.’ Susan returned the kiss, and thought how very sad it was that Roz the nice person was someone known to only two or three people.
‘Julian, could I have a word with you? This evening, maybe, before you go home?’
In his office at six o’clock he had some champagne and orange juice waiting. ‘I thought as we seemed to be friends again, we might celebrate.’
‘I didn’t know we weren’t friends.’
‘Liar.’
‘All right.’
‘I hate it when we’re not friends, Susan. You’re very important to me.’
‘Yes, well,’ she said briskly, taking the glass he offered her. ‘Just remember that, will you, when I’ve finished what I have to say.’
‘Oh God. What is it?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Julian, this is nothing to do with me, I know –’
‘Then,’ he said lightly, putting his glass down untouched, ‘perhaps it would be better if you didn’t get involved.’
‘I don’t agree. Someone has to point things out to you, and nobody else is going to do it.’
‘Very well. Carry on.’
‘I do think you’re making a terrible mistake, giving that store to Phaedria to run. The stores are Roz’s domain. It’s going to be difficult. For both of them.’
He looked at her for a long time. His face was stern, but blank. She had no idea what he was thinking. She braced herself for a torrent of abuse or of self-justification on his part.
It didn’t come.
‘I’m not a complete fool,’ he said quietly. ‘Of course it will be difficult. But they’re both putting up this wall of hostility. I thought if they were to be forced to work together it would get knocked down.’
‘You really think that?’ said Susan.
‘I really think that.’
She met his eyes steadily, her own challenging, half amused.
‘Julian,’ she said, ‘either you are lying, or you really are a complete fool.’
‘Roz, do you have five minutes?’
Roz looked up. Phaedria stood in the doorway of her office. She was wearing her wolf coat and long black boots; she looked straight out of the pages of Cosmopolitan.
‘Not quite five,’ said Roz, her distaste written very plainly on her face. ‘I’m late for a meeting already. I thought perhaps you might have been invited. We’re discussing the architecture of the Beverly Hills Circe. You know we’re opening one, of course?’
‘Of course. I didn’t know that you were involved in it, though.’
‘Oh, didn’t you?’ said Roz. ‘How odd. I imagined my father told you everything about his business. Yes, the president of Circe in the States, Harold Fowler, is retiring next year. I think it’s a fairly foregone conclusion that I shall take over the whole lot then.’
‘Anyway, I imagined you’d want to take quite a close look at all the stores before getting to work on your own. Just to make sure it’s in line.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Well I would have thought it would have been essential. Still, you have your own ideas, I imagine.’
‘Yes,’ said Phaedria. ‘Yes, I do. Plenty. Which is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about. We need to get together.’
‘Well, let’s pencil in a meeting,’ said Roz, ‘but it will have to be a few weeks ahead, I’m afraid. Do you mind if I set the date? I imagine my diary is a little fuller than yours, just at the moment.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Phaedria sweetly. ‘I am extremely busy myself, you know, with the arrangements for my wedding to your father. If it can’t be within the next ten days, I’ll just have to proceed on my own and hope we can iron out any problems later.’
Roz wasn’t sure if it was the first or the second half of this brief speech that made her feel suddenly sick.
‘Julian, why didn’t you ask me to the meeting about the Beverly Hills Circe? It would have been so helpful to me, hearing how that was going to be started from scratch.’
‘Darling, I did suggest it to Roz, and she was all for it, but then she told me you and she had a very comprehensive meeting of your own planned and she’d be able to fill you in with the details then. It seemed more sensible, when you’ve got so much on your plate at the moment.’
Phaedria had learnt not to discuss Roz with Julian.
‘I see. Well, in future, could I be put on the circulation list for store meetings anyway? I’ll find the time.’
‘Of course. I’ll let Roz know. I’m sure she’ll be delighted.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Phaedria, Roz and I are going over to LA next week, to look at the Circe site, meet the architect, all that sort of thing. I think it might be a good idea if you came too. What do you think?’
