The 'promo' was published on Monday, though not without difficulty. Snowy had to pressure his chosen printer. The printer ran a small quality operation and had done a lot of work for Snowy over the years.
Snowy wanted the content of the upcoming promo kept confidential and knew he could trust this printer to keep the information secure. Once Ivan accepted the job he could be relied upon to deliver on time.
But Ivan was extremely busy and couldn't see why Snowy should have priority over other clients just for "a blood promo for some magazine".
In exasperation Snowy gave the man a full print-out of the story and told him to show it to his wife and suggested he should ask her if she thought it deserved priority.
Ivan called Snowy the next morning.
"Snowy I've decided to slot your job in now and deal with the complaints of other clients."
"That's fine Alf, then you wife really liked the article?"
"Can't remember," relied the printer evasively. "Frankly, I can't see what all the fuss is about."
The publication was finished and distributed with an embargo not to go on sale before Friday morning.
From 6:00 am on Friday morning there were stories on radio stations that
My Magazine
had interviewed Lady Barcote and the special article would be available from bookshops later that morning.
Snowy, of course, had been on the phone early to radio journalists. His offer of a hot news tip was accepted by journalists as they knew him - or of him.
He was well-known in media circles as Mr Lemon Squash - being a rarity amongst advertising people to drink with journalists because he drank only lemon squash. It was times like this that such quirky recognition served a useful purpose for Snowy. He even got mention about it on breakfast TV.
By 10 am Friday the publication was in hot demand. That evening on TV news was a film clip showing women queuing up in a small news agent's stalls and book and magazine shop in London and customers emerging holding their copy of the promo.
"Goodness gracious - look at them," said an old woman passer-by to the TV reporter and was filmed. "They are queuing just as we did on the old days for annual sales, but of course those days are gone as sales are held monthly now. Who is this Lady Barcote anyways?"
Jenni went to ground to avoid being harassed by the media. She emerged at 5:30 when believing it to be 'safe' and had coffee and a bacon sandwich at Leo's. She was disappointed to find Gina had left after finishing her shift a couple of hours earlier.
As Jenni left the café and walked towards her office, thinking she'd work late, a black car drew up alongside her and the driver got out and approached her.
"I'm sorry Madam, don't be alarmed. I'm television's VIP courtesy car driver. Charmaine told me she wants you and I'm not to come back without you. She wants you back in the hot seat."
"But my hair, look at my dress, I've been in it all day."
"I would not be concerned, madam. Behind the Headlines had full access to wardrobe and our Colette will be attending to you."
Jenni decided to go, feeling she wanted a stiff drink. She settled into her plush black leather seat and sighed.
"Are we all set, madam," asked the tall impassive-faced driver.
"Yes we are, thanks."
"The switch to open the cocktail cabinet is that one on the seat divider marked like a bottle, madam."
"We thank you enormously, we do," said Jenni, wondering if she'd need to put her glasses on to see the minute push-button. But that was unnecessary; it was the biggest button on the panel.
Jenni phoned Rhonda.
"Hi Rodo."
Of late Jenni had begun using that nickname.
"Sorry but we have been waylaid. You go home and we shall join you there around 8:00. TV has swooped on me to take me to Charmaine."
"Who is with you?"
"No one."
"But you said we at least twice."
"Oh that, silly old me. That was meant in the singular."
"Oh I think I understand. Well you being on TV means more exposure for us. I'll go home now and tape the show and we can watch it together. I've just been over to the fish market and got two cod fillets. I seem to recall you like Chablis with white fish. I'll pick up a bottle on the way home."
"Make that two bottles Rodo. I've had such an odd day today that I really should get my feet up and have a couple or so quiet drinks. Bye."
Jenni asked the driver for the phone number for the studios. She was told to use the car phone lying in the seat divider and just dial 99 to get Behind the Scenes people. She asked to speak to Colette but was told Colette was busy.
"Busy or not, I wish to speak to her," Jenni growled.
"Yet madam. May I say who's calling?"
"Jenni Giles."
"Oh, she'll take to you madam; please hold."
"I apologise for taking you from something important," said Jenni, when Colette came to the phone.
