Exposé

by Paul Ilett

  Council leader was just on BBC Radio Northampton breakfast show. Tried to defend taking #TheDailyEar’s blood money #Failed #ProjectEar

  Derek Toulson wasn’t even at #TheDailyEar during the #PearlMartin years #confused #ProjectEar

  Today, the Sun is starting a campaign to re-open Gay’s Horse Sanctuary, a safe haven for horses of all sexual orientation

  “but, with all due respect Cllr Hislop, you could have said no to the money. That’s the point a lot of our listeners have been texting us about this morning. No one at the Daily Ear forced you to withdraw funding from those charities”

  @RealAdamJaymes I waited 3 days for this? Boring! Next time, I want Colin Merroney bumming a member of the royal family. Preferably Harry.

  “decision to close these services were all taken by the democratically elected Council members. The fact they were nudged in the right direction by a well-meaning newspaper executive is neither here nor there”

  We collected 2000 signatures to keep Gay’s Horse Sanctuary open. The Council still cut the funding. Now we know why #Disgusted #ProjectEar

  @RealAdamJaymes AMAZING ‘Singing in the Rain’ routine with Mr Schue in #Glee but I wish Mr Schue hadn’t rapped in the middle of it #Cringe

  After two exposés that were little more than salacious fun, the actor Adam Jaymes has (rather surprisingly) delivered a news story worthy of the Telegraph’s own ‘MPs’ Expenses’ exclusive. And while media attention currently focuses on the hilarious gaffe that saw a horse sanctuary closed because it was named after a woman called Gay, the more disturbing aspects of this project are becoming clearer

  I used to work with Derek Toulson when he was in local government #MassiveTosser #ProjectEar

  “so important, just to have somewhere to go for help and advice, where no one was judging me or looking down on me. The people at the centre really made me feel good about myself, and there were times when I even felt happy. It felt like it wasn’t all just pointless. But then they closed it, and before I knew it, everything just went back to how it had been before”

  @RealAdamJaymes So what? It was still the councillors who made the cuts. If you don’t like it, vote for someone else #ItsDemocracyStupid

  I’ve been inundated with emails from constituents. Keep them coming! I’m attending an emergency meeting with the Council at 11am #ProjectEar

  Is #TheDailyEar editor really trying to convince us he knew nothing about this scheme? If so, how come @RealAdamJaymes knew? #SackHim

  has not affected the actor’s popularity here or in America. His appearance in Glee boosted the show’s viewers to their highest level in three years, and his performance with Maroon 5 at the Brits got the biggest cheer of the night. In fact, even the Daily Ear appears to have given up trying to convince its own readers they should hate him. I guess that, as idiotic as the Ear’s editorial staff must be, they know a losing battle when they’re in one. You see, the Americans love Jaymes because he’s a talented and diverse performer. They don’t even seem to mind that he’s gay, or that he’s bagged one of the country’s most eligible bachelors. But the British love him because he grew up right in front of us, on telly. We were with him from his early days as a soap star, playing Pearl Martin’s awkward and spotty little brother. And years later, we proudly watched him blossom as Doctor Who’s plucky assistant Joe. And it was as Joe that he had his shining moment, bravely sacrificing his life to save the Doctor and Donna from certain death. Fiction, yes, but 14 million of us watched that episode of Doctor Who, and cried into our hankies as he breathed his last in his beloved Doctor’s arms

  “All I’m saying is that many people will look at the list of services and they will wonder why public money was being wasted in such preposterous way. I mean, a soccer team for gay teenagers? Why can’t they just join a normal football club like everyone else?”

