by Anne Penketh
“At first I thought he was a fan, after he hung around at the end of one of my shows. Then I thought it was weird that he turned up at concerts all over the country. But when I saw him posted outside my place it was terrifying.”
“What does he look like?”
“Normal guy. Jeans, jacket. Nondescript really, apart from the silent staring.”
“Did you talk to him? Or whack him with your flute case?”
“No, of course not, I was too frightened. I just ignored him. Then I worried he might become violent. But the worst thing is that the stage fright has come back. With a vengeance. When I get up to play before an audience, I’m paralysed. So I’ve not performed since last month. It was so embarrassing last time.”
“You poor thing. But why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because compared with what you were going through my problems seemed unimportant. I’ve not been on the news, and at least I’ve still got all my limbs in working order, the last time I checked.”
She knew that Lily had suffered from some kind of breakdown before university, and always had plenty of medication to hand to deal with the nerves that struck her before a performance. Once, when she’d been invited to a recital at Wigmore Hall, Lily told her that only minutes before she came onto the stage she’d been throwing up in the loo. Of course she’d performed like the virtuoso she was, slender in a long black gown, and played three encores, joking that she was in danger of exhausting her repertoire. She gave up solo playing not long afterwards. But now Susan wished she’d paid more attention to her friend’s mood swings. She’d always attributed the stage fright and self-doubt and sudden collapse of self-confidence to Lily’s creativity.
She held out her hand. “Are you going to be okay? Do you need me to come home with you to scare off this guy?”
“He’d be terrified by the sight of you,” she replied with a grin. “You could always try singing to him, that’d send him running.”
They agreed on an early night. On the pavement outside the pub, Lily asked her about her plans. But Susan was more worried about her. She hailed a cab over Lily’s protests, gave the driver the Bermondsey address and said she’d be coming back to Hackney. Then she levered herself into the back seat next to her.
“I’m not having you go home in the dark on your own.”
“So what are you going to do next?” Lily said as the cab trundled along. She said she intended to apply to study international law at Georgetown University.
“Georgetown? You mean go back to Washington? I see!”
Susan ignored the innuendo.
“The deadline is March for next September, so I’d better get my skates on as there’s so much paperwork.”
“But what about the DeKripps trial?”
Susan said she was waiting to hear from Mark, whom Lily called “the most ethical lawyer in the world”.
“Don’t you miss him?”
“I do, actually. I think you’d like him.”
“Well, I look forward to meeting him.”
They reached Lily’s street. There was no sign of anyone outside her building. Quickly, she got out of the cab, kissed Susan on both cheeks, and rushed inside.
*
She ticked off her chores over the months that followed. She finished the redecorating thanks to a team of painters for whom she prepared bacon sandwiches. She completed a successful application to Georgetown and was accepted for the following September.
She brought down from the attic Serge’s files crammed with his published writings on Camus, dozens of articles, mostly in French academic journals. He’d managed to do all this as well as full-time teaching and being a father to Mimi.
How well had she known Serge? How well does anyone know anyone, even in a marriage? It was like L’Etranger having two titles in English for the same book. She loved one version of Serge, but she presumed Mimi must have seen a completely different side of him. Yet he was the same person: a lover, teacher and scholar wrapped into one. What discoveries would she make about Mark, as they got to know each other better?
The two of them were in regular contact about the DeKripps investigations, which were being followed closely by the American press whose stories increasingly focused on similarities with the cases against Big Tobacco in the 90s. Congressional hearings were being scheduled, with Barney and Bubba expected to appear.
But Mark also warned her that she might be called by the House or Senate Committees.
He reeled off possible summonses from the House Agriculture Subcommittee on Department Operations, Oversight, Nutrition, and Forestry, the House Agriculture Subcommittee on Management, Research and Specialty Crops, and the Senate Agriculture, Nutrition and Forestry Committee.
“Are you kidding? So many of them?”
“Susie, this is DC, remember?”
He also confirmed her suspicions that the DeKripps customer service representatives had acknowledged destroying complaints about Guilty Secrets, acting on the express orders of Barney. So that was what he meant when he said he’d dealt with the complaints.
She researched the earlier lawsuit brought by the Department of Justice against the cigarette manufacturers in ‘99. She was particularly struck by the final opinion of Judge Gladys Kessler at the end of the trial in June 2005. She’d chastised the industry which ‘survives and profits from selling a highly addictive product’ blamed for causing diseases leading to ‘a staggering number of deaths per year.’ The judge also drew attention to the resulting burden on the national health care system.
Reading on, she saw that according to the judge, the tobacco companies ‘have marketed and sold their lethal products with zeal, with deception, with a single-minded focus on their financial success, and without regard for the human tragedy or social costs that success exacted.’
It was chastening. Every word could apply to DeKripps, except that the cigarette manufacturers were accused of conspiring for at least fifty years!
She also dimly remembered the case against Nestlé, the multinational accused of ‘killing babies’ with a breast milk substitute in the 1970s and dug into the history on that.
