looks like Robbie Williams’ younger, sexier brother?’
‘Hmmm, tough call,’ said Sally casting a casual glance across to their news-feed screen.
The domestic feed, a horizontal news text bar, was scrolling some dull story on a farmers’ dispute in Norfolk whilst the Reuters’ feed was streaming results on an election in Indonesia. Pretty uninteresting stuff all round.
Cameron cast a glance up at the monitor to see Sean Tillman checking himself in a small hand-mirror. ‘I know Sean’s also worried about the chin factor.’
Sally snorted with amusement.
‘Yuh, that’s what he calls it. He’s really pissed off about the studio floor being re-covered last month with a lighter linoleum. I heard him having a good old moan to Karl in make-up that the floor’s deflecting the studio lights. That he’s getting lit from underneath.’
Cameron leant forward and studied the monitor, watching both Sean and Nanette preparing for the hand-back from Diarmid. ‘He’s got a point though. He’s really coming off worse there. Nanette actually looks better, more radiant since they changed the—’
‘Cameron,’ muttered Sally.
‘—floor covering. Poor Sean though. It sort of makes the flesh under his chin glow. And there is a fair bit of it wobbling away under his—’
‘Cam!’ Sally said, this time more insistently.
‘What?’
She pointed to the Reuters’ news feed.
As the words scrolled slowly across the display bar, he read them one after the other, gradually making sense of the text he was reading.
‘Shit!’ he said, turning to Sally. ‘We’re going to need a whole bunch of graphics. This is going to hog the news all day.’
‘It’s not that big a deal, is it?’
‘You’re kidding me, right?’
Sally shrugged. ‘Another bomb. I mean we get a dozen of those every day in Ira—?’
‘But it’s not Iraq, is it?’ Cameron snapped at her. She flinched at the tone of his voice, and despite the sensation of growing urgency and the first prickling of a migraine, he felt she deserved a word or two more from him. ‘Trust me, this story’s going to grow very quickly, and we don’t want to be left chasing it. Let’s get ahead of the game and get all the assets we’re going to need. Okay?’
Sally nodded. ‘Sure, I’ll get on to it.’
‘Thanks,’ he muttered as he watched her disappear out of the control room. He shot another glance at the Reuters’ feed, more detail on the story was already coming in.
There were a couple of other control-room staff in there with him and they stared silently at him, waiting for orders. Normally he fed his input through Sally to them. But with her gone and chasing down the things they were going to need, it was just them.
‘Okay Tim, patch me through to Sean and Nanette. I suppose I’d better let them in on this.’
CHAPTER 2
8.19 a.m. GMT Shepherd’s Bush, London
Jennifer Sutherland hopped awkwardly across the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, whilst she struggled to zip up the back of her skirt and tame her hair with the straighteners, all at the same time. Too many things to do, too few hands, too little time. That bloody little travel alarm clock had let her down again.
Jenny checked her watch; she had ten minutes until the cab was due; time enough for a gulped coffee. She slapped the kettle’s switch on.
Today, if all things went well, was going to be the beginning of a new chapter; the beginning of a brand new chapter to follow the last one, a long and heartachingly sad one - twenty years long. She had a train to catch from Euston station taking her up to Manchester, and an interview for a job she dearly wanted; needed, in fact.
So this was it.
If they offered her the job, she could be on her way out of what had become a painful mess for her and Andy. This whole situation was hurting him a lot more than it was her. She was the one who was leaving and she knew when the dust settled, and both his and her parents performed a post-mortem on this marriage, the blame would fall squarely on her shoulders.
‘Jenny got bored of him. She put herself before their kids, put herself before Andy.’
And the rest . . .
‘You know she had an affair, don’t you? A little fling at work. He found out, and he forgave her, and this is how she repays him.’
The kettle boiled and she reached into the cupboard above it pulling out the last mug. The rest were packed away in one of the many cardboard boxes