  Leonard Twigg is 55. He never married and still lives with his mum. Just saying #ProjectEar

  CHAPTER 15

  After 48 hours of frenzied fire-fighting, Sam Harvey left the Daily Ear offices and withdrew to his mother’s house in Campden Hill Square. He wanted to cocoon himself in the family home and hide away from the world and all of its staring eyes and pointing fingers. His father had given him a lot of responsibilities from an early age and he’d had to deal with some tough situations in the past, but nothing could have prepared him for Project Ear and the seemingly endless mauling being delivered by the rest of the media. The amusement created by the gay horse sanctuary blunder hadn’t bought them as much time as they hoped. The finer details of the Pound-for-Pound scheme were now in the public domain and created such a blur of activity that Sam couldn’t even remember when he had last eaten or washed.

  Earlier in the day a photographer from another paper had caught him unawares as he’d headed across London to meet with lawyers. He knew the picture would show him looking dishevelled and tired, and that it would likely be used to support a story which would doubtlessly suggest he was cracking under the pressure. And he knew that, in truth, he was sinking fast. Howard had sent him an email demanding to see a strategy for dealing with Project Ear but Sam didn’t know how to write a strategy. He had tried to write one once, a few years earlier, but been told by his team that it was a plan and not a strategy. He had never been able to work out the difference between the two. So until recently, he had always had other people write them for him. Howard had made it clear he expected Sam to close down Project Ear quickly, but Project Ear wasn’t dying, it was blooming. If anything, the Pound-for-Pound exposé had given it credibility. This was no longer just about sensational stories and revenge. It was about local government corruption and social injustice.

  It was in the regional press where the story had really found its legs, with hundreds of local reporters quick to track down disenfranchised service users, irate opposition councillors and bemused ex-volunteers across the country. Now the truth was out, each and every story had led to the formation of a large group of angry and extremely vocal campaigners demanding more than just Derek Toulson’s scalp. Sam knew these were the days that would genuinely separate the men from the boys.

  “You look like you need a mug of hot milk and some apple crumble,” Audrey declared, as she walked into the kitchen to find her son dramatically slumped over the table.

  “That would be nice,” Sam said, not quite managing to lift his head as he spoke. “It’s been the worst day of my life. Literally the worst day of my life. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.”

  Audrey ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead. “Sit up, sweetheart, and just remember that this isn’t a problem you created. I think your father has been very unfair, bringing you back from LA and handing you responsibility for this.”

  Sam sat up. “He wants me to prove myself, Mum,” he said.

  “Perhaps,” Audrey replied. “Or perhaps he’s just putting himself in the clear.”

  Sam was puzzled by what his mother had said. She rarely ever uttered a bad word about her ex-husband, even when justifiably she could have said an awful lot. And yet here she was, out of the blue, implying that Howard Harvey had sacrificed his only son in order to avoid the blame for his company’s wrongdoings. Sam turned and leaned over the back of his chair and watched as Audrey prepared his supper. “You OK, Mum?” he asked, softly. “It’s not like you to speak so frankly like this.”

  Audrey paused for a moment. Her usually bright face was suddenly ashen and tired. For the first time in many years, Sam thought he might actually see his mother cry. “I’m just so angry with your father,” she snapped, choking the final few words as she struggled to conceal her resentment. “I can’t believe what he’s become. What he’s doing to you, jetting off to New York in the middle of all this.”

  “Dad’s working, Mum,” Sam said. “He’s trying to close a deal he’s been chasing for years. Besides, this is what he does. He’s spent his entire adult life jetting off to other parts of the world and leaving other people to sort out his
problems. He’s not a problem solver. He builds things, makes them a success and then expects other people to run them for him.”

  “But this is different, Sam,” Audrey replied, sternly. “All of this casual bravado about the Daily Ear being disposable, that it’s just another newspaper. Well, it’s not. He knows it’s not. And you’re not just another executive, either. You’re his son. He should be here to support you, not shopping and lunching in Manhattan with that ... that girl.”

  Sam chuckled. “That girl?” he said. “Estelle’s hardly a girl, Mum.”