‘Oh, Julian, I’d love it. I’ve never been to LA. Never been to the States, as a matter of fact. Have you – discussed it with Roz?’
‘Phaedria, it’s Roz. Look, I don’t want to interfere, but I really would suggest you get Paul Baud to help you with the plans for Circe. He’s done most of them, including the first, and he is brilliant. Quite the best in the business. He’ll help you keep to the house style, so to speak, and yet he’ll listen to your own ideas. Just a thought.’
‘Thank you. I’ll think about it.’
‘Paul? It’s Roz. I’m absolutely fine, thank you. I still miss Paris, though. I can’t think why you don’t live there all the time. How’s New York? Good. Listen, I need your help. Now I do want you to be very discreet about this, because it’s a bit delicate. You know my father’s getting married again? Yes, isn’t it delicious, and she is just so nice, none of us can believe our luck. You’ll love her. Well anyway, and this is the difficult bit, for me, you may have heard my father’s giving her a building for her wedding present, to turn into the London Circe. You did? Yes, well, look, she’s going to need a lot of help. No experience at all, and frankly, entre nous, she’s going to make a complete hash of it if we’re not very careful. Only of course I can’t say anything to Daddy. Anyway, I’ve suggested she consults you, and I think she will. Just look like you’re holding her hand, and guiding her, and just quietly take over. She has some extremely dull ideas, as far as I can make out, and she really needs to be talked out of them. And both my father and I basically want the London Circe to be a little different. Just slightly more – well, quite a bit more – avant-garde. You know. We’ve discussed it, and I know he’s a little worried by some of Phaedria’s ideas. Or rather the lack of them. Only he won’t say anything to her, of course. And nor can I. It would be terribly unkind, and we do want to encourage her. So we – well I – thought you were the person to help us all through it. What? Well, the stores are my baby now, you know, I don’t want this one going wrong. But obviously I can’t interfere. You can see my difficulty. Yes, I do have a real baby as well now, she’s adorable. You must come and meet her. So if she rings you, Paul, no, not the baby you fool, Phaedria, will you be helpful? And terribly discreet? Marvellous. Thank you so much. We’ve never needed you more.’
‘Right,’ said Roz, settling a large pile of files on the boardroom table, ‘Let’s get to work, Phaedria. Have you spoken to Paul Baud by the way?’
‘Not yet. But I do agree he’s the best person, thank you for suggesting it.’
‘Perfectly all right. I do want to help. We have to make this thing work, after all.’
‘Quite.’
Brown eyes met green in total mistrust.
‘Let’s start with basics. How do you see the store? I mean, what image?’
‘I thought very much the same as all the others. There’s nothing that would be more disastrous than to have a kind of rogue Circe in London of all places.’
‘Well, obviously that really is up to you. I am totally unvisual, as my father is always telling me. I wonder whether perhaps you should consider a slightly different look.’
‘And would you be happy with that?’
‘I was under the impression,’ said Roz, ‘that my happiness was of no relevance in this whatsoever. But possibly yes.’
‘Oh, all right,’ said Phaedria with a sigh, ‘let’s get down to budgets.’ She felt instinctively that any suggestion that came from Roz should be treated with deep suspicion.
‘Daddy, it’s Roz. Look, you’ll be pleased to hear Phaedria and I had our meeting today, and it went quite well. I think we can work together all right.’
‘Good.’
‘She has some quite nice ideas. The only thing is, I really don’t think you should get involved at all.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she’s feeling inhibited enough by me being involved, and she plans to consult Paul, which seems a good idea, and I think if she feels your hand on things as well, she’ll lose all confidence.’
‘Well, as long as you and Paul keep a firm eye on it and make sure nothing radical happens, I’ll stand back.’
‘I think you should. It’ll work better that way.’
‘Julian, could I talk to you about Circe, please?’
‘Darling, I’d rather not. I’m terribly busy. It’s your project, you have perfect taste, and I trust you. All right?’
‘All right.’
