Food Fight

by Anne Penketh

  Later, she said, glowing with pleasure. She put it away carefully.

  “And now, will you let me buy you a drink?”

  “You’d better be careful or you’ll have spent all your redundancy money before you even get it.”

  They walked to a pub near Borough Market, where traders were putting away their stalls. Lily appeared not to notice a wolf-whistle in her direction from a vegetable stallholder whose belly hung over his jeans. At least Susan assumed it was for Lily. It usually was.

  She wanted to warn her that any day now, there would be an article in the Washington Gazette denouncing DeKripps for illegally developing an addictive food ingredient. She needed to get to Lymington in a hurry, and who knew how long she would have to stay with her mother and Nellie.

  “You mean you’re the whistle-blower? You managed to get the incriminating evidence?”

  She nodded.

  “This is so exciting! It’s like Russell Crowe in The Insider!”

  She smiled grimly. They’d seen it together, the film in which a company executive goes public with internal documents to expose malpractice in Big Tobacco. “I suppose so. Actually it might be more alike than you think. It’s all about deliberately working on an addictive ingredient. I’d imagine that investigators are going to have to know who knew what and when. Who gave the order. That kind of thing.”

  Lily whistled in admiration.

  “Better not get ahead of ourselves though.” Susan raised her glass, beaming. “But guess who’s in the line of fire? It couldn’t happen to a nicer person.”

  “Barney? Cheers,” said Lily, clinking her glass against Susan’s. “Okay, who’s going to play you in the movie? Julia Roberts?”

  “Stop it, Lily. This is serious. She’s too old, anyway.”

  “Have you told Mimi?” Lily had put her finger on it, as usual.

  “Not yet. I have to find the right time. The baby, you know.”

  “How is she coping with Meadow?”

  “Incredibly well. But Josh is the real revelation. When I was at the flat, there he was changing nappies, bathing her, winding her, completely unfazed.”

  “Earth to Susie. Guess what, men have changed since we were their age. Not everyone runs off scared in the middle of a pregnancy. But wait a sec,” she said. “Isn’t anyone at the company going to suspect you?”

  “I don’t see how. I’m being so careful. I’ve covered my tracks and I trust the Gazette guy to protect me. I’ve gone over it again and again, and I can’t see that there’s a trail leading to me, so fingers crossed and touch wood,” Susan said, tapping the table.

  They picked up an Indian takeaway on the way back to Lily’s flat. It was one of the things she’d missed in DC, where Ethiopian cuisine had definitely not been a substitute. Later that night, wishing she hadn’t had a second helping of chicken masala, she checked her emails before going to bed. There were a couple of phishing scams and a message from Mark.

  “Lily,” she called out after a quick calculation. “Oh no. The Washington Gazette. It’s going to be online tonight!”

  *

  She’d put the sofa bed away and was making breakfast in the kitchen when Lily came through and switched on the TV. She heard her shout, “Susie, Susie!” and rushed in.

  Despite Mark’s warning, Susan hadn’t anticipated the firestorm the Gazette article could ignite. Project Candy was already the top story on the main TV news channels, and running along the bottom of the screen was a ticker that announced ‘FOOD GIANT ACCUSED’. There was no sign of any reaction from DeKripps, as it was still the middle of the night in America.

  She ran to the computer on Lily’s dining room table, read the Gazette story carefully, twice, then printed it off. The headline read: ‘Multinational accused of adulterating food: addictive ingredient allegedly developed by DeKripps.’ It was the main front page story and continued at length in the news section.

  Pringle had done a good job, nothing in the article could be traced to her, although he did mention marketing and the targeting of children. A DeKripps spokesman, contacted by the Gazette, queried the authenticity of the documents, but there was no outright denial. She wondered idly whether the spokesman was Judy. She went back to the sofa where Lily sat, mesmerized, in front of the television.

  “Thank God nobody’s mentioned you,” she said. “Well done.”

