Helen couldn’t believe her own eyes. Hard-hearted Aggie had softened, in every sense of the word.
There was a knock on the door, and at Aggie’s curt ‘enter’ the nurse came in with a tray of tea things. Aggie went uncharacteristically quiet, which puzzled Helen because her grandmother had never moderated her behaviour in the presence of servants. It was almost as if she expected Mrs Sanders to eavesdrop.
‘Would you pour, please?’ Aggie asked when the nurse had left.
‘Sure.’
Helen filled the delicate bone china cups with fragrant Earl Grey tea and cut two slices of the cake. While Aggie continued talking about the history of the company and singing the praises of a grandfather she had never met, Helen wolfed down her cake and helped herself to another slice without asking permission, a gesture Aggie chose to ignore.
‘Before William passed away,’ Aggie droned on, ‘we agreed that when the company eventually floated, sixty-three per cent of the shares would remain with the family and each of our children would have a stake in it, as well as myself. Your mother died, so her shares went to you, and you now effectively control fifteen per cent of the company.’
‘I do?’
‘Yes, dear. As of your twenty-fifth birthday you’ve become quite a wealthy young lady. The company is performing well, and the annual dividends to the shareholders are … well, let’s say very generous.’
‘How generous?’
‘Our annual turnover is about fifteen million.’ Aggie sipped her tea. ‘Out of that the company’s net profit is five to ten per cent, depending on performance, so a good year would yield, say, one and a half million. Fifteen per cent of that is … well, you work it out. You’ll need to see Sweetman about all that.’ She waved her hand dismissively as if it was unimportant.
Helen’s brain kicked into gear. Two hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds. Stunned, she sat back in her chair. She’d never imagined she would come into money, and without lifting a finger too. For years the loss of her mother had eaten away at her so sometimes it was the only thing she could think of. She’d known Aggie was wealthy, but had seen the monthly allowance as Aggie’s way of paying for her bad conscience. Compared to what she would have at her disposal now, the allowance had literally been a pittance.
Still, she was convinced Aggie hadn’t lured her back to England to talk about her inheritance. She could have written a letter, saving Sweetman the trouble and herself the unpleasantness of facing Helen’s anger. Because it was still there.
‘Is that really why you sent for me?’
‘Certainly not. I wanted you back here so you could take your place on the board of Ransome & Daughters. I’m getting a little old for that sort of thing.’
‘But I’m not interested in sitting on the board. I don’t know anything about the running of a business. What if I make a mistake?’
Aggie made a dismissive gesture. ‘Oh, you won’t. You’re a bright girl, and Letitia is there to advise you. She’s practically been in charge single-handedly for the past five years now. I’m only there for important meetings, and Ruth’s more or less dropped out. Letitia is good at what she does. She’ll fix you up with something.’
‘Fix me up?’ Helen grimaced.
‘With a job, so you can learn the trade. That’s what your mother did.’
Aggie rarely mentioned her mother. and the snarky remark died in Helen’s throat.
A smile creased the corners of Aggie’s piggy eyes. ‘Mimi was quite a woman. She persevered and worked her way up. If she wanted something, she found a way to get it, through her own application. She had integrity,’ Aggie added when she noticed Helen bristling. ‘You may not believe this, my dear, but I truly admired her. She was a fighter.’
Like me, thought Helen. Or am I?
She only had hazy memories of worshipping her mother as a child, and although she hardly remembered her now, Aggie’s unexpected praise warmed her. Some of the tightness in her chest lifted, and for the first time her grandmother seemed almost human, fallible even. Maybe she was a fighter too, even though she hadn’t fought for Helen when it really mattered.
‘Ruth and Letitia won’t have anything good to say about my mother,’ she commented, not quite won over. ‘They couldn’t stand each other.’
Aggie grunted. ‘Certainly there were ructions between the girls. Letitia adored her late father and didn’t want me to marry William, so she resented the set-up. It didn’t help that your mother was so pretty. As are you, if you would only make the best of yourself.’ Her gaze fell on Helen’s scruffy clothes.