Her hands came to rest on the fashion folder at last. This held information and details of the fashion exhibition which Paula planned to hold at the London store next spring. Maddy had convinced her to bring it over to New York in the late summer of 1982. Having agreed, Paula had then suggested she try to expand the exhibit, by adding clothes borrowed from American women who had either been on the best dressed list at some time or other, or who owned a garment by a top couturier, whether living or dead. And this she had done—with great success.
The nucleus of the couture exhibition were clothes which had once belonged to Emma Harte, and which she had kept in good condition for years before her death. Paula had carefully preserved these clothes again, after they had been in the Fashion Fantasia exhibition at the London store some ten or eleven years ago.
Emma’s clothing in the show dated as far back as the early twenties, and included a Paquin evening coat of brown velvet trimmed with a huge fox collar, a short evening dress with a big bow on the back, designed in 1926 by Poiret, and a blue-and-green beaded evening gown by Vionnet. This was apparently in extraordinary condition, and looked stunning in the photograph the London marketing department had sent over; it seemed hardly dated at all to Madelana.
Sifting through the other drawings and photographs, she pored over Emma’s Chanel suits from the twenties, a huge collection of her hats by French and English couturiers, outfits by Lanvin, Balmain and Balenciaga, two Fortuny pleated silk evening gowns, evening pyjamas by Molyneux, and an exquisitely-cut coat by Pauline Trigère, designed in the fifties but as chic now as it had been then. There were other modern outfits by Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Bill Blass and Hardy Amies.
Maddy began to make her notes, creating the exact order in which she wanted the drawings and photographs to appear in the catalogue. She had already put this into work with the art department, and they were pressuring her for these illustrations.
One of Maddy’s favourites was a charmeuse evening dress by Mainbocher, which according to Paula her grandfather Paul McGill had bought for Emma in New York in 1935. It was trimmed with clustered silk flowers stitched as epaulets on the shoulders, and worn with a matching muff made of the same clustered silk flowers.
Picking up a photograph of Emma wearing the dress, Madelana studied it for a moment. God, what a beautiful woman she was, she murmured to herself, and decided to lead off with this particular picture.
After she had finished with the fashion exhibit file, she dealt with the information required for the Fragrance Month, and then tackled the Art Deco show, leaving the final details of the jewellery exhibit until last. She worked relentlessly for another hour and a half, making sure there could be no mistakes whatsoever while she was in Australia.
At two in the morning she stood in her little kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil for a cup of instant coffee. And as she carried this back into the living room a moment later, she braced herself for another hour of work at least.
Well, Maddy thought, seating herself at the desk, if Emma Harte could work around the clock, then so can I. After all, she has been my inspiration and my idol for years, and I want to emulate her in every way I possibly can.
Chapter 12
‘How did you manage to complete everything?’ Paula asked, eyeing the files on her desk which she had just read, then glancing across at Madelana.
‘I stayed up until three-thirty this morning.’
‘Oh Maddy, you didn’t have to do that. We could have finished the files together on the plane, and telexed our final instructions from Australia.’ As Paula spoke, she could not help feeling slightly relieved that they would not have to do this.
‘But it’s better this way, isn’t it, Paula?’ Madelana asked swiftly. ‘We’ll have free minds, and we’ll be able to concentrate that much more keenly on the boutiques with this stuff out of the way.’
‘That’s perfectly true,’ Paula agreed. ‘And I must say, your hard work, what you’ve accomplished, is very commendable.’ Paula’s violet eyes narrowed and she studied the other woman closely, then began to laugh. ‘And what’s even more remarkable is that burning the midnight oil doesn’t show on your face.’
‘Doesn’t it?’ Madelana laughed with her boss, whom she not only admired and respected, but genuinely cared for. ‘Thank you, it’s nice of you to say so.’
