So wed left it, sensitive girls that we are. Gizmo retreated back to his hi-tech hermitage and Shelley shrugged. No use looking at me, Kate. Hes not going to fall for the, You can talk to me, Im a woman, I understand these things, routine. Its down to you.
Men never cry on my shoulder, I protested.
No, but youre the only one around here who knows enough about computers to find who hes been talking to.
I shook my head. No chance. If Gizmos got a cybersecret, itll be locked away somewhere I wont be able to find it. Well just have to do this the hard way. First thing tomorrow, you better get on to the florist.
Call me a sad bastard, but as I was driving Gloria to the studios, I was busy working out how we could discover Gizmos secret admirer if shed been clever enough to cover her tracks on the flower delivery. So I almost missed it when Gloria asked me a question that needed more than a grunt in response. So you dont mind coming along tonight?
No, thats fine, I said, not quite certain what Id agreed to.
Im really buggering up your social life, chuck, she continued. If youve got a fella you want to bring along, youre welcome, you know.
I must have shown how unlikely a prospect that was, since Gloria chuckled. Hes a rock journalist, I said.
She roared with laughter. Better not bring him anywhere Im singing, then, she spluttered. Im too old to be insulted.
By the time we reached the studios, the sky had clouded over
Problems?
Were supposed to be filming outside this morning. When its raining like this, theyll hang on to see if it clears up and fill the time with the indoor scenes scheduled for this afternoon. Im not in any of them, so not only do I lose an afternoon off but I get a morning hanging around waiting for the weather to change. She rummaged in the bulging satchel that contained her scripts and pulled out a crumpled schedule. Lets see Could be worse. Teddy and Clive are in the same boat. Dyou play bridge, Kate?
Badly. I havent played against humans since I was a student, and these days the computer usually gives me a coating.
You cant be worse than Rita Hardwick, she said firmly. Thats settled then.
Two spades, I said tentatively. My partner, Clive Doran (Billy Knowles, the crooked bookmaker with an eye for his female employees), nodded approval.
Pass, said Gloria.
Three hearts.
Doubled, announced Teddy Edwards, Glorias screen husband, the feckless Arthur Barrowclough, cowboy builder and failed gambler. I hoped he had as much luck with cards in real life as he did on screen. What Gloria had omitted to mention in the car was that we were playing for 10p a point. I suppose she figured she was paying me so much she needed to win some of it back.
I looked at my hand. Redoubled, I said boldly. Clive raised one eyebrow. My bid passed round the table, and we started playing. I soon realized that the other three were so used to each others game that they only needed a small proportion of their brains to choose the next card. The bridge game was just an excuse to gossip in the relative privacy of Glorias dressing room.
Seen the Sun this morning? Clive asked, casually tossing a card down.
Itd be hard to miss it, Gloria pointed out. I dont know about where you live, but every newsagent we passed on the way in had
Theyre bloody idle, them hacks, Teddy grumbled, sweeping a trick from the table that Id thought my ace of diamonds was bound to win.
Clive sucked his breath in over his teeth. How dyou mean?
It couldnt have taken much digging out. Its not like its a state secret, Gary being a homo. Hes always going on about lads hes pulled on a night out in the gay village. Teddy sighed. I remember when it were just the red light district round Canal Street. Back in them days, if you fancied a bit, at least you could be sure it was a woman under the frock.
And its not as if hes messing about with kids, Gloria continued, taking the next trick. Nice lead, Teddy. I mean, Gary always goes for fellas his own age.
Theres been a lot of heavy stories about Northerners lately, I said. I might be playing dummy in this hand, but that didnt mean I had to take the job literally.
Youre not kidding, Clive said with feeling, sweeping his thin hair back from his narrow forehead in a familiar gesture. You get used to living in a goldfish bowl, but lately its been ridiculous. Were all behaving like Sunday-school teachers.
Aye, but you can be as good as gold for all the benefit youll get if the skeletons are already in the cupboard, said Gloria. Seventeen years since Tony Peverell got nicked for waving his willy at a couple of lasses. He must have thought that were dead and buried long since. Then up it pops on the front of the News of the World. And his wife a churchwarden. She shook her head. I remembered the story.
He quit the program, didnt he? I asked, making a note of our winning score and gathering the cards to me so I could shuffle while Gloria dealt the next hand with the other pack.
Did he fall or was he pushed? Clive intoned. It would have sounded sinister from someone who didnt have a snub nose and a dimple in his chin and a manner only marginally less camp than
What do you mean? I asked now.