The problem hasn’t gone away, she thought. What about DeKripps’ sugar and salt-laced foods that she’d marketed? In the 70s it was babies, now everybody’s health is threatened by the food giants. By the time the DeKripps case came to trial, if it ever did, they might even have proved a link between sugar and obesity.
In her own work, she’d been painfully aware of the risks of making false claims about food. Dannon had been taken to court in America for claiming one of their yoghurts had ‘scientifically’ proved benefits for supposedly regulating the digestive tract. She looked up the case, and saw that it a class action had cost the company $45 million.
DeKripps would be risking far more. Judging by the Big Tobacco cases still going through the courts, particularly in states like Florida, the bill could run into billions. Her company hadn’t made any false claims—Guilty Secrets had been a lie from start to finish.
Sometimes, in the evening, she would chat on Skype to Mark, who kept her abreast of the multiple investigations, and tried to calm her worries about weaknesses in their case. When she asked about the Project Candy file that she’d stolen from Barney’s office not carrying sufficient legal weight because it was anonymous, he reassured her that it was ‘child’s play’ to trace the computer it’d been written on.
What about the plaintiffs’ dramatic weight gain? Couldn’t it be proved that other foods had contributed?
“Look, we’ve been through this before, we’ve got the intention, the result and the receipts,” he said. “And with a bit of luck, we’ll have more DeKripps insiders too, ready to testify.”
Any news from Ellen? “Not yet. But don’t worry, we still have time.” How could he be so confident?
With the video on, he gave her a virtual tour of his apartment, except for the bedroom where he said his clothes were strewn everywhere. In any case, it didn’t seem approp
riate yet. Way too personal.
They exchanged views on the latest episodes of Mad Men, but only if Susan had caught up with the US schedule. They wanted to avoid spoilers at all costs.
“So what do you think about Betty Francis getting fat?” he asked.
Susan felt uncomfortable watching the TV character guzzle ice cream on screen. The storyline embarrassed her, reminding her of the couples at the lawyer’s in Washington. There but for the grace of God, she thought.
She luxuriated in the bath, a daily ritual she’d missed in America. She’d never understood Americans’ horror of the bath, when they complained about the lack of hygiene and the germs in the dirty water.
She spent more time with Mimi, watching Meadow grow. Her granddaughter was now walking, and repeating Mummy, Mummy in a way that sounded like Mimi, Mimi. Occasionally, just occasionally, she was allowed to babysit.
“On a bluff, on a bluff, there lived three Billy goats gruff. Little Billy goat, middle Billy goat, Great Big Billy goat Gruff!” she would sing, lowering her voice and shaking her a little at the climax, triggering squeals of joy. Mimi herself appeared to be mellowing, thanks to her relationship with Josh who no longer needed to mediate between mother and daughter.
Not only was Mimi less prickly with her but she’d also removed some of the real thorns from her body, including the piercings around her ears. Only the surviving nose stud was a reminder of the past. It actually suited her.
One morning, she switched on the radio in bed and heard Mimi being interviewed on the radio. She recognised her voice instantly, although naturally she hadn’t been given advance warning. She was being asked to comment about a report which had concluded that the previous year’s earthquakes in Blackpool had been caused by shale gas fracking.
Unlike her rants about DeKripps, she was cool and collected, and made an impressive case against. She was invited onto the programme because USAway had sent some protesters to join ‘Frack Off’ campaigners. Not for the first time, Susan thought Mimi’s hysterical reaction to Big Food, and possibly even her vegan diet, had its roots in the rocky beginnings of their relationship. Now she was so proud of Mimi’s radio appearance that she phoned her mother and sent Mark an email about it.
The news from Lymington was that the very last representative of the ‘flying circus’, as her mother called the journalists outside her front door, had vanished. “Do you think I can send them a bill for my ruined rose bushes?”
“You should also send them one for all those cups of tea.” She rang off after promising to stay for a few days before leaving for Washington.
Mark’s reply wasn’t the one she’d expected. It was more like a telegram. It read: “Way to go, Mimi. Saw Ellen today. She’s joining us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It was high summer. In Hackney that meant scattered showers. Susan was in the back garden watering the flowerbeds, wondering how to prepare for an appearance before a Congressional hearing. Including how she should dress.
Mark had tried to reassure her but she’d watched the one where Mimi had been arrested, and didn’t want to be mauled like Tony Hayward.
“Just be your professional self,” he said. “They’re always very courteous and like the sound of their own voices. Tell the truth, the whole truth, and you’ll be fine.” But she was still fretting about the introductory remarks she’d have to write.
“Don’t worry. Half the time they just put that in the record, so you can forget about it,” he said. He’d also ensured that her testimony to any of the Congressional committees would be behind closed doors.
“Barney’s the one who should be alarmed, not you.”
She heard the doorbell ring from the garden. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she peeked through the front bay window before opening the door.
“My God!” she said, turning to stone. It was Ellen with her family; Jed, her husband and the twins. Ellen was as preppy as ever, an Alice band in her hair. The two boys stood between their parents, wide-eyed, looking expectantly at Susan.
