A Woman of Substance Read Online Free PDF Page A

mist from the ceiling, and when they were open, as they were now, the room seemed to be part of the sky, as if it was suspended in space above the towering concrete monoliths of Manhattan.
    Emma smiled as she sat down at the desk, for Gaye’s handiwork was apparent. The long sweep of glass was neat and uncluttered, just the way she liked it, bare except for the telephones, the silver mug of pens, the yellow legal pad she favouredfor notes, and the practical metal extension lamp that flooded the desk with light. Her correspondence, interoffice memos, and a large number of telexes were arranged in respective files, while a number of telephone messages were clipped together next to the telephones. She took out her glasses and read the telephone messages and the telexes, making various notations on these, and then she buzzed for Gaye. The minute she entered the room Emma knew that her fears had not been unfounded. Gaye was haggard and she had dark smudges under her eyes and seemed to vibrate with tension. Gaye Sloane was a woman of about thirty-eight and she had been Emma’s executive secretary for six years although she had been in her actual employ for twelve years. She was a model of diligence and efficiency and was devoted to Emma, whom she not only admired but held in considerable affection. A tall well-built woman with an attractive appearance, she was always self-contained, usually in command of herself.
    But as she walked across the room Emma detected raw nerves barely controlled. They exchanged pleasantries and Gaye sat down in the chair opposite Emma’s desk, her pad in her hand.
    Emma sat back in her chair, consciously adopting a relaxed attitude in an effort to make Gaye feel as much at ease as possible. She glanced at her secretary kindly and asked quietly, ‘What’s wrong, Gaye?’
    Gaye hesitated momentarily and then said rather hurriedly, feigning surprise, ‘Why, nothing, Mrs Harte. Truly, I’m just tired. Jet lag, I think.’
    ‘Let’s forget about jet lag, Gaye. I believe you are extremely upset and have been since you arrived in New York. Now come along, my dear, tell me what’s bothering you. Is it something here or is there a problem with business in London?’
    ‘No. Of course not!’ Gaye exclaimed, but she paled slightly and looked away, avoiding Emma’s steady gaze.
    Emma leaned forward, her arms on the desk, her eyes glittering behind her glasses. She became increasingly conscious of the woman’s suppressed emotions and sensed that Gaye was troubled by something of the most extreme seriousness. As she continued to study her she thought Gaye seemed close to total collapse.
    ‘Are you ill, Gaye?’
    ‘No, Mrs Harte. I’m perfectly well, thank you.’
    ‘Is something in your personal life disturbing you?’ Emma now asked as patiently as she could, determined to get to the root of the problem.
    ‘No, Mrs Harte.’ Her voice was a whisper.
    Emma took off her glasses and gave Gaye a long, piercing look and said briskly, ‘Come, come, my dear! I know you too well. There is something weighing on your mind and I can’t understand why you won’t tell me about it. Have you made some sort of mistake and are afraid to explain? Surely not after all these years. Nobody is infallible and I’m not the ogre I’m supposed to be. You, of all people, should know that by now.’
    ‘Oh, I do, Mrs Harte…’ The girl broke off. Her voice was shaking and she was close to tears.
    The woman sitting opposite Gaye was composed and in absolute control of herself. She was no weakling, Gaye knew that only too well. She was tough and resilient, an indomitable woman who had achieved her phenomenal success because of her formidable character and her strength of will, plus her resourcefulness and brilliance in business. To Gaye, Emma Harte was as indestructible as the coldest steel that could not be twisted or broken. But I am about to break her now, she thought, panic taking hold of her again.
    Emma had seen,