John Turpins what he means, Gloria said. I told you about Turpin, didnt I? The managements hatchet man. Administration and Production Coordinator, they call him. Scumbag, we call him. Just a typical bloody TV executive whos never made a program all his born days but thinks he knows better than everybody else what makes good telly.
Turpins in charge of cast contracts, Clive explained, sorting his cards. So hes the one whos technically responsible when theres a leak to the press. Hes been running around like all Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rolled into one for the last six months. He threatens, he rants, he rages, but still the stories keep leaking out. One diamond.
Pass. It drives him demented, Teddy said with a smug little smile that revealed rodent teeth.
One heart? I tried, wondering what message that was sending to my partner. When hed asked what system of bidding I preferred, Id had to smile weakly and say, Psychic? He hadnt looked impressed.
Its not the scandals that really push his blood pressure through the ceiling. Its the storyline leaks. Gloria lit a cigarette, eyeing Teddy speculatively. Two clubs. Remember when the Sunday Mirror got hold of that tale about Colettes charity?
Its not the scandals that really push his blood pressure through the ceiling. Its the storyline leaks. Gloria lit a cigarette, eyeing Teddy speculatively. Two clubs. Remember when the Sunday Mirror got hold of that tale about Colettes charity?
Colette Darvall? I asked.
Thats right.
I must have missed that one, I said.
Two diamonds, Clive said firmly. Off the planet that month, were you? When her daughter was diagnosed with MS, Colette met up with all these other people who had kids in the same boat. So she let them use her as a sort of figurehead for a charity. She worked her socks off for them. She was always doing PAs for free, giving them stuff to raffle, donating interview fees and all sorts. Then it turns out one of the organizers has been ripping the
Oops, I said.
By heck, you private eyes know how to swear, dont you? Teddy said acidly. I dont think oops was quite what Colette was saying. But Turpin was all right about that. He stuck one of the press officers on her doorstep night and day for a week and told her not to worry about her job.
Thats because having a fling with somebody elses husband is sexy in PR terms, whereas flashing at schoolgirls is just sleazy, Clive said. Have you taken a vow of silence, Teddy? Or are you going to bid?
Oh God, Teddy groaned. Who dealt this dross? Im going to have to pass. Sorry, Glo.
Pass, I echoed.
And I make it three in a row. Its all yours, Clive. Gloria leaned back in her chair and blew a plume of smoke towards the ceiling. God, I love it when Ritas not here to whinge about me smoking.
Better not let Turpin catch you, Clive said.
He sounds a real prize, this Turpin, I said. I met him yesterday and he was nice as ninepence to me. Told me nothing, mind you, but did it charmingly.
Smooth-talking bastard. He did the square root of bugger-all about sorting out my security. Bloody chocolate teapot, Gloria said dismissively. At least this latest furor about the future of the show has stopped him going on about finding out whos leaking the storylines to the press.
The future of the show? Theyre surely not going to axe Northerners? It was a more radical suggestion than abolishing the monarchy, and one that would have had a lot more people rioting in the streets. For some reason, the public forgave the sins of the cast of their favorite soap far more readily than those of the House of Windsor, even though they paid both lots of wages, one via their taxes, the other via the hidden tax of advertising.
Dont be daft, Gloria said. Of course theyre not going to axe Northerners. Thatd be like chocolate voting for Easter. No, what theyre on about is moving us to a satellite or cable channel.
I stared blankly at her, the cards forgotten. But that would mean losing all your viewers. Theres only two people and a dog watch cable.
And the dogs a guide dog, Teddy chipped in gloomily.
The theory is that if Northerners defects to one of the pay-to-view channels, the viewers will follow, Clive said. The men in suits think our following is so addicted that theyd rather shell out for a satellite dish than lose their three times weekly fix of an everyday story of northern folk.
Hardly everyday, I muttered. You show me anywhere in Manchester where nobody stays out of work for more than a fortnight and where the corner shop, the fast-food outlet and the local newsagent are still run by white Anglo-Saxons.
Were not a bloody documentary, Teddy said. Hed clearly heard similar complaints before. His irritation didnt upset me unduly, since it resulted in him throwing away the rest of the hand with one hasty lead.
No, were a fantasy, Clive said cheerfully, sweeping up the next trick and laying down his cards. I think the rest are ours. What were providing, Kate, is contemporary nostalgia. Were harking back to a past that never existed, but were translating it into contemporary terms. People feel alienated and lonely in the city and we create the illusion that theyre part of a community. A community where all the girls are pretty, all the lads have lovely shoulders and any woman over thirty-five is veneered with a kind of folk wisdom.