  There were experts already comparing DeKripps to the tobacco scandal, and saying that the leaked document could only have come from an insider. Other specialists, who were talking about possible links between sugar additives and diabetes, were also wheeled in. One was Kramer. He must be lapping this up.

  “Oh my God,” she said to nobody in particular. She had to warn Mimi about keeping a low profile. But just as she reached for her phone, her daughter rang.

  “Ma, have you seen the news about DeKripps?”

  “Of course I have. Lily and I are watching it now.”

  “Fantastic. We’re just putting out a press release, and getting the ‘DeKripps is Krap’ campaign rolling again. It’s just as well you left that disgusting bunch of hypocrites.”

  “Just a minute. You’re doing what?”

  Susan’s heart sank. The news about DeKripps was a gift for USAway, of course. “Mimi, I want you to take a leave of absence, extend your maternity leave, whatever. But I don’t want you at work at the moment.”

  “Are you out of your mind? Look, I’m far too busy to talk about this right now,” she said. “Anyway, what do you care? You’ve left DeKripps and I’m glad you did.”

  She rang off, leaving Susan holding the phone saying “Hello? Mimi?”

  “Doesn’t sound like that went too well,” said Lily. “Here, let’s have that coffee.”

  “And I haven’t even told her it’s me! What am I going to do?”

  They agreed that she should confess to Mimi at the earliest opportunity, but Susan worried that she wouldn’t answer the phone for the rest of the day.

  “I’d better go to her office. I need to speak to her directly.”

  “But didn’t the lawyer tell you to lie low?”

  “He did, but you know what Mimi’s like.”

  “Let’s just take it one day at a time. Stay here, and talk to Mimi tonight. She’ll be on your side, I’m sure.”

  They returned to the living room where DeKripps was still ‘Breaking News’. By lunchtime, there were protesters outside her old office in Covent Garden, holding up ‘DeKripps is Krap’ placards, ‘GUILTY Secrets’ and ‘USAway’. Maybe she would see Frank leaving the building.

  “God, look at that, it’s Mimi’s NGO,” she said. “Quick work.”

  “Where does she get her talent for strategy?”

  She remembered with horror the incident in Congress. “What if somebody remembers about Mimi being forced to leave Washington? It said in the articles she was the daughter of a DeKripps executive. Oh shit, I’d better warn her now before something else happens.”

  She swallowed, picked up the phone and rang Mimi at the office.

  “Listen mum, I’ve already told you. I’m really busy today with this DeKripps thing.”

  “Mimi,” Susan said. The tense note of urgency in her voice ensured that she would pay attention. “That’s what I’m calling about. The whistle-blower – it’s me. That’s why I want you to keep a low profile. People might make the connection between USAway, me and the leak. This is too important to mess up.”

  “I see.” She could almost hear Mimi thinking.

  “All they would have to do is google USAway and DeKripps, and it’s right there. Please Mimi,” she pleaded. “I’m an Internet search away from exposure.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “I was going to. But you were busy with Meadow. And I didn’t know how you’d react.”

  “Well that’s pretty cool. I never would have dreamed it could be you. But don’t worry about me, Mum. I have to do my job. There are only five of us in the office, and I can’t let
them down.”

  “Mimi, you don’t get it, do you? There is a big risk that my cover could be blown if you keep up your silly activities.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. And they’re not silly. Exposing the lies of a multinational is a civic duty, and we’re supporting you. I’ve really got to go now. But Ma - you rock. ”

  As she sat down again next to Lily, she realised it was the first time she had ever heard any words of praise from her daughter.

  *

  The DeKripps story ebbed and flowed in successive news cycles over the next couple of days, feeding Susan’s anxiety. The Daily Scrum – generally known as the ‘Scum’ -told its millions of readers: “Kids hooked on ‘magic’ chocs” before punning on DeKripps with its “hand in the cookie jar”. Predictably the paper also picked up the ‘GUILTY Secrets’ line.

  The French papers were also covering the story. Le Monde had one of its typically impenetrable headlines which seemed to go on forever, and promised a special dossier on Big Food in the coming days.

