Still Ms Walcott, Helen noted. So, perhaps she hadn’t married. It didn’t surprise her. Letitia had always lived for her work.
The secretary ran her eyes over Helen’s outfit and curled her lips in barely disguised contempt. Sticking her chin out, Helen was tempted to reveal her family connection, if only to wipe that look off the face of the snooty bitch, but decided not to. Perhaps the secretary already knew.
Oh, who cares, she thought impatiently. ‘I have an appointment at ten,’ she said instead.
‘You’re a little early.’
‘Isn’t that better than being late?’
‘I suppose so.’ The secretary sniffed and rose, then knocked on one of the doors.
The workman winked at Helen and left them.
‘I’ll just see if Ms Walcott is free,’ said the secretary.
‘I hope so because I’ve arranged to see her today.’
‘Maybe, but we have to leave room for emergencies. Ms Walcott is very busy.’
‘I bet,’ Helen muttered. Busy oiling the wheels of the family company and scheming behind her own mother’s back, if Aggie was to be believed. But that wasn’t Helen’s problem.
The secretary stepped into Letitia’s office and Helen followed, refusing to wait. Immediately she took in the sumptuously furnished room: gleaming oak desk, tall windows hung with designer curtains, Art Deco lamps, works of art in heavy gilded frames.
Letitia was on the phone, and Helen shuddered at the sound of her husky laugh. There was something about her laughter which had always made Helen feel she was the butt of the joke, but Letitia’s smile was genuine when she hung up and asked the secretary to leave them.
‘But, Ms Walcott …’ the secretary protested, holding out her notepad.
Letitia waved her hand. ‘There’ll be no need for note-taking. You may go.’
The secretary retreated reluctantly, and Letitia came forward to meet Helen, putting her strong, almost masculine hands on Helen’s shoulders and kissing her on both cheeks.
‘Helen, my dear niece. You have been away for far too long.’
In stark contrast to her sister, Letitia was slim, almost bony, with rich chestnut hair in an expensive cut, a hooked nose and an angular face, which wasn’t exactly handsome, but striking nonetheless, its lack of prettiness part of the charm. Her posture was effortless but at the same time commanding. She wore a peacock-blue Thai silk dress under a cream jacket with gold buttons, and matching blue heels.
The ‘dear niece’ bit flummoxed her because they had never had that sort of relationship. ‘Hi, Letitia.’
Her aunt stepped back so she could take a proper look at her. ‘You look very … mm, tanned. The epitome of good health, I’d say.’
But I’m not, Helen wanted to say. I have epilepsy and take drugs.
‘Thank you.’
‘Come, let’s talk.’ Letitia indicated an armchair in front of her desk, then sat down in her own executive desk chair. ‘So, are you back for good now? Mother said you wanted to work with us. I’m happy to find something for you to do if you’re prepared to muck in.’
Helen grimaced. So like Aggie to jump the gun. ‘I don’t mind hard work, but just so you know, I didn’t come home expecting special favours.’
‘I understand,’ said Letitia briskly. ‘We haven’t exactly been the most loving of families, have we? I expect you’ve felt rather abandoned over the years.’
This was the closest thing to an apology Helen had ever had for her family’s deception. Although she welcomed the acknowledgement from her formidable step-aunt, it didn’t have the impact she’d hoped for. All these years of bearing a grudge – when someone finally said sorry, it was almost as if they got let off too lightly.
‘I suppose.’
Letitia smiled. ‘I’m not completely heartless.’
‘I never said that.’
‘We didn’t do the right thing by you. I’ll be the first to admit that. But Mother thought it would be best for you if you grew up away from us. Didn’t think it was the right environment for you. She may have had a point.’
‘It still bloody stung,’ said Helen. ‘Learning to forget about you all, and then suddenly you expected me to come back and be part of a family.’
Letitia nodded. ‘I appreciate that. But let’s move on, shall we?’
Helen shrugged.
‘So, er, how have you been? Any significant other?’
‘I don’t have a boyfriend, no.’
‘Mm, understandable with your condition, I should think, but still …’
What do you know of my condition? Helen thought sourly. ‘No one wants the responsibility,’ she said.