All to Play For (20 page)

They also acquired a guinea pig which lived in a hutch in the back kitchen. Catherine felt Natasha needed a pet, although it seemed to Chris that Catherine spent far more time with it. He was content for her to be a mother hen if it made her happy. There were times when he envied colleagues with old-fashioned wives who wanted only to keep a lovely house, bring up a family and look after their husbands. Life would be a lot easier.

It was very pleasant to quit the chaos of home every morning and arrive at his well-ordered office. To be greeted with a smile and a cappuccino, and sit down to work in peace. He had only to give Selina the word and he would be undisturbed for as long as he wished, although even Selina had no power to stem the construction noise which continued to resound through the building in fits and starts. They were adding a massive extension to the side of Television Centre which would accommodate a large foyer, a state-of-the-art music studio, and extensive newsrooms which were part of the DG’s plan to combine all the news services into one massive centralised system.

Chris was now able to concentrate on his favourite occupation, collating all the information provided for him by the focus groups and ratings analysts and studying similar data from the US, along with their schedules. He pored over them looking for ways to advance his own channel, and was becoming enamoured of the aggressive scheduling techniques the Americans used to fight off intense competition. Granted, he was only competing against Channel Four at the moment, since satellite and cable television had made precious little impact on the public so far. Some channels were watched by no-one at all, and the top figures rarely reached a million. They were bound to get going eventually though – especially since the BBC was setting up cable channels of its own. He had to make BBC2 as strong as possible for its future security.

He wanted to pick up on new trends and build on them, and he saw that lifestyle shows were starting to do very well. They were cost-effective so he commissioned more. Daytime chat shows and quizzes were also very popular: he commissioned more. He encouraged producers of travel shows to get comedians to present them, thus attracting two sections of the viewing public to the same show, gambling that the higher fees would be worth paying. He bought in top American sitcoms, which were streets ahead of British comedy shows. They were slick, upbeat, wise-cracking and altogether superior, as he told the Head of Light Entertainment in no uncertain terms. The wretched man had whinged on about the Americans’ massive development budgets, and the importance of letting new shows develop through two or three series before writing them off as failures, but Chris told him the modern world of television didn’t have time for that.

He liked discussing programmes with Selina, who always had an intelligent opinion, and he unconsciously began to rely on her in much the same way as he relied on Catherine at home. She kept the office machine running smoothly and mopped up tedious bits of business so that he could concentrate on the important, over-arching task of executive achievement. She was so loyal and devoted that it came as a shock to him one day to see her flirting with a handsome young man who had the temerity to sit on her desk while she was working at her computer. He was so taken aback that he retreated into his office and closed the door before they saw him.

He told himself not to be ridiculous. Selina was gorgeous, she was bound to have men all over her – but she had never mentioned a boyfriend and he had never asked. He had enjoyed the cosy illusion of her constant devotion. Now it was shattered. Why was he upset? He was jealous. He could hardly believe it. His first reaction was to get rid of the boy immediately, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Selina. He decided to be casual, and opened the door again. He strolled out asking, “Any chance of another coffee, Selina?” and was surprised again because she was on her own.

“Of course. Cappuccino?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” It
was
quite a lot of trouble, because she had to go down to the ground floor to get one, whereas filter coffee was available from their own percolator. While she was gone he glanced around her desk for clues to the identity of the boyfriend, but found nothing. He felt annoyed with himself and went back to work.

At lunchtime he decided to eat in the canteen, although he didn’t like it much. It would make him seem a man of the people, one of the workers. He still wanted people to feel he was accessible, although he’d prefer they didn’t access him often. He went down ten minutes after Selina, piled a tray up with food and sat down by the window with
The Independent
open in front of him. He could see Selina a few yards away, chatting with the same boy beauty, as he named him privately, and soon remembered that he was in the Drama Department. The two of them made a perfect couple, both slim, elegant and blonde. Chris had always envied people like that. His solid, celtic physique and lack of style had always left him out of the running whenever sexual competition was the game. Maybe he should have tried harder? It wasn’t in him. Catherine had been only his third girlfriend, and the only one he had fallen in love with. He concentrated on his paper until someone sat down opposite and he had to move it.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” said a cultured voice unconvincingly. “Oh, it’s Chris Briggs, isn’t it! Sally Farquar-Binns. Script Editor in Drama – we met at the conference.”

“Oh yes.” Chris resigned himself to conversation. She fiddled about with her plates and cutlery until she was comfortable, and leaned towards him. “It was a super meeting, and Peter’s told us all about your exciting new plans. We’re all going berserk in development!” Her chirpy enthusiasm took the sting out of what he might otherwise have perceived as sarcasm, and he suddenly recalled who she was.

“You worked on
The Old Curiosity Shop
didn’t you?”

“How sweet of you to remember.”

“You did an excellent job on it, Sally.”

She shivered with pleasure. “Thank you so much. You’ll be glad to know I’m working my way through the whole Dickens canon. Whew! There’s an awful lot of it. But they’re
marvellous
aren’t they? I can hardly believe I’m getting paid for doing it! Tell me, which ones are
your
favourites?”

“Oh, I don’t know.
A Tale of Two Cities
,
Nicholas Nickleby
perhaps.” He could barely remember them. “
David Copperfield
, of course.”

“Yes that’s
my
favourite, too. But it’s been done so well so many times, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose so.” He was beginning to feel out of his depth and made a mental note to ask Selina for a set of Dickens synopses. A new arrival saved him from embarrassment.

“Hi Sally, mind if I join you? – Oh sorry Chris, I didn’t see you there!” A thin pale woman with large anxious eyes sat next to Sally and unloaded her tray.

