B004D4Y20I EBOK by Lulu Taylor

product costs, sales, marketing spend and a market analysis. And if you haven’t got this to hand, I’ll want a comprehensive overview of the entire company sent to me by tomorrow lunchtime at the latest. Understand?’
    The men nodded. They seemed subdued by Tara’s businesslike tone.
    ‘Good. Then let’s get started.’

8
    ‘WHERE ARE WE going to go?’ Poppy pulled her cardigan about her more tightly against the cool spring wind gusting down the Mayfair street. The three sisters stood on the pavement outside Trevellyan House.
    ‘Back to my place,’ Jemima said. ‘It’s closest. We can hail a cab.’
    ‘Oh, blast.’ Tara was examining her BlackBerry. ‘I’ve been emailed and called about a million times by Roz. I need to get back to the office.’
    Jemima said crossly, ‘No, Tara. You can’t just leave us. We have to deal with this, and we have to deal with it now. Didn’t you hear what they said to us in there? This is serious!’
    Tara stared at her sister, frustrated. ‘I know the most pressing thing in your life is whether or not you’ve made it to the top of the waiting list for another Birkin bag, but some of us actually work for a living and I have responsibilities elsewhere. I have to go. Anyway, I don’t know what the hell we have to talk about until they get me that company information. Without that, we’ll just be flailing about in the dark.’
    ‘I can think of a few choice things we could mull over,’ replied Jemima tartly. She shot Tara a look as if to warn her not to start pulling rank. Tara might be the oldest but Jemima had always been the natural leader. Biting remarks and sarcasm came naturally to her, and she readily used her wit and sharp tongue to put her sisters in their place. If Tara had academic brilliance and Poppy had artistic skill, then Jemima had decided she would turn herself into a beauty. But she was no airhead. She wanted to be the only kind of beauty who counted: a gorgeous girl with a bright mind. She might not be the most educated of the sisters, but there was no way she lagged behind them in intelligence.
    Tara sighed and buttoned her Miu Miu coat, slipping her BlackBerry into her handbag. ‘I don’t want to fight. One thing’s for certain, we have to be united over this. We’ve got enough people against us without adding each other to the list.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ Poppy asked fearfully. Her large green eyes widened. ‘Who’s against us?’
    ‘No one, no one. Come on, Pops. You come home with me. We’ll have some tea and try to start making sense of this mess.’ Jemima grabbed her sister’s hand.
    ‘All right. We’ll talk later. There’s a chance I’ll be home in time to see the children. Then I’ll have to catch up with what I’ve missed today. Then I’ll call you.’ Tara saw a taxi trundling towards them, its light glowing. Without a moment’s hesitation, she’d hailed the black cab and called out ‘Bye!’ over a tense shoulder as she retreated into the taxi.
    Jemima’s flat in Eaton Square was her favourite place in the whole world. It was where she felt entirely at home and entirely relaxed.
    She had bought it not long after returning from her finishing school in Gstaad, an idea of her mother’s that she had gone along with under threat of losing her allowance if she didn’t. Although she had moaned horribly at the whole idea of leaving England, she had at first enjoyed her time in Switzerland, skiing and learning various ladylike arts alongside the daughters of various other European, American and Middle Eastern wealthy and titled families. By the time her first year was up, however, she was already bored. Most of the girls there were prim and proper, only concerned with the correct way of getting in and out of a sports cars and plotting who they should marry with the help of the Forbes rich list and the Almanac de Gotha, the index of the titled families of Europe. Jemima didn’t care about that. By the end of her two years