by Paul Ilett
“So what changed?”
Audrey settled back into her chair and a sadness etched across her brow. “We made a silly agreement, many years ago. Oh, I wish we hadn’t.”
Sam could hear more than regret in his mother’s voice. There was a sorrow that he’d only ever heard a few times, the last being many years earlier when she had phoned him in LA to tell him his grandfather had passed away.
“We decided,” Audrey continued, “that when we reached our fifties your father would slow down and we could enjoy a bit more time together. And rather foolishly we never reconsidered that agreement. So the year your father turned 50, true to his word, he promoted some of his best people to run all these companies he owned and went into semi-retirement.”
“That’s when he sent me to LA,” Sam said. “Although I actually asked to go in case he was planning to offer me the Daily Ear. Ironic really.”
Audrey smiled. “So you flew off to LA and Howard started to live at the house almost full-time. But we realised very quickly that we had a problem. I had become too used to my own company. Oh, I had enjoyed it whenever Howard came home for one of his visits, but I also liked it when he was gone and I had the house to myself again. Having him there all the time, well, I just found him irritating - crashing about the house, arguing with people down the phone. It wasn’t what I wanted.”
“And so it was you? You decided to end the marriage?” Sam probed.
“It was a bit of everything,” Audrey replied. “Your poor father wasn’t any happier than I. Suddenly he had all this time to think, time he’d never had before. But he started to think about things a bit too much and ended up having ... well, I wouldn’t say a breakdown exactly. But certainly a belated mid-life crisis. He got very depressed and frustrated and started to feel he wasn’t needed anymore. And then one morning he woke up, rolled over in bed and he ... ”. Audrey’s voice trailed away into silence.
Sam waited for his mother to complete her sentence, and when she seemed to have decided not to say anymore he prompted her. “And he ... ?”
Audrey sighed, and looked a little ashamed at having revealed a little too much. “Well, that was the morning our marriage ended,” she said, clearly beginning to close the conversation down. “Howard got out of bed, showered, dressed, packed a suitcase and left the house. And that was that.”
Sam knew that would be it for the night, but there was a nagging voice at the back of his mind, something telling him he was still missing a vital point. There was something about his parents’ separation that neither his father nor mother had chosen to share with him and he began to wonder what Howard had admitted to his mother in bed the morning their marriage had ended. He tried once last time to nudge his mother towards a disclosure.
“But then Dad met Estelle?” he asked.
Audrey nodded and looked a little uncomfortable. “I do feel ashamed,” she said. “Estelle’s a nice enough girl. A bit rough around the edges, of course, although she’s always been perfectly polite to me. But I cannot tell you, Sam, how much it hurt when your father told me he had started seeing someone else. It was less than a year after we separated. Technically we were still married and suddenly this young woman was on his arm. The morning your father told me he was leaving me, well, that was difficult. But it was when he started seeing Estelle, that’s when he truly broke my heart.”
Sam suddenly felt terribly guilty at having taken advantage of his mother’s vulnerable state, and so quickly concluded her tale for her. “You’ve always handled yourself beautifully. I’m so proud of you, Mum.” Thinking it time to move on to a different topic, he decided to share some stories from work. “You know, I did suggest something very silly to Twigg,” he said. “A few days ago I said we should call Adam Jaymes in for a meeting, try to barter a deal with him, come to an agreement.”
Audrey smiled. “And Leonard, in that indomitable way of his, said you were wrong and made you feel like a complete idiot?”
Sam nodded.
“Yes, he does that a lot, darling,” Audrey said, her tone hinting of disapproval. “Leonard has a way of closing down conversations when he hears something he doesn’t like. He tried it with me once. Needless to say, he didn’t try it again.”
“But I have to respect his opinion, Mum. He knows what he’s talking about.”
Audrey sipped her final cup of port and smiled at her son. “Sam, let me tell you something about Leonard Twigg. He’s the most successful newspaper editor of the past thirty years, bar none. He puts the likes of MacKenzie and Dacre in the shade. They can’t touch him. But – and this is an important but – when he makes mistakes, they’re big. And believe me, he’s made mistakes and plenty of them.”
