Who the hell were they?
‘… and is now presumed to be on the loose in the capital …’
Please say there’s no such thing as the Monkey Police.
‘The marmoset is not considered dangerous, but experts say …’
‘There’s a monkey on the loose in London?’ said Cass, interrupting me, eyes mock-surprised, and my heart sank, because now we were going to talk about this. ‘Why isn’t this a bigger story?! Why’s this an “and finally”?’
It was a good point. I suppose I’d tried to make it ‘fun’. But no, there was essentially a wild animal on the run in one of the world’s highest-populated cities. Best not draw attention to it.
‘A monkey!’ said Cass, again, and the eight people – now joined by Mick from Sales – all started laughing, silently, behind the double-walled glass.
‘A marmoset has escaped, yes,’ I said, giving in. ‘It’s not actually a monkey, it’s a primate, but yeah, that general area. They’re from the Atlantic rainforests of Southeast Brazil. Average lifespan of ten years.’
‘So it could be out there for the next ten years?’
I now wished I hadn’t said that.
‘And this is news just in?’ she said.
‘New news, yes,’ I said, keen to move on. ‘That being the nature of news.’
‘Well, we have to ask: have you seen the missing monkey?’ she said, switching to presenter mode.
‘Primate,’ I said.
‘Text us if you have … maybe you saw him in Budgens, eyeing up a leg of lamb. Wherever you saw … er …’
‘Binky.’
Binky! The indignity of that name. I could sense the eight people staring at us, mouthing the name ‘Binky’.
And for something so throwaway, the texts came thick and fast.
‘Graham in Swanley says – I saw Binky dressed up as former French president François Mitterrand, trying to start an anti-sausage rally outside a butchers.’
Cass laughed that laugh, charming London, provoking a smile even from me.
‘Penny in Notting Hill – I saw Binky the marmoset teaching a cat how to drive a van.’
‘More stuff like that,’ said Cass, during the ads. ‘That’s what we should be doing in the eight. Warm-up in the six, proper news in the seven, bit of fun in the eight. Nice one Tom.’
‘Weather today?’ asked that engineer, shovelling a bacon sandwich into his mouth.
‘Highs of nineteen,’ I said.
‘That was great, that monkey stuff,’ said Bron, as we walked out of the studio. ‘Well done Tom.’
‘Who were those people staring at us?’ I said.
‘The Pringles people. Thinking of sponsoring the show.’
‘Oh, God, really?’ said Cass. ‘So it’d say, “London Calling with Cass Tailor and Pringles”? I’m not sure I want my name constantly followed by Pringles.’
‘It would actually be, “London Calling with Cass Tailor and Brand New Pringles Cheese, Chilli & Chives – For When Your Mouth Wants a Party!”’ said Bron, nodding.
‘Oh, great,’ said Cass. ‘So it’ll just sort of blend in.’
I checked my phone quickly while they bickered. I’d texted Pia when I’d arrived at work. I didn’t even know if she’d got home safely. But no reply. Just an email from Maureen telling us someone had spilled coffee in the kitchenette again.
‘So Brand New Pringles Cheese, Chilli & Chives aside, we’re using the monkey texts for promos throughout the day,’ said Bron. ‘Also, I think we need to go bigger on it.’
Cass agreed.
‘Definitely. We need to own this story.’
‘Yeah?’ I said. ‘Really, I mean?’
‘God yeah,’ said Bron. ‘For sure.’
We actually owned it more than they knew. I checked my phone again, as if in the last few microseconds Pia might have texted. Maybe she’d been listening.
‘So you should get down to the zoo this morning,’ said Bron, and that snapped me out of it.
‘Sorry?’
‘Phone the PR, get an interview, try and find out how this happened.’
‘You want me to actually go to the zoo?’ I said. ‘Where they lost the marmoset? You want me to physically go there?’
‘You understand English, that’s great.’
I can’t go back! It’s been less than twelve hours!
‘But it’s an animal story,’ I tried, and then: ‘I have a bold and brave idea.’
‘Yes?’
‘We send Work Experience Paul. I’ve been studying him. He’s raw, sure, but he’s hungry and I think he’s ready.’
