This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles 7)

“That was a foolish threat to make in front of so many witnesses,” said Seb, “especially as one of them is a QC, who you will observe is writing down your every word.”

Sorkin stared at Arnold Hardcastle, and fell silent.

“Frankly, I think it’s time for you, like your hero Napoleon, to beat a hasty retreat.”

The two men continued to stare at each other, until Sorkin threw the contract onto the table, picked up the banker’s order, and was about t

o leave the room when Kelly stepped forward once again and said, “Before you go, Mr. Sorkin, can I ask how much you would be willing to offer for my fifty-one percent of Mellor Travel?”

Everyone turned to face the new head of the company, and Sebastian couldn’t hide his surprise. This wasn’t part of their well-rehearsed script. She was staring directly at Sorkin, waiting for his reply.

“I would be willing to pay three million pounds for your shares,” said Sorkin calmly, aware that he could still make a handsome profit now that Knowles wouldn’t be getting his million.

Kelly appeared to consider his proposition before finally saying, “I’m grateful for the offer, Mr. Sorkin, but on balance, I think I’d prefer to deal with Farthings Kaufman.”

Sebastian smiled at Kelly and breathed a sigh of relief.

“And as you’ll have to be outside territorial waters before midnight, Mr. Sorkin, I won’t detain you any longer.”

“Bitch,” said Sorkin as he passed her on the way out of the boardroom.

Kelly’s smile revealed that she was flattered by the insult.

Knowles waited until Sorkin had slammed the door behind him before saying, “We were just about to take a vote, Miss Mellor. So can I ask the company secretary to—”

“That will no longer be necessary,” said Kelly, picking up the agreement Sorkin had left on the table. “As I am now the majority shareholder, it is I who will decide the company’s future.”

Word perfect, thought Sebastian. Couldn’t have put it better myself.

“My first decision as the new owner is to fire you, Mr. Knowles, along with the rest of the board. I suggest you all leave immediately.”

Seb couldn’t resist a smile as Knowles and the rest of the board gathered up their papers and quietly left the room.

“Well done,” he said, when the last board member had departed.

“Thank you, Mr. Clifton,” said Kelly. “And allow me to say how much I appreciate all you and your team at Farthings Kaufman have done to make this possible.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’m bound to ask,” she continued, “as Mr. Sorkin was willing to offer me three million for my shares, can I assume that Thomas Cook will match that price?”

She’d turned another page of the script Seb hadn’t read. Before he could respond, Ray Brook chuckled, and said, “You’ve got yourself a deal, young lady.”

“Thank you,” said Kelly, who turned to the bank’s lawyer and added, “I’ll leave you to draw up the paperwork, Mr. Hardcastle, and do let me know the moment you receive the three million.”

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” said the chairman of Cook’s, unable to resist a grin. The three men left the boardroom, closing the door behind them.

Kelly sat down at the head of the table for a few moments before she picked up the phone in front of her and dialed a number she had called every evening for the past two weeks.

As soon as she heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line, she said, “It all went to plan, Virginia.”

LADY VIRGINIA FENWICK

1981–1982

21

“I DON’T KNOW HOW to begin to thank you,” said Kelly. “If you hadn’t written to warn me that Mr. Clifton was on his way, I would never have known he was no friend of my father’s.”