“Like Pearl Martin?”
“She was the tip of the iceberg. There have been many, many others along the way.” Audrey could tell her son was anxious about having a disagreement with Twigg. She liked Twigg and had enormous respect for him, but whilst others spoke of him with awed reverence she simply considered him to be an employee who had done a mostly good job. “Let me just say this,” she continued. “Behind all of Leonard’s bluster and pomposity, there’s a little man in his fifties who still lives at home with his mother. Perhaps you should remember that the next time he tries to make you feel like a fool.”
A characteristic of Audrey’s that Sam had always cherished was her inability to be impressed by anyone simply because of their title, job or position. She could walk into a room of judges, cabinet ministers and lords and have them all eating out of the palm of her hand within a matter of minutes. She proved, more than anyone he knew, that you really cannot buy class. “So you think I should follow up my idea? Invite Adam Jaymes in for a discussion?”
Audrey lifted her hand and gently brushed Sam’s hair from his brow. “I think it’s about time that Leonard was reminded who’s boss,” she replied.
It was 5am and Felicity Snow was standing alone in a dimly lit London street, not far from the Daily Ear offices, watching as a newsagent put the morning papers in the display bins at the front of his shop. Almost without fail, each paper had a front page story about Adam Jaymes, Project Ear or the Pound-for-Pound scheme. The Sun had proudly splashed with the announcement that it had successfully re-opened Gay’s Horse Sanctuary, thanks to a swell of donations from its generous readers. The Mirror had tracked down Colin’s pregnant wife to her family home in Scotland. Although there was no interview, there was an exclusive picture that said it all: a young, pregnant woman sitting on her own in a café and clearly broken-hearted. The Mail had a front page photograph of Sam, looking dishevelled and tired as he hurried from the Daily Ear offices. “Fears grow for Harvey Jr as Adam Jaymes turns up the heat”, the headline read. The Telegraph said the on-going scandal had scuppered Howard Harvey’s attempts to buy an American newspaper chain, and the Guardian said the Met was under increasing pressure to re-open the case surrounding Pearl Martin’s suicide.
In fact, the only paper not to have the story on its front page was the Ear itself. The Daily Ear’s splash was an altogether more traditional affair, exposing a young Olympic gold medallist who had allegedly slept with a 57-year-old prostitute. “Olympic hero’s night with granny hooker”. An exclusive by Colin Merroney.
Felicity found herself smiling because although it seemed so unwise for the Daily Ear to carry on as normal, she could understand how the editorial team would find it hard to do anything else. Olympic stars paying ageing prostitutes for sex was exactly the sort of story that had made the Daily Ear Britain’s best-selling daily. Those were the stories that were the adrenalin for every journalist at the paper, the driving force that got them out of bed every morning and kept them running at breakneck speed all day until they finally crashed back into bed at silly o’clock. That sort of passion and commitment and obsession made the Daily Ear more than a job or career, it was an addiction. And for anyone who did their time and was able to survive the pressure and the workload, the benefits were vast.
Felicity knew that Colin Merroney could click his fingers and organise a meeting with almost any politician, company director or celebrity agent in the country. Jason Spade travelled the world first class and was front and centre at pretty much every major celebrity event, award ceremony or wedding. And Valerie Pierce could waltz into any busy London restaurant and get a table straight away, even if it was fully booked. Working at the Ear gave even a humble intern like Felicity a certain amount of gravitas and power. Her university friends now treated her like a precious commodity who could offer them tiny insights into a world they would never know. In years to come, they would name-drop Felicity Snow and share her inside story about the Daily Ear’s fight with Adam Jaymes. Felicity, within her own modest social circle, had become a star. And she detested it.
“You want your papers, sweetheart?” the newsagent called to her, as he finished putting out the morning editions. He was middle-aged, white, balding and plump and, despite the unbearably early hour, was always cheerful.
