‘Have you asked your mum about this?’
A brief pause.
‘You know what Mum’s like. She’d only say no, but it’s up to you, not her.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Luke said, not sure whether to be pleased or depressed that his wife’s unwelcome celebrity seemed to be bringing him back in touch with his daughters. ‘And how are you, kitten? Working hard?’
‘Yeah, yeah, Dad.’
Luke saw his call-waiting light flashing. Loren, Roxanne’s secretary. ‘Sweetheart, it’s an important call on the other line. I’d better get it. Lovely to hear from you, my pumpkin. Speak soon… Hi, Loren.’
‘Hi, Luke. Roxanne was wondering if you had a spare moment after work tonight?’
Now that sounded interesting. Roxanne probably still hadn’t got over him. Probably desperate to see if she could rekindle their flame. He’d have to think about it…
‘Luke?’
‘Yes, I’m free.’
‘She’ll see you in her office straight after the show.’
Thea didn’t really want a drink with Jake, but as long as the slenderest of threads connected him to Minnie she had no choice. So at the end of the day she took the Tube to Camden, where Jake was waiting for her in the same pub as before. He was tanned and had a bit of stubble. It suited him. The talk of the Marriott Guatemala City was still pushing it, though.
‘I’m really, really sorry,’ he said, before she’d even sat down.
‘Thanks,’ Thea replied and then with great effort, ‘I know it’s not your fault.’
‘Yeah, but I still feel responsible. Getting your hopes up.’
‘You can’t do anything about Minnie. No one can. She’s a law unto herself. But you tried and I appreciated it.’ Thea hoped the gods were looking down on such a display of graciousness. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘how was the trip for you?’
‘Knackering. But good. Luke’s reports were brilliant. We received a huge surge in donations off the back of them. So I’m for ever in your debt.’
‘Good,’ said Thea. ‘You can buy me a drink, then.’
While he was at the bar, she noticed the pub was filling up. A man was setting himself up on a dais with a microphone and noisy gangs were gathering round each table.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked Jake as he returned with the wine. A whole bottle, which seemed a bit presumptuous as she wasn’t going to stick around that long.
‘It’s pub quiz night. I’d forgotten. It’s a good laugh, though. Want to have a go?’
‘Don’t be silly!’
He laughed. ‘Why not? The prize is two hundred and fifty pounds. We could donate it to Guatemala Children.’
‘I don’t do pub quizzes.’
‘What a waste. Your general knowledge must be incredible. I bet you know your capital cities. Australia?’
‘Canberra,’ Thea said, giving him a withering glance.
‘Very good. Most people say Sydney. Brazil?’
‘Brasilia, of course. Did you think I was going to say Rio?’
He laughed. ‘You’re a natural nerd. Come on, Thea, let’s do it. Why not? What have you got to rush off to?’
He was right.
‘Go on, get a sheet then.’
It was a surprisingly enjoyable hour. She and Jake squabbled over what colour zero was on a roulette wheel (she said red, he said green but she insisted) and what the official language of the United States was (she said it had none, he said English but in the end they went with her answer).
‘Right, pop music now,’ said the compère. ‘Tonight we’re doing the eighties.’
‘Yay!’ bellowed Thea. ‘My decade.’
Jake grinned. ‘Well, at least one of us will know what he’s talking about.’
She glared at him with mock froideur. ‘No need to be cheeky, youngster. Just because you’re jealous I don’t wear nappies at night and sleep in a cot.’
‘What was the name of the band consisting of Andy McCluskey and Paul Humphreys?’
‘OMD! OMD!’ Thea yelled. She was on her third glass of wine and more than a little drunk, she realized. Jake laughed and spread out his hands in ignorance.
‘Who had a hit in 1982 with “John Wayne is Big Leggy”?’
‘Easy! Haysi Fantayzee.’ Thea started singing. ‘John Wayne in lovers lane making whoopee…’
‘Nineteen eighty-two.’ Jake shook his head as if she’d referred to the glorious age of the steam engine. She slapped his hand.
‘All right, so how old are you?’
