Having It All (58 page)

‘Hello, David, this is Mel.’ Mel laughed nervously and David immediately put down the report he was reading and gave her his whole attention. He’d hardly ever
heard Mel rattled before.

Mel had cursed silently that she’d been lumbered with the job of ringing David, but Ginny had refused point blank, and Britt, whose idea it had been in the first place, couldn’t
bring herself to talk to him. So here she was, on a wet Thursday evening, dialling Selden Bridge.

‘Mel, how nice to hear from you. How’re you finding country life?’

‘Hell. I can’t sleep with the silence and there’s no decent shop for fifteen miles.’

‘Poor Mel. I never could picture you in a Barbour and green wellies holding up the bar in the local. Well, maybe the last bit. I suppose you’re yearning to be poured out of The
Groucho Club again?’

‘You bet. Though I have found a wine bar in Lewes that does a mean Tequila Slammer. Three of those and you can’t remember whether you’re in Sussex or Swaziland.’

David laughed. ‘So, to what do I owe the honour of this call? You’re not presumably touting for freelance work?’

‘Darling, you couldn’t afford me,’ Mel sniggered. ‘Actually it’s about WomanPower. Ross Slater has made us an offer we’re all finding it very difficult to
refuse.’ She paused. ‘Except Liz, that is. Liz is so determined to refuse she’s resigned!’

‘But WomanPower means so much to her!’

‘I know. But not if it’s owned by Ross Slater.’ Mel sounded upset. ‘She told us to talk to you if we needed any advice. She says you had a run in with him years
ago.’ Mel brightened a bit. ‘So we wondered if you could possibly do some digging into what he’s been up to since.’

David smiled to himself. He was thinking of Liz. So she’d taken his advice after all. And it didn’t matter how busy he was, this was one request he was happy to make space for.

‘Certainly, Mel. There’s nothing I’d enjoy more. I could do most of it from here. When do you want me to start?’

Liz stood outside the black-and-white post-modern temple to the god of television that served as Metro TV’s studios and hesitated for a moment. Even though she was
returning in triumph she felt unexpectedly nervous. Her time here had been so fraught, every moment so emotionally charged, so many battles lost or won. And to her surprise she had to will herself
to go in.

Taking a deep breath she pushed the polished chrome revolving doors and walked in. As she did so she had the strangest sensation of walking into her past, a past she had bagged and labelled and
put up in the attic, never expecting to see it again.

And yet, as she sank down into the deep armchair in the Reception area, she realized something had changed. At first she couldn’t place what it was. The receptionist, a young woman she
didn’t recognize, smiled welcomingly. So did the security guards at their desk opposite. That was it. The mood had changed. Without Conrad brandishing a knife at their backs people at Metro
were relaxed and friendly.

‘Ms Ward. I’m the Chairman’s PA. Would you like to come this way?’

Liz reached for her briefcase and looked up into the smiling face of Viv, her old secretary.

‘Viv! How are you?’ She jumped up and put her arms round the girl. ‘PA to the Chairman? How grand! I bet he doesn’t need to borrow your tights! Or does he?’

Viv giggled. ‘Not so far. How
are
you? Isn’t this funny?’

‘Telling me! Are they going to ask me what I think they’re going to ask me?’

‘Ms Ward! You’re talking to the Chairman’s Personal Assistant. My lips are sealed. Don’t you remember I was the most discreet secretary you ever had? How could I possibly
divulge such confidential information?’

Liz reached for her coat meekly as Viv leaned towards her to take her briefcase. ‘Of course they are!’ she hissed into Liz’s ear. ‘Why the hell else would they drag you
up from Sussex?’

Liz felt her legs turn to jelly as she followed Viv into the lift and up to Sir Derek’s luxurious offices on the fourth floor.

Sir Derek and Mark Rowley jumped up the moment she walked into the room. She could feel the tension in the air and it made her feel calmer. They were jumpy too.

‘Liz, my dear, how are you? Thank you so much for coming to see us.’

He gestured to a place on the black leather sofa, looking down over the river. She remembered it as the place Conrad used to sit.

‘Hello, Liz, good to see you.’ Mark Rowley shook her hand sheepishly and sat in a chair next to her. Sir Derek sat down on the other end of the sofa. Both of them smiled, clearly
trying to gauge the moment to slip from pleasantry into business.

