Part 13 (1/2)

'I could come in on Friday,' Poppy gasped, desperately trying to keep Barbara's attention like a bad comedian with a drunken audience. She wanted to say 'today' but she knew it would sound too eager.

'Friday? Well, I suppose so,' Barbara said reluctantly.

'About eleven?'

'All right, then. Oh, sorry, gotta go. See you Thursday.'

'Friday!' Poppy shouted at the handset. She remembered how Barbara had once chased her round the swimwear section at Harvey Nicks desperate to get her signature on the contract. Now she was lower on her priority list than a packet of j.a.panese rice crackers. But she wasn't going to dwell on such thoughts. Poppy wasn't going to be a leech and a parasite. She would go and wow Barbara on Friday and she would make Luke proud.

17.

Thea had spent that Monday in a hospital in North London putting together a story about a doctor who'd given a child a near fatal dose of medicine. Now, at five, two hours before the show began, she was in one of the editing suites checking the astons the names that appeared under each talking head. Astons were very important: the times when Hillary Clinton had been billed as the Duke of Westminster or Nelson Mandela as Johnny Rotten were legion. But it had never happened on Thea's beat. And it never would.

Satisfied that all was in order, she opened the sound-proofed door and was back in the buzz of the newsroom. As the deadline approached you could almost touch the adrenalin. Reporters gesticulated as they gabbled into their phones. Producers barked as they tried to lure interviewees on to the show. Monica Thomson, that day's programme editor, was trying to persuade Emma Waters to go to Heathrow where a man had breached the perimeter fence and run naked across the runway.

'Don't be ridiculous, Monica. I'm not going to Heathrow! It's b.l.o.o.d.y raining out there.'

'Please,' Monica tried timidly. She was newly promoted to the job and, like dogs, the reporters could smell her fear.

'No.' Emma gestured at Bryn Darwin, one of the oldest and laziest reporters, who was bent over his sudoku. 'Send Bryn. Go on.'

'Oh, OK,' Monica said and scuttled off nervously to try him.

Dean strode through the room like Napoleon overseeing his troops.

'Have we got a fat teenager yet?' he shouted at the room in general. 'Well, why the f.u.c.k not? I want a roly-poly. Hoisted into the studio with a crane preferably. Come on, everyone. Find me a lardb.u.t.t. Fifty quid for the winner.'

'Got one!' shouted creepy Rhys, one of the GAs general a.s.sistants much mocked for his over-eager manner. 'Sixteen. Twenty-three stone. Lives on c.o.ke, crisps and KFC. Claims she's got a hormonal problem.'

'Bingo, my boy. Well done! Details to Amanda.' Dean nodded at the guest booker, who was responsible for interviewees arriving at the studio.

'She says she'll need a people carrier,' Rhys told Amanda, 'and even then they may have to move the seats to fit her in.'

Thea grinned. She loved the way that at work there was scarcely time to breathe, let alone think. Thinking too much wasn't healthy; she'd had a near sleepless night brooding about whether her friends.h.i.+p with Rachel could ever be the same.

'How's your day been?' asked Alexa Marples, who was sitting at the desk behind her. Smart and ambitious, Alexa reminded Thea a lot of herself ten years ago, except Thea would never have had the confidence to wear such low-slung jeans. Before Thea could answer, she continued. 'G.o.d, I'll be glad when today's over. Woke up with a mouth like a dog's b.u.m. Too many Bacardi Breezers last night.'

Thea smiled. 'I know that feeling.'

'Do you?' Alexa looked as if the Queen had just told her she was feeling a bit bunged up but hoped a vindaloo would clear it. Since she'd got back, Thea had had a few exchanges like this. She'd only been gone two years but in that time the office appeared to have been repopulated by babies who spent all day updating their profiles online and rus.h.i.+ng off as soon as work was over to get bladdered in Sh.o.r.editch. Thea was no longer part of that gang, but on the other hand she wasn't part of the late-thirties office crowd who rushed home immediately after the debrief to read their kids a bedtime story. Just as she had at Rachel's, Thea felt a flicker of unease, a sense of not belonging anywhere.