  “Oh Sam!” Audrey cried and suddenly lifted her hands to cover her face. Sam realised he had misjudged the conversation. His mother was genuinely upset and a few light-hearted quips weren’t what she needed to hear so he stood up, wrapped his arms around her and let her sob into his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’ve let it get to you like this,” he soothed. “Come on, Mum. I’m fine. Really. I’m just tired. And Dad is supporting me. We talk on the phone every day. But there’s a bigger picture. He’s trying to buy a big chain of newspapers in America and it’s a deal he can’t put off. It’s now or never. He really hasn’t abandoned me, I promise you.”

  After a few moments Audrey gave her son a quick squeeze and then stepped back, pulling a hanky from her sleeve as she did. “Sorry,” she said, looking ashamed of herself.

  “You don’t have to say sorry, Mum. I’m just a bit surprised, that’s all. I hadn’t realised you were so upset.”

  Audrey blew her nose and then pushed the hanky back into her sleeve. “How can I not be upset?” she asked and then groaned, as though frustrated by her own behaviour. “Oh for goodness sake. Hot milk indeed. We need a bloody drink,” she said. “Port?” She took the milk pan off the heat, turned off the stove, produced a bottle of vintage port from one of the lower cupboards and poured them both a teacup-full. She then quickly threw together a board of cheeses and biscuits.

  As they sat together at the kitchen table, Sam found himself a little startled that his mother’s mood had changed so much. “Has something happened that I don’t know about?” he asked.

  Audrey threw back her port and poured herself another. “No,” she said with a sigh. “No, nothing. It’s just been so upsetting, watching this unfold. Unravel. And the things I’ve seen written in the Telegraph about you. All my friends are falling over themselves to be supportive and say the right things. But it’s all so unfair and untrue.”

  “Mum, I’ve seen the stuff in the Telegraph. And the Guardian and the Mail and the Sun,” Sam replied. “Felicity’s in early every day and puts together a cuttings folder for me. And, believe me, she doesn’t hold anything back. I told her not to.” He kept his tone gentle and composed because, although some of the comments had struck at the heart of his own anxieties, he didn’t want his mother to know the pressure was already getting to him. “And it’s all fine,” he continued. “This is my job. If I’m not prepared to take the flack, I have no business being chief executive.”

  “But it’s ridiculous,” Audrey said, “It’s like they think you should be some kind of wizard. That you should be able to wave a magic wand and make Adam Jaymes vanish. But there is no quick answer to this, why can’t they see that? And your father, Sam. I am so ashamed of him. This is his doing but he’s put your reputation on the line.” Audrey slammed her palm loudly down onto the table and the kitchen fell silent. She put down her tea cup and covered her face again.

  It was rare for Audrey to lose her temper or raise her voice. For Sam this was an entirely new side to his mother and, in a strange way, he found it oddly refreshing. “Goodness,” he said eventually, with a humorous tone in his voice. “This is quite an evening we’re having here.” He paused and waited for Audrey to remove her hands from her face, to give some indication of her mood. After a few moments he thought he heard a chuckle and, as she revealed her face again, and smiled wobbly, he was relieved to see that perhaps her distress was beginning to wane.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, and grasped his hand. “I don’t think I’m coping with this as well as I should be.”

  Sam wanted to put his mother back in a comfortable place. He didn’t like seeing her with her heart on her sleeve because he knew that wasn’t her, and he knew she would regret any further outbursts in the morning. So he started to help himself to some food, and asked Audrey to help him navigate the cheeseboard by telling him what all the different cheeses were. It was home territory for Audrey and she quickly began to feel more relaxed. As Sam began to eat his supper, Audrey polished off another port and refilled her cup. “I really am sorry, darling,” she said. “I just think that no matter how important this business trip to New York is, Howard should be here helping you. You’re his son and heir, his only heir. I know he’s made provision for Estelle in his will, but when he dies his empire is yours. Your reputation is important to Harvey Media International and I just think he needs to do more to support you, not throw you to the wolves and watch to see whether or not you survive.”

