Full of Money

by Bill James

  ‘I know Bale wants to up sticks,’ Pellotte said. ‘Dione’s told me. He’s aiming for those districts. But can he do it, as the housing market stands? We’ve run a lot of inquiries around Bale.’

  ‘As you’d expect, Larry, because of Dione,’ Feston said. ‘This would be like vetting Diana for Prince Charles, although the other way about as to gender. We’d have to background a lad like Bale, given the situation. An ex-wife, children, if any, armament preferences, if any, furniture, dentistry, schooling, his residence – these are matters we must quite legitimately be privy to.’

  ‘Not easy to sell property on Temperate now,’ Pellotte said. ‘And then he has to stack up a heap as deposit somewhere sweeter. Top London areas cost a real packet. That’s the nub of it.’

  ‘For a while Adrian worried Bale might get fired from the programme,’ Dean said. ‘Meaning he couldn’t anywhere near afford a move.’

  ‘Dione won’t let me help him, them, with money,’ Pellotte said. He half sobbed and turned his dark-haired, neat head away from Edgehill for a couple of seconds, possibly to hide tears. ‘There’d be no difficulty, but she refuses. I have to abide by that. She’s adamant.’

  ‘Dione’s always been a bit haughty about where the cash comes from,’ Dean said. ‘It’s delicate, embarrassing, but Adrian won’t mind my mentioning this. Simply, it’s the way some kids are, my own the same when we were all together. In a way it’s admirable – shows values. And also idiotic, because, obviously, as children and young grown-ups they’ve lived in homes paid for by the money, and have been fed, nicely clothed, top of the range training shoes, privately educated, privately medicalized, by the money, gone business class on holidays paid for by the money. They seem able to shut their eyes to that. But then something like this housing matter comes along, and – wham! – they discover fiscal purity all of a fucking sudden.’

  ‘Headstrong,’ Pellotte said.

  He’d brought his face back around now, composed once more and benefiting to quite an extent from its scarlessness. Edgehill thought that if he were televising an interview with Pellotte, it would be possible to arrange camera shots to make him look unegomaniac, principled and good-natured. Strong cheek bones would often suggest something very like integrity and/or brain power. Photographing soccer managers had taught Larry many humanizing skills.

  ‘Yes, headstrong. This can be a fine quality, indeed, a necessary quality, but also awkward,’ Dean said. ‘Another word for it is bolshiness.’

  ‘Bale has to keep earning and earning plenty,’ Pellotte said.

  ‘He does OK, Adrian,’ Edgehill said. ‘He has a radio series with the BBC as well as his work for us.’

  ‘But how steady is it all?’ Pellotte said. ‘Is there security?’ He spoke as though his own career among the Ecstasy and crack and coke and H were wonderfully stable and guaranteed.

  ‘Until the other day, Adrian felt concerned about bad reviews Rupert’s had recently from some of these eternally snide, know-all telly critics,’ Dean said.

  ‘Only one or two,’ Edgehill said.

  ‘Unkind. Sharp,’ Dean said. ‘They come out with entirely inappropriate phrases. These are phrases they work on and keep in a drawer until they see a chance, and then, wham! Maybe some truth in them, but called for? That’s the point, isn’t it? Are they called for? Anyway, those kind of onslaughts could have got Rupe dropped. We don’t say you, personally, would have sacked him, Larry, but there are people above you – Florence Tait, for instance, Head of Programmes – and, of course, she’d read the critics. She can’t have shit poured week after week over work that’s ultimately her bag. So she might have spoken a few words to you about Rupe, the words being, “Fucking fire him.” And, if sacked, he’d stay on Temperate because he’d be so hard up. Our firm would have been in for dire internal trouble. Likewise, you as producer might have had trouble, Larry. Adrian wondered if we should look out some of these critics.’

  ‘Look them out?’ Edgehill said.

  ‘Look them out and have a constructive, intelligent chat,’ Dean said. ‘They’re traceable. Home addresses. But we decided it was too late. The damage had been done. Probably in that quiet style he has, Adrian could have persuaded them not to snipe at Rupert ever again, the sods, and even to give him big, well-documented praise in their next articles, but it’s the slurs that stick, isn’t it, Larry?’

  ‘However, then came this newest A.W.I.R.,’ Pellotte said.