‘I’m twenty-eight.’ He cleared his throat and squared up like one of the Mitchell brothers in EastEnders. ‘Got a problem with that?’
Thea was wondering if she did, when her phone started ringing.
‘Oh fuck off,’ she told it. ‘I’m having fun here.’ But the lure of a BlackBerry was too strong for her to resist. She glanced at the screen. Number withheld.
‘Sorry,’ she said to Jake. ‘I’d better get it. Hello?’
‘Is that Thea?’ It was an American voice. Female, tremulous, a slight lisp. Thea could only just hear her over the surrounding noise and banter.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Minnie Maltravers here.’
‘Come in, Luke,’ Roxanne said. Luke eyed her approvingly. He loved those neat little suits she favoured, that hinted at so much underneath. He was sure he could glimpse a bulge of suspender under the skirt. Yes, he’d definitely been too hasty ending things. He sat down, smiling.
‘What can I do for you, Roxanne?’
‘I wanted to play you this,’ she said, putting a digital voice recorder on her desk. Luke looked at it, confused.
‘OK.’
She pressed play. The sound of a phone ringing, then: ‘Hello?’ A man’s voice. Slighly wavery. Refined.
‘Hello.’ It was Roxanne’s voice, although for some reason she’d affected a terrible Cockney accent. ‘Is that the Bishop of Bellchester?’
‘Yes, my dear, how can I help you?’
‘I’m calling from the Frontline Club in Paddington. We have a coat here that we think you must have left behind.’
‘The Frontline Club? I don’t know it I’m afraid, my dear.’
‘But you were here quite recently with Luke Norton.’
‘Luke Norton? I’m sorry you have the wrong man. I haven’t seen Luke in years.’
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‘Oh, I’m so sorry. We must’ve made a mistake. I do apologize, guv’nor.’
‘Not to worry, my dear. I hope you find the coat’s owner.’
‘I ’ope so too. Thank you for your help m’Lord.’
Click.
‘What do you say to that, Luke?’
‘I…’
‘Who did you spend £179.80 in the Frontline Club on? Falsifying expenses is a sackable offence you know. You’re in serious trouble, Luke.’ Her desk phone rang. ‘Excuse me one second. Hello?… Oh! Hello.’ She listened intently, nodding. ‘Yes, yes, I see. Well, if she’s going to call Thea directly, then wonderful. Excellent. Thank you for letting me know.’
She hung up.
‘Well.’
She stared at Luke.
‘I’m going to give you one more chance it seems. That was Minnie Maltravers’ assistant. She’s going to do the interview. Tomorrow. In the studio. And she’ll only talk to you.’
38
The office was in uproar. Minnie was due to arrive in an hour and the interview was going to take place face-to-face live at seven forty-eight, just after the commercial break. The network had been flagging it all day: ‘Tonight Minnie Maltravers speaks exclusively to the Seven Thirty News about that adoption.’
Minnie’s people had sent over a new list of demands that made Barbra Streisand sound like a hermit.
‘She wants her dressing room decorated with white roses and white curtains, it’s got to have an MP3 and DVD player,’ Alexa read incredulously from an email. ‘There are to be two boxes of Pop Tarts, a box of Fruit Loops and a “bowl o
f fresh tuna salad, with Hellmann’s mayo, eggs, relish and tuna (albacore, solid, white, in spring water)”. The only acceptable brand of water is Volvic.’ This is even madder than in Scotland. Are you sure this isn’t a joke?’
‘I wish,’ said an ashen-faced Thea. She’d been up all night again, negotiating terms with Leanne, eventually triumphing by insisting that Minnie be not allowed to see the questions in advance. To keep going, she’d had eight espressos, making her as fidgety as a grasshopper at a disco.
Her phone rang. ‘Luke?’ she said tersely. She was keeping her tone as professional as possible.
‘I was wondering if we could have a quick word. I’m in the canteen.’
‘OK.’
