Lovers and Liars (35 page)

riversational pits and traps which suddenly seemed to surround r oil all sides. ‘You see, that is, Gini told me you were one of se paparazzi—!

This did not please him. The smile disappeared. ‘Oh? That was liat she saidT

fie glanced across the room to where Gini was now deep in versation with John Hawthorne. Mary swallowed and thought t.

.‘Maybe I’ve got that wrong. I expect so. I’m such a scatter-brain. rnuddle tip things all the time, and-!

‘No. She was perfectly correct. That’s exactly what I am.’ This s said seriously, but with detectable edge. Mary took a large allow of her wine.

..‘Well, there you are/ she went on idiotically. ‘I’m sure it’s most iting. Rushing around the world, that kind of thing - - . ‘ She lied herself together. ‘So tell me, have you known Gini long?’ Pascal hesitated. ‘No,’ he said carefully. ‘We’ve met a few es.’

Mary paused. Here was her perfect opportunity. Now was the oment to draw herself up, give him a withering stare and say, me, conic, M. Lamartine. You once knew Gini very well, I nk. In Beirut. Twelve years ago. Mary looked up at this man, d found the words would not come. She could not possibly

them. in the first place, he was quite formidable, and she ply didn’t dare; in the second, she could see they would be unpardonable intrusion, rude, wrong, and possibly unfair. I w nothing about what happened, she realized, nothing at all. I know is what Sam told me.

She met Lamartine’s eyes again. Every instinct she possessed her that some aspects of Sam’s story must be wrong. On other hand, she was not always a good judge of characpeople could take her in … John was right, totally right, she ught. I shouldn’t trespass. I should say and do nothing at all. is decision brought with it an enormous relief. Suddenly she I axed.

‘And meanwhile, you’re working for the News too, I think Gini idT

1. ‘Just briefiv. Yes, I am.’

‘Well, you’d be doing me a great favour/ she continued, more armiv, if Vou could make Gini see she should leave. It’s a perw, an absolute rag - well, I suppose tlv horrible newspaper no

.)not entirely, but I don’t like its tone. And that ghastly new editor

gives Gini the most pathetic stories. Before he came, she was doing so well. Did she tell you, a couple of years ago, she won two awards … T

‘No. She didn’t mention that.’

‘How typical! Well, she did. She did a very fine series on police corruption in the north. The previous editor admired her work enormously. He’d agreed to send her abroad - to Yugoslavia, which was the kind of story she’d always wanted to cover, of course. And she’d done a great deal of work in preparation, then-‘

‘Yugoslavia?’ He was frowning. ‘You mean she wanted to cover the warT

‘Yes. She did. That’s the kind of work she’s always wanted to do. And she would have pulled it off. Gini is absolutely determined, and she’s very brave, too.’

‘I don’t doubt that.’ He glanced across the room once more. Gini was still in conversation with John Hawthorne; she said something inaudible, and Hawthorne laughed.

‘The thing is,’ Mary rushed on, she was on her favourite subject, ‘Gini would never admit this, but she’s very influenced by her father. Where he went, she’s always been determined to follow. Her mother died, you see, when Gini was terribly young - two years old. She doesn’t remember her at all. When I first knew Gini, she was only five, but she was very advanced for her age. She could read and write very well. She used to write these stories

- well, all children do that, I suppose - but Gini used to lay them out in little books, like a newspaper. Then she’d show them to her father, only … well, unfortunately, he never took very much interest. But that just made her more determined. She’s very single-minded. You can’t rein her in. Do you know, when she was fifteen years old, she just walked out of school one day and went rushing off to … ‘

Mary stopped. She flushed crimson. She knew that when launched on the subject of Gini, she found it difficult to stop; but to have walked into that, to have been so incredibly stupid. She would never have done it, she realized, had Lamartine not been listening with such close attention to her proud boast. She would never have done it had he not seemed so very different from that imagined man in Beirut. However, she had done it. Now she had to extricate herself.