  “Mum, please don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy now and I’ll be just fine,” Sam replied. “Adam Jaymes’ got a few more exposés up his sleeve and then he’s finished with the Daily Ear. The very worst thing that will happen is that I’ll have to close the paper. That would be a shame but, to be honest, we can take the hit. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

  “I just feel so useless, so out of the loop,” she said. “Your father used to confide in me much more than he does now. If there were any business problems, I’d know about them before his own staff did. I knew everything. But now I feel as if he’s expecting me to just sit helplessly on the side-lines and watch this ... this horror play out in front of me.” Audrey swigged back her port, and again refilled her cup. “This isn’t just about the business, it’s about my son. Our son and I cannot be expected to just sit here and watch.”

  Sam took his mother’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Mum,” he said, gently, “I know the role you played helping Dad build his business. You and Gran and Granddad. But you’re divorced now and as amicable as that was, at some point he was bound to start drifting away from you. It’s just what happens.”

  Audrey topped up Sam’s tea cup and shook her head. “I’ve seen friends divorce over the years,” she said, sadly, “and with such bitterness and anger. They’ve fought over children and property and money. Often, they’ve ended up living thousands of miles apart and never speaking again, unless it’s through a lawyer. Divorce can be so destructive. It can ruin decades of happy marriage, of friendship, and leave nothing but resentment.”

  Sam could tell his mother was somewhat tiddly, which was making her speak more freely than she usually would. And although it felt as though he was taking advantage of the situation, he decided it might be an opportune moment to do some probing about her divorce from his father. “But that’s not what happened with you and Dad,” he said.

  “Oh no, not your father and me,” Audrey agreed, with a hint of pride in her voice. “When we decided to separate, we knew that wasn’t going to be for us. Oh no. We were going to be different. Our divorce was going to be like our marriage, kind and thoughtful and civil. We weren’t going to give the media anything interesting to write about. We weren’t going to give our friends anything to gossip about. We agreed a way forward and stuck to it. And at first things really didn’t seem so different. We saw each other as much as we ever did. We still talked and joked, occasionally had dinner together in town. He took my advice when he needed it, and he let me use the Daily Ear to promote my charities and events. If anything, being separated relieved all the stress. All those things that were putting pressure on us as a married couple weren’t there anymore. So we just had the good stuff, the friendship.”

  “Mum, why aren’t you and Dad still together?” Sam asked, as though casually pondering one of life’s great mysteries. “You were together for 30 years and it just all seemed to end so suddenly. I know I was in America at the time but
I just don’t remember there being any problems. You both always seemed perfectly happy, content. The fact you’re still so close must say something to you both.” His words stayed in the air and for a moment he thought his mother might simply change the subject.

  Even after a good few drinks Audrey didn’t feel completely comfortable talking about the way her marriage ended, particularly to her own son. But as angry as she was with Howard she didn’t want Sam blaming him for their divorce and so, after a moment of quiet reflection, Audrey smiled and asked, “Darling, did you ever consider that your father and I were able to remain close because we are no longer married?”

  Sam shrugged and sipped his port. “What do you mean?”

  “What I am saying is there weren’t any problems, not really,” Audrey continued. “But when you are married for a long time you get into a routine. Or perhaps a rhythm is a better word. Your father and I had a rhythm. He had his empire to run and flew all over the world, often for months on end. I had my own projects and charities to keep me busy. And I had the house to run and all my friends, of course. There was always someone to meet for lunch, or afternoon tea or for dinner. And I could pop home to the estate whenever I wanted to see the family. Your father and I spoke on the phone regularly, of course, and he was always very thoughtful. He would send me flowers and gifts two or three times a week. And then he would come home for a few days or a couple of weeks, and we would have some time together. But then he’d jump on a plane and fly off again and I would have the house to myself. We were both used to that and it worked for us. That was our rhythm.”