Felicity smiled and nodded at him. “Please,” she replied and he quickly brought out her papers, tied together with thick string, and handed them to her. “Here you go,” he said as he passed them over. And then, as she manoeuvred them into her grasp, she noticed that he was staring at her.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, suddenly aware that she had stumbled from her flat without checking for the basics, like toothpaste streaks or bed hair.
The newsagent suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Yes, sorry, it’s just you’re about the same age as my eldest daughter. And, to be honest, sweetheart, if my daughter was being sent out onto the streets of London on her own at this time of the morning, I’d have a few things to say about it.”
Felicity thanked him for his concern and said, “Well I think your daughter is a very lucky young lady,” and then walked off. As she made her way towards the office she began to think of her own parents. She knew they would still be fast asleep, tucked up in bed in their warm little terrace house in Upminster without a clue what she was up to. They weren’t fans of the Daily Ear and would be furious if they knew she was working there. Felicity had told them her placement was at the Guardian and the few friends who knew the truth had been sworn to secrecy. She hated lying to them, but an internship at the Daily Ear was an opportunity she couldn’t turn down. And even though it had been hard work and sometimes extremely unpleasant, she knew it would all be worth it in the end. And when it was all over, and she was back at university, she would tell her parents what she had really been up to. Felicity had convinced herself that lying to her mum and dad wasn’t so bad if she planned to eventually tell them the truth.
CHAPTER 16
“I cannot believe that conniving, evil son of a bitch is being welcomed into our office like he’s some kind of ... of ... ”
“Star?” Felicity suggested, a well-meant attempt to help Valerie finish her sentence.
Valerie span round on the spot and glared at the intern. “Peace envoy!” she spat, blowing cigarette smoke into Felicity’s face. “Star indeed,” she grumbled.
“Well he is a star,” Felicity said with a matter-of-fact tone and waved her hand in front of her face to disperse the smoke.
“Nonsense, he’s just an actor,” Valerie replied, and did air-brackets around the word ‘actor’. “Felicity, you’re not a star just because you’re on the telly, or in a movie. There are celebrities and then there are stars. It’s the difference between Joan Collins and Liz Taylor. Paul McCartney and John Lennon. Tony Blair and Margaret Thatcher.”
“Margaret Thatcher?” Felicity enquired.
“Oh yes,” Valerie replied. “That’s why Hollywood made a film about her. Blair will be lucky to get a made-for-TV movie.”
“Well, I think a lot of people would call Adam Jaymes a star,” Felicity replied.
Valerie looked her up and down and then waved a finger at her. “What’s all this?” she asked. “All of this attitude all of a sudden. Where did this come from?”
Felicity realised her excitement was getting the better of her and that she was not being as affable as she should be. “I’m sorry,” she said regretfully. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I came in at 5am to do the papers. I’m feeling a bit frazzled.”
“You weren’t being rude,” Valerie said, with a chuckle. “You were being assertive for the first time and good for you. A little of that goes a long way. Especially round here.” Valerie checked her watch and sighed. “And you’d better not let your university know we’ve been making you do 16-hour days. They’ll never place anyone with us again.”
“I’m fine, honestly,” Felicity said. “Mr Twigg told me to go home hours ago, but I wanted to stay on to ... well ... to ... ”
Valerie beamed at her. “Busted,” she said. “Oh, I think we all know why you’re still here. You want to catch a glimpse of the famous Adam Jaymes as he attends historic peace talks with the Daily Ear.”
Felicity felt very uncomfortable that her true intentions had been exposed by Valerie. She had wanted to prove herself to be reliable, flexible and willing to work long hours but now she just looked like a silly girl staying late to catch a glimpse of a famous actor. Valerie drew on her cigarette but continued smiling at her, and then prodded her shoulder. “And who could blame you?” she said, playfully. “You want to work in the media? Of course you’re here. I’d have thought less of you if you’d gone home.”