  ‘This is what we mean by a complex state of things,’ Dean said. ‘One peril seems to disappear – possible loss of Rupert’s job – to be replaced by another just as messy and formidable. Priscilla Sandine. I spoke of a factor. In fact, two factors. And very much related.’

  ‘Priscilla Sandine a peril?’ Edgehill replied. Yes, Priscilla Sandine a horrific peril.

  ‘I’m referring mainly to The Insignia of Postponement item, naturally, but the topics generally in that show,’ Dean said.

  ‘Suddenly, a sort of . . . well, a sort of emergence of Rupe Bale,’ Pellotte said.

  ‘And how!’ Dean said. ‘Like some bit of larva from under a stone becomes a butterfly.’

  ‘Yes, the critics thought he did quite well,’ Edgehill replied.

  ‘Oh, “quite well”!’ Dean replied. ‘This is what would be regarded as understatement, I suppose! Or litotes, as it’s known. But, anyway, now we have a developing situation.’

  ‘Bale – notable on that programme,’ Pellotte said. ‘I can see why Dione might be attracted, despite his lips and so on.’

  ‘And we pick up fine rumours – not of the possible heave-ho for Rupert, as seemed on the cards for a time. The opposite! A future pairing of him and the pray-fuck-me-do woman, Sandine, in their own show,’ Dean said. ‘To capitalize.’

  ‘Oh?’ Edgehill said.

  ‘Yes, indeed. Now, don’t pretend you haven’t heard,’ Dean said. ‘I should think you’re working on the proposal.’

  ‘We know you have to be discreet in what you make public at this stage, Larry,’ Pellotte said.

  ‘There are many plans about for new programmes. But that’s entirely usual,’ Edgehill said.

  ‘Certainly,’ Pellotte said.

  ‘And one of them – the chief one – is Rupert and Sandine,’ Dean said. ‘We’ve done some soundings. Part of our Rupert dossier. As you’d expect, I’m sure, Larry.’

  ‘You can see my pleasure, and yet my anxiety, over this, can’t you, Larry?’ Pellotte asked.

  ‘The two factors previously mentioned,’ Dean explained. ‘One, preservation of Rupert’s job: we’re all for it. Two, the Sandine appetite: we’re not.’ Dean seemed to think he’d better continue in simple form for Edgehill. ‘Adrian wants Rupe to stay in work, perhaps earning more in the new set-up. And this seems likely. All at once, Rupert Bale is seller’s market, and will stay seller’s market for a while, at least. Rupert has turned icon, has been turned icon. He can demand an increase. This would help him get off Temperate. And then one of our problems has gone. Dione and Rupert buy a nice home in, say, Wandsworth or St John’s Wood, and none of our work force will feel angry about it henceforward, because he has left Temperate. And so Dione Pellotte is no longer fratting with the enemy, as it was known in, say, France during the Second World War. Women got their heads shaved in 1945 as punishment.’

  ‘Such a move, fine, fine, fine,’ Pellotte said, though not with full satisfaction. To Edgehill the words sounded damn provisional. So provisional. ‘Look, Larry, I might not have to worry any longer about Bale staying in work, but now I do have to worry, on my daughter’s behalf, as to what’s between him and this Sandine, don’t I?’ Pellotte said.

  ‘Factors, you see, Larry,’ Dean said.

  ‘They’re moving on together, very together, Rupert and Sandine,’ Pellotte said. ‘We’ve switched from concern for Rupe’s job to something else, possibly more difficult and grave. I’m talking of a very disturbing, very body-based, blood-based closeness between those two, Larry. That’s what made
The Insignia of Postponement item above all . . . resonate.’

  Right. Oh God, yes, right. The critics said so. Flo Tait said so. Sach said so. Everyone said so. But Edgehill replied at once: ‘Oh, suppose there were such plans for them and a duo programme did result – suppose, only suppose – this would be an entirely professional arrangement, an on-screen relationship, nothing more, not in any way a sexual matter, if that’s what bothers you. Many of these man-woman work pairings exist in television – work pairings which are that and that alone, no matter how linked the two may seem.’

  ‘It troubles me. It troubles Dione,’ Pellotte said. ‘She’s had enough distress of that kind. I want her happy.’

  Edgehill said: ‘I can assure you, Adrian, that—’

  ‘He looked as if he hoped to bang Sandine right away as part of the programme,’ Dean said. ‘“And now, viewers, we come to our next item – me giving one to a panellist in situ.” That fantasy is what made the show crackle. This was a book made flesh in front of us, or nearly. Rare.’