‘Went rushing off to where?’ Lamartine said in polite tones. ‘Oh heavens,’ Mary looked around her distractedly. ‘Could you

se me, just one second? That wretched poet friend of mine is olizing Lise. I must intervene … ‘

darted away. Pascal watched her thoughtfully. He liked her, ought, and he had learned a great deal from her, things Gini never have told him herself. He had also learned, of course,

Gini had been wrong. Her stepmother knew very well what happened in Beirut, and that meant Sam Hunter had not his word. He had told Mary about those events. Who, in rn, might Mary have told?

would have preferred Mary not to have heard that story Hunter, and not to have been prejudiced against him, but was nothing he could do about that now. It explained

way in which she had greeted him, that fierce protective tion she had given him. Now she had obviously decided no more faux pas, for she was returning, together with Lise orne.

he made the necessary introductions, then hastened away. looked down at the ambassador’s wife. Her lovely face was up to his; she radiated a tense almost febrile animation.

m so pleased to meet you,’ she was saying, in a low breathy , so he had to bend slightly to catch her words. She gave an amused glance, which was more than a little flirtatious. seen your photographs/ she was saying. ‘Those ones of

nie of Monaco. M. Lamartine … ‘ She wagged one long, tifully manicured finger at him, with a kind of arch reproof. Lamartine, I was shocked. You have a very bad reputation, know .

-tell me about your father/ John Hawthorne was saying to ‘Give me an update. It’s too long since we’ve seen him. st be five or six years.’

tHe’s in Washington now,’ Gini began.

‘Washington. Of course. But didn’t I hear some rumour - wasn’t planning a new book? Afghanistan - no, the Middle EastT Vietnam/ Gini replied.

She was almost certain Hawthorne knew this as well as she did, t for reasons of his own - perhaps to draw her out - kept that owledge concealed. ‘Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia,’ she went

n. ‘It’s almost twentyfive years since he was there. He wants

16go back and write about the changes since the war. I think he $Lls he did his finest work there.’

-‘He’s wrong.’ Hawthorne spoke abruptly. ‘Obviously, the pieces

he filed from Vietnam were outstanding - that Pulitzer was well deserved. But he’s still in a class of his own. I followed everything he wrote during the Gulf War. I’m afraid I even poached some of his material for speeches.’

‘I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded. Flattered, I’d say.’ ‘Maybe. Maybe. Sam never had much time for politicians.’ He smiled. ‘The point was he could always uncover something new, something the military might have liked to conceal. They couldn’t buy him, and they couldn’t gag him. He should do his book on Vietnam. It needs writing. And if Sam did it, it’d sell … ‘ He paused. ‘Here, your glass is empty. Let me get you a drink. White wineT

He crossed to the drinks table, paused to speak to a group there. New guests were still arriving. The room was becoming crowded now. Gini, glancing about her, saw her stepmother leading Lise Hawthorne across to Pascal. They were introduced: Lise Hawthorne held out her hand.

Gini turned back to look at Hawthorne. The remarks about her father had pleased her, particularly the fact that in Hawthorne’s opinion her father was still writing well. Had the comments been made for that reason, to please, to ingratiate?

Gini felt unsure. Hawthorne had no need, surely, to ingratiate himself with her. Why bother? His manner, certainly, had suggested nothing of the kind. On the contrary, it had been easy and direct; when he first mentioned her father - and he had done so almost immediately - he had spoken with an amused affection. ‘Didn’t you know?’ he’d said. ‘Your father kept me sane in Vietnam. He was an observer on two missions with my platoon. Sam and I were once holed up in a fox-hole together for three days; under fire. He ate my rations, and I drank the contents of his whisky flask. I was twenty-one years old and scared shitless. Your father never turned a hair. He taught me a lesson I’ve never forgotten. I’m not sure if it was courage or blind stupidity. Either way, Sam and I go back a long way.’

A disarming story, Gini thought. Flattering to her father, selfdeprecatory, even the mild obscenity introduced as if to signal that Hawthorne was no prude, no stuffed shirt … Yes, it might have been calculated to win her over. Still, it had been recounted naturally, and with warmth.

Gini frowned; she was not a novice when it came to interviewing celebrated, powerful men; she had interviewed numerous politicians. Hawthorne resembled none of them. He did not

opolize the conversation, but turned it away from himself. did not patronize. He did not glance away to check whether eone more important than Gini had just entered the room. gave her his full attention. He listened when she spoke, and

nded to her words. She could sense him assessing her as spoke, even testing her. She had the impression that he was . g a series*of quick, decisive judgements. She also had the ression that whatever silent test was being set, she’d passed

Had he judged her a fool, she was sure he would have wasted more time, but turned on his heel.

