by Fern Britton
She thought of Gilly, who, she had imagined, would be completely on top of what she was earning, what she had and hadn’t been paid and what she lost in commission. She wasn’t the type to risk anything to anyone else. Yet the conversation between her and Julia that Frank had overheard suggested otherwise. So, what was going on?
‘And paid for too.’ That was definitely what Jack had said. As the car turned off the M40 she resolved to have another conversation with Julia. There was no question that it was time to sharpen up her own act. This time she was not going to be flannelled into accepting the first thing she was told. She wanted answers and she would get them.
Chapter 23
As Christie walked into Julia’s office, ready for battle, her agent picked up a thin yellow plastic folder off her desk and came to sit next to her on the sofa – unprecedented in their relationship so far. Usually she kept the table or the desk between them. Lily provided coffee and water, then, at a sharp command from Julia, pulled over a hard upright chair and sat opposite them in silence, poised with pen and paper to take notes. Christie noticed that she’d smartened herself up since last time. Wearing a tailored short-sleeved black pencil dress with heels, she’d morphed from casual to chic in one swoop.
Leaning forward, Julia patted Christie’s knee. ‘I don’t need to ask whether you had a good holiday.’
‘No, you don’t.’ For a moment, Christie was put off guard by this sudden unlooked-for familiarity. She shifted her position so her legs were just out of Julia’s reach. ‘But how did anyone know where we were?’
‘Well, I might have mentioned it.’ Julia made a face that said she knew she shouldn’t have but, equally, it didn’t really matter, did it? ‘Everyone’s so hungry for material after Christmas and I didn’t think it would do any harm.’
‘But you’re supposed to be on my side,’ Christie protested. She looked briefly away from Julia through the wall of glass on the other side of the office. In the distance, a flash of lightning lit up a bank of thundercloud that was rolling slowly towards them over the London roofscape.
‘Darling, of course I am.’ Julia’s expression, reasonable and controlled, asked how Christie could possibly think otherwise. ‘All I’m doing is keeping up your profile so that I can find you your next job after Good Evening Britain. You haven’t got all that long to go till Gilly comes back. In fact, I think I’ve already got something that you’re going to jump at.’ She took a piece of paper out of the folder. Christie could make out a few indecipherable squiggles in Julia’s writing.
‘I don’t see how my being photographed with Richard with a snide implication that I was having an affair with Sam and that I’m some sort of prima donna is going to help get me any kind of work.’ Christie wasn’t going to let her get away with this. ‘I’d rather get by on my presenting skills not on my private life. And if I can’t, too bad. So, if possible, I’d prefer you not to mention what I’m doing to the press.’
‘Calm down, do.’ A phrase guaranteed always to wind Christie up to snapping point. She bit the inside of her lip hard to stop herself saying anything she might regret while Julia drew back from her and sat upright, indignant. ‘I certainly didn’t say anything about Sam. However, methinks you do protest too much. It’s not true, is it?’ She leaned towards her again. ‘Darling, you’re blushing!’
‘Of course it isn’t.’ Christie took a couple of deep breaths, hoping to stop the rush of heat to her face. Too late. She cleared her throat. ‘Before we talk about anything new, can we clear up a couple of things?’ That’s right. Take control of the conversation. She was aware of Lily’s head moving as she watched one, then the other of them speak. Through the window, thunder rumbled as the storm moved closer.
A knowing smile had been playing on Julia’s frosted pink lips but, seeing Christie wasn’t going to give away anything more promotable about her personal life, she arranged her features into a more businesslike expression. ‘Not the Drink-a-Vit money again? Darling, we’ve been chasing them, but no joy. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave it with us for a little longer. There seems to be a glitch in their accounts department but we should have it sorted by the end of the month.’ She looked at Lily and barked, ‘Remind Lenny, will you?’ then recovered herself and patted the folder on her lap. ‘Now, can I tell you about this?’