He’d be wanting to discuss the wording of one of the questions. Thea hurried out of the newsroom and along the corridor with its big window looking into the studio. With less than an hour to go before the programme started, lighting men stood on ladders working out the most flattering angle to illuminate Minnie’s still flawless features. In a special make-up room hastily constructed at the back of the studio, scented with Jo Malone pomegranate noir candles, Minnie’s second-favourite make-up artist (the favourite had given birth that morning and had resisted all Thea’s very best pleas and bribes to come) mixed colours in a palette as if she was Picasso. Carlo the hairdresser, flown in again first class from New York and put up in the Lanesborough, fiddled with tongs and straightening irons. She pushed open the door of the canteen. Luke was sitting at a table in the far corner, frowning over the list of questions and nursing a cup of tea.
‘You must know those by heart now,’ she teased him. Since the weekend she’d been feeling distinctly ill-at-ease with him, but she’d decided the only way to play it was to carry on as normal.
‘Yup,’ he said. Under his make-up he looked white. Thea stared at him. She’d never seen him like this before.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Fine. Yes.’
‘What did you want to see me for?’
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‘I…’ He sat back in his chair. ‘Christ, Thea, do you think it’s going to be all right?’
Thea was astonished. Confident, controlled Luke Norton didn’t ask things like that. ‘Of course it is,’ she said. ‘Minnie’s on her way in right now, I’ve just spoken to Leanne and you are going to have the world exclusive with her. It’ll be a triumph.’
‘But suppose it’s not.’ He looked at her beseechingly. ‘So much is resting on this, Thea. I know I’m out of favour with Dean and Roxanne.’ Before Thea could interrupt, he held up a hand. ‘It’s not just the presenting side of things, there… well, I’m in trouble about something else too. And the school fees keep going up and Hannah’s asking for more alimony and it’s all…’ He exhaled. ‘Tonight, has to be a success.’
‘And it will be,’ Thea said, trying to hide her unease. Seeing Luke nervous was like seeing the prime minister on the loo. It ruined your image of him.
‘Thea, I’m sorry I’ve been running a bit hot and cold recently. I… It was an amazing night we had in Scotland, but you can understand why I backed off. You’re such an incredible woman but… I am married and…’
‘I understand,’ she said quickly.
‘But my marriage is on the rocks. I can’t fool myself any longer. And… I don’t want to be presumptuous but it would be wonderful to think the… connection we’ve always had was still as strong as ever.’
Thea felt as if she’d been spring cleaned. It was all coming right. So suddenly. They’d got the interview and Luke loved her.
‘Thea?’
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‘Luke, I—’ Her phone rang. ‘Hello? Leanne? Oh. OK. Great. We’re all ready for her.’ She hung up. ‘I’ve got to run, Luke. Minnie’s coming in now.’ ‘Shall we have a drink after the show?’ She smiled at him. ‘After the show would be great.’
After much discussion it had been agreed that the interview with Minnie wouldn’t be the lead item on the show. Even Dean agreed that would be far too much against the serious spirit the Seven Thirty News still paid lip service to and would garner them a pasting from the critics. Instead, they’d get the day’s main headlines dispatched before the first advert break, devote the next two sections to the Minnie interview, then allocate five minutes to other news at the end. So, as Luke read the headlines about freak storms devastating America, disastrous sales figures for Marks & Spencer and another suicide bombing in Tel Aviv, Minnie sat in make-up, surrounded by bodyguards, having her powder touched up and her curls tweaked.
‘Is everything OK this time?’ Thea said in a low voice to Leanne.
‘Yup. It really is. Minnie’s astrologer told her she should do the interview today, so there’s no way she’ll back out.’
‘Great.’ Thea still wasn’t wholly convinced. She looked at the clock. ‘She needs to be in the studio in five minutes when the adverts start.’
‘No problem, Thea.’
And sure enough, five minutes later Minnie emerged from make-up in a demure dove-grey trouser suit and was ushered to her seat. For the second time in a week, she shook hands graciously with Luke. Virtually genuflecting, Rhys ran forward to clip her microphone to her collar, the make-up artist appeared with a powder puff, Carlo did a last-minute tug with some hot tongs.
It was going to happen. It was actually going to happen! Thea dashed up to the gallery. ‘And lights, camera!’ Jayne was counting down. Dean and Roxanne Fox stood behind her. ‘Over to you, Luke.’