“I’m
so
pleased about the new writing initiative!” she enthused. “I’ve been banging on about it for years, but you’re the first person who’s ever recognised its true importance. A nationwide trawl for new talent, what a marvellous idea.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I don’t mean to sound presumptuous but have you decided who’s going to run it?” Chris looked surprised. “No no, of course not. How would it be if I drew up a few plans, designed a proposal?”

“That would be very helpful,” said Chris, trying to sound at once gracious and noncommittal. “You are… ?”

“Sonia Longbow, producer.” She went to shake his hand but changed her mind – it wasn’t necessary in a canteen. “I’ve been at
EastEnders
for a year. It’s a bit like going abroad, going off to Elstree; you don’t see anyone until you get back. But new writing is my real love.”

“Splendid,” said Chris. He looked up to see Stewart Walker approaching and quaked inwardly, to his relief Stewart sat down with a few men at a nearby table. They were sniggering about something.

Penny Cruickshank was the next person to steam over, and as her bulky figure squeezed into the space next to him he stood up. “I’m just about to leave, why don’t you sit here?”

“Oh, thank you,” said Penny, disappointed. He left them to complain about leaving his dirty plates for them to clear away, and tried not to hurry back upstairs.

Later on that afternoon Selina came in with his tea, and mentioned that she’d been reading some Tony Scott scripts sent by Basil Richardson’s office and that they had completely knocked her out. “It’s such
real
writing,” she said. “So warm and tragic and funny. It’s about these miners who lost everything when their pit closed, and how they try and make new lives for themselves. You
must
read it.”

“Sounds intriguing,” said Chris. “But it doesn’t sound like a cult hit.”

“No. But it could be your cutting edge contemporary serial.”

“Let me have a look. By the way, did I see you having lunch in the canteen?”

“Yes,” said Selina. “That was Jonathan. We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks.”

Chris tried to be avuncular. “Great!” That sounded ridiculous, he was certain. She smiled, amused and flattered by his obvious liking for her. He smiled tightly and nodded repeatedly, unable to think of a single remark.

“Actually, he says you once did him a big favour, but you probably don’t remember.”

“Really?”

“About ten years ago, when he was a student at the Edinburgh Festival. He says you both got arrested when some nutter started a fight in the street. You can’t have forgotten a thing like that!” Chris looked bewildered, and then it began to come back to him. He remembered the green-and-purple-faced student, and could see that he might have turned into Jonathan. “Apparently you sweet-talked the police into letting you go, and then paid for a taxi so he could get to his theatre in time to meet some important people. You probably saved his career.”

“Good heavens. I had no idea.” Chris tried to recall what had happened after they all left the police station, but could only bring to mind that he had shagged a feminist, which was a first for him, and that it was his only act of infidelity to Catherine. How ironic, he reflected, that his boost to Jonathan’s career should be repaid by having his secretary stolen from under his nose. Such were the rewards of philanthropy.

“Can I get you anything else?” asked Selina, to fill the silence.

Chris pulled himself together. He was being melodramatic. Selina was her own person. Anyway, he was happily married. “No, thanks very much Selina, I have to go and see the DG in fifteen minutes, don’t I?”

“That’s right,” she turned and walked to her desk.

He found that the Drama Department was suddenly ubiquitous. He met producers in the restaurant, development executives in the foyer and script editors in the lift. Every one of them had a fabulous idea they were sure he would like. None of them actually made an appointment to see him as that would be going over Peter’s head, but they lobbied him assiduously until he was sick of the sight of them. The last straw came when he took a phone call from an apologetic Selina: she had put this woman off so many times, would he mind having a word? It was an agent called Muriel Barnet, calling about her client Billy Trowell.

“You
have
to
do
something Chris,” she began, before he had a chance to say hello. “It’s
absolutely disgraceful
what’s going on. I’ve
never
had a client treated like this in thirty-five years in the business, and I can tell you,
none
of my clients will want to work for the BBC when this gets out.”

Chris sighed. “Would you like to tell me what the problem is?”

“Billy’s written the most
wonderful
four-parter for you. It’s
exactly
what you want for your contemporary serial slot.
Very
on the edge. It’s dark, hi
lariously
funny and
so
moving.
I
think it’s his best work yet, and I’m
sure
you’ll agree.”

“I look forward to reading it.”

“I
can’t wait
for you to read it, Chris.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m sure you know that Billy’s always worked with Stewart Walker, they go back a long way.” Chris didn’t know, but somehow he wasn’t surprised. Muriel rattled on, “Stewart has behaved
abominably
to Billy. He’s refusing to accept the final episode, won’t even authorise payment on it.”

“Doesn’t he like it?”

“So he says. He wants a complete rewrite. Billy and I think he’s
totally
wrong.”

“It really isn’t for me to interfere in this kind of matter,” said Chris, allowing a little irritation to show in his voice.

“The point is Chris, Billy
won’t
change the ending, he feels
very
strongly about it.
Very
strongly. More strongly than he feels about
Stewart
.”

“You want to change the producer.”

“I
knew
you’d understand! I know it’s not normal procedure, but it
really
would be in your best interests, Chris. It’s a fan
tas
tic project.”

“You’ll have to talk to Peter about this, er, Muriel. It’s not my area.”

“Well I know Chris, but Peter can’t seem to make up his mind whose side he’s on. If you would just have a word, I’m sure it can be sorted out.”

Chris took this to mean that Peter had taken Stewart’s side.

“Okay Muriel. Leave it with me,” he said, and hung up without the least intention of doing anything at all.

“Selina!” he called, and she hurried in apologetically.

“I’m awfully sorry, was she a real pain?”

“That’s all right, it’s not your fault. How am I going to keep them away? Why are they pestering
me
?”

Selina pursed her lips. “I’m sure it’ll stop when you’ve chosen your drama projects. Perhaps you could turn some down soon, put them out of their misery?”