Apart from having to endure Roz’s company (made more unendurable rather than less by the pleasant front she put on for her father’s benefit) in Los Angeles, Phaedria greatly enjoyed her trip to the States, brief as it was. She had expected to find New York exhilarating, but she had not been prepared for its beauty. She spent a whole day as a tourist, just walking it, up and down the streets, in and out of the stores; she went up the Empire State Building, she did the backstage tour of Radio City, she skated in the Rockefeller Center and that evening she insisted Julian take her in a horse and carriage on a trip round Central Park.
‘We’ll die of cold.’
‘I won’t. You can keep me warm.’
‘Come on then.’
‘I love it here,’ she said happily as they huddled under the rug Julian had brought from the Sutton Place apartment (‘The ones they give you are threadbare’). ‘Can we spend lots of time here?’
‘We could. I tend not to these days. Less involved than I was with this side of the world.’
‘Well, let’s get more involved. Can you keep a horse in New York?’
‘It’s difficult. There is one place, on the upper West Side, the Claremont stables, it’s like a multi-storey garage, you ride up a ramp. Not very satisfactory.’
‘Oh, well, maybe it’s not a very good idea then. What happens tomorrow?’
‘We have a big board meeting in the morning, of Juliana. And then the afternoon, I thought we’d spend in Circe.’
‘Is Paul Baud here?’
‘No, Roz asked him to go to Paris urgently this week, to have a look at the store there. It needs refurbishing, apparently. She’s in a panic to get it at least partly sorted for Easter.’
‘What a pity. I did want to meet him.’
‘Well, isn’t he coming to London to talk to you?’
‘Oh? I thought you had.’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Ah. I must have got it wrong.’
She was more enchanted still by Los Angeles. Everyone had told her she’d hate it, and she loved it. She loved everything about it, the sunshine, the buildings, the traffic, the freeways lacing their way across the city, the glitz of Beverly Hills, the tack of Sunset Strip, the palm trees waving so incongruously above their heads, the ocean beating its way remorselessly on to the white beaches. She longed to explore further, to go along the coast, but Julian was reluctant to leave the centre of the city.
‘We have a lot to do,’ he said rather shortly when she protested, ‘and not a lot of time.’
‘I’ll go off on my own then.’
He looked at her rather coolly. ‘I thought you had come here to work.’
‘I have.’
‘Oh, Daddy, don’t be such a slave-driver,’ said Roz, ‘she’s only come to observe. I don’t see why she shouldn’t go off if she wants to, just for half a day. She’s never been here before. We can brief her afterwards.’
Phaedria met her eyes with a grudging admiration.
‘No,’ she said, ‘thank you, Roz, for your concern, but Julian’s right. I should be here.’
The site they had acquired for Circe was right on Rodeo Drive, almost next to the Rodeo Center, precisely opposite Elizabeth Arden.
‘Brilliant,’ said Roz happily. ‘Just brilliant. Worth waiting for.’
The architect brought in to design the store had ideas never before even whispered of in connection with Circe. He saw it white, airy, stark; Phaedria watched Julian thoughtfully as he briskly demolished ninety per cent of his ideas and then slowly moved into a qualified acceptance of the remaining ten per cent. Perhaps the faint indication she had picked up from Roz that she might do something similar in London should be given more attention. Perhaps she had been wrong.
‘Paul! Hallo. How are you?’
‘Very well. How was the Los Angeles site?’
‘Perfect.’
‘And the new designer?’
‘Oh, very interesting. Totally revolutionary.’
‘And how did these revolutionary ideas go down with your father?’
‘Surprisingly well. Like I said, he does seem to be very much looking for a change.’
‘Good. Well, perhaps it is time. Now, I have talked to Phaedria.’
‘And?’
‘You are right. She is most beautiful. And charming and intelligent. I liked her very much.’
‘I’m so glad.’
‘But I do not agree with you about her abilities. I found her full of ideas.’
‘Oh, good.’
‘She seemed interested in a more modern look. I told her I thought it was possibly a good idea. So we are proceeding cautiously along those lines.’
‘Excellent. I wouldn’t be too cautious if I were you.’