‘Well, my dear, I expect you’ve worked out why we’ve asked you here today.’

‘I’m intrigued, naturally.’

Don’t say too much, she warned herself, in case you’ve got it wrong, and all they want to offer is Head of Paperclips.

‘Yes. Well, as Mark told you Conrad has left in somewhat embarrassing circumstances. Claudia Jones, who was Acting Programme Controller, has gone with him.’

Liz smiled. So Claudia had stood by her man. Maybe she’d misjudged her. Unless Claudia’s red-taloned fingers had been in the till too.

‘What we need is someone with an impeccable reputation and impressive track record to take over. Someone who’ll reassure the TV authorities and the City, and most important of all,
make sure Panther doesn’t withdraw from this sponsorship deal. Then the shit really would hit the fan.’

Liz looked at Sir Derek in surprise. He must be under a lot of pressure to talk like that.

‘Then the authorities might demand an investigation and Christ knows what they’d find.’ He looked ashen. ‘Conrad seems to have thought he was God and that piffling little
mortal laws didn’t apply to him.’ He picked up a small lacquer mat and began to turn it round and round in his hands. ‘So, we cast around to see if we could find such a paragon
and Panther’s MD suggested you.’

Liz smiled. So Panther thought that well of her.

‘So, Liz, we’d like you to come back to Metro. A three-year contract. Naturally with a salary increase – say 50 per cent – with a share option of ten thousand Metro
shares and, of course, car, health care and the usual benefits.’

Liz did some quick mental arithmetic. Sir Derek was offering to make her almost as rich as Ross Slater had, only this would be a real job. She felt her heart pound. She could make the
homelessness series after all! She could build Metro into the best TV company in the UK! Or could she? She felt her excitement drain away. Who would be the next Managing Director? Another Conrad
sneaking around cutting her budgets every time she went to the Ladies?

‘That’s very flattering, Sir Derek. But frankly the financial inducements aren’t the crucial thing to me.’

Sir Derek smiled. ‘And what is?’

She looked him straight in the eye, willing herself to be tough. She didn’t need this job. She knew the sacrifices involved in taking it only too well. There was no point being talked into
it because she was flattered.

‘Control. Being able to decide not only what programmes Metro makes, but how big the budgets are.’

She held her breath, knowing she was asking for something no incoming Managing Director would ever accept.

‘I don’t see any problem with that.’

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

‘The Board and I have discussed this at length. We’ve decided the tension between you and Conrad was inevitable. So the job we’re offering you is not simply as Programme
Controller but as Controller
and
Managing Director.’ He smiled. ‘That’s why the rewards are so great.’

Liz tried to keep her cool and failed. ‘Joint MD
and
Controller!’ she blurted. He was offering her everything she’d ever dreamed of! She could make any programme she
wanted! She really
would
be the most powerful woman in television! And, God, how furious Conrad would be when he heard!

Sir Derek smiled again, waiting for her response.

She sat, transfixed, her hand darting up in case her usual rash of nervousness started to creep across her neck. But it didn’t. Her skin felt cool and smooth.

‘Well, Sir Derek. Obviously I’m deeply flattered.’ She knew that this time they needed
her
. And they could wait a little while before they got her answer. ‘I
assume you can let me have twenty-four hours to think about it?’

‘So, if I were you’ – David looked from Mel to Britt and Ginny to underline the seriousness of what he was telling them –‘I would think very
carefully before getting into bed with Ross Slater.’

It had taken every ounce of his persuasiveness, plus one or two gentlemanly threats, to exact the information sitting in front of them from Slater’s ex-business partner and David wondered
if he would have gone to quite those lengths if the report had been for anyone else. But he’d done it for Liz. He couldn’t bear the idea of her losing the company she’d put so
much love and care into to a bastard like Slater.

And, he had to admit, the sworn depositions sitting in front of them made gripping reading. Slater’s partner had outlined in glowing detail how the man conducted his business deals. And
one thing was very clear. Ross Slater was an Olympic champion at sailing close to the wind.

‘Jesus,’ muttered Mel, turning the pages as impatiently as if it were a whodunnit, ‘no wonder the guy’s so successful. He’s a crook!’

