Original Sin. Tasmina Perry
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gave a quiet, low laugh.
‘Really?’ she asked.
‘Indeed. In fact, I like to think of the proposal I have as a win-win situation.’
Tess held her breath. Was she going to up the offer of a hundred grand? And more importantly, would she be able to turn it down? Meredith looked out of the window.
‘I expect you know a little about my family,’ she began. ‘I expect you know that last week my daughter Brooke became engaged to David Billington?’
‘Yes, “Manhattan’s new John Kennedy Junior”,’ nodded Tess. ‘I think that’s how People described him. And I assume that’s why you’ve been particularly keen to keep your son’s adventures out of the tabloids. I imagine sex scandals don’t go down too well with rich, powerful families like the Billingtons.’
Meredith nodded slightly. ‘David’s family is very rich, very powerful and, as you would expect of one of New York’s oldest families, very conservative. They are more established than the Kennedys, as rich as the Rockefellers. They are also very politically active. Over the last four generations, the Billingtons have provided America with two secretaries of state, four governors, a vice-president and half a dozen senators, but in David they see the potential to finally add a president to the tally.’
‘Really?’ said Tess, intrigued now. ‘I didn’t know David was in politics. Isn’t he a news reporter?’
Meredith laughed. ‘For the moment, yes. He’s due to run for Congress next year and, naturally, he will be elected.’
All at once, Tess felt the pieces fall into place. She looked across at this elegant woman and realized the look on Meredith Asgill’s face was not composure, but controlled fear. She knew that if Jemma’s photos were ever seen, the whole Asgill family would be damned and the Billingtons would not risk being tarred by the same brush. Given those circumstances, one hundred thousand pounds seemed a small sum to keep everyone’s reputations squeaky clean.
‘Mrs Asgill, I wish your daughter and David Billington well,’ said Tess carefully, ‘but it’s my professional responsibility to run the story on your son.’
Meredith looked at her. ‘Your responsibility as acting editor?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what if you weren’t acting editor of the Globe?’ asked Meredith.
Tess felt a flutter of panic. Even without the marriage to David Billington, the Asgills were a rich and powerful family in their own right, and Tess wondered how far Meredith’s influence reached. Cosmetics companies certainly had a lot of power in the publishing industry and, although the Globe didn’t run any beauty advertising, it was still very possible that Meredith had the connections to have Tess removed from her job.
‘Are you threatening to have me fired?’ asked Tess, her face flushing.
‘Fired?’ laughed Meredith, gently tapping Tess’s knee. ‘No, darling, I want to offer you a job.’
‘A job?’
Meredith leaned forward. ‘I want you to come and be my family’s personal publicist, to promote the Asgills’ image and to keep scandal – should there be any – out of the media.’
Tess gaped, completely taken by surprise. ‘But I’m a hack, not a flack,’ she stammered, using the industry slang expression for PR.
Meredith nodded. ‘And many top publicists are ex-journalists.’
Tess began to say something, then stopped. She didn’t really know what to say. She gazed out of the window, watching the lights of London, trying to think it through, surprised at her own interest in the idea.
‘But surely a New York journalist would suit you better?’ said Tess. ‘My contacts are largely UK-based.’
Meredith smiled. ‘You have friends working at the Post, the Times, and the Daily News.’
Tess conceded the point, again a little surprised by the depth of the woman’s knowledge of her.
‘You’ve done your homework.’
‘Of course,’ said Meredith. ‘We can offer a good six-figure salary, one I feel sure is more generous than the one you are currently on, plus a rent-free apartment in the West Village.’
‘I already have a well-paid job on one of the biggest papers in the country,’ said Tess, playing for time.
‘Yes, but you’re unhappy, unmotivated and …’ Meredith paused. ‘… You’re about to get the sack.’
‘I am not!’ said Tess indignantly. ‘What on earth—’
Meredith held up a dainty hand. ‘It’s a matter of public record that the Globe Group are streamlining, making redundancies, and pushing people out. I read the Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times, Miss Garrett. I also keep my ear to the ground, and I hear that your editor is bringing someone in to be co-deputy editor. I’m sorry, I don’t wish to be rude, but it does appear your days at the Globe are numbered.’
Tess could only stare in front of her. Meredith Asgill might have been playing hardball, but her words had the ring of truth to them. It stung her to hear them from a stranger.
‘I’ve got a good reputation,’ said Tess, with more bravado than she was feeling. ‘I don’t think I’ll have any problems walking into a new job.’
Meredith smiled politely. ‘I’m sure you’re correct,’ she said. ‘But please be aware that my offer comes with a bonus. A two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar bonus when the bride and groom marry.’
‘A quarter of a million dollars?’ said Tess slowly. She’d definitely be able to afford that Chelsea flat with that cash injection. Dom would do cartwheels. But Tess’s head was doing its own back flips – she too had heard rumours about the recruitment of a co-deputy editor being brought in to work beside her. More importantly, Tess had always wanted to work in New York, and this might be just the opportunity to get a visa, and look for a proper job at the New York Post or Daily News.
‘This is an opportunity to make some real money, Tess, not to mention contacts and friends at the highest level,’ said Meredith, seeming to have read her thoughts. ‘The secret of all successful people is an ability to think outside the box. Think of Howard Rubenstein or Max Clifford in London; they make far more than any newspaper editor and have far more real influence. Besides, PR is more civilized than tabloid journalism, don’t you think?’
‘This wedding has to happen, doesn’t it?’ said Tess, and again, behind the cool patrician façade, she saw a flutter of anxiety.
‘Yes. I will not let anything stop it,’ said Meredith firmly. ‘Now, have you eaten?’
Tess shook her head. Behind them, they could just hear Big Ben striking nine p.m.
‘How about you join me for a late supper? I’m at the Connaught. I can tell you all about Brooke’s fabulous engagement party that’s going to be held at the Billington compound. I assume you’ve never been?’
‘Not yet,’ smiled Tess.
‘Well, I think that you might like it there. In fact, it’s tomorrow night; you can hop on the jet with me back to New York. How’s that sound?’
‘Brooke? David’s here.’
The pretty Chinese girl squeezed into Brooke Asgill’s tiny, cluttered office and swiftly removed a cup of cold coffee from her superior’s desk. Brooke looked up and nodded. Strictly speaking, Kim Yi-Noon wasn’t Brooke’s assistant. As a lowly commissioning editor in the children’s division