  ‘Just flair,’ Edgehill said.

  Dean said: ‘You don’t get that kind of heat from the Melvyn Bragg Sunday nighter South Bank Show. All right, we see Marilyn Monroe’s knickers over an updraught in the programme’s opening captions, yes, but playful only.’

  ‘In its childish way, innocent,’ Pellotte said.

  ‘You appreciate Adrian’s dilemma now, do you, Larry?’ Dean said.

  ‘I want you to make sure Rupe gets the new position, the new show,’ Pellotte said. ‘And I do realize it has to be a pairing with Sandine. To deny this would be stupid. As performers, they depend on each other. But I also want you – you, personally, as a favour, which I’m sure you won’t withhold—’

  ‘Adrian’s very certain of that,’ Dean said.

  ‘I want you to make sure it stays from now on like you describe, Larry, just to do with books, and paintings and plays.’

  Edgehill said: ‘Really, Adrian, that’s exactly how—’

  Pellotte stretched his left hand forward to reach Edgehill and gave his arm a slight squeeze. It might have been intended to proclaim everlasting friendship and trust. Certainly it might. Or, then again, it . . . ‘You and I – we share a Whitsun background, Larry,’ Pellotte said.

  ‘Adrian sees that as a kind of brotherliness, with all the privileges and responsibilities it brings,’ Dean said.

  Edgehill said: ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Adrian is famed as one who recognizes help from a friend, Larry. What he’s saying is, all right, The Insignia of Postponement talk produced an impact. As long as this was confined for Rupe Bale and the Sandine woman to the discussion on your programme – possibly spreading to other items on the night – OK. It looks as if it will get him a juicier job. So far so grand. We know sex sells, and this was an element. However, we don’t want the special quality of their first encounter to get built in to the series, if they jointly run a show. It should be cultural, intellectual, not pube-based – i.e., not a threat to the Rupert-Dione relationship, a flaunted mockery of the Rupert-Dione relationship.’

  Pellotte nodded.

  Dean said: ‘Adrian is devoted to his daughters and desires Dione to be lastingly happy with Rupert Bale in Wandsworth or St John’s Wood, or any equivalently non-Temperate part of London. And we know – absolutely know – we can rely on you, Larry, to see that a father’s hopes for his dear daughter are not trampled.’ Dean’s voice softened, took on a vast, spiritual solemnity. ‘Larry, consider: might there one day be children for Dione and Bale, a dearly cherished family? Adrian, in his position, is accustomed to thinking beyond the immediate to the long-term. What I would unashamedly call the dynastic, in this case. He must protect the future.’ Dean paused, making sure Edgehill appreciated the immensity.

  Then, with congratulation in his tone, Dean said, ‘Adrian remarked to me, before we set out today: “This is one for Larry Edgehill. Only he can assist us. He will earn our regard – will be eager to earn it, despite recent unseemliness.” Adrian never misjudges. How would he be where he is otherwise? How would he be so esteemed, so revered?’

  Nine

  Esther had a call on her office phone.

  ‘I’m Belinda.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Most likely you know he was at Tribe, this dead one – the one on the kids’ slide, but not sliding anywhere, Gervaise Etcetera – oops, that’s cruel! It might take a while going through the tapes, but you’re going to find me, aren’t you? I’ll be on club CCTV talking to him when my boyfriend was in the toilet, and after that. So, look, I don’t want your people tracking me down and a platoon coming around my house with questions, or where I work, or at the club. Ask anyone on Temperate – you’ve got to be careful who’s knocking your door. The same on Whit, I expect. This is very visible, while they’re knocking and waiting and looking friendly, not smashing the door down today, and like they expect info. Anyone can tell it’s police whatever clothes. So, I decided to ring. Sort of get in first? He wouldn’t like it – your people at my house, and he’d be sure to hear. He didn’t like it at Tribe, talking to him, to Gervaise Etcetera.’

  ‘The boyfriend?’

  ‘It wasn’t a long-time thing, him and me, but he thought he had like ownership. I played along, for a while.’

  Crude as snot, was he? Esther left it unspoken.

  ‘Nor my parents wouldn’t want it – heavies at the house, asking things,’ Belinda said.