Paula tapped the folders. ‘I like the way you’ve managed to tie in so many different products and merchandise. By pulling everything together in the way you have, you’ve also strengthened my theme considerably. To be truthful, when I came up with the idea of calling our sixtieth celebration From The Jazz Age To The Space Age, I wondered if I was making it far too broad to be effective. But you’ve helped to prove yet again that I wasn’t, and frankly you’ve even gone a step further than Marketing has in London. That’s what has been so exciting for me this last hour as I’ve read your memos.’
Paula was a firm believer in giving credit where it was due, and now she added, ‘Congratulations. Some of the things you’ve thought of are quite brilliant, and your ideas are most innovative. I’m delighted with your efforts.’
Madelana filled with satisfaction and her face was wreathed in smiles. ‘Thanks, Paula, but don’t let’s forget that your theme was clever, and very challenging. And everything was already there really, just waiting to be pulled out of the reference books and the research files.’
‘Not to mention your clever little head!’ Paula exclaimed. She picked up the folder marked FRAGRANCE PROMOTION and opened it, took out the top sheet.
After glancing at the paper again, she said, ‘Some of this stuff’s really fascinating. For instance, I never knew that Chanel actually considered the number five to be her lucky number, and that that was the reason she called her first perfume Chanel No. 5. Nor was I aware that Jean Patou created Joy in 1931, and that Jeanne Lanvin brought out Arpège in 1927. Here we have three of the world’s greatest perfumes, which are still enormously popular today, and they are actually fifty years old.’
‘Quality always lasts, doesn’t it,’ Madelana said. ‘And I thought some of those odd little items were kind of interesting, too. Perhaps we can use them somewhere in our promotional material, or in our advertisements.’
‘Absolutely. That’s a terrific idea. And you might tell the art department to make up display cards featuring a few of the items, for the counters in Perfumery.’
‘Okay. Talking about displays, could you spare me a minute, please? I’d like you to see a piece of artwork which I had created, hopefully for use here in the store. If you approve.’
‘Let’s go and look at it then.’ Paula jumped up, followed Madelana into the adjoining office.
An easel had been placed in one corner, near the window which looked out onto Fifth Avenue. Madelana picked up a large display card and put it on the easel. She said, ‘I’d like to use this on silk banners throughout the store, and if I could get a yea or a nay from you now, I’d appreciate it. The banners have to be ordered today, at the latest on Monday, if they’re going to be ready for the commencement of the celebrations in December.’
‘I understand. So come on, let’s see it.’
Madelana flipped the tracing paper that protected the hardboard card, and then stepped aside.
Paula stood staring at the bold lettering, which read: FROM THE JAZZ AGE TO THE SPACE AGE: 1921 TO 1981.
Underneath the giant-sized slogan was a smaller subheading, and this said: SIXTY YEARS OF STYLE AND ELEGANCE AT HARTE’S
Paula continued to study it.
This was her slogan, the words she had written down over a year ago, when she had first started to plan the anniversary celebrations and special events. The only thing which made this suggested banner different to the ones created by the marketing department in London was a portrait of Emma Harte etched in shadowy form behind the lettering.
Paula said nothing. Her eyes grew thoughtful.
Watching her intently, and anxiously, waiting for
her reaction, Madelana held her breath. When Paula remained silent, she said worriedly, ‘You don’t like it, do you?’
‘I’m not sure, to be honest,’ Paula murmured, then hesitated. She moved around the office, looking at the board from different angles. ‘Yes… yes… I think I do,’ she finally said, her voice more positive. ‘But I wouldn’t want to use my grandmother’s image on every banner in the store. I think that would be in poor taste, and overkill, really. And I certainly don’t want to go over the top. But the more I look at this, I think we could use it, in a limited way… in some of the big halls in the London and Paris stores, and on the first floor here. Oh, and in the Leeds store, too! That’s a must, I suppose, since that’s where it all began.’
‘Are you really sure? You still sound a bit uncertain.’
