concentrate on his wife in order to win franchise. The
‘No!’ said Freddie, appalled. ‘It’d hurt Lizzie, and hurt her kids to have their father’s name plastered all over the papers.’
‘Frederick, dear,’ said Rupert patiently, ‘it’s a good story, I said. It’ll discredit Corinium and make a complete mockery of the marriage programme if everyone knows it’s a sham. D’you want to win this franchise or not?’
Freddie shook his head stubbornly. ‘Not if it ’urts Lizzie. Anyway, you’re barking up the wrong tree, mate. Fact that Tony’s told James to drop his mistress and concentrate on making his marriage work will only score Brownie points with the IBA. Besides, if the papers start sniffin’ round James, they might easily cotton on to Lizzie and me.’
Rupert sighed. ‘If Declan and I can behave ourselves, I can’t think why you can’t.’
As soon as Freddie had gone, the Bishop and the Professor, who was clutching a huge whisky in one hand and a vast plate of smoked salmon sandwiches in the other, closed in on Rupert.
‘Could we have a word?’ said the Bishop.
‘We’re a bit concerned about Freddie Jones,’ said the Professor with his mouth full.
‘Charming chap, of course,’ said the Bishop smoothly. ‘Definitely one of nature’s gentlemen, but a little bit of a rough diamond.’
‘Rough diamonds are a consortium’s best friend,’ said Rupert lightly, but there was a deterrent steeliness about his eyes.
‘Ha, ha,’ said the Bishop heartily. ‘However, as I was saying, Crispin Graystock knows several members of the IBA who we’ll be meeting on the 29th. I myself am not unfamiliar with quite a few of them either. Mrs Menzies- Scott is an old friend, and of course I’ve exchanged views with the Prebendary. We just feel that Freddie Jones is not quite the right vehicle to put Venturer’s message across.’
‘What d’you mean, vehicle?’ snapped Rupert. ‘Freddie’s not a van!’
‘Well, someone who talks about Lord Reef and Cafflic converts and refers to Tony Baddingham as “a fug” — ’ delicately the Professor mimicked Freddie’s accent — ‘and extols the joys of “miking vast sums of money”, will hardly go down very well with the IBA.’
‘To be frank,’ said the Bishop, ‘poor Freddie can hardly string a sentence together.’
‘Freddie is a star,’ said Rupert furiously. ‘He’s far the most genuine person Venturer’s got. He runs one of the most successful companies in the country and he’s got the common touch.’
‘A very common touch,’ said the Professor, stuffing two more sandwiches into his face and gargling them down with a huge slug of whisky.
‘All we’re suggesting,’ said the Bishop soothingly, ‘is that Freddie Jones may be very much at home on the shop floor, with businessmen, even with the press, but not with the clergymen, academics, ladies of the Women’s Institute and senior statesmen he’s going to encounter on the 29th.’
‘We feel very strongly that he should stick to technical specifications, take more of a back seat and perhaps take a few elocution lessons,’ added the Professor.
‘I know an ex-actor who lives in Will-is-den,’ said the Bishop, taking Rupert’s stunned silence as assent, ‘who’s worked absolute miracles with somewhat — er — provincial young curates, who have difficulty taking services and giving sermons.’
‘I’ve never heard such a bloody awful idea in my life,’ exploded Rupert. ‘D’you want to castrate Freddie, to take away all his spontaneity and bounce? And coming from two jumped-up ex-grammar school boys who talk about “Willis-den”, and “substarntial involevement” makes it all the more laughable. Do you want Freddie to talk like a fucking toastmaster?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ thundered the Bishop, turning puce.
‘And for someone who calls himself a Christian and another a practising socialist, you’re both a bloody disgrace,’ added Rupert.
‘I hope you’ll withdraw that remark,’ spluttered the Professor, showering Rupert with whisky-soaked crumbs.
‘Sausage rolls, anyone?’ said Cameron, coming over and shoving a plate between them. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’
‘The Bishop and the Professor have just pointed out that Freddie is a social embarrassment to Venturer and should take some elocution lessons,’ said Rupert furiously and stalked out of the room.
It took all Cameron’s and, later, Declan’s tact to calm the Bishop and the Professor down. Both threatened to resign, demanded Rupert’s resignation or at least most humble apologies, and were only placated by a large and very expensive dinner at the Gay Hussar.
It was two-thirty in the morning before Declan got home to Penscombe, but he found Taggie still up laying out apples in an upstairs spare room. With all the bills flooding in, it might be all they had to live on soon.
‘How did it go?’ she asked.
‘Awful, but Hardy Bissett says it’s always ghastly to begin with. He’ll knock them into shape. Billy Lloyd-Foxe turned up.’
‘Is he nice?’ said Taggie.
‘Enchanting,’ said Declan. ‘Exactly the right kind of person to calm everyone down. With the last fence in sight, they’re all getting incredibly twitchy.’
Then he told Taggie about Rupert’s row with the Bishop and the Professor.
‘Rupert was right. Poor Freddie,’ said Taggie indignantly.
‘He was not,’ said Declan. ‘Winding up other members of the consortium at this stage is insane. Keeping the Bishop sweet is absolutely crucial. Rupert was flip and obstructive the whole way through the meeting. I don’t know what’s got into him, or how poor Cameron puts up with him.’
It was poor Cameron now, reflected Taggie grimly.
‘She was fantastic at the meeting,’ Declan went on, with unexpected warmth. ‘The more I see of her, the better I think she is. In fact all the moles distinguished themselves, even Sally Maples, once she got over her nerves. And Charles keeps everyone’s spirits up. And Billy, as I said, just has an enchanting personality, which is bound to endear us to the IBA. I hate to sound over-confident — ’ he reached over and touched the skirting board — ‘but if we don’t do anything bloddy silly between now and December, our chances of getting the franchise must be focking good.’
44
In the first week in November Tony Baddingham called a press conference. He looked on top of the world, the scarlet poppy in his buttonhole adding just the right note of concerned sobriety to offset the hedonistic effect of a splendid Los Angeles suntan.
He had been in LA, he told the waiting army of reporters and cameramen, to sign up a brilliant new woman programme controller who would start in the new year.
‘Assuming you win the franchise?’ asked ITN.
‘There’s no doubt about that,’ said Tony smugly.
‘Is she better than Cameron Cook?’
‘I have no doubt about that either,’ said Tony even more smugly.
He went on to say that Corinium had set aside sixteen million pounds next year for new programmes and pledged to have ‘an even fresher and more responsible approach to covering the region’.
‘The old fox is up to something,’ muttered the
‘What about advertising?’ asked the
‘Revenue may be down,’ Tony replied smoothly, ‘but so is the advertising revenue of all the ITV companies.’
It had been a bad summer for advertising, he explained, because the weather had been so good, but this had