  ‘You live on Temperate?’

  ‘Even if your lot came in a plain car – it’s not good. This would be a topic. Man or woman cop, it wouldn’t matter. And I don’t want to come in there, to the nick. This also could be seen. Or you’ve got officers in the building who might put a word to where I wouldn’t like to have a word put – Harold Perth Amesbury.’

  ‘No, no, it wouldn’t happen.’

  ‘Which you’ve got to say. But it might. I fancy living a bit more of the future, you know. It’s not guaranteed though.’

  ‘Well, I’ll meet you somewhere away from here and from Temperate. Give me a place and time.’

  ‘Just you?’

  ‘Just me. Belinda what? I’m Esther Davidson.’

  ‘Yes.’ Belinda said a friend ran a hairdressing saloon, Scissors Movement, off the estates, but not far. There was a back room for tea-making and stores. Iris didn’t mind if they used it. Belinda had told her that Esther worked in debt management, and that her parents would worry if they thought she had problems. ‘Iris doesn’t know much about police, but put on something a bit gaudy so you don’t seem plain clothes.’ Belinda might get something done to her hair before or afterwards to make the visit look ordinary and reward her friend. That would be only decent. ‘You could, too, if you like. She’s pretty good. Customers of all ages.’

  ‘Well, perhaps,’ Esther said.

  ‘Better than spilling it all on the phone.’

  ‘Much.’

  ‘As long as it’s one-to-one.’

  ‘It will be.’

  ‘Making poke-about visits to my house and work and Tribe definitely unnecessary?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  Esther arrived a couple of minutes before Belinda at Scissors Movement. She must have decided to have her hair done after the meeting, not before. Leatherette, tubular armchairs. They sat opposite each other near the gas ring. Esther wore a purple T-shirt with ‘Pamplona’ in silver letters across the front. Iris made them tea. The shelving behind Belinda had a scatter of fresh towels, bottles of shampoo and dye, a green first-aid box, spare bits of equipment, a tattered Hello! magazine. That sweet, slightly acrid hairdresser smell.

  ‘This Gervaise – cool name, yes? – this Gervaise, he was asking questions and coming out with names, just like they were just ordinary names. Casual? You don’t go around speaking names in Tribe, not the sort of names he was speaking,’ Belinda said. ‘Men. Their names. They’re not gay, but I asked him if he was, because of an interest in men, but I guessed he wasn’t. I knew he
must either be pissed or media. When I asked him if he was gay, it was really to shut him up, spouting these names, spouting these names to me, like I’m going to help him with them. I mean, he’s only just met me, or hadn’t really met me properly at all, just bumped into me. It’s dangerous. People don’t like it.’

  ‘Which people?’

  ‘The people whose names he was asking about.’

  ‘These would be people from the Temperate firm, would they?’

  ‘You know the names. You’re chief of detectives. You must know these names, even though you can’t . . . even though they . . . even though they and the firm keep going all right.’

  ‘Camby. Laidlaw.’

  She stared at Esther for a couple of seconds but didn’t speak or give any sign in her face.

  ‘You’d recognize these people?’ Esther said.

  ‘Of course I’d recognize them. Any regular at Tribe would recognize them – what they looked like, why they’re there. But I didn’t let on to him I knew. That could have made it look like I was helping him. I wouldn’t want that, would I?’

  No, you wouldn’t, Belinda. Again, unspoken, though.

  ‘At Tribe, you should be careful not to get tied in with people you don’t know.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  She stopped, sat back hard in her chair and pointed a finger at Esther. ‘Hey – you don’t ask what we talked about,’ she said. ‘You know already, do you? He left notes? That’s what they do, his sort. Reporters. They write stuff down, or on a laptop. In the press and on TV they said he was a reporter.’

  ‘But afterwards,’ Esther replied, ‘when you’d finished talking, what did he do then?’

  ‘My boyfriend returned from the toilet. He’d been buying. He’d snorted some off the back of his hand. It’s a skill. You need a wide hand and it’s got to be steady or you’re wasting half of it on the toilet floor. I didn’t know him very well, but when he’d had a snort it usually made him cheery for a while, but you can’t be sure on something like that, can you, so I had moved away from that Gervaise Etcetera? It seemed safest. Quite a crowd there, and the lights dimmed down, so I couldn’t see him for a while. I think he must have left. And then we get this development.’