‘He does have an imaginative way of conducting take-over bids certainly,’ David agreed. ‘But I’m sure he could convince you it was victimless crime.’

‘Victimless!’ Ginny flung the folder down on the table. ‘What about all the people who lost their savings when he fiddled with the share price to fight off Nine to
Five!’

‘I’m sure Mr Slater would argue that it was only the institutions who suffered.’

‘But the institutions is just City jargon for people’s pensions!’ Ginny snapped.

‘Do I take it you aren’t quite so keen to sell to Mr Slater after reading this compelling document?’

‘No kidding!’ Mel pushed the folder away in disgust. ‘I’d rather hand over my shares to the taxman than sell to some con-man who cheats old ladies!’

‘I’m not quite sure that’s how Slater would describe his business methods, but still. What about you, Ginny? You’re the major shareholder with Liz. Do you still want to
sell?’

Ginny stood up. ‘As far as I’m concerned the deal’s off. We’ll just have to find some other solution to our problems.’

Finally David turned to Britt. All through the meeting they’d been avoiding each other’s eyes. But he knew that sooner or later he’d have to look her in the face.

‘What do you think, Britt?’

Britt raised her eyes slowly from the paper in front of her and tried to keep her voice steady. It had been her idea to call David in, after all, but the last half-hour had still been one of the
worst in her life. Any moment now, thank God, it would be over.

‘I think Liz was right all along. WomanPower should pull out. Ross Slater’s a charming shit.’ She smiled weakly. ‘The worst sort.’

Tentatively David returned her smile. They both knew that after this it would get easier.

‘That’s agreed then. We’ll tell Slater to get stuffed.’ He thought for a moment about Slater’s reaction. ‘You wouldn’t like me to tell him for you,
would you, by any chance?’ He picked up the folder and put it in his briefcase, a wicked grin lighting up his features. ‘Because I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy
more.’

As they gathered up their things to go, Ginny put down her briefcase and turned to the others. ‘Of course’ – she hesitated for a moment – ‘if we do turn down
Slater’s offer – which of course we must – you realize we’re back to square one. We still need someone to run WomanPower.’

David could sense their righteous anger slip away and a sense of depression settle on the meeting.

‘What about nipping over to the Saracen’s Head?’ A drink might cheer them all up. ‘A whisky mac is what you need to put some fight back into you.’

A touch of the old Mel returned at the thought of anyone destroying good whisky by mixing it with ginger wine. ‘Over my dead body. A double vodka maybe.’ She started putting on her
wrap. ‘Or maybe the whole bottle.’

Halfway through slipping into her cashmere coat, Britt stopped. A thought had just struck her. Crazy and impossible but worth a try. It would cost her a great deal to suggest it. But if it
worked it might just be the solution. It might even bring Liz back in.

‘Of course, there is one option we haven’t looked at.’

The others stopped, intrigued by the excitement in Britt’s voice.

‘I just thought I’d ask – purely theoretically of course – if
you’d
ever consider being Managing Director of WomanPower, David?’

For once David was lost for words. ‘But I don’t know anything about employment agencies!’

‘Neither did Liz and I a year ago,’ Ginny pointed out.

David looked round at them. He was a newspaperman through and through and he’d sunk his savings into the
Star
. But were they trying to tell him something? Something that might
outweigh any sane consideration? Something that Liz couldn’t say herself? That she actually needed him.

He found himself wondering if Suzan could take on the paper, at least till he found a buyer for it.

‘And how do you think Liz would respond if I said Yes? Wouldn’t she feel I was taking over? This was her dream, after all.’

Mel winked at Britt conspiratorially.

‘I don’t know, David, but there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?’

Liz crossed the busy road outside Metro in a daze and headed off down towards the river. She needed to think and this was where she’d always come when she’d had
difficult decisions to make at Metro last time round.

As the cold wind of the river whipped the colour into her cheeks and made her pull her coat tightly round her, she felt her pulse racing and her spirits soar like one of the seagulls that
wheeled above her on the embankment.

They wanted her back! They knew she cared about spending time with her children and they still wanted her! They didn’t think she was a whingeing woman who ought to get back to the kitchen
like Conrad did. They thought she had integrity and that she was bloody good at the job!