‘Not yet. There’s one more thing. I bumped into Jack Bradbury the other day. Why did he say that my holiday was all paid for? What did he mean?’
Julia bent down to rifle in her bag for something. When she straightened up, she had a spectacle case in her hand. Opening it, she took out a pair of rectangular glasses and put them on her nose. In the bright light of the office, the photochromic lenses darkened so her eyes were almost hidden. Christie noticed the word ‘Versace’ winking at her from one of the arms.
By the time Christie had asked her questions, Julia was sitting still, quite composed. She waited, then removed her glasses and said, ‘Yes. And?’
‘You were quite clear that I was doing the decent thing in stepping aside for Gilly but TV7 wouldn’t run to paying us both. I went along with that because having half-term off was important to me.’
‘How on earth did you get that impression?’ Julia shook her head, as if despairing. ‘You must have misunderstood me. Again!’
‘Julia, you said you knew how keen I was on money and so you were telling me that I wasn’t being paid. “They can’t afford two salaries,” you said, “but I don’t want you to think that I’ve taken it out of your pay packet.” Those were your exact words.’
Julia stared at her, twirling her glasses between her fingers, then threw back her head and laughed. ‘I was joking, darling. My client’s livelihood is my livelihood. I’d never have let that happen. You know me.’
As the steeliness with which Julia had begun the meeting returned, Christie wondered how well she did know her agent. She remembered the stories about her shadier business dealings that had reached the press, the suggestions that Ben had been broke when he died, that Julia might have had some responsibility for his death, that their relationship had been closer than they had wanted people to know. Perhaps she should quit while she was ahead – she still was, wasn’t she? – and find another agent, after all. Except she needed what was owed to her and she was curious to know what the new job that Julia had lined up for her was. This wasn’t the moment to cut loose. Their relationship might be difficult, but as long as it was working to her advantage, she shouldn’t complain. However, something had just happened between them – of that she was sure. She didn’t know exactly what it was, beyond a feeling of having caught Julia on the back foot. Unless, of course, she really had misinterpreted what Julia had originally said, but she didn’t believe she had. The sound of rain spattering against the windows made them both look away.
‘No.’ Julia was back in her stride. ‘The money will be in your account as usual by the end of the month. I know how much money means to you and I won’t joke about it again.’ As far as she was concerned there was obviously nothing left to say on the subject. She swept on without giving Christie a chance to interrupt. ‘Now, let me tell you about this new project. You’ve been such a hit with TV7 that they want you to present Top of the Class, a new quiz show for secondary schools – a sort of University Challenge for kids. This is ideal for you. Sixteen schools in a knockout competition that’ll go out once a week over fifteen weeks, straight after the Good Evening Britain slot. But – before you say anything – the recordings will take place over three or four non-consecutive weekends, four or five half-hour shows a weekend, so short bursts of hard work that will barely affect your very full private life.’
You really have no idea, have you? Christie thought, torn between excitement at the idea of being the sole presenter of a show with credibility and kids, and dismay at not being home for weekends, however few.
‘You need a continuing series to help you through after Gilly comes back. This is perfect. And the other reason for d
oing it? It’s a “bank raid”, pure and simple.’
‘A what?’
‘Eighty thousand pounds for four weekends’ work – five K a programme. If that’s not a steal, I don’t know what is.’ Julia sat back, evidently pleased with herself. She put the glasses back in their case and undid her black wool jacket so the Lurex lining glittered in the light. She crossed her legs with the faintest swish of silk, swinging out the top one and rotating her ankle to admire her nude patent-leather Jimmy Choos.
Christie found herself looking towards the photo of Ben Chapman, as if he would help her come to a decision. But he kept smiling at Julia, locked for eternity in her gaze. She thought of the money – eighty thousand pounds. She had never come anywhere close to earning such an incredible amount. She thought fast. Yes, it would be hard work but the reward would make such a difference to their lives. She could pay for Maureen and Ted’s trip to India, finish the work on the house, give the kids a fab summer holiday, make further inroads into the loan and have some savings at last. So tempting. Four non-consecutive weekends. Now Libby was out so often with Sophie, and Fred with Olly, would they really notice if she wasn’t there?
