What Women Want, Women of a Dangerous Age: 2-Book Collection. Fanny Blake

were off and pieces of paper flapped as people fanned themselves. Voices rose as speculation mounted. Could Rockfast have sold off the Coldharbour imprint? Surely someone would have heard. Perhaps Rockfast was going under. No, there’d have been word about that too. Perhaps they’d acquired another imprint. Bea stood quietly, as mystified as everyone else, batting away questions as if she knew what was going on but couldn’t possibly say while feeling cross that she was the only director in the room excluded from whatever it was.

      Eventually Piers and Stephen came in, followed by the financial, sales, marketing, art and publicity directors, all of them looking particularly serious. Bea caught Stephen’s eye as he mouthed, ‘Sorry.’ At that moment, loud alarm bells began to ring in her head, but she still didn’t know why. How come Bea was the only one to have gone out that lunchtime? Piers stood. He was the only man in the room wearing a suit, rather a natty Armani, Bea noted, but he still maintained his cucumber cool in the heat. His peachy tie was set off by a lightly striped blue shirt while his dark hair was fashionably short, slicked up and back with just the right amount of gel. Quite the image of an executive who had reached the top and was going to stay there, Bea reflected, as Piers directed a taut smile at the assembled team before beginning to speak. He kept it brief, to the point.

      ‘As you all know, Coldharbour Press has been in trouble for a while. Despite adjustments to the publishing programme, the turnover has fallen again. The board has decided more drastic action is necessary. As a result, I have both good news and bad for you. The good is that Adam Palmer from Pennant Publishing is starting on Monday as the new MD.’ The bombshell dropped. The few who knew of Adam Palmer and his reputation for ruthlessness looked stunned – Bea among them. All heads turned to Stephen, who stood with his eyes fixed firmly on his old brown suede shoes unable to look at his staff. ‘Stephen will be taking early retirement as of August the thirty-first when he has completed the handover to Adam.’ There was a collective gasp. That was less than a month away. Bea couldn’t believe her ears. Stephen had never suggested this might happen. But Piers hadn’t finished.

      ‘We have also come to an agreement that Louis, your sales director, will be leaving while Sam Spooner will be promoted from his position as sales manager with immediate effect.’

      Sam Spooner! He was barely out of nappies. The back-stabbing little toe-rag, thought Bea.

      ‘Obviously this means that there will be a number of changes to get used to over the coming weeks but I know we can rely on you all to do your best to accommodate them. The Rockfast board is convinced that they will be crucial if we’re to turn the company around to perform in the way it should. All I can add is that, apart from replacing Stephen and Louis, whom I would like to thank for all they’ve done for the company, no other changes are envisaged at this time. Thank you. Have a good weekend.’ He left the room followed by the directors, with Bea on their tail.

      Stunned, the staff left the room in silence, a few holding back tears. Only a few of them knew or cared much about Adam Palmer at that moment. What they cared about was that the close team that had worked together over the last few years was changing. If the results hadn’t been everything they might have been, wasn’t that because of market forces, rather than specific individuals who had worked so hard for the company? Change was always unsettling but the more so when it was announced as unexpectedly as this. As the staff filtered back to their desks, they began to talk again, wondering what on earth could have happened to prompt this and why the change had been handled in this way.

      Bea went back to her office, fending off questions by inventing an urgent call she had to make. She needed a few moments on her own to think. She shut the door, feeling hurt and confused by the announcement. What did it really mean? What were the implications for her, as one of Stephen’s appointments? She thought she did a good job as publishing director although, if she were honest, perhaps not quite as good a job as she once had. She was uncomfortably aware that recently she hadn’t been responsible for as many sure-fire successes as in earlier days.

      She picked up her phone and dialled Stephen. No reply. Had he left the building on Piers’s coat-tails? That would be so like him. He always kept a strictly professional distance from his colleagues and would never stop and gossip. That was one of the things everyone respected him for. He knew every member of staff by name and would help or advise any of them at any time, but when the clock struck six, he shut the door on his office and went home. His professional and private lives were kept entirely separate. She tried his mobile. No reply.

      She saw Stuart coming towards her office and swiftly picked up the phone again. When he popped his head round the door to invite her to come to the pub for a post-mortem, she signalled she was mid-conversation. ‘Hang on a minute,’ she said to the dialling tone. ‘I’ve got quite a lot to do, Stu, so I think I’ll finish up here first. If you’re still there when I leave, I’ll join you then.’

      It was true. She had got a lot to do but she knew that there wasn’t a cat’s chance in hell of her doing it now. But she wanted to talk to Stephen if only she could find him. Once she could see the main office was deserted, she went along to his office on the off-chance and knocked quietly on the door.

      ‘Who is it?’ He sounded exhausted.

      ‘Stephen, it’s me, Bea.’ She pushed open the door to see him sitting with his head in his hands, alone at the round table where he held meetings.

      ‘I’m so sorry, Bea.’ He looked up and Bea could see he was as tired as he sounded. She hated to think it, but suddenly he looked old.

      ‘But what happened?’ She went over to sit with him.

      ‘I wanted to tell you but Piers acted so fast, there was no time. He and the other Rockfast directors have obviously been planning something like this for ages and then Adam suddenly stepped into the frame. Piers knew I was ready to go, and as for Louis – a casualty of war, I’m afraid.’ He ran his hand through his thinning grey hair. ‘Piers warned me on Monday that they were talking to Adam but I didn’t take him seriously. Then he turned up here today and told me the plan. He’d even spoken to Sam and Louis during the week without mentioning it to me, swearing them to silence. I was just the last nail they needed to hammer in. Big pay-off. I couldn’t say no.’ Bea could see how shocked he was by the way his career had ended so abruptly and, more importantly, out of his control. Deciding to quit when it suited you was one thing. Being sacked according to someone else’s agenda was quite different.

      ‘What do you think is going to happen? Is it going to be the long night of the P45s?’ Bea moved over to the desk where she knew Stephen kept some whisky for emergencies in one of the drawers. Pulling the top one open, she took out the bottle and poured them both a large one. She sat down again.

      ‘Well, I’m going to have to play the game and show Adam the ropes but . . . honestly? Adam is bound to have his own ideas about how to run the place. I don’t think the changes will end here.’

      A penny half dropped. ‘Me?’ Bea felt a rush of anxiety.

      ‘Maybe. But don’t spend the weekend worrying. We’ll just have to see what happens next week.’ He downed his whisky in one gulp. ‘Bea, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to get off. I’ve got a lot of things to talk about at home.’

      ‘Of course. I’ve got to get back too.’ Bea left Stephen as he took his old blue cord jacket from the back of his chair and picked up his battered leather book-bag.

      ‘Call me if you want to talk about anything over the weekend.’

      ‘Of course. Thanks.’

      Back in her office, she sat thinking. Don’t spend the weekend worrying. How could she not, for God’s sake? On the other hand, nothing she could do would affect what happened next week, so best just to follow Stephen’s example and go home. She didn’t feel like joining the others at the pub although, by the time she got home, Ben would probably be on his way out for the night. That would give her time to think more carefully about her conversation with Stephen. On the verge of shutting down her computer, she registered the flashing icon that alerted her to new emails. Of course. She opened her mailbox. Before she went, there were two she wanted to check. First