Work Experience Paul stood up, puffed out his chest, then quickly let it deflate.
‘I’m actually not sure I am ready,’ he said. ‘I’ve done, like, literally zero since I got here.’
‘Look,’ I said, hands open, shoulders up. ‘Is this all really that big a deal?’
I tried to make it sound like absolutely nothing at all.
‘There is a monkey on the loose in London and someone is to blame,’ said Bron. ‘So yes. Yes, it is.’
I grabbed my Marantz from a drawer full of pads and checked its batteries. I was sluggish, finding it hard to push through thoughts of Hayley. I searched my desk for headphones.
She’d denied the whole Aphra thing flat out. It was laughable. And she said she didn’t remember putting all the Post-it notes in the magazines, that it had to be coincidence or something, but I saw through it all. This was embarrassment. Pure and simple. I’d caught her out, this star-struck girl, acting like the least mature teenager of all time, and now she wanted to prove she was an adult. But at least she was back. At least there was that. Now I could question her. I could be in control. Let there just be some calm after the storm, some moment to gather our thoughts before we decide what to do.
Because whatever happened next would be my choice.
And yes, I know I should have just said ‘you’re dumped, get out’. But how do you do that, practically? They can’t just pack a bag and go. They need to find the next place, you need to work out the bills, you need to see if you untangle your emotions, understand, forgive them or forget them.
No matter what my fantasies had been – a dignified goodbye, perhaps, a stirring and articulate speech, her standing in the doorway with one packed bag and two eyes full of tears as I apologised like a gentleman then slowly closed the door in her face, standing philosophically by the window as I watched her trudge down the path, her shoulders shaking as she cursed herself through the tears for letting the best thing that ever happened to her slip away – the reality changes when they’re a real person again. She was there, in our flat, like nothing had happened.
I looked at my phone. Silence from Pia. I should call her.
‘You look cream-crackered, mate,’ said Pippy, placing what she would always call a ‘posh coffee’ on my desk. Posh because it wasn’t made with a hot tap, I suppose.
‘Is that for me?’ I said, sort of touched. Maybe the world was okay.
‘What, that?’ she said. ‘No, it’s mine. So what’s up? Not “heading up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire” early enough?’
‘Hayley’s back,’ I said.
‘What?’ she said, sensing gossip, sinking to ear level to keep this between us. ‘She’s back?’
‘Last night. Out of the blue.’
‘What did she say?’
‘That she never left me and that now she’s back.’
‘That’s it? No sorry?’
‘No sorry.’
‘So messed up dot com! What are you going to do?’
I shook my head, slowly. I had no idea dot org.
She sensed the well had run dry and let her grin fade.
‘Your best mate’s in the building,’ she said, standing back up.
My best mate?
‘Hello, sir!’ he said, striding down the corridor, fresh out of the studios of Harmony, flanked by a stern-looking pair. He stopped, a wave of aftershave joining us a
moment later.
‘Oh,’ I said, looking around, just in case it wasn’t me he remembered or recognised.
‘Publicity trail,’ he said. ‘Got that BBC One thing starting tonight. Modern day Spartacus, set in the banking world. Off to LA later. You?’
‘I’m off down London Zoo.’
‘Ha ha!’ he ha-ha’d, flashing a classic Channing smile. ‘You serious? I think I know why. The monkey thing, right? Classic. Newsreader on the station I was just on was on about it. Guys – this is Tom – Tom, right? – I had a very entertaining night with him at the Randolph. You remember the Jam Nazi thing I showed you, yeah?’
‘OhmyGodIlovedthat,’ said the woman, all sleek PR hair and Mulberry Alexa, while the man – brogues with no socks, pastel shirt under dark McQueen jacket, a manager maybe – showed just a notch above no interest, checking his phone instead.
‘Well, behold the genius behind it.’
‘Not exactly,’ I said, as now the girl broke off to take a call. ‘It was more of a mistake, really.’
‘A happy accident.’
‘No, there’s no statement on that at this stage,’ said the girl, moving away, and Matthew raised his eyebrows at me to register trouble he could doubtless charm his way out of. ‘No, we’ll be making no comment on that at all.’