‘No, I’m positive. You can order the banners, and why don’t you get enough for the other stores. We might as well have them made in New York. They can be shipped out air express to London and Paris when they’re ready.’
‘Good idea. And I’m glad you approve of the things we’ve done. Everyone’s going to be thrilled that you’re so pleased, and that we can now go forward with these plans.’
Paula half-smiled. ‘Well, I suppose that’s about it, as far as the special events are concerned. Come back to my office for a moment, though, would you, Madelana, there’s something I wish to discuss with you.’
‘Yes,’ Maddy said, hurrying after her, wondering what this was all about. All of a sudden there had been an anxious note in Paula’s voice, which was unusual for her, and therefore disconcerting.
***
Paula walked around her desk and sat down.
Madelana took the chair facing her, perched on the edge, and looked across at her boss, asking herself if trouble was brewing.
Paula sat back, steepled her fingers, and contemplated the tips of them for a moment. Then she said, ‘I want to take you into my confidence about something, Madelana, but I must stress that it is confidential. I haven’t mentioned it to Shane or Emily yet, although actually that’s really because I haven’t had the right opportunity. However, since you work so closely with me, I thought you should know immediately.’
‘You have my confidentiality, Paula. I’d never divulge anything you told me, or discuss your business with anyone. That’s not my way.’
‘I’m aware of that, Madelana.’
Paula sat back, her eyes serious. She said carefully, ‘I’ve had several phone calls from a Harvey Rawson during the past few days, which I’m sure you know, since you put a couple of those calls through to me.’
Madelana nodded.
Paula continued, ‘He’s a lawyer with a Wall Street firm, and a friend of Michael Kallinski’s. He’s been doing some work for me. Private work.’
‘You don’t have a legal problem, do you?’
‘No, no, Maddy. For a long time I’ve wanted to go into an expansion programme in the United States… I’ve wanted to take Harte stores right across the country, and I’ve been looking for an existing chain to buy, with that purpose in mind. Michael’s known about this, and he put the word out some time ago, without mentioning my name, of course. Last week he heard about a small suburban chain through Harvey Rawson. Before I left for New York, I spoke to Michael, and told him he could tell Harvey I was the one interested in the chain and to get in touch with me directly.’
‘So Harvey Rawson’s actually representing you in the buy out,’ Madelana asserted, sitting up straighter in the chair, pinning her eyes on her boss.
‘It’s not a buy out yet. But yes, he is representing me, in as much as he’s approaching the chain, but without saying I’m the interested party.’
‘Yes, I understand. That would jack up the price, and then some, if they knew it was you. But I think this is a wonderful move you’re making, Paula, and very visionary.’ Madelana’s excitement was reflected on her face and she leaned forward with eagerness. ‘What’s the name of the chain? Where are the stores located?’
‘The chain is called Peale and Doone, and there are seven stores altogether, in Illinois and Ohio,’ Paula explained. ‘This is not the type of chain I was originally looking for—I’d prefer my stores to be in big cities like Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco and Boston. Still, Peale and Doone would be a beginning, a step in the right direction.’
‘Are they a public company?’
‘No, private. And next week Harvey will ascertain whether or not the stockholders are interested in selling, and then we’ll take it from there. He’ll be in touch with me, and with Michael, and they both have the Australian itinerary, at least the part of it that’s planned,’ she finished, sitting back in her chair.
Standing up, recognizing that Paula had just brought this conversation to a close, Madelana said, ‘Thanks for telling me about your plans, Paula, for sharing with me. I’m flattered, and I’m looking forward to working with you on the expansion programme.’
‘Good. I hoped you would be. I want you to be very involved with me in this, Maddy.’ Paula also stood. Lifting the stack of files off her desk, she brought them to Madelana.
Together the two women walked across the room, paused at the door to Madelana’s office, turned to face each other.