  Susan felt trapped at Lily’s but was thankful for a bed while the media storm passed over. She spent her time on the sofa in front of the TV, the muted sounds of a flute in the bedroom next door. She paced around the living room, unable to get DeKripps out of her mind, worrying whether anyone in the office had made a connection to her, and wondering what else she could do.

  DeKripps was hitting back, filling the airwaves as much as they could with spokespeople who stressed how they had consumers’ interests at heart and that was what had prompted the scientific research. Somehow they had deflected attention from the incriminating information in the Project Candy files. Once she saw Barney on the TV, looking smooth and reassuring, his thick grey hair combed back. She leapt up and shouted at the television: “Fucking asshole!” For a few seconds, she felt a lot better.

  The days rolled on. Mark told her to sit tight, that DeKripps was big news in America and being followed by the main cable news networks. The FDA launched an investigation, just as he’d predicted, and slapped an injunction on Guilty Secrets pending the outcome.

  “I bet the top dogs at DeKripps are having heart attacks,” he said during one of their calls. “They’ll be subpoenaed by the FDA from the CEO down.”

  But, he added, the DeKripps fightback had begun in earnest. “DeKripps has lawyers too,” he said. “The last time I saw Barney on TV, he was holding up a sheet of paper and asking them to point to a single instance of the word ‘addictive.’”

  “You mean it’s not the smoking gun?” Her stomach lurched and her mouth felt dry.

  “I’m saying it’s one thing to accuse DeKripps of having intent, and quite another to say they deliberately developed an addictive product and hid the dangers. That’s what all the Big Tobacco cases came down to.”

  “What about Tony Stella?” she said. The elusive scientist had been on her mind. “He’s the one with the inside story. They’ll have to get him to corroborate the document. Can’t they track him down?”

  “I heard the feds are after him,” he said. “You doing okay?”

  “I’m holding up, don’t worry,” she said. “But this thing is doing my head in.”

  She was wrung out from the combination of long hours of boredom and moments of pumping adrenalin, the days spent concealed behind the green curtains and closed windows, lit by the screen. She’d also had time to examine her own role at DeKripps.

  Sometimes the self-interrogation kept her up all night. Had she been right to take so little interest in the products she’d marketed? Was she culpable to have promised Barney she’d sell anything he came up with? People in marketing were dream-makers. But surely they had responsibilities too. What about all those sugary drinks and chocolate bars she’d sold in her career? It was a public health issue. She couldn’t hide any longer behind Frank and his happy customers.

  She waited and watched. Once, she and Lily went to the local pub, but even there the TV was on, and she kept checking the live ticker every few seconds. On the evenings when Lily was performing, she watched every newscast, channel hopping as she jerked the remote for a new wrinkle in the saga. Apart from the occasional shouts of ‘DeKripps is Krap’ from a handful of protesters in Covent Garden, Mimi’s NGO had gone quiet.

  A week passed in which she hardly set foot out of the flat, she felt so paranoid. Lily stopped her from going to the supermarket wearing a borrowed headscarf and a pair of sunglasses.

  “Are you deliberately trying to draw attention to yourself?” she said.

  If left to her own devices she wouldn’t even have bothered to roll up the sofa bed. Before Lily got up in the mornings, she would carry some coffee and toast back to bed, and switch on the TV. She feared her presence must be burdensome for her friend, having never intended to stay for so long. She resolved to go to her mother’s as planned, confident that her cover was intact.

  “Keep in touch,” Lily said. They embraced quickly and she headed for Waterloo.

  She was wheeling her suitcase across the station concourse when she heard a deep American voice from behind her, calling her name. She swung round, and immediately recognised Frank. She was so pleased to see his portly figure that she gave him a spontaneous hug.

  “Frank! How lovely to see you. Were you following me?”

  “I was just about to catch the train home, and there you were. What about you?”

  “Lymington, although I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stand my mother’s new dog. Have you got time for a quick drink?” She immediately regretted asking.

