The Bedroom Incident

‘I wanted to sit near you at dinner,’ Emily confided as they walked through to the drawing room, ‘but Daddy’s a stickler for protocol and he insisted I must act as hostess at the end of the table.’ She turned down her mouth. ‘I hate making polite conversation to strangers. Are you having coffee?’

‘Please,’ Kristin replied, and they went to help themselves from a buffet table.

At another table, waiters dispensed a selection of liqueurs.

Guests filled the drawing room, some sitting on the pale green couches which were strewn with silk oriental cushions, others admiring the paintings and sculptures, more standing together chatting.

‘You were lucky, you sat next to Matthew Lingard,’ Emily said, looking through the crowd to where the editor was talking to one of the newspapermen. ‘I’ve never met him, but Daddy said I’d think he was a hunk and I do. He’s gorgeous.’ She sighed. ‘He makes my toes curl.’

‘Mine, too,’ Kristin said, though her irony went unnoticed.

‘Has he given you the all clear?’

She shook her head. ‘We haven’t had time to properly discuss my appointment.’

‘I love the way his hair waves down to his collar,’ the girl declared, gazing dreamily at Matthew as they continued to drink their coffees.

‘It needs cutting,’ Kristin said.

‘I think it makes him look dashing and romantic, like a pirate,’ Emily said, and giggled. ‘A Spanish pirate. Did you know he has some Spanish blood?’

‘No.’

‘Apparently one of his grandmothers came from Barcelona.’ The girl eyed her idol again. ‘Let’s go and talk to him.’

‘You go. I’ve talked to him enough already.’

‘I don’t like to go over on my own. Please, Kristin, come with me and introduce me. Please. Daddy’s busy and I’m dying to meet him and this is the perfect chance and—’

‘All right,’ she agreed reluctantly.

She had decided it would be wise to steer clear of the editor for the remainder of the evening. A tactical withdrawal would allow him to cool down, rethink and realise how prejudiced he was being. It would also enable her to adopt a resolutely less inflammable manner.

Kristin frowned. Even if he did have someone else in mind to head the features section, she was not about to give up. Not yet. She had been offered a chance to become a mainstream journalist and it was a chance which she intended to cling onto, albeit by her fingertips.

Dispensing with their coffee cups, she and Emily cut a path between the groups of laughing, talking people. As they approached, Matthew and his companion abruptly broke off from their conversation and turned to greet them.

‘Your father’s told me how well you’re doing at school. Congratulations,’ Matthew said, introducing himself and shaking hands with Emily, who blushed scarlet.

‘My name is Rob Talbot; I’m the about-to-be home news editor of The Ambassador,’ said the other man, who had fair hair, a thick moustache and was in his mid-forties. ‘I’ve come with Matt from his previous paper. We’ve been buddies for years.’ He grinned at Kristin. ‘You don’t seem so madcap to me.’

She darted a sideways look at Matthew. ‘I’m the soul of sanity,’ she declared.

‘I hear you’ve been giving boyo here a hard time. Good for you; most women go so weak at the knees it’s “yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full, sir”. Uh-uh, I’m being summoned,’ Rob said, eyeing a plump blonde woman in another group who was beckoning to him. ‘That’s my other half so I’d better obey or I’ll be in trouble. Hope to catch up with you both again. Bye.’

‘Is the lady his wife?’ Emily enquired as the home news editor disappeared.

‘For the past twenty years,’ Matthew said. ‘Why?’

‘There’re a couple of newspapermen here who came with their “partners”’ the girl said, lowering her voice and glancing round, ‘and Daddy doesn’t approve. Each time he was introduced to a “partner”—’ she enclosed the word with breathless inverted commas ‘—he became uptight I’ve told him he’s stuck in a time warp, but he’s very prim and proper about things like that.’

‘So he wouldn’t be thrilled if you decided to shack up with some dream man when you’re older?’ Matthew enquired, in a wryly teasing manner.

Emily giggled. ‘He’d go bananas, though I suppose he just might accept it if he knew we were going to be married. Daddy doesn’t approve of what he calls “philanderers” either,’ she continued. ‘Once he was all set to employ a man to run one of his companies, but then he discovered he, um—’ she blushed again ‘—slept around, and the whole thing was off.’ She paused. ‘When are you going to talk to Kristin about her job?’

He stiffened. The position of features editor was not ‘her job’. He objected to the assumption—and he resented the increasing feeling he had of being manoeuvred. He took a mouthful of brandy from the goblet which he held. But rather than offending Sir George by refusing outright to employ his protégée, perhaps he should pretend to consider the idea? It would be what was laughingly called diplomacy.

‘I’ll squeeze it in some time tomorrow. OK?’ he said, and Kristin nodded.

‘Emily, my sweet, can you spare a few minutes?’ Sir George called, and they turned to see him smiling from the other side of the room.

The girl sighed. ‘I’ll be back,’ she said, flashing a grin at Matthew, and sped away.

‘You were complaining to Rob about me?’ Kristin enquired.

He hesitated, slowly swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He could fudge, but she had asked a direct question so he would give her a direct answer.

‘Yes.’

She frowned. This afternoon she had thought him relaxed and friendly—but not tonight. Whilst he had treated Emily, with gentle consideration, he was becoming progressively more hostile towards her. It was no more Mr Nice Guy.

‘I’m sorry to interfere with your game plan,’ she said, with a smile. ‘However, when the red mist clears—’

‘You think I’m angry?’

‘I know you’re furious. But—’

‘We’ll deal with this in the morning. You can fill me in on your experience and if I should decide you’re suitable—’

‘You expect me to spend the night dreaming the impossible dream?’ Kristin enquired.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Tomorrow, as a courtesy to Sir George, you intend to go through the motions of an interview. You’ll say you will consider my application and in a few days’ time you’ll send me a letter announcing that, sorry, I don’t quite meet your requirements.’

Raising his glass to his lips, Matthew took another slug of brandy. Whilst he admired a brain, and it helped if it was attractively packaged, Kristin Blake was proving to be a little too sharp for comfort.

‘My job is to reverse the fortunes of The Ambassador and make it pay,’ he said heavily. ‘Not provide a free ride for someone whom Emily’s taken a shine to.’

‘You can’t resist the pathetic fallacy,’ she declared.

‘Which is?’

‘You think that because I’m blonde I must be a bimbo. An airbead who intends to busk it. I’m not.’

‘One thing I do think,’ he said, ‘is that you’re young to head the features section.’

‘I think you’re young to be the editor of a national daily newspaper,’ Kristin responded. ‘Most of them are in their fifties, whereas you—’