And in the brief and uncomfortable gap when it is clear she will not come to him, he walks to her instead, throws his arms round her, the cool edge of the phone in his hand digging into her as he hugs her like an old friend. She notices that he smells of soap and roses. He steps back from her, smiling, working just as hard as Antonia to be the exact version of Matthew Kingsman that the moment requires. ‘How’s the doorstepping going at your end of things?’
Like they’re the two ends of the situation, her and Matthew. A problem shared, equitably and easily. ‘Nothing more since The Sun.’
‘I think you’ve done a great job. Your character reference was, well, what can I say? Five stars.’
‘I’m glad if it was a help,’ she says quietly.
‘Anyway, I think it’s all on its way out.’
‘It is?’ Antonia’s face softens. Her eyes shine, perhaps there is a tear; she certainly looks as if she might cry and Becky knows that this will be the only evidence of Antonia’s storm.
‘Yes.’ Matthew steps toward his wife and puts his arm around her. ‘There isn’t enough of a story for it to get any more traction. The stuff about the witness this morning? It’s all a bit CSI. The police obviously aren’t going to do anything. Amber’s had her moment in the sun. I’m fairly confident, by the way, that she won’t be landing a good gig for quite a while. She’s burnt more bridges than she knew existed, pulling this stunt.’
‘It’s unforgivable, really,’ says Antonia.
‘I spoke to Sam,’ says Becky. ‘I think Medea might make it through if the story starts to go away like you say it will.’
‘Let’s spare Antonia the boring stuff. We’ll talk in my study.’
‘I was saying thank you to Becky,’ says Antonia. She wipes under her eyes with the pads of her fingers and fixes Becky with a strong, determined gaze, dredged up from the silt. Her eyes are sun-warm with gratitude. ‘It probably hasn’t been easy for her either.’
‘It’s nothing,’ says Becky.
‘Will you stay for lunch?’ says Antonia.
‘Thank you, no, I can’t. I’ve got to get back to the office.’
‘Right, let’s move things along,’ says Matthew. ‘To the bat cave.’
‘Darling, I’ll put lunch on the table for one-ish,’ Antonia calls after them brightly, a weight lifted from her on his promise of a return to normality, or something that looks like it.
A walk down a wood-panelled corridor. Matthew leads Becky further into the heart of the house than she has ever been before: into a red-wine-carpeted room lined with bookcases and more wood panels, varnished darkly. A cumbersome moss-green leather-topped desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by two padded red leather chairs, high-back seats fastened to their frames with lines of brass buttons. She stands at the perimeter a little breathless, a little anxious that there might not be enough air to breathe the further she ventures inside this crypt that smells of old hide and damp pages, of furniture polish and freshly brewed coffee.
‘The story heading into the nationals could have gone a radically different way,’ Matthew says, not going for the desk and instead slumping back into one of his study’s plump, old-world armchairs. ‘I’ve had three people from IcePR working on this and I think it’s almost safe to say we’ve won the conversation.’
‘I saw a lot of stories by that guy Alex you introduced me to.’
‘Yeah, he’s one of the good ones.’
‘How does it work? Do you pay them?’
‘It’s not quite as blunt as that. But everyone gets rewarded eventually. It’s an ecosystem. The smart ones understand that. Why do you ask?’
‘Only because I want to learn.’
She steps into the room and perches at the edge of one of the red leather chairs.
‘You may well call this experience educational. Not sure I wanted to be the case study, but there we are.’
‘So once the stories dry up, is it all over?’
‘The damage limitation part’s over, but then there’s a bit of rebuilding to do. You can’t do that immediately. It makes you look reactive and fraudulent. But in due course we’ll probably spend some money on mental health and actors: you know, how it’s a hard trade, not enough support for the vulnerable, body-shaming, etcetera. I don’t know if it’s a foundation or funding the right charity or opening up a conversation, but we’ll take a quiet lead on it, build it into a nice healthy debate.’
‘Doesn’t that just make people think about the story all over again?’
‘Yes, you don’t want to get it wrong. But if you do it right, it shows you’re confident enough about it to engage with empathy. The message is, you had a brush with a mentally ill actress who really needed help more than anything, and you’ve reflected, and the experience has changed you and you’d like to do something to help. That looks like strength and compassion. The guys at Ice will get a proper plan written up and costed.’
‘How much will it cost you?’
‘Personally? Probably quarter of a million or so. Depends what we do, but I told them to look at that budget range.’
‘Good to get people talking about stuff. Issues that need to change. Doing good. I guess that’s the upside of what you’re going through.’ She wipes at her damp forehead with the back of her hand.
‘I agree. It’ll be money well-spent. Just not under the kind of circumstances I’d have wished for.’
They sit in silence for a while and she wonders whether this is the moment to say something …
‘You were saying about Emilia?’ he says.
‘Yes. I spoke to Sam. I think if the story dies down and Sharon stays on board then we’ll get through it with Emilia still up for it.’
‘I’ve had some very special conversations with Sharon’s agent,’ laughs Matthew wryly. ‘Let’s just say that Sharon’s going
