‘Yes. There’s a sort of Reception area there with chairs. I sat and waited.’
‘I don’t suppose you saw anything odd going on round the studios?’
‘I wondered when you were going to ask me that,’ Roger Bruton announced primly. ‘Yes, I did see something rather odd going on.’
‘What?’ asked Charles.
Joanie Bruton said nothing, but she looked hard at her husband. Her expression was one of surprise mixed with something that could have been alarm.
Roger Bruton relished his moment centre stage. ‘I saw the Trish Osborne person. Looking most unhappy. Crying, in fact.’
‘What was she doing?’
He smiled smugly. ‘Coming out of Barrett Doran’s dressing room.’
Chapter Nine
‘Frances. It’s me, Charles.’
‘Keeping rather earlier hours than usual.’ Her voice was unruffled, warm without being positively welcoming. If she was surprised to hear from him after three months, she didn’t show it.
‘I wanted to catch you before you went to school.’
‘Well, you have. Just. I have to be in the car in three minutes.’
He visualised her yellow Renault 5 parked outside the house, then remembered he was projecting the wrong image. She had moved out of the Muswell Hill home they had shared and now lived in a flat in Highgate. He had not been there often enough to visualise the Renault outside it.
‘Listen, I wondered if we could meet up. .’
‘Another reconciliation?’ Her voice was wary.
‘Just to see you. I just want to see you.’
‘Well. .’
‘Couldn’t we meet for dinner tonight? Not at the flat. That Italian place in Hampstead. What do you say?’
‘Well. .’
‘Come on. I’ll behave myself. No romantic red roses. No unwelcome attentions. . that is, if they really are unwelcome. .’
‘Watch it. You’re on the verge of the “women always mean yes when they say no” heresy.’
‘No, I didn’t mean that. I’d just like to see you, talk about things. .’ Then with inspiration he added, ‘. . talk about Juliet, talk about our grandchildren. .’
‘Charles, I had just reconciled myself to the idea that I wasn’t going to hear from you again for a long time.’
‘Well, unreconcile yourself.’
‘I’m not sure. You’ve no idea, once the initial hurt and emptiness had worn off, just how restful the thought of not seeing you for a while has become.’
‘Oh.’
She responded to the disappointment in his monosyllable by asking cautiously, ‘You don’t just want to see me because you’re depressed, do you? Because I’m pretty ragged by this stage in the term, and I don’t think I’ve much spare capacity for the old hand-holding “I understand, I understand” routine.’
‘I’m not depressed. Not more than usual.’
‘Great,’ she said with resignation. ‘Have you just come to the end of one of your little affairs?’
‘No. Honestly. There hasn’t been anyone on the scene for months. . nearly a year.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Oh, come on, Frances, do have dinner with me. After all, I am your husband.’
As soon as he’d said it, he knew that this might not be the best argument to put forward, and it received a well-deserved slap-down. ‘Depends very much, I would have said, on your definition of “husband”. . whether the word is a once-and-for-all title bestowed at marriage or whether it implies a continuing active role, like, say, the word “lover”.’
‘I don’t quite see what you’re getting at,’ he said evasively.
‘Yes, you do. The word “lover” suggests something’s happening. When the affair’s over, people become “ex-lovers”. It’s not the same with “husband”. Even if the marriage is over, you don’t become an “ex-husband” without getting divorced.’
‘Oh, you’re not on about that again. I thought we agreed that there was no point in our getting divorced.’
‘You agreed that. I don’t recall my opinion being canvassed.’
‘Frances. .’
‘I have to be in the car in twenty seconds.’
‘Frances, will you please meet me for dinner in the Italian place at eight o’clock this evening?’
‘All right. But, Charles Paris. .’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t you dare be late.’
‘I won’t be, love. You know me.’
‘Yes. I do.’
Sydnee had said she’d ring him once she’d fixed up for them to see Trish Osborne, and she came through about half-past ten.
‘She’s set up. Happy to talk. I said we’d be over early afternoon.’
‘Did you say what we wanted to talk about?’
‘No. Mind you, she didn’t ask. Presumably, like Tim Dyer, she just assumes it’s something to do with the show.’
‘Good. Well, look, can you pick me up at the bedsitter? Or will it be easier if I make my way to somewhere more central. .?’
‘Charles, I’ve got problems here. Just after I’d spoken to Trish, John Mantle came in. I’m afraid I’ve got to start out on the contestant trail again.’
‘For the second pilot?’
‘Yes. They’ve got a studio date now. The schedule’s been rejigged so that the pilot goes into Studio A next Thursday. Which means we’ve got to get a move on getting the contestants.’
‘I thought you always had some spares lined up.’
‘Yes, but I don’t think they’d be good enough for John. The American copyright-holders have been bending his ear. They say the contestants we had on the first pilot showed about as much life as General Custer after Little Big Horn. They say we’ve got to get a new lot with more “pazazz”.’
‘Where do you start looking for “pazazz”?’
‘Same places as I looked when ‘pazazz’ wasn’t on the shopping-list. The trouble is, what these Americans don’t realise is that people over here haven’t yet lost their inhibitions about game shows. It’s going to take a few years before the British reserve cracks and you see the kind of hysterical commitment you get in the States. Still, from John Mantle’s point of view, I must be seen to be busy. Four brand-new contestants with “pazazz” must be found.’
‘Are the contestants the only changes you’ll make in casting?’
‘Well, obviously we’ll need one new celeb now Bob’s moved up to host. Lots of names have been mentioned, but I don’t think it’s been offered to anyone yet. And we’ll have to set up four more “professions”.’
‘Oh.’ Charles saw a potential booking disappearing over the horizon.
‘Come on, Charles, we couldn’t book you lot again. With three of the same celebs on the panel, they’re going to remember what your real professions were.’
‘I doubt it. They didn’t take any notice of us, didn’t see us as people at all. I bet, if I was back on, two of them’d still think I was the hamburger chef.’
‘You’re probably right. But we can’t take the risk. People get very uptight about these game shows. Any hint of rigging or cheating or someone being “in the know”, and you can get some very nasty reactions.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Anyway, Chita’s busy setting up four new “professions” — “professions”, of course, who might just conceivably wear hats, which let me tell you, is not as easy as it sounds — and I have got to shoot off to Manchester to interview some punters in the fruitless search for “pazazz”.’
‘Oh.’
‘What I’m saying, Charles, is can you go and interview Trish Osborne on your own?’
‘But what ever excuse can I give for being there? At least, with you, I’d have some sort of W. E.T. credibility, but on my own. .’
‘I’m sure you’ll think of something, Charles.’
It took Charles longer than he had expected to get to Billericay, and it was after four when he finally reached the neat dark-red-brick three-bedroomed house where Trish Osborne lived.
He got a whiff of perfume as she opened the door, and saw that she was wearing a pale-blue flying-suit. She had dressed up for her continuing contact with the media world.
Though he had had plenty of travelling time during which to work out his excuse for appearing on her doorstep, he hadn’t come up with much. ‘I’m afraid Sydnee suddenly had to go to Manchester,’ he said lamely, ‘so there’s just me.’