‘I wish I’d brought my autograph book,’ whispered Judge Davey, who was generally regarded as the group wag.
Freddie sat in the middle facing Lady Gosling, flanked by Rupert and Declan. On Rupert’s right, as obvious and disfiguring as a lost front tooth, was a space where Cameron should have been. Janey was up the end of the table, with only Henry beyond her, so he could stick out his plaster leg. The Prebendary sat opposite them, gazing at Janey with pursed lips. Surreptitiously, she undid a couple of the buttons of her grey silk shirt. It was like dining at Lady Margaret Hall, she thought as she looked at the worthy unpainted faces of the women opposite. She wished she’d soft-pedalled her eye make-up.
Henry was gazing out of the window at Knightsbridge Barracks. ‘Used to work there,’ he announced in a loud whisper. ‘You’d never believe there was a squash court on top.’
Lady Gosling, who had not winked at her friend Dame Enid, greeted them with the utmost coolness.
‘I’m sorry you were kept waiting so long. It was because of the very considerable changes in the numbers attending. I see all the so-called “moles” —’ one could feel her fastidiously putting quotes round such a slang word — ‘have decided to show up, despite the threat of dismissal, and we certainly weren’t expecting you,’ she added to Wesley. ‘We gathered you were playing in a test match. ‘
Wesley gave her the benefit of his heavenly banana-split smile.
‘I was, Mrs Menzies-Scott.’
‘Gosling,’ hissed Janey.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Gosling, I got injured. And coming to this meeting seemed more important. After all, we’ll be running a television company for a long long time.’
‘Hum,’ said Lady Gosling. ‘Somewhat hubristic of you. And where are the Bishop and Professor Graystock?’
Freddie cleared his throat.
‘Er, they’ve withdrawn because of a conflict of interests.’
‘One can understand that,’ said Lady Gosling heavily.
‘And Cameron Cook?’
Freddie opened his mouth.
‘I’m here,’ said a voice behind him. ‘I’m so sorry, Lady Gosling, my cab ran into another car in the Old Brompton Road.’
It was Cameron in her scarlet silk suit, bringing a wonderful warmth and colour into the room. She was very pale beneath her blusher, and wearing tinted glasses, but totally self-possessed. Sliding into the seat beside Rupert, she very deliberately put a hand over his, then smiling down the row said once again: ‘I’m so sorry, everyone.’
‘You little beauty,’ said Freddie under his breath.
Cameron’s arrival seemed to pull Venturer magically together. The first questions were about finance and technical specifications, and initially fielded by Freddie. Then, like a tigerish scrum-half, he passed the ball out to his wings, Rupert, Bas, Lord Smith, Marti, and Georgie Barnes, who’d arrived with a pile of revenue forecasts.
Freddie in fact was the life and soul of the application. A born showman, puffing on his cigar, giving occasional infectious roars of laughter, he exuded honesty, energy and huge enthusiasm for the task.
The Prebendary, who was still looking beady, didn’t throw Wesley on ethnic minorities, but, seeing him yawning, asked him why he personally wished to oust Corinium as the franchise holder.
‘I live in the area, man,’ drawled Wesley. ‘I’m absolutely fed up, like everyone else in this consortium, with having to watch such God-awful programmes.’
Even Lady Gosling suppressed a smile, and nodded to Lady Barnsley, who rather nervously asked if the applicant’s programme plans were based on its view of the characteristics and needs of the franchise area. It was a sod. There was a long pause.
‘Almost entirely,’ said Cameron. ‘We all know and love and live in the area, so we want to put something back, and give it a regional identity. We want to make friends with the viewers, to make them feel part of one great Venturer family.
‘But our approach would be the same if we were pitching for any area in the British Isles. Great television comes from telling people the truth, from entertaining them so well they don’t realize they’re being educated. We want to make documentaries and dramas that tackle the problems we all face, coping with unemployment, loneliness, adolescence, being in love. Even —’ she smiled, testing the age group of the panel — ‘with the traumas of having one’s grandchildren to stay over Christmas.’ The panel smiled warmly back.
‘Cameron can hardly say this for herself,’ chipped in Charles, ‘but I’d just like to add that with her and Declan, we have the most exciting team to hit the screen since Ivory and Merchant. They’ve both been in Ireland making a film on Yeats for Channel Four. I saw the uncut version last week. It is utter magic and will bring Yeats’s poetry and the beauty of the Irish countryside to millions of new viewers. It would be nice to think they could do the same for the Cotswold area.’
Lady Gosling nodded sagely, noticing, however, that Declan was gazing blankly into space and taking no part in the proceedings.
Everyone drank a great deal of Highland Spring water. Dame Enid and Charles were superb on the arts; Billy charmed all the panel on sport; Janey had some wonderful ideas for women’s interests; Seb made them laugh on news coverage, saying that the Corinium Head of News was so idle, he consulted his opposite number at the BBC every morning, so they could both cover the same local events, and there would be absolutely no danger of either of them being bawled out for scooping the other.
Henry started off brilliantly when Judge Davey asked him about his involvement in the consortium. He was just waxing lyrical on capturing the wild life of the area on film, and appearing to scratch his plaster for the third time, when Janey suddenly realized he was pulling up the flare of his trousers and reading the whole thing off his plaster and got the most frightful giggles. Terrified that the Prebendary, who was sitting next to Henry, would take his eyes off her bosom for one second and see what Henry was up to, Janey nudged Henry sharply in the ribs.
‘Ouch! — shrews, voles, badgers,’ ended Henry lamely, dropping his trouser-leg and thus losing his impromptu autocue.
‘I love badgers,’ said Lady Barnsley, looking very excited. ‘We’ve got some in our wood. ‘
‘Have you really?’ said Henry. ‘So have we, and so has Declan actually. I passed two big chaps having a fight in my drive the other night. They were so preoccupied, I managed to get really close up.’
‘Did you really?’ said Lady Barnsley.
Lady Gosling, however, had had enough about badgers. She looked straight at Declan, who was still slumped in his chair totally unrecognizable from the dazzlingly charismatic, self-confident demagogue who’d laid into Tony Baddingham at the public meeting.
‘Who is going to run the company?’ she asked him.
‘I’m chairman,’ said Freddie, when Declan didn’t answer. ‘I intend to devote at least one day a week to Venturer if not more. ’Enry’s non-executive deputy chairman, Rupert’ll handle finance and admin with Harold. Declan and Cameron will oversee programmes. Georgie will be in charge of sales. Charles, Janey, Sally, Billy and Seb will all be Heads of various departments. Marti, Bas, Lord Smiff, Dame Enid an’ Wesley will be non-executive directors. But they’ll all act on a consultancy basis, and add to the smooth running of the company.’
‘But who is really going to run the company?’ persisted Lady Gosling.