‘Christie!’ Julia clicked her manicured fingers in front of Christie’s face. ‘Did you hear anything I just said?’
Christie came to. ‘Of course. I was just thinking about the implications, whether it would fit in.’
‘Fit in? What do you mean? You must make it fit in! It’s perfect for your profile as a thinking family woman. And the pay is very generous indeed.’
Christie looked at her agent, so poised and calculating, but with eyes that flashed anger at the possibility of not getting her way. For a second, Christie felt something like fear. Her conversations with Frank and Sam whirled back into her mind. Did Julia really have so little loyalty to her clients that she’d steal their money, their ideas, their lives in the interest of safeguarding her agency and her reputation? Was she looking at a woman capable of murder? Christie gave a slight shake of her head to pull herself together. The worst was just hearsay and gossip, while the rest came from competitor resentment or from clients who’d had a bad experience. Every agent had one or two of those.
‘You’re right,’ she said, almost decided. ‘I think I should do it but let me discuss it with my family first. Give me all the details and I’ll get back to you first thing tomorrow.’
Julia nodded, obviously irritated by Christie’s refusal to commit herself immediately. ‘Now, why don’t you let Lily take you for lunch? On me! So there’s another saving you can make, Ms Getty.’ Julia laughed unpleasantly. ‘She can give you the dates involved.’ She looked at her watch and stood up to signal the end of their meeting, straightening her pleated black skirt. ‘I’ve got be at the BBC at two o’clock so I can’t join you, I’m afraid. But I want my clients to get to know Lily better so that you’re comfortable dealing with her whenever I’m unavailable.’
Christie had almost forgotten that Lily was still there. And the way Julia was talking, she might as well not have been. However, remembering how much she had liked her last time she was in the office, Christie was happy to go along with the plan, although she wondered whether she was being fobbed off because she’d dared to speak out of turn.
*
Their lunch had to be quick since Christie was due at the studios by two but it was none the less pleasant. Because it was early, Uncle Mac’s Diner, right around the corner from the office, was quiet. The two women were directed to the last in the long line of booths. They slid across the red leatherette banquettes to sit opposite one another by the dark brick wall. If they leaned forward, they could see each other beneath the large metallic shade of the low-hanging light. After studying the menu – salads or burgers and fries – they ordered tuna niçoise and began to talk, Christie drawing Lily out by asking her about life in the office. Without the shadow of Julia hanging over her, Lily’s confidence had returned.
‘I love it and I’m learning so much. My dream job, really.’ She sounded enthusiastic but, as she picked up her pistachio milk shake (off the children’s menu), her frown suggested another story.
They talked a little about what she did, and her ambition to become an agent in her own right one day, until Christie moved the conversation on. ‘Julia’s wonderful but she strikes me as quite a demanding boss.’ She was itching to know more about what made her agent tick, what she was like behind the scenes, what the truth was behind the stories.
‘She’s a perfectionist,’ Lily admitted, concentrating on her plate as she organised some salad onto her fork. ‘But I can put up with her fault-finding for the start in the business she’s given me.’ She paused. ‘She’s got a very short fuse sometimes.’
Christie nodded at the waitress who hovered beside them, waiting to know if they wanted more water, then returned her attention to Lily. So she wasn’t as happy as she made out (no surprise, given what she’d seen for herself). Julia seemed to have everything anyone could possibly want in her life, yet still wasn’t satisfied and thought nothing of taking it out on her staff. What drove her to want more? Christie remembered the pictures she’d seen of her house after Ben’s death: they gave the impression of a luxurious and desirable Cotswold country retreat. She was prompted to ask whether Lily had seen it.