‘Julian, I very much want to have a formal meeting to present my plans for Circe to you and Roz.’
‘All right, darling, I’m sure that’s the way to do it. I’m very very busy, though. Couldn’t you manage just with Roz?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Why of course?’
Her eyes met his with just a touch of amusement.
‘You’re the boss.’
The meeting was fixed for early May; Phaedria asked Sarah Brownsmith to organize a boardroom lunch. Sarah, who had grown fond of her, and was eager to see her succeed in her venture, suggested that Freddy Branksome should be invited as well.
‘Please don’t think I’m interfering, Miss Blenheim. But the meeting might seem more – well, formal – with another representative from the company. And the financial aspect is, I imagine, important?’
Phaedria smiled at her. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea, Sarah. Thank you. And please call me Phaedria.’
Sarah looked at her slightly oddly. ‘Please don’t misinterpret this, but I think that it would be better if I didn’t.’
Phaedria nodded. ‘I understand. I’ll get on to Freddy right away. I hope he’ll be free.’
‘I think you’ll find he will be.’
Sarah wasn’t sure if she was amused by Phaedria’s inability to appreciate the power of her position, or mistrustful of it.
‘Right,’ said Phaedria. ‘Let’s get down to business right away, shall we? I thought I’d start with the costings.’
Roz looked startled. ‘I didn’t realize you’d done any.’
‘Of course,’ said Phaedria coolly. ‘I don’t see how we can possibly discuss architecture and design if we don’t know what the financial implications are.’
‘Quite right,’ said Freddy briskly.
For the first time Roz felt a stab of fear.
Phaedria’s budget was presented clearly and succinctly. She had estimates from contractors, covering external and internal work, she had a budget for architecture, another for design, and a preliminary one for fittings and fixtures. Freddy sat beaming at her, clearly enchanted; he was not used to seeing financial considerations given such high priority.
‘So, at a very rough estimate, we’re talking about something like ten million pounds. Assuming we can get the work done within the year.’
‘Well, you can’t,’ said Roz. ‘It’s absolutely impossible.’
Phaedria looked at her. ‘I don’t agree. I’ve talked to several contractors. They all say twelve months is not unreasonable.’
‘They always say that.’
‘Possibly. But with heavy penalty clauses, it should be perfectly feasible.’
‘Maybe. But I doubt it.’
‘Well, let’s move on,’ said Julian, slightly impatiently. ‘What about the designs, Phaedria? The budget sounds reasonable to me.’
‘Right. Now then, as you know I have worked with Paul Baud quite closely on this project. We spent a lot of time looking at the existing Circes, discussing them in the light of some of the work other stores have been doing, notably Harvey Nichols, and also the shops like Joseph and Rive Gauche. While Circe is clearly unique it equally clearly cannot be studied in isolation. Markets change, consumers change, fashions change.’
Julian was looking slightly uneasy; Roz’s face was expressionless.
Sarah Brownsmith knocked at the door. ‘Shall I bring the lunch in now, Miss Blenheim?’
Roz looked at her sharply. She had not realized that this was so officially Phaedria’s meeting.
‘No Sarah, not yet,’ said Julian irritably. ‘We’ve hardly begun. I’ll buzz you when we’re ready.’
‘Julian, Sarah and I were both under the impression this was my meeting,’ said Phaedria coolly, ‘but yes, thank you, Sarah, we will wait a little longer. I’ll buzz you.’
He looked at her blank faced, but his eyes were dark and heavy; there was no humour behind them at all.
‘Very well.’
‘Anyway, if I could resume. The market has changed. The consumer has changed. Money, quite a lot of money, is in new hands. People who would never have considered going into Circe will now be shopping there.’
‘What kind of people?’ asked Roz. ‘Typists?’
