“Anthony. It’s all going to shit. His business is going down the pan. Our marriage is hitting the rocks because he’s stopped talking to me, and I worry his health is going to suffer. He looks so stressed and he’s terrible for bottling his problems up inside.” Her voice wobbled as if she wanted to cry but the public surroundings inhibited her. I regretted the location and wished for greater privacy.
I recollected conversation with my mother-in-law. “I know from Audrey things have been difficult—”
“Difficult!” She spat the word out. “We’re reaching the point of no return. Going bust. He won’t give me the details. Something to do with a critical supplier refusing to do business with him, squabbles over pricing models, and it has turned into a full-scale war. He claims he doesn’t have an alternative. At least not to the right specifications or whatever. I can’t tell if he’s boxed himself into a corner and his stupid pride is letting him down, or if there is a real intractable problem indicating the end is nigh for us. I mean his company. Though, to be honest it feels like us, too.”
She halted her rambling and intercepted a tear from her lashes with a flick of her finger.
I understood her distress but still couldn’t understand what I could do for her other than to provide a shoulder for her to cry on. “Oh, Gillian, I’m so sorry. This all sounds terrible. There has to be a solution to his supplier problem?”
“I can’t work it out. He always used to talk things through. This time he’s clammed up, and I’m an interfering busybody who knows jack shit about his company, even though I own shares!” A bloom of red filled her angry cheeks, and she stabbed the table with a finger. How many of their conversations ended with heated arguments and nothing resolved?
Jason forbade me to lose my temper with him. I could have a minimalist rant of discontent, but an all-out shouting match happened rarely. Defiance and counterproductive emotions were not for display, according to my rules. I cherished his advice and support to such an extent I seldom disagreed with his suggestions anyway, mostly…. I parked my opinion about his restrictions on social media usage and Saturday afternoons.
I poked at my food. “Dare I ask if Jason knows about any of this?”
I suspected this was the real reason she wanted to meet me: asking Jason to help them out of the crisis. The rest of the family knew the relationship between Jason and his nearest sibling to be awkward to the point of antagonistic. A mutually acknowledged personality clash left for years unaltered and undiscussed by either brother. The discovery of our kinky lifestyle had increased the distance between Jason and Anthony, although Gillian remained friendly and curious. She knew about my rape, and she had witnessed the nature of Jason’s hold over me. Anthony didn’t know, but Gillian did, that Jason was an innately caring man who kept the sentiment well concealed.
“Far as I’m aware, the only person Anthony has spoken to is Clive.” Gillian referred to our mutual father-in-law.
My mind flashed back to several weeks earlier—Clive’s unannounced visit to the White House and Jason’s dismissal of his conversation with his father as not for my ears. Jason probably knew something, assuming it had been the topic of their conversation.
I relayed my recollection to Gillian. She looked surprised, eyes widening, then her lips turned down. “Jason hasn’t contacted Anthony or done anything. He sits there in his ivory tower with all that money and does nothing!” She’d leant across the table, lowering her voice, but the anger remained in her tone.
I shifted back in my seat, creating distance. Gillian had attacked my husband’s integrity, and her ire made me uncomfortable—should I defend him? “Gillian, we don’t know what has been said. It’s speculation. I don’t think Jason would ever hold back from helping Anthony, but would Anthony accept his help whether financial or even advice? Be honest. Anthony would despise Jason for suggesting the idea.”
“A few months back, maybe, but things haven’t gotten so bad, I think he might consider help from any quarter. If I mention the kids, he looks like he’s going to break down. It’s heart-breaking to see. I love him including his faults, but he shouts at them every day and the tension in the house is unbearable.”
She extracted a tissue from her handbag, and I called for the bill. A restaurant wasn’t the place to handle the emotional outpouring.
“I can’t help. I don’t have the expertise or resources. We’ll go see Jason and bring him up to date. Let’s not beat about the bush any longer. If you want to shout for help, let’s do it properly.”
She nodded in agreement, and I fished out my mobile.
Carla didn’t answer and being lunchtime she had escaped her duties for a break. Her deputy, Melissa, kept Jason’s diary for the duration.
“Melissa, it’s Mrs Lucas. I need to see my husband. Is there a gap in his diary this afternoon?” I began with the cooperative approach.
“Oh, Mrs Lucas, let me see. Very busy today,” she muttered, clicking her mouse in the background. “There is half an hour at 3 p.m. when he’s not in a meeting. Unfortunately, it has been earmarked as untouchable. You know, nobody gets in the door. He’s probably making calls.”
I didn’t think he’d ignore me if I camped outside his door. “Well, I will be. Put me down then.”
“Mrs Lucas, I shouldn’t really—”
“You shouldn’t, but I can. So please let him know I will be there outside his door at 3 p.m. Politely, Melissa.”
>
I hung up before she could express any further resistance. Gillian scrunched her napkin into a ball in a display of apprehension. “Are you in trouble for this?”
“Oh, probably. Don’t worry. I can handle being in trouble. It has its fringe benefits.” Her cheeks turned crimson. Unfair of me to allude to our kinky ways, but I needed a moment of light relief.
I hadn’t realised until we pulled up outside the entrance Gillian had never been to Jason’s headquarters—a multi-storeyed building in the heart of the financial sector complete with glazed walls and logos adoring the outside. Her own husband’s manufacturing business consisted of a small-scale set-up, which made them a comfortable living: a decent-sized detached house, holidays abroad, new cars every few years, and the conveniences of a thoroughly modern family. It didn’t extend to oodles of spare cash or big investments stashed away for a rainy day. According to Gillian, they had wiped out their savings, their house was threatened with re-mortgaging and worse, the possible sell-off of the company.
Seeing the epicentre of Jason’s empire put Anthony’s business in the realms of small fry—a drop in the ocean and something Jason’s money could easily sticky tape together. However, Jason wouldn’t throw money at a problem without there being a long-lasting solution to Anthony’s difficult supplier.
We breezed past the security desk at reception and the, “Good afternoon, Mrs Lucas,” from the duty officer.
Gillian paused before the elevator door, gawping at the fine gilt trim and marble flooring. “Anthony has a secretary and a small office area in the corner of the building.” Inside the lift, we shot up to the top floor.