With that they both turned and stared through Valerie’s glass wall into the main office. There was a buzz in the newsroom that had been missing for the past week, an energy and excitement that hinted at a return to business-as-usual. But though it pained her to admit it, Valerie knew the real reason there was such liveliness. Everyone knew that Adam Jaymes was about to make an appearance and although he was at war with the Daily Ear, the staff were still excited that he was just minutes away. “Why’s he coming here?” Felicity asked. “Surely it would have been better to meet in the chief executive’s office, or somewhere more private.”
Valerie shrugged. “Leonard said he insisted he meet in the editor’s office. Said he wanted to see the Daily Ear’s newsroom while he was here. It all sounds very suspicious to me. And it’s very late in the day for peace talks. I cannot see any good coming from this, neither can Leonard. But ‘Harvey Jr.’ ordered the meeting so we have to oblige.”
Twigg, Oonagh and Sam had been in deep discussion in Twigg’s office for more than an hour. Valerie understood why she and Colin had been excluded from the meeting, but was increasingly unhappy at the high-profile role Sam had handed Oonagh. With every day that went by, Valerie could see Oonagh commandeering more attention from the senior staff and manoeuvring herself into a position of influence and power. The fact Oonagh had been handed a pivotal role in the ‘Adam Jaymes meeting’ made Valerie uneasy. “I don’t like it,” she said. “This is a mistake.”
Colin joined them in Valerie’s office and closed the door behind him. “Twigg has instructed me to be out of the newsroom when Adam Jaymes walks through,” he said, exasperated. “He reckons I’m going to punch him.”
“Well no one would blame you,” Valerie replied and smiled. “Likewise, I’ve been instructed to stay in my office. Clearly I’m good enough to get a phone call from Adam Jaymes but not good enough to actually meet him. Although, to be honest, I would probably stub my cigarette out on his smug face, so it’s probably for the best.” Valerie dropped into her seat and Colin pulled up a chair next to her. They sat, side by side, watching as the newsroom continued to hum with excitement.
“Would you like me to get you a tea or coffee?” Felicity asked, desperately trying to appear helpful.
Valerie shook her head. “This really isn’t a tea or coffee moment, dear,” she declared and produced a bottle of wine from her desk along with three glasses. “You do drink, don’t you?” she asked.
Felicity nodded and the three of them settled down with a glass of red to watch the show. And at 8.50pm on the dot, precisely on time, Adam
Jaymes arrived in the Daily Ear newsroom. There was no fanfare, no swarming army of body guards or sycophantic entourage. Dressed simply in jeans and a grey sweater, the actor was shown through the newsroom in such an unassuming manner that most of the journalists missed him completely. The route from the lift took him directly in front of Valerie’s office and as he passed by, Felicity’s eyes widened and time seemed to slow down as her mind tried to capture every detail and commit it to memory. Whatever Valerie’s views on Adam Jaymes, all Felicity could see was a star. From the graceful and confident manner he was walking to the glistening of his thick, dark hair under the office lights. There was something about the man that elevated him far above the ordinary. Even in such casual clothing, it looked as though he had come straight from a GQ photo-shoot. Adam didn’t notice the three of them on the other side of the glass office wall, and so didn’t see Valerie and Colin glaring at him with all the hatred they could muster or Felicity gazing at him adoringly. “Wonderful,” she breathed, softly. Valerie and Colin turned their glares in her direction and she apologised. “Sorry,” she said meekly, “it just slipped out.”
“Adam. Thank you for coming. I’m glad you’re here,” Sam said. His voice was rich and friendly and his hand was extended in a gesture of welcome. For a moment it looked as though Adam would ignore the gesture but after an awkward pause he politely extended his hand and the two men shook. “I hope we can have a good conversation this evening,” Sam continued, knowing that he was sounding cringingly earnest. He closed the door and led Adam into the office, towards four leather armchairs that had been positioned specifically so there was no desk or coffee table separating the discussion.