‘No, not typists. Obviously primarily our market will still be the ABs. Slightly older women. By which I mean, women in their thirties and above. But there is a great deal of money about in younger hands. Real money. What I think of as designer money. Stylish money. There’s a new breed of professional woman who wants, needs clothes that are very expensive, very stylish, probably with much more fashion sense than her mother or her older sisters. And a lot less time. I think we have to consider her. Clearly much of that area is down to merchandising; I would like, for instance, to institute a department where a woman can get an entire wardrobe put together for her consideration, as a result of a preliminary consultation on her taste, lifestyle, needs. But I don’t want to get too much into that now. The point I’m making is that we should consider these women when we look at the style, the design of Circe.’
She paused. ‘I talked to Paul Baud along these lines, and we discussed, among other things, the look of the Los Angeles Circe, in relation to the New York one. Very different. Paul was very enthusiastic, surprisingly so I thought, about change. About a contemporary look. I liked his ideas. Here they are.’
She pulled out the screen, walked over to the carousel cassette of slides, flashed the first image on to the screen. It showed a detailed colour drawing of the foyer of Circe: all white, with deco-style lights, a low curving reception desk. ‘That would be for a store guide; to welcome people personally, tell them where everything was. Then we go through sliding glass doors into the body of the store.’
Another image came on the screen. ‘Paul based his ideas for the ground floor rather on perhaps Sak’s in New York, or even Tiffany’s, where you get a much more panoramic view of the store, less claustrophobic, less fragmented.’
Julian’s face was expressionless, taut.
‘The predominant colour throughout the store would be white, the predominant sensation space. The beauty floor would also be more open, more spacy, than we have grown to expect from Circe.’ She clicked her button again. ‘Clients would, for some treatments, be in a large, open salon. Then’ – another slide – ‘we looked at fashion. We conceived a very large space, with departments opening from it at regular angles – one at two o’clock, if you follow me, one at four and so on. They would not be shut off from each other as they are now, but there would be an impression of seclusion, given by screens and plants. I –’
Julian held up his hand. ‘Excuse me, Phaedria, forgive me for interrupting you. I have to say I feel we are all wasting our time. This – concept of yours bears absolutely no relation to anything that Circe stands for. No intimacy, no luxury, no exclusivity. I am particularly concerned by the plans for the beauty floor. The whole principle of the Juliana in Circe area is a sense of privacy, so that a woman can be as relaxed as if she was in her own home. I fear you have grossly misinterpreted the Circe concept. I think the only thing to do at this stage is to go back to basics and begin again.’
‘But –’
‘No, really, I don’t think there is anything to be gained by further discussion. I would urge you very strongly to do a little more research into our past customer, before you sacrifice her on the rather dubious altar of what you conceive as the present. Now if you will excuse me I think I will forego lunch. I have a great deal of work to do. But please, the rest of you stay.’
He was white and clearly shaken, and oddly angry. Roz felt a stab of pleasure shoot through her, strangely akin to sexual desire. Freddy Branksome looked uncomfortable. There was a silence as Julian stood up and picked up his files.
‘Please sit down again.’ It was Phaedria’s voice, very calm, with just a tinge of amusement in it. Roz looked at her sharply.
‘I would rather I didn’t.’
‘I would rather you did. And do me the courtesy of allowing me to finish my presentation.’
He gave her a look that was very close to dislike. Then he sighed and sat down again. ‘Very well. But I have only ten minutes.’
‘Fine. Now then.’ She looked at them, and picked up her control button again. ‘As you can see we did a lot of work along these lines. I enjoyed working with Paul Baud, and I think he has vast and valuable experience. However, returning to my new customer, and yet still looking very carefully at my old, I think there is much more work to be done. I have begun doing it.’
She clicked her button. ‘I decided in the end to take a rather revolutionary step, and talk to a designer with no direct experience in retailing, but a great deal in company style.’
‘Indeed?’ said Julian drily, still angry, still distressed. ‘And are we allowed to ask this person’s name?’
‘Of course,’ said Phaedria. ‘You know it well. It’s David Sassoon.’
Freddy, looking at her as she stood there, fighting the first great political battle of her life, wondered just how aware she might be of the sexual dynamite delivered in that simple statement; decided it was most unlikely that she was not totally aware, and looked at Julian swiftly, nervously for a reaction, but his face was smooth, expressionless.