Paula remarked, ‘You seem to be finished, so there’s no reason for you to come back after lunch, if you don’t want to. I don’t need you for the rest of the day, and I’m sure you’ve plenty to do between now and tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh thank you, that’s nice of you, Paula, but I’m sure I’ll be back, and anyway, I want to pick up a couple of track suits in Active Sportswear. Didn’t you say that was the only way to fly? To Australia, I mean.’
Paula laughed. ‘It is, and I’m afraid the suit is not very elegant, but it is very practical. And don’t forget your Reeboks or a pair of tennis shoes. Los Angeles-Sydney is around thirteen to fourteen hours’ flying time, depending on the winds, and every part of the body seems to swell up. Not only that, I find that I sleep much better and more comfortably when I’m dressed in a track suit.’
‘Then I’ll be sure to get myself properly outfitted after I’ve had lunch with Jack—’ Madelana broke off, and her face instantly changed, grew taut with anxiety.
Paula did not miss this. She frowned, asked softly, in concern, ‘Is something wrong?’
Maddy shook her head. ‘Not really,’ she began and again stopped abruptly. There was a closeness between Paula and herself, and they had always been open and forthright with each other. ‘I shouldn’t say that, Paula, because it’s not true. Things are pretty lousy between Jack and me, and I’m going to break off with him. I want to get it out of the way before I leave. That’s why I’m having lunch with him.’
‘I am sorry,’ Paula murmured, giving her a small, sympathetic smile, touching her arm lightly. ‘I thought everything was working well between the two of you. At least that’s the impression you gave, the last time we spoke about him when you were in London.’
‘It was then, and he’s a nice guy in many ways. But there’s such a lot of conflict between us. I think he resents me these days, and resents my career.’ Madelana shook her head. ‘There’s no future in it as far as I can see.’
Paula was silent, remembering words of Emma’s, words uttered at a time when she had been where Madelana was today. She said quietly, ‘Many years ago, when I was having great difficulties in my first marriage, my grandmother gave me a bit of advice that I’ve never forgotten. She said, “If something’s not working, then don’t be afraid to end it whilst you’re still young enough to start again, to find happiness with someone else.” Grandy was a very wise woman. And I can only reiterate those words of hers to you, Maddy, and add that you must trust your own instincts. From what I know of you, they’ve never let you down yet.’
Paula paused, gave her a quick, penetrating look, went on, ‘Personally, I think you’re about to do the right thing. The best thing for you.’
‘I know I am. And thanks
for caring, Paula. I’ll break up with Jack today, make it clean and swift. And then I want to concentrate on my career.’
Chapter 13
It rose up against the azure sky like some great monolith, an immense, unyielding structure of black glass and steel. It was a statement of wealth and privilege, prestige and power, and a glittering monument to the founding fathers of a gargantuan business empire.
The McGill Tower was its name, and it dominated the skyline of Sydney.
The man who had conceived this extraordinary and quite beautiful edifice, and caused it to be built, occupied the tower in the manner of a great magnate from a time long past, completely in control, overseeing and operating all that he owned from this stylish, modern command post, and doing so with a shrewdness, wisdom and fairness that went far beyond his years.
The black glass tower was his true domain.
He worked there from early morning until late at night, and during the business week he frequently lived there. His executive offices and his penthouse flat were situated one above the other, and occupied the entire two top floors of the building.
Late on this Monday afternoon, the man stood with his back to the immense sweep of plate glass which formed the window-wall at one end of his private office, and which offered a panoramic view of Sydney Harbour and the city. With his head tilted to one side, his eyes narrowed in concentration, he was listening attentively to his visitor, a young American businessman.
Always the most handsome of Emma Harte’s grandsons, at thirty-five Philip McGill Amory was in his prime and at his full power. He had magnetism and a mystique in international business circles, and with the press and to many people he was something of an enigma. Like his mother and his sister, he had inherited Paul McGill’s colouring. His hair was the same glossy black and his eyes were that uncanny blue which was almost violet, and he possessed the vitality and virile looks and height which had made his grandfather such an arresting man.