She picked up a bag and held it out to a guest as she walked past the table. ‘I need you to cover me,’ Hayley said to Angel, her smile fixed.
‘What d’you mean? Where are you going?’ Angel curtseyed at a lady in an orange ball gown. ‘Welcome to the McArthur Foundation Christmas fundraiser. I hope you enjoy the party bag?—’
‘Favours. Party favours,’ Hayley jumped in. She turned to Angel. ‘It’s not a party bag. Party bags are full of Haribos and cheap plastic crap mums feel they have to buy. There’s gift vouchers and jewellery in these. And that’s not the kind you can eat.’
‘Is there?’ Angel asked, her eyes dropping into the bag she was holding.
‘I need to call Oliver.’
‘Oh no you don’t. He told me you’re not allowed to call him because he’s busy with work.’
Her daughter had no idea about the severity of this situation.She should be handling it better. She checked her watch again. ‘It’s almost half-past seven.’
‘And he’s going to be here any minute.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because he made me a promise and if he doesn’t keep it, I have a lifetime’s free golden chicories on Rabbit Nation.’
Hayley palmed her face. ‘The suspense is killing me.’
‘I heard one of the waitresses say the menu from every corner of the world is killing the chef. You’re just going to have to be patient, Mum.’ Angel smiled at another guest. ‘Welcome to the McArthur Foundation Christmas fundraiser.’
Outside the Crystalline Hotel, Manhattan
This was, without any doubt, the hardest thing Oliver had ever done. His hands were shaking as he looked at the piece of paper in his hands. So much was going to change and it scared him.
The car stopped outside the Crystalline Hotel and he looked to the front doors, the two Christmas trees at the entrance lit up in platinum and turquoise. He checked his watch. It was edging towards nine. Everyone would have eaten, just like he planned. Before he said anything to his mother or Hayley, he wanted to address the room, like he should have done every year since Ben died.
The car door opened and the driver was there waiting for him to disembark. He should move now, get out, put one foot in front of the other through the snow. His legs were shaking so much, he didn’t know whether he was going to be able to do it. He needed to man up. Own this moment more than he’d ever owned anything before.
He stepped out onto the white sidewalk and slipped the piece of paper into his coat pocket.
61
THE MCARTHUR FOUNDATION FUNDRAISER – THE CRYSTALLINE HOTEL, MANHATTAN
‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you one and all for attending this year’s McArthur Foundation fundraiser. It’s a pleasure to see so many faces, previous attendees and newcomers, here tonight to enjoy this fabulous event and celebrate all the good work the foundation has undertaken this year,’ Cynthia said.
The crowd all clapped their hands again and Oliver could feel the sweat on his palms as he stood in the wings. He was more terrified about this than he’d been about his first full meeting with the board of Drummond Global. He’d thrown up in the men’s room before that encounter. That was another reason he hadn’t got here for the meal; he just wouldn’t have been able to stomach it.
‘It’s five years since we lost my eldest son, Ben, and there isn’t one day that passes where he’s not thought of. He left a huge dent in our family but tonight’s McArthur Foundation fundraiser isn’t about dwelling on our pain and suffering…’ Cynthia paused. ‘Our loss… It’s about coming to terms with their passing and celebrating the lives of our loved ones…’
A murmur grew from the audience and his mother stopped speaking. She looked to her left and saw him stepping out onto thestage. People in the audience started to clap their hands and he willed his legs to keep holding him up. There were tears in Cynthia’s eyes as he met her, leaning to kiss her cheek. So many questions were written in her expression. He couldn’t answer them yet. The applause died down and, as he pressed the piece of paper to the stand, Cynthia left. He was entirely on his own.
‘Good evening everyone. I’m Oliver Drummond, the CEO of Drummond Global.’ He paused. ‘Tonight, just Oliver.’ He put his hands to the lectern. ‘Firstly, I want to apologise for interrupting my mother just then. I think I scared her half to death… because I was the very last person she was expecting on stage tonight.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Because… since my mother asked me to speak at this event, I’ve been thinking of every excuse I can to get out of it.’
There were a few rumbles of discontent and a couple of laughs before he carried on.
‘For me, heading up a billion-dollar corporation and dealing with difficult international negotiations on a daily basis is a piece of cake compared to standing here in front of you good people and telling you what this foundation means to me.’
He took a breath, looking out into the audience. He needed to find Hayley. He wanted to know she was listening to this.
‘For a very long time, I despised this organisation and I hated what it stood for. Everyone connected with it was still grieving, wallowing in death and illness and making plans to die. I have to say that scared the crap out of me. Why would I want to tell everyone about my feelings? Why would I want to drag up memories of my brother when all it does is rip my heart out?’ He paused. ‘For so many years, I wanted to forget him. I wanted to forget his death, pretend it never happened, because it tainted everything. It crushed my mother, it practically killed my father and it turned me into some sort of control freak in an ivory towerso high, Rapunzel would have needed hair extensions to get out of it.’
There were chuckles of appreciation and he picked up the glass of water on the stand and put it to his lips. He recomposed himself and started again.
‘Until today, I’ve been living a careless, meaningless, cheap kind of a life where nothing mattered to me other than where the next buzz was coming from.’ He swallowed. ‘I was afraid to make any connection that mattered, on a personal level and on a professional level too. I’m ashamed to say that apart from my closest team, I didn’t know the names of anyone that worked for me. And, what was worse than that was, I didn’t care.’