.s too was flattering, of course - and perhaps the source Hawthorne’s much-touted charisma and charm. That useful to make his interlocutor believe himself the only person

interest in a room: was it to that ability she was succumbing? succumbing she was, and Gini knew it. She liked Hawthorne, she had liked him almost from the first.

He was returning to her now, two drinks balanced in his hands. ni regarded him carefully. Could this man be the husband Lise wthorne had described? Could this man be the subject of Mullen’s revelations? She did not believe it for an instant, she Hed.

So tell me,’ he began, handing Gini her drink, ‘why are you rking for the News? Nicholas Jenkins may be increasing circun, but he’s dragging the paper down-market. He’ll lose his die-class readership if he’s not careful.’

‘Oh, Jenkins knows that. It’s a balancing act. Jenkins believes I* can stay on the tightrope.’

‘Jenkins bel ieves he can walk on water.’ He smiled. ‘I’m not too V of his abilitv to do either. We’ll see. He can’t be too popular V B ckingham Palace at the moment, that’s certain. Or with the pysee, to judge from this morning’s paper. I see that French p9nister has resigned, incidentally - though that’s no great loss

10 the world. Tell me, what are you working on right now?’

k-He sprang the question expertly. Gini knew she took a second kao long to reply.

k ‘What am I working on? Well, it’s a typical Jenkins story. Telehone sex lines. You know, sex by phone.’

.0 ‘1 don’t know, but I’ve heard.’ He seemed amused. ‘Are you Ohjoying the researchT

4- ‘No. Not a t a I U Gini paused. This line of conversation, she saw, raight be useful. She looked him directly in the eye. ‘So far I’ve Wst been sampling the recordings. It’s early days.’

‘And do you find them entertaining?’

‘No. Anodyne. The girls sound very bored. They describe their bodies, and their underwear .

‘Do they now?’

‘Occasionally they buzz a vibrator. I have the feeling I could write a better script myself.’

‘Really? What makes you think so?’

‘Well, of course, I might be wrong. I’m a woman, and these calls are aimed at men. Perhaps I wouldn’t understand what turns a man on.’

‘Sure you would. You’re not stupid.’ His tone, which had veered on the bantering, became sharp.

For a moment Gini expected him to curtail the conversation, right there. He looked away from her, across the room to where his wife was now seated with Pascal; then, to her surprise, he turned back to her, and continued, his manner serious now.

‘Any man who uses one of those phone lines is alone. I imagine he calls with a specific end in view, don’t you? In order to achieve that - well, there have been numerous surveys of the male response to pornography, as I’m sure you know. Unlike women, who respond to words, men respond to pictures, to images. The job of the phone lines, therefore, is to make the man see. He must see what the woman describes. It doesn’t need to be very original. Pornography is never original, that’s its point. Beyond that/ he continued, frowning, ‘I’d imagine the male callers experience two distinct types of arousal. In the first place, obviously, they are silent eavesdroppers - and that’s akin to being a voyeur. In the second … ‘he shrugged, ‘I imagine calling gives them an illusion of power. Of domination. They have chosen the number, and thus the girl. At any moment of their choosing, they can end the conversation, terminate the call. Satisfaction without repercussions or involvement. Sex on the man’s terms. Sex with a total stranger … ‘

He gave an impatient and dismissive gesture. ‘Many men would find that highly desirable. I guess these phone lines will flourish here, the same way they do back home. They surely won’t fail.’

Gini lowered her eyes. An interesting speech, made in an impersonal way, as if he were addressing some seminar. The words accompanied by a hard, direct stare, and visible impatience towards the end - possibly with the subject, possibly with her.

‘It’s not the level of story you should be working on anyway.’ He

poke abruptly, making her jump. ‘Mary’s said that often enough me, and she’s right. If that’s the kind of feature Jenkins sends then you’d do better elsewhere.’

=s crossed my mind.’

‘Good..’ He smiled. ‘Do you know Henry Melrose? You should I., %

to him a bout it. Make your preferences clear.’ Ok

ini ga%-c him a look of disbelief. Henry Melrose - Lord Melrose as the proprietor of the News.

0. ve never met Lord Melrose,’ she replied in a dry way. .N