‘I see,’ he said. ‘Do go on.’
‘Right. Well, this is our view of the reception area, the foyer, call it what you like.’
They looked. It was like looking into what Freddy described afterwards, in a most uncharacteristic fit of lyricism, as a grown-up fairy story book. It was as if William Morris had had a love affair with Kate Greenaway, and they had run away together to the twentieth century. David Sassoon had used the airbrush technique to create the effect of actual photographs, rather than designers’ sketches; the effect was very powerful. His Circe, and Phaedria’s, was light, airy, lovely, awash with sea greens and blues; huge tangly ferns stood in the corners, embroidered tapestries hung on the walls. The floor was white marble, the ceiling white and high. Big lamps with blue glass shades hung tantalizing here and there, their light falling tenderly on low counters set with jewellery, perfume, hats, gloves; there was a compulsion to walk forward, to examine, to explore.
‘None of this merchandise would be for sale,’ explained Phaedria briskly, breaking the spell, ‘it is there simply to draw the customer on, into the store. Now here we have the main ground floor.’
In the same colour scheme, the same romance, it was broken into segments purely by pools of light. Between the lights, the small, jewel-like departments, it was dimmer; in here the floor was no longer white, but the same soft greeny blue.
‘I am investigating colouring the marble; it might be cold. Carpeting could be a possibility, but I don’t like the idea. Let’s move up to the beauty floor.’
The beauty floor saw William Morris on a tropical island; huge, exotic flowers grew in white urns, a waterfall splashed brilliantly against the marble walls, a pool of brilliant blue water lay in the middle of the room, with white water lilies lying languorously on its surface.
‘Then all round it are the small treatment rooms; totally private, but each one with its coordinating theme of water and flowers: a Jacuzzi in every one, and winter jasmine, clematis, anything that will grow indoors climbing up at least one of the walls. The horticulturalists’ bill will probably rival the beauty therapists’. And a dressing table, a proper one, as you see, in each room, totally equipped with the entire Juliana range, but not remotely clinical; vases of flowers on them, big powder puffs, hairbrushes, and white wicker chairs, to give something of the feel of a conservatory. But as you can also see, out in the reception area, by the pool, more big chairs, and loungers, so that if people wish they can sit and talk and drink fruit juices or whatever. It will have to be very very warm, so they can wear just robes, or (as they do in the Sanctuary in Covent Garden, just towels round their waists). Women are exhibitionists, when they know they’ve got good bodies; they should have a chance to be that, as well as to be totally private.’
She clicked again. ‘Now on the floor below, the lingerie department, we thought a change of colour scheme, to pink. So that it looks as much like a boudoir as possible.’
The boudoir was dressed with brocaded wallpaper, brass wall lights with pink glass shades, charming eighteenth-century prints; small groups of furniture, chairs, dressing tables, beds with draped heads, lace spreads and cushion covers, and scattered everywhere, as if waiting to be put on, was the merchandise, nightdresses, robes, french knickers, camisoles.
‘Of course this may not be practicable, there would be security problems, but a few things dotted about would be worth losing, I would have thought.’
Another click: ‘Now the fashion floor; more conventional, but again as you will see, a series of room sets, an office perhaps, a drawing room, a salon, a conservatory, with the appropriate clothes in each one. Of course again, there could be a problem with merchandise, but I think as a device, it could be made to work. And here, we have all the colour schemes brought together, the greeny blue, the pink, the white, so that the customer is aware of a coherent feel throughout the store.’
She paused. ‘That is as far as we have gone for now. We wanted to get your reaction. Perhaps we could discuss it over lunch.’
Phaedria walked over to the window, let the blind up; she saw first Julian’s face, surprised, almost awed, but soft with pleasure, then Freddy’s smiling at her fondly, and finally Roz, her face quite quite blank, her green eyes looking at her with a disturbing mixture of hatred and respect. And there was something else in those eyes, something that gave her more pleasure even than the respect. It was fear.