‘I sent it to Oliver Stone, did I tell you I was going to do that? He sent it to Matt Damon. Apparently he plays it to people at parties.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Good …’
‘Apparently Mila Kunis does the most wonderful Leslie impression.’
‘I’ll tell him,’ I said. ‘And then I’ll explain who Mila Kunis is.’
‘I’ve got your number, yeah? Take care.’
He slapped me on the shoulder and walked away, Team Matthew on the march, out onto the streets of London, a Mexican wave of clammy hands reaching for cameraphones in its wake.
I texted Pia again.
‘Bloody hell. You’ll never guess where I am.’
Send.
I sat with a Styrofoam cup of weak mahogany-brown coffee in a soulless room to one side of the zoo. I was not expecting this to be fun. My neck prickled, I felt flushed, like I was on enemy territory – a spy about to be found out and dealt with.
Opposite, a PR called Tabitha had done her best to welcome me politely, but insisted on staying ‘just to make sure you get everything you need’.
It seemed sinister. I tapped the table with a pen shaped like a giraffe.
‘He’ll be here any second,’ she said, not looking up from double-thumbing her Blackberry.
‘And this guy, he’s …?’
‘An expert,’ she said, still not looking up. ‘One of our keepers. But if you can remember to keep the focus on “let’s find Binky!” as opposed to “Binky escaped!”, I think that would really—’
She was interrupted by the door swinging open.
A tall, gaunt man stood in the doorway.
We clocked each other.
Tabitha finally put her phone down and looked up.
‘This is Ash,’ she said. ‘Ashley Bilton.’
‘Oh,’ I said, standing, as the man’s eyes registered me properly.
Ash!
Not knowing what else to do, we shook hands.
‘Ash was actually here last night, helping out on Zoo Lates,’ explained Tabitha, and Ash shot me a guilty glance. Was I here to drop him in it? Was he going to drop me in it?
‘I see,’ I said. ‘Well, this will just be very quick …’
‘Take your time, honestly,’ said Tabitha. ‘Ask whatever you want. Ash is pleased to help, aren’t you, Ash?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Ash, back stiff as he found his seat, and I smiled at him as we sat for a moment in silence.
How were we going to do this? How were we going to get our stories straight?
‘So,’ said Tabitha. ‘This is for syndicated news, Ash, Tom’s here from SoundHaus, and this will go out on …’
‘Lots of stations,’ I said, nodding, and Ash looked terrified. Why was I suddenly back? Why was I about to probe him on this? Why did I want to broadcast it?
‘And,’ said Tabitha, ‘it’ll be on Cass Tailor’s show …’
‘In the morning, yes,’ I said. ‘In fact we’ll be doing a whole phone-in about it. Really getting London involved.’
It is hard to describe Ash’s face at this point.
‘Let’s get started,’ said Tabitha.
I turned on my Marantz and held it under Ash’s nose. He looked at it, then me, with panic in his eyes. Why was I doing this to him?
‘So if you could just introduce yourself …’ I said, lightly, like this was all just completely normal. ‘Just your name and what you do.’
‘My … my name is Ashley Bilton? And I work with marmosets. At the London … at London Zoo.’
His eyes flicked back to me.
‘And Mr Bilton … you were in charge the night the marmoset – Binky – escaped.’
‘I wasn’t in charge,’ he said, quite firmly. ‘But yes, I was here, yes.’
‘And how on earth did that happen?’ I said, trying to show Tabitha I meant business and was a professional.
‘Well … I work here,’ he said.
‘No, I mean, how on earth did it happen that a marmoset could escape?’
His eyes were wide. He was scared to put a foot wrong. I smiled, helpfully. Just take your time, Ash. We’ll get through this together.
‘That’s a tricky one,’ said Ash, not knowing what I wanted him to say, and I realised that maybe I’d come in too hard. I was offending him. I had to soften up.
‘But talk me through how that could possibly happen?’ I said, making a friendly face and nodding at the microphone. ‘That a marmoset could escape a presumably safe environment?’