Luke looked into the camera and gave his trademark boyish grin.
‘Good evening and welcome back to the Seven Thirty News. Tonight, we are delighted to be bringing you an exclusive interview with Minnie Maltravers, legendary supermodel and icon.’
‘Cameras to Minnie,’ Abe, the director, intoned and the nation saw Minnie smile graciously at Luke through flirtatiously lowered eyelids. Thea exhaled with relief. It was happening. Finally happening.
‘Minnie,’ Luke was saying, leaning forward, ‘you recently adopted a nine-month-old baby boy from Guatemala, in what most of us would see as an act of charity. Yet your actions seem to have sparked fury round the world. Do you understand why you have upset so many people?’
Minnie shook her head. ‘I acted in good faith,’ she lisped. ‘All I wanted was to be a mom and give a child a better life, but I’ve been greeted with so much aggression.’
‘But can’t you understand why?’ Luke said. ‘You have a court order for anger-management issues, and many people who have spent years trying to adopt feel that you have been given preferential treatment over them.’
‘Well, if they do, that’s their problem,’ Minnie snapped, mouth closing like a zip on a purse.
Luke raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
‘Tell him to be less aggressive,’ Dean flapped.
‘Luke, calm down,’ Thea said into his earpiece. ‘Don’t give her such a hard time straight off.’
‘Yeah,’ Minnie replied. ‘I’m sorry for other people if they can’t adopt for whatever reason, but I don’t see why I should suffer for it. Social workers checked me and my husband out extensively and they decided we would make excellent parents for my little Cristiano.’
‘And the fact you opened a health clinic and a school in his village had nothing to do with it?’
Minnie’s cat-like eyes narrowed.
‘Why are you being so critical? Surely it’s a good thing to open a school and a clinic? I don’t understand why this is getting me such a hard time.’
‘I don’t know.’ Luke shrugged. ‘You tell me.’
‘Tell him to cool it,’ Dean hissed.
Roxanne shook her head. ‘He’s doing a good job. Asking what everyone wants to hear. If she gets angry it’ll make great TV.’
‘I just wanted a baby,’ Minnie said, in her tweetie-pie voice. ‘What’s so wrong with that?’ Wasso wong wid dat? ‘Did I commit a crime?’
‘Of course not,’ Luke said, smiling appeasingly. ‘People just wonder why
– having wanted this baby so much – you have barely seen him for nearly a month.’
Minnie stood up, her face thunderous.
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‘How do you know I haven’t spent time with him? How do you know? I don’t have to put up with this crap.’
Jayne’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, she’s going to walk.’
‘Get him to calm her down,’ Dean flapped.
‘Luke, Luke. Apologize!’ Thea hissed into the microphone. ‘Please!’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Luke said, leaning forward and patting her on the arm. ‘Don’t take offence. None was intended. I’m just putting the questions to you that the public has been asking for the past few weeks in the knowledge you want to refute them, to set the record straight.’
Minnie smiled warily, clearly only partially appeased.
‘OK,’ she whispered.
‘He’s doing a great job,’ Roxanne said happily. ‘He’s got the balance of obsequious and cheeky just right. Well done, Luke, back on form.’
‘Yeah,’ Dean admitted reluctantly, ‘it’s good.’
‘Ad break,’ Jayne intoned.
‘All right,’ Luke said. ‘We’ll be back after the break with Minnie Maltravers speaking exclusively to the Seven Thirty News about her adoption battle.’
In the post mortems, no one could quite work out how it happened. But somehow before cutting to the adverts there was the briefest of pauses. For the rest of his life, Luke would wonder if one of the engineers had landed him in it, someone he’d once been rude or offhand to. All he knew was he was unusually nervous, worn down by Hannah’s humiliations, his children’s demands, Poppy’s new social life, the fact this interview was either going to be his renaissance or his swan-song and that somehow, despite all his years of experience, he didn’t realize he was still on air when he muttered into his microphone.
‘Stupid cunt.’
A nation heard it and gasped. Virtually immediately, a clip started running on YouTube, while Channel 6 switched to a commercial for a new eco-friendly washing-up liquid.
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