My Magazine Ch 11

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.

Charmaine: Then please answer that question using your intuition. You are a very experienced journalist. Put those two things together and try to enlighten me and our viewers. Take your time.

Jenni: Well, I guess being the front-runner with our article in

My Magazine

helped. I would imagine the sincerity of freelance writer Paul Lobb might have impressed Lord Barcote. Paul perhaps suggested something like, "Cooperate to get a corrected version of my article published and then it will be all over, and you could even refuse to talk to all other reporters and that will ease the burden." I also think that Lord Barcote would have been relieved to see that our article and my subsequent appearance on TV kept within the boundaries that Paul Lobb had discussed with him. We tried to maintain sensitivity in our dealings with this story.

Charmaine: I see. Do you also think Lady Bolt came to a similar conclusion - better to deal exclusively with you and not be ravaged by the media pack?

Jenni: Yes.

Charmaine: Nothing in that interview with Lady Barcote suggests she berated you for publishing that exposé. So let's go behind the headlines. Did she do so in conversation before or after the formal interview?

Jenni: No.

Charmaine: Then what did she talk about?

Jenni: She asked me had my parents had a happy marriage and I replied no, that within my memory it had been a loveless marriage. She replied, "Oh dear," and reached over and patted my arm. That brought me close to tears.

Charmaine: So the loveless marriage is why you have never married?

Jenni: Have we done a U-turn?

Charmaine: Yes. But you don't have to answer. If you do, my next question may upset you.

Jenni: I have met two men in my life that I wondered if we would marry. But on both occasions the thought of that happening began to make me panic and I worked slowly to disengage. I guess I have the fear of being trapped in a marriage. Perhaps in that respect I have a psychological problem and may be dealing with it in the wrong way according to clinicians, but the way I'm dealing with it is my choice.

Charmaine: So do you think your distrust of marriage caused you to pay big money - how big you have refused to say when I asked in our initial interview - in the spiteful attempt to break someone's marriage?

Jenni: That's a fair question Charmaine. My sole purpose - and I am absolutely adamant about this - of purchasing that article was to possess one of the great social news stories of the year - who knows, perhaps of this decade. I had at my disposal a vehicle for that story - a yet unlaunched and therefore unknown magazine. My journalistic training and sheer instinct told me, over and over again, that I had to do this as it was the best story on offer by far. It would focus attention on the launching the magazine through a blaze of publicity.

Before writing out that cheque for the article, I thought of the remorse that Lord Barcote must be feeling, knowing he had transgressed and was now about to be exposed. But I thought more about Lady Barcote and her daughters and immediately in my mind began planning a follow-up. I can recall, very vividly, thinking that if they all wished to drag Lord Barcote back into the family fold then I would personally write a story to inform the public - but more particularly to inform those about to move against Lord Barcote politically -the family had reunited again. I have achieved that, I believe.

Charmaine: You may have indeed Jenni. Tell me, did you sense any emotional attachments when you were in their home?

Jenni: Surprising as it may seem, I have neither seen nor spoken to Lord Barcote. He was not at the house when I called. I met one of the daughters - whom I did not name in my article and shall continue to not name - and she clearly voiced affection for both her mother and father and I believe was sharing her mother's upset. Perhaps I could have said more in the article about my impressions about Lady Barcote's emotional feelings for her husband, but in print words describing such feelings can seem somewhat trite.

As I said in the article, she looked directly at me and said that he'd hurt her terribly and that was now behind them as she and her daughters had forgiven him and they were a family again. But what I did not write was this: In the only time during the entire interview tears came to her eyes and she said to me, "I truly love him, Jenni, and I know he loves me. He will be a most wonderful grandfather." I was greatly tempted to pat her on the arm. I am convinced that she was speaking straight from the heart.

Charmaine: Well, there we have it. Lord Barcote's opponents please take note. Thank you Jenni Giles, editor of

My Magazine

and tonight the good-natured plaything of our make-up team.

* * *

Lady Barcote was watching TV with her elder daughter Hayley who was staying with her. Marissa was back at her flat attending university and Lord Barcote was away on business.

Mother and daughter waiting nervously for Behind the News to begin to screen

"The promo indicated she'd be on first, and that means we'll get it over quickly," said Hayley, holding Alice's hand.