But what had happened to Jed? He looked at least two stone heavier. His square jowls had filled out and his neck had all but disappeared. He was wearing an unflattering pair of shorts under a loose cherry polo shirt which failed to conceal his belly. His sunglasses were pushed back over what used to be cheekbones. His ankles, sockless in a pair of moccasins, were quite swollen. He was chewing gum, of course. He looked more like middle-aged Frank than the attractive young man that she’d last seen in Chevy Chase.
She opened the door, putting on a welcoming smile.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
“I didn’t know whether you would want to see me, so that’s why I didn’t call ahead.”
“That’s amazing, I was just talking about you the other day.”
“We had tickets for the Games. But I wanted to apologise to you, you know, for what happened. I’ve felt terrible about it ever since I last saw you in Washington.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s all water under the bridge,” she said. She didn’t really think that, now that the whole planet knew about her hot sex at the Merchant, but she said so anyway. She gave Ellen a hug.
“And thanks,” she said, looking her straight in the eye. “Come in, all of you, don’t just stand there.”
“You remember Darren and David, don’t you?”
She approved of the fact that Ellen had resisted the temptation to dress them identically, as it would have been impossible to tell them apart. They looked even more like their mother than when they were younger, with Ellen’s snub nose and full lips.
“So what did you see at the Games?”
“We had tickets for the opening ceremony.”
“You did?” Nobody she knew had succeeded in getting tickets and she’d watched the ceremony with Larry and Meredith next door, on their large flat screen TV.
“Did you see the Queen jumping out of the helicopter?” She bent down to the children’s level.
“Yeah,” they said together. “It was awesome.”
“And how old are you now, Darren and David?”
“Four.”
“My, you’re almost grown-ups now.”
She ushered the family into the dining room. Jed was obviously under instructions to keep out of sight with the boys who were already casing the joint, looking for toys to play with.
“But how on earth did you find my address?”
“Through Mark. He’s been so helpful with this whole thing.”
Jed took a mug of tea into the garden where the twins were hunting for spiders and snails. Susan pulled a chair out for Ellen at the dining room table.
“So how are things? What are you doing now?” she asked, pouring them both a cup of Earl Grey into china teacups.
“I’ve taken a sabbatical. But in actual fact I’ll be back in DC in a few weeks’ time, as I’ve been accepted at Georgetown to do law.”
“Yeah, I heard. Mark told me,” said Ellen.
“I’m going to be the caped crusader. Or the crap crusader, as Mimi says. I’d recommend a change of direction anyway. It’s kind of invigorating.”
Ellen didn’t know what her own next step would be, but she intended to spend more time with the children and said Jed’s salary could provide for them all for a while.
“Good for you. I’m sure the right thing will come along. We’ve just got to get through this with our reputations intact.”
She hadn’t intended to remind Ellen of how she’d destroyed hers.
She steered the subject back to DeKripps, sipping her tea. “So do you feel OK about testifying against them?”
“I do now. But I wrestled with the decision for quite a while. I didn’t tell you when we met last, but Barney offered me your old job. A promotion.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t take it. That’s why I didn’t mention it to you.”
Susan leaned back. “We were loyal company employees. Too loyal. But you know, the more
I think about it, it was obvious that the writing was on the wall. We should have done something about it sooner, as a company, I mean. And senior employees have a duty to the public to do the right thing.”
Ellen nodded.
“When you think how long we’ve been heaping sugar into food, and sticking our heads in the sand about diabetes. And look at obesity in America. Do we seriously think there’s no connection?”
“I’ve been having exactly the same conversations with myself,” Ellen said. “I actually handed Barney a New York Scrutineer article on this two years ago. But it was a taboo issue at work. Now there’s more and more linking HFCS to obesity and diabetes. What makes me sick though is how DeKripps went after Kramer.”
“Me too. Do you remember that meeting in Barney’s office?”
Again, Ellen nodded. “I heard Kramer had a heart attack recently. Anyone would after a smear campaign like that.”
“Oh dear.” Susan could restrain herself no longer. “Do you mind if I ask you something? What’s the matter with Jed? He’s ballooned since I last saw him.”
Ellen looked ruefully at her Earl Grey. “It’s Guilty Secrets, of course.”
“Oh my God. Really?”
“You were right. Of course it’s an addiction, I just couldn’t see it. I thought he was keeping some in the glove box of the car, just in case he needed a snack, but then I found them all over the place. You should have seen the bills he was running up – and he wasn’t even keeping them in the fridge.”
“Poor Jed. Are you going to join the class action?”
“I don’t know yet. We’ve not really talked about it. It’s tough for him. The doctor says there’s too much stress on his heart now he’s put on so much weight.” Their eyes turned to the garden where he was dabbing his flushed face with a tissue. He noticed their gaze and waved it at them.
“Jeez, it’s hot out here,” he said.
“We should be going,” Ellen said. “But I did want to apologise to you. I should never have betrayed your confidence.”