At the newsdesk, Luke was practising tonight's headlines. 'Six out of ten teenagers are obese,' he intoned in his crisp, clear voice as Dean and Georgina, the lawyer, listened intently. 'The Mexican earthquake: two hundred feared dead. The doctor who accidentally poisoned a toddler-'

'You know you can't say that, Luke,' Georgina interrupted. 'It hasn't been proven yet. The doctor will sue.'

'Oh b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.' Luke was never patient with lawyer's stipulations. 'The toddler who received a fatal dose? How about that.'

'Is it just me?' Alexa said softly. 'Or is something a bit weird about Luke's face?'

Thea looked. Now Alexa mentioned it, the skin did seem to be stretched even more tightly than ever across his cheekbones and, although his eyes were full of expression, his brow stayed strangely smooth. Thea glanced sideways at Alexa, but her attention was now fixed firmly on the monitors. Thea hated the idea of everyone knowing there had been something between her and Luke.

'He looks the same as ever to me,' she said shortly.

'Don't you think he's been a bit off form recently? Apparently Dean's compiling a dossier of bad performances and Luke's in the lead.'

'Really?' Thea sounded bored. She wanted to kill this conversation dead.

But she knew Alexa was right. Luke's performances had been a bit lackl.u.s.tre recently. He'd omitted a really obvious question when he was talking to the head of the Prison Service on Thursday. Dean hadn't been amused.

'Don't think much of Emma's jacket,' Alexa continued, nodding at the senior reporter who having successfully evaded the journey to Heathrow was dictating her eldest son's history homework to him over the phone. 'No Magna Carta, darling... not C-A-R-T-E-R, C-A-R-T-A.'

'Does nothing for her complexion,' Thea agreed. She clicked on her screen to bring up the 'viewer base', the file of viewers' emails that Dean was insisting everyone studied daily for feedback. 'Yup and the general public agree. There were three emails criticizing it after the lunchtime news. Red does nothing for her.'

They both giggled and suddenly Thea felt a spark of kins.h.i.+p. Even if Alexa was half her age, perhaps they could be friends. Her mobile rang. 'h.e.l.lo?' she said, still smiling.

'Is that Thea?' said a male voice she didn't recognize.

'Yes?' she answered frostily. Nutters rang the newsroom all day long telling her they were Princess Anastasia and for ten thousand pounds they would grant her an exclusive interview. You didn't want to do anything to encourage them.

'This is Jake Kaplan. We met at Greenways.'

Even worse. That charity guy wanting to tell her that newsflash tragically children were living on the streets.

'h.e.l.lo,' she said haughtily.

'Hi. I'm just back from Guatemala and I was wondering if you'd like to meet?'

His directness took her aback. 'Sorry?'

He laughed. 'I didn't phrase that very well. I just got back from Guatemala yesterday and there's a story brewing there I think the Seven Thirty News Seven Thirty News might be very interested in, so I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink and talk about it.' might be very interested in, so I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink and talk about it.'

'I'm pretty busy right now. Can't you just tell me on the phone?'

'No,' he said. 'It's quite an important story. We really need to discuss it face to face.'

Presumptuous sod. Thea was annoyed. 'I'm really sorry, Jake, but I'm totally booked up this week. You could send me an email giving me some idea of the story and then maybe we could pencil something in for next week.' And then I'll cancel you.

'I won't be here. I'll be back in Guatemala. So the sooner we meet the better.'

Thea rolled her eyes. The boy had a nerve. 'Look, I can't promise anything. And I really have to go now, Jake, it's mid programme and-'

He cut her off cheerily. 'OK. It's the Seven Thirty News Seven Thirty News's loss. I'll have to take the story to the BBC. They'll want it for sure.'

Oh no, they won't; you pushy short man. 'Well, I'm afraid I'll just have to live with that,' Thea said and hung up. He wouldn't call back. They never did.