  “Sure. With pleasure. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

  He steered her out of the station. It was early enough for them to get a seat in the nearest pub on The Cut, and she ordered a gin and tonic at the bar. Frank had his usual half pint of lager.

  “Hey, Susie, it’s just like the old days,” he said. “Tell me about Washington. How’s Obama doing?”

  “That’s not fair. Fill me in on the office gossip here.”

  Frank told her that Martin and his wife had a new baby, whose name was Sarah. “At last, somebody with a sensible name,” she said.

  “Ha! And this from the woman who named her daughter Mimosa!” She grinned.

  There had been some changes in the team but nothing major. He didn’t mention who, if anyone, had replaced her, that being the official reason for her redundancy.

  “But how did you like Washington? Did you make friends? Have you come back with a lover boy?”

  “Certainly not the latter,” she laughed. “I did make a couple of friends, but you know how it is there,” – Frank nodded -“people seem friendly. And they are. To everyone. It’s so superficial. I don’t think I’d ever have close friendships.” She admitted though how much she had appreciated Ellen’s company.

  “She’s a diamond,” Frank said.

  They sipped their drinks and ordered another round, sitting in companionable silence. Susan relaxed. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “Look Frank, I’m really sorry about the thing with Mimi.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It was a bit awkward at the time, but …”

  “I presume that you got the whole story from Barney. I didn’t dare tell you, I was so ashamed. I never expected to see my own daughter on television in circumstances like that.”

  “I bet. But did you really not know she worked for USAway?” Susan shook her head.

  “Honestly, all I knew was that she worked some NGO as an idealistic do-gooder. You don’t know Mimi but I can tell you that if you start grilling her, she either clams up, barks at you or flounces out in a huff. She always has.”

  Frank smiled.

  “How are June and the kids, anyway?”

  “They’re great, thanks. Nothing to report. Just preparing for school after the holidays.”

  The talk of his family reminded Frank that he had a train to catch. They’d been in the pub for a nearly an hour.

  “Time to go. Can I carry your bag Ma’am?”r />
  They walked slowly, Frank pulling her suitcase. “You know we’re in a fix,” he said. “All this fuss about Project Candy. It’s a damaging leak and it came from someone inside DeKripps. Someone wanted to hurt us big time.”

  She hoped he would leave it there. She followed him up the escalator to the concourse. He knew which platform his train usually left from, but she needed to buy a ticket.

  They faced each other to say goodbye under the echoing vaults. Looking her straight in the eye, he said flatly, “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  Susan said nothing. She was kicking herself for having dropped her guard. Why had she been so trusting of him? She couldn’t lie, but she couldn’t admit it either. There was too much at stake.

  What should she do? Apologise? It was too late for that now. She was casting around for an appropriate and convincing answer, when he looked at her again. He wasn’t angry, but deeply sad. Disappointed by her betrayal. Her disloyalty. He’d been her partner in so much. In crime even.

  “Goodbye, Susie.” He turned to make his way to the platform. She realised she would never see him again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  She opened the curtains in her mother’s dining room to a hail of flashlights. The front lawn had been trampled by photographers and the rose bushes bent aside. A neighbour walked past, staring at the window where Susan was standing in a flowery dressing gown belonging to her mother. God, she thought, I’m Cherie Blair, remembering the photo of the prime minister’s wife opening the door of Number 10 in a nightie the day after Labour won the election. The reporters shouted her name but she ignored them.

  “Mother!” she cried out. “If you’re coming downstairs, make sure you’re dressed. We’ve got a media circus outside.”

  She heard the sound of the bath being run, and headed upstairs. She knocked on the door. “Mother, did you hear me? I said there’s a media circus outside!”

  “Coming, dear.”

  She pulled the curtains closed again, and fumbled for the blinds switch. They came down slowly – too slowly. She ran round the other downstairs rooms to make sure that all the blinds and curtains would protect them from the paparazzi. How had they traced her to Lymington of all places?