"She won't say anything to distress me - I'm confident about that," replied her mother.

Hayley couldn't believe that the interview started talking about Jenni's dress, and said so.

"Actually Jenni looks rather sweet in that dress," Alice said.

"Yes, but her boobies look in danger of popping out. It looks as if she'd had to go bra-less because of the wide open cut of the scalloping."

"They should have given her time to go home and get her own dress."

Hayley ignored that naive remark. The thought of Britain waiting for Jenni to go home to change her dress before the programme could screen made her smile.

They watched the interview with little comment, until Jenni answered the question about her own attitude towards marriage.

"Good heaven, Charmaine rarely gives a life-line like that," exclaimed Hayley. "The silly woman, she's going to answer and be trapped."

"Come on, Hayley. Have some confidence in Jenni."

They listened, fascinated.

Alice sighed, "She answered that so beautifully."

Hayley clutched Alice's hand tightly. "You told her that daddy would make a wonderful grandfather. You didn't tell me that."

"No I didn't, and now the whole country knows. But at least this whole programme makes us appear to be real human beings. You were brilliant, Jenni," Alice cried.

* * *

Snowy was asleep on the sofa, with Gracie lying with her head on his lap, when the programme was about to begin.

"Snowy wake up. Your intellectual mistress is about to come on screen."

"Who which one?" he asked.

"Don't boast; there's only one, it's Jenni."

"God they've got her on again. They must be short of newsmakers."

They watched the programme, Snowy taking the professional approach listening to Jenni's answers and weighing them up in his mind. He recoiled in horror when she chose to answer the question about her personal attitude to marriage.

"She was talking about you Snowy, wasn't she?"

"Well, um, who knows?"

"It doesn't upset me Snowy - your relationship with her was long before I appeared on the scene. She would have made a fine wife Snowy."

"But not as good as you, my pregnant one," he said, leaning down and blowing into her ear.

"Oh stop that, naughty man. The other man would have been Ron Wiggins wouldn't it?"

"That's a fair assumption but a marriage that could never be. Fancy having to say, 'Here comes Jenni Wiggins'. It just doesn't sound like Jenni. Anyway, why do you think the other was Ron? She's likely to have had quite a few men in her life."

"Yes - but think how many men does Jenni really have in her life - really in her life as friends?"

"There are four to my knowledge - Ron and myself, Garth Oliver and now this new find, the charismatic Nico."

"Nico's just a handy landlord/friend to have around. Garth has known her the longest but he's not Jenni's type - too much of a mummy's boy, in my opinion."

"But he may be blessed with something that rises to the occasion to impress Jenni."

"You disgusting creature - get away from my baby, it's not right that she should hear filthy innuendoes like that."

"She?"

"Yes, I've just got this feeling it's going to be a girl."

"Darling, I'm delighted you think that and Jenni would also be pleased to hear you voice that expectation.

"Why."

"Think pink dresses, brushing blonde hair, teaching her to count."

"Do you think Jenni would have time to be bothered with things like that?"

"Substitution dear one, substitution; the godmother will not be having children herself."

"Oh I'll love it if she joins me in taking that level of interest. And Hattie will grow to love her."

"Hattie? Where did this name Hattie suddenly appear from?"

"I loved the name from my favourite book when I was a girl."

"Then that's where the name should stay - in a book. Anyway, I think it will be a boy and Gus and I ..."

"Gus - no child of mine is going to be called Gus the Bus."

"Oh I hadn't thought about that. Then it will have to be Frank. No, that's Frank the Tank. Kevin - yes!"

"It will be Hattie Snowy and so don't waste your brainpower. Go and make me a cup of tea instead."

"Okay - mum of Hattie the Rattie."

"Bugger off and get my tea Snowy. If you do it well this may well be one of your lucky nights."

Jenni arrived home mentally and physically exhausted, and gratefully accepted a glass of lightly chilled Chablis from Rhonda after they exchanged a welcome home/glad to be home hug.

"Omigod, laughed Jenni. "Where did you get that thing?"

Rhonda was wearing a shiny apron - the front of which depicted a man's hairy chest, beer stomach and filthy white shorts.

"I got it at the markets in a place in Italy. People laugh themselves silly seeing it for the first time, even men."

"Your fly's not done up," observed Jenni.