‘I once had to drive down in a hurry to collect a pair of shoes she needed for a gala evening at the Ritz. There was no one else to go and she doesn’t trust anyone she doesn’t know.’ A note of pride crept into her voice.
‘Is it as amazing as it looks in the photos?’ Christie knew the answer she was about to hear.
‘More. I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s a cinema and a gym in the basement, the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen. The gardener’s just done the most fantastic job with the re-landscaping. There’s even a tennis court. And she’s talking about getting another interior designer to redo the five guest suites – but they’re perfect already.’ Lily’s face showed exactly how impressed she was.
They paused as a group of young office workers crowded into the booth behind them. The place was filling up as it reached one o’clock, the noise level increasing around them.
‘How often does she manage to go there?’ Christie raised her voice so she’d be heard.
‘Most weekends. She invites people down there – usually the ones she wants to impress or do a deal with.’ She covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
The nails on her long fingers were bitten to the quick. They reminded Christie of someone else. Then it came to her: Lenny the accountant. Both he and Lily were young and smart but both had chewed nails. What was it about working for Julia? Surprised, Christie tried to sound reassuring. ‘Who am I going to tell? So, her life’s all tied up with work, then? No significant others?’
Lily looked as if her eyes would pop out of her head, then she started giggling. ‘Can you imagine? Who would dare? She—’ Again, she cut herself short.
Christie gave her a complicit smile. ‘Now you say it, I can’t imagine either. I did wonder about Ben Chapman . . .’
‘No way! He was much too nice and, anyway, he had a girlfriend. That evening was a business . . .’ She stopped, as if aware that this time she really was about to say too much. She rubbed the side of her nose as an odd look came into her eyes.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not asking you to break confidences,’ Christie said, wanting to put her at ease again. ‘I’m just curious about the woman who’s done so much for me, that’s all.’ More curious than you could know.
Lily pushed her plate away, salad eaten, tuna steak left on the side, her composure recovered. ‘But I’d like to know more about you: what you want to do. With the business expanding, Julia’s asked me to get to know all the clients better.’
‘That’s a difficult one,’ Christie finished her last mouthful of fish. ‘Too long for the time we’ve got left, really, but I’ll have a go.’
Over coffee, she amused Lily wi
th stories about her family, including the one about Smudge weeing in Mel’s Stella McCartney handbag so that she spent an entire day wondering where the terrible smell was coming from. Lily laughed too, relaxed and obviously interested as Christie described how much she enjoyed working with the Good Evening Britain mob and how important it was to her to have a part of her life that was hers alone, separate from the family.
Eventually, having noted down the recording dates for Top of the Class, she thanked Lily and suggested they had lunch together again some time. On the way to the studio, she leaned back in the taxi, pleased that she had at least one friend in White Management.
*
After supper, Christie took herself to her study so she could speak uninterrupted to Maureen, Mel and Richard – in that order. Armed with a cup of coffee and a bar of her favourite Green & Black’s cherry chocolate, she turned on the desk light, then the fan heater, aiming it at her feet. When she finally got the bloody money from Drink-a-Vit or Top of the Class, whichever came first, she’d have the bloody central-heating fixed and would keep it on full blast – even in August. As she sat in the old leather armchair, she felt her body relax into its familiar contours as she picked up the phone. Two hours later, having gone through the details of the new TV7 show with them all, as well as the possible child-care implications, she eventually hung up after finally talking to Richard, her mind made up. The fact that they had all supported her gave her a warm glow as she thought again how fortunate she was to have them. After Maureen had agreed to help when necessary, liking the sound of a show that was more the sort of thing she had in mind for her daughter, Christie broke the news about her gift of the trip to India that Maureen and Ted had often talked about.
Her mother was quick to rebuff the idea. ‘We can’t accept that, Christine.’ But Christie could hear that she was only saying what she thought she should. ‘This is your money. I don’t want you to waste it on us.’