‘Well,’ he replied, looking annoyed. ‘I suppose someone must have let him out.’
My eyes widened. I tried to shake my head without Tabitha noticing.
But: ‘Actually, Ash,’ she said, ‘let’s just stick to what we know. Don’t want to start flinging accusations about, like a monkey flinging you-know-what about! We’ll end up getting someone in trouble!’
She mocked-laughed, so I mock-laughed too. Ash didn’t.
‘Good point,’ I said. ‘So Ash … can you describe Binky?’
‘Lovely little lad,’ he said. ‘Real charmer.’
‘I meant more physically, in case people spot him.’
‘Well, they’ll spot a bloody marmoset, won’t they?’
Tabitha coughed.
‘Okay, and just so we know – how did he get out?’
‘We are unable to say how he got out at this time,’ said Ash, as if he was reading it off a piece of paper, and Tabitha nodded, looking calmer.
‘Was there any … CCTV footage at all?’ I asked, and I really wanted a specific answer to this one. ‘Was anything … suspicious spotted?’
Ash sighed, and put on quite a performance to say: ‘Somehow the cameras failed in that quadrant of the zoo.’
‘Did they?’ I said.
‘They did,’ he said.
‘Did they?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘How convenient,’ I said.
‘I can have another look,’ he said.
Tabitha dropped her pen, stooped down to pick it up.
Ash mouthed: ‘What are you doing?!’
I mouthed: ‘I don’t know, I’m sorry!’
I reset.
‘So we actually don’t know who if anyone is responsible for this, is what we are both together definitely agreeing here today?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is a mystery.’
‘It could just be something that just happened!’
‘That’s one of the possibilities I have been keen to promote,’ he said.
‘And there’s no back-up system involving hard-drives that …’
‘I’m afraid we suffered significant power outages last night,’ said Ash. ‘Which could
be—’
‘How the doors unlocked themselves!’ I said, finishing his sentence for him, watching him nod at me, eyes closed. ‘Great!’
I caught a glance from Tabitha.
‘By which I mean, great, well done “technology”, God …!’
I rolled my eyes.
‘We are all hoping Binky makes it back to the zoo safely and in one piece,’ he said, and from the look on his face, he was saying, quit while you’re ahead.
‘Well thank you, Ash. Thank you very much indeed. For taking care of everything so well.’
Another glance from Tabitha.
‘Like the marmosets, I mean.’
Ash sighed.
‘I’m not being sarcastic.’
We stared at each other, meaningfully, as Tabitha tried and failed to put her finger on something.
‘Can I ask you one thing?’ she said, putting her hand on my arm as she walked us out of the room.
‘Of course,’ I said.
‘I heard you this morning on Talk London,’ she said. ‘And one thing really struck me.’
She stopped, studied my face.
‘How did you know the marmoset is called Binky?’
She’d grown colder, now. Her voice less PR, more MI5.
‘How do you mean?’
‘We didn’t name the marmoset in the release. Yet you knew.’
‘I think you told me.’
‘I’ve only just met you.’
‘You the zoo, I mean. I made a phone call.’
‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘Everything’s supposed to go through me. I’ll look into it. Someone’s going to get into trouble over this. Thanks, Tom.’
I grabbed Ash on the way out.
‘So we’re in the clear?’ I said, voice hushed, eyes darting nervously around.
‘For now,’ he said. ‘I took care of what I could. You just better hope Binky shows up, though. The PR department are loving this. They train for it. Usually they go worst-case scenario – a lion or a rhino. Everyone’s delighted it’s just a bloody marmoset. Also, Binky’s a complete tool.’
‘It seemed a big deal, Pia coming here,’ I said.
‘Well, yes,’ he said. ‘It’s a special place for her.’
‘Why?’
‘Didn’t you know?’ he said. ‘It’s where she got married.’
‘Hey Pia, it’s Tom … listen, sorry it all went a bit weird last night,’ I said, waiting for the bus. ‘I, um … well, I wasn’t expecting that. Clearly. She … well, look, we’ve got a lot to sort through, obviously. But I just wanted to check in with you. Could you call me back?’
Who is Tom Ditto? Page 20