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made a couple of very shrewd observations. After all, they’ve been with us from the beginning; Cornelius appointed them, and he knew a good lawyer when he saw one.’
    ‘Ye-es,’ said Caro, ‘but with every respect, Mother, that was sixty years ago.’
    ‘Caro,’ said Athina, and there was clearly to be no more discussion on the subject, ‘Pemberton and Rushworth are not going to be a pushover.’
    ‘Good,’ said Caro. ‘Well, I just thought I should mention it.’
    ‘As you have,’ said Athina. ‘And now to this girl, Bianca Bailey. I have no idea what she will be like on closer acquaintance, but she clearly has a track record of sorts, and she knows the industry, I suppose – what she did with PDN was clever, although they’d better not think they can sell Farrell’s. And we have to retain our majority share. That’s non-negotiable.’
    ‘And neither can they mess about with it,’ Caro said sharply, ‘turn it into some cheapskate thing. And of course they mustn’t even think of selling The Shop. That’s the sort of thing they’re bound to want to economise on.’
    The Shop, as it was known throughout the company, was Farrell’s exclusive outlet in the nineteenth-century Berkeley Arcade just off Piccadilly. The arcade was a magnet for tourists, the shops exclusive purveyors (as they were still named) of jewellery, leather goods, bespoke shirts and other such delights. The Farrell shop was small and enchanting, with a glass-paned door and windows. It not only sold the Farrell range, but offered facials and was where Florence had her office. The lease had passed to Cornelius from his father and it was generally regarded as the company’s treasure. It did not make any money whatsoever.
    ‘They might begin to wonder,’ said Bertie mildly, picking up his fourth sandwich, ‘what they can do with Farrell’s. Surely we have to allow them some freedom? They’re here to sort the company out, not just pour money into it.’
    Athina and Caro stared at him.
    ‘Bertie, we are quite aware of that,’ said Athina, ‘but we have to set out our stall clearly from the outset. That’s the whole point. Otherwise they’ll be destroying everything that makes the House of Farrell what is is. And Bertie, I thought your doctor said you had to lose some weight?’
    ‘I do rather agree with Bertie,’ said Florence, reaching for a third sandwich of her own, as much to display support for Bertie as to satisfy her appetite which was greatly out of proportion to her tiny frame.
    ‘Well, I don’t,’ said Caro. ‘This is a huge opportunity for them. They wouldn’t be coming on board if they didn’t see that. They’re going to make a lot of money out of the Farrell brand. We own something very precious. We must not forget that.’
    ‘So precious the bank wants to pull the plug,’ said Bertie. ‘Porter Bingham are saving us from that. All I’m saying is, that’s the bottom line.’
    ‘It is,’ said Florence, ‘and Bertie is right. Which is not to say we shouldn’t put up a modest fight.’
    It was Bertie who had responded to Porter Bingham in the first place. He had received a letter addressed to him as the finance director. After introducing himself as a partner at Porter Bingham Private Equity, the writer, one Mike Russell, informed him that Farrell’s had caught his eye recently while doing some research on a similar business, and that he wondered if Mr Farrell might be interested in a meeting: Porter Bingham was currently investing a £367 million fund and was looking for high-growth investment opportunities where they could support management to accelerate the growth of their business.
    Since Farrell’s had no growth to accelerate, Bertie didn’t think Porter Bingham would be very interested in them as a proposition, but he mentioned it to his mother, who was dismissive.
    ‘I know all about these people. They come in, take over, and before you know where you are, the company isn’t yours any more.