At 11:00 two women arrived from the Publishers' Federation, having made an appointment the previous week through Rhonda. They were only the third lot of visitors from the public to have visited the temporary offices of
My Magazine
and clearly were not impressed.
"It's incredible that a magazine of the quality of your magazine could be produced in surroundings like ... like ..."
"Like the backyard of a rundown warehouse district?" Jenni offered helpfully.
"Quite," said Lucy, the federation's membership and public affairs manager. "Although I'm not being rude, it's just there are comparisons to be made with other similar publications, you know."
"Yes I can understand that," replied Jenni. She decided not to explain the premises were temporary and she had been in the process of finding suitably permanent headquarters when she received an offer she could not refuse.
"You had quite lovely offices at the last place you worked, didn't you?" commented Mary, the chief executive of the federation. "I had the pleasure of visiting your predecessor there when I was first joined the federation."
"Thank you," said Jenni, as Rhonda brought in the requested teas for the visitors and coffee for Jenni. The women had not indicated the purpose of their visit but she guessed it was in connection with her failure to reply to two written invitations to join the federation and make a donation of £500 for a contribution toward the funding of the federation's conference later in the year.
As soon as Rhonda had left them Mary said: "We thought we would come to see you because you seem to have under-estimated the importance of being a member of the federation. I ..."
"Excuse me, Mary, but I don't habitually under-estimate important things that are to my advantage."
"Consideration of my application for membership of the federation was delayed until my first issue had been published and I can understand that. But being a new-start publisher with money pouring out and money as yet only trickling in, I was not of a mind to donate money to your conference to be held in Vienna."
"But Jenni," Lucy said. "It was recognised that you are a one-magazine company so you were being asked for a token amount. The requested were scaled up with our corporate members being asked for donations up to £15,000."
"I have explained my position ladies and is there anything else?"
There wasn't, and they left empty-handed and driving away quickly as if escaping a physically environment that they felt was inappropriate for any member of their prestigious organisation.
"Do you regret not being able to support them?" asked Rhonda, standing at Jenni's window and watching the women leave. "I thought they were a touch snooty."
"When I came into magazines as news editor on the now defunct
Madam Magazine
the federation had offices at the back of a building in a side street, with just the director and a clerical assistant. Now they occupy a penthouse office suite in the Magellan Tower with a staff of seven, most of whom will go to Vienna to the conference if sufficient funding comes in by way of donations."
"I'm not complaining about this patronage. Corporates own most of our top magazines these days and their executives like to see their support organisations operating in similar business class style. Perhaps we'll make a donation next month using Zephyr Media's cheque book and send Vivian as our representative which will make those other editors at Zephyr go crazy with jealousy."
At lunchtime as Jenni walked toward the seat on the waterfront and saw a woman approach Rhys and wondered if she were a prostitute. He shook his head and the woman walked off just as Jenni arrived.
"You prefer my company?" she quipped, watching the woman accosted two men sitting on the next seat.
"I suspect she's on drugs. She asked me for money as she wants to visit her sick mother in Liverpool."
Jenni frowned and shook her head. "It would make any mother sick to learn that her daughter was doing such a thing."
She sat, pleased Rhys made no attempt to touch her.
She was unsure of whether she wanted such attention from him, if that's what he intended. Rarely was she this undecided especially since there were only three options - yes, no or maybe - in slipping into a relationship. Perhaps his interest was professional? After all, they were both journalists.
"You're quiet," he said. "What are you thinking?"
"About that girl," she lied.
"Yes, I refer to them loosely by the old description of vagabonds. They seem to becoming more numerous. What amazes me is that some of them look just like the girls next door."
"Some of them probably are, they must come from somewhere," Jenni said wisely. "Your article was very good. In fact some of my crew were extremely complimentary and I was shocked that my PA sent that reject photo to you. I look to be trying to pose like a movie star - an aging one trying to recapture her youth beside the seaside."
"Dad liked it. He said 'That's the kind of lady for you son.' He also liked the story and said you seem to be quite a powerhouse."
Oh dear here it comes, thought Jennie. He wants to date me because his dad thinks I pass muster.
But she was premature.
"The place where I got the rolls only had one chicken rolls left. The other is roast beef and looks yummy. Which one would you prefer?"
"Chicken thanks."
"When I picked up the coffee I saw something in the cakes cabinet that I've not seen for years so got two of them. One's brown the other pink," he said, opening the paper bag. "Please choose. They are Lamingtons and my mum used to make them when I was a kid. I haven't eaten one for thirty years."
"Perhaps you should have purchased and sent one to her?"
"Nah we don't know where she is these days. She walked out on us when I was eleven, telling us that the neighbour Fred Fuller was more fun than dad was. Mr Fuller came back to his wife and two kids two months later but we never saw mum again."
"She used to write but the gaps between letters became longer and then stopped soon after she changed her location. Her friend Iris saw her when in Leeds two years ago and told us that mum had a fellow and she'd given birth to two girls."
"Oh how sad for you. It must have been rotten growing up without a mother?"
"Well there was always a mum around the house. Dad had a string of them over the years but he's not what you'd call a good woman's man - after a while he more or less forgets they are there ¬¬- if you know what I mean?"
"Inattentive, loses interest and spends longer and longer at work?"
"Ah very good; that's exactly what happens and still happens today. Did something like that happen to you?"
"No but one of my playmates in our street experienced what you went through. You might say I was lucky because I had both parents. Sure they were in the house and we did things together, but emotionally we lived on different planets. They didn't love each other but happily tolerated each other and neither of them would accept affection from me. In fact at times both vented anger when I sought affection from them."
"God that's inhuman."
"Indeed and that's a very appropriate choice of word."
"If you don't mind me saying this, but you indicated on TV that was the main reason why you had not sought marriage. Will that attitude ever soften?"
"I'm no longer bitter about my childhood. I would never use a word like inhuman about my parents. I avoided any direct criticism of them in their lack of affection. I guess no longer would it be a reason for not marrying, but now marriage is so irrelevant to me in the life I have chosen to live."
"But you have loved?"
"Yes - twice. The first was a father-substitute, a chief sub editor when I started out in journalism. The other was proper love through passion to a close workmate until the possibility of marriage began to emerge and I slowly withdrew until moving completely away from him. That man married a much younger woman and they are about to have a baby. Ironically they have asked me to be the baby's godmother even though she knows her husband and I were once lovers."
"Whew! Things get a little complicated in real live don't they?"
"They certainly do. Now choose your lamington."
Jenni took one and he said, "Why did you choose the pink one?"
"Pink is for girls."
He said, "I thought perhaps you might say that."