"Nah there's nothing much doing this evening as there's only you and then an Irish musician who can blow two tin whistles at the same time and still get a tune and then he'll make a flute out of a drinking straw and play 'Danny Boy' on it. Some of us were just playing poker until you arrive."
"Oh dear. I hope I haven't ruined the game."
"Nope, we're doing just fine. So far we've taken more than thirty quid out of the pockets of the Irish musician and his manager. What may I do for you?"
"I've been in this dress all day and was wondering if you could get something for me out of wardrobe?"
"Leave it to me Jenni dear. By the way thanks for that party at your offices. It was really great. I got banged by that young fellow Janus; it was such a lovely night."
"You mean Janus, Nico's son?"
"I didn't know he was Nico's son but Janus is not an awfully common name. I went outside for a smoke, the dogs starting barking, this fellow comes out and shuts them up and we start talking. I sort of led him along - actually I grabbed him by the shirt front and pulled him around the corner of the building."
"He's married you know."
"No I didn't know that. We actually didn't do a lot of talking."
"Does this happen to you a great deal?"
"Jenni I've had more success with men in simply going outside for a quite smoke than I ever had in trying to pick them up in bars and at parties."
"Really? I think I shall have one of my girls interview you as it's the basis for a fascinating story."
"I'd have to think about that, but I must go. The Irish manager thinks I've gone outside for a smoke and now he's coming out. We've got to get him back to that poker game."
The theme tune to Behind the Headlines ended with the presenter Charmaine Eriksson appearing under strong spotlight and smiling beautifully.
"Good evening viewers. Tonight we have the return of magazine editor Jenni Giles to tell us more about her thoughts on one of the hottest stories this year, the productive infidelity of Lord Barcote."
"That will occupy two-thirds of tonight's programme and after that will come Danny O'Connor playing his two whistles, and then making a playable flute out of a straw."
"Good evening Jenni. My you do look exceedingly glamorous this evening."
"Hello Charmaine. To tell you the truth your make-up department decided to have some fun at my expense. I never wear my hair on the top of my head like this, I do not possess a tiara and neither do I normally have a scalloped neckline dipping this low. I am supposed to be a replica of the heroine Lady Jennie Montgomerie in your television station's award winning drama, Jennie of the Mount Thompson Mining Disaster of 1947. The fact that this dress was made for actress Isobel Smithers, a curvaceous 22-year-old, half my age, seems to have been overlooked by your make-up people - but nevertheless, here I am."
Charmaine: You are obviously a good sport Jenni. But I'm afraid you are not the darling of the moment with mainstream British media. You have effectively slammed the door shut, preventing them from interviewing Lord and Lady Barcote.
Jenni: What, little me blockading mainstream news media? That sounds fiendishly heroic but it's simply not true. We were first cab on the rank. Freelance writer Paul Lobb who broke this story cleverly suggested to Lord Barcote that he talk to no other representative of the news media. Lord Barcote would be perfectly capable of arriving at his own decision over that, wouldn't you think?
Charmaine: Yes, quite. But you inveigled Lady Barcote not to talk to anyone else, thereby blockading the rest of the media.
Jenni, trying to minimise movement in fear of popping out of her dress, replied that was not so.
Charmaine pounced: Are you trying to tell me that you made no effort to muzzle Lady Barcote?
Jenni: Goodness gracious, of course I do. Who am I to try to tell Lady Barcote what to do and not to do? I'm only a journalist.
Charmaine: There is something I'm having difficulty with here. You simply knocked on the door and were immediately granted an interview?
Jenni: More or less, though it was a little more complicated than that.
Charmaine: Like what?
Jenni: Dealing with a three-layer defence system - a powerful looking gatekeeper, a locked gate and one of her daughters.
Charmaine: But with that lovely smile of yours you motivated the gatekeeper to unlock the gate and got her daughter to take you to Lady Barcote and say, 'Mummy, you must talk to this lovely journalist'.
Jenni: You're really good, Charmaine. In essence that's exactly what happened.
Charmaine: And no other reporter tried the same thing?
Jenni: Oh yes, I believe reporters arrived at the gates and made dozens of telephone calls asking for interviews with Lord and Lady Barcote.
Charmaine: But none of those other journalists were successful like you?
Jenni: I understand that is the situation.
Charmaine: Then why was that?
Jenni: I honestly don't know.
