Rivals by Jilly Cooper Read Free Book Online Page A

left over from Wednesday’s board meeting up a couple of inches to obscure his view of her and, getting out a packet of Polos, handed one to Miss Madden, who went slightly pink as she accepted it.
    James offered Polos to no one else. He knew who to suck up to. Properly courted, Miss Madden would sing his praises to Tony and admit him to the inner sanctum when necessary.
    As Tony walked back into the room, everyone rose from their chairs except Cameron, who pointedly ignored him. Perhaps they’ve had a bust-up, thought James Vereker hopefully.
    The good thing about Tony, reflected Charles Fairburn, Head of Religious Programmes, was that he did cut out the waffle. There was a good chance that Charles, who was going to the ballet at Covent Garden that evening, would be out of the building by five.
    ‘I’d like to start,’ said Tony briskly, ‘by congratulating Cameron on being nominated for a BAFTA award. As you all know, “Four Men went to Mow” has not only been a huge network success, and sold everywhere overseas, but also because of the exceptional camera work, attracted scores of tourists to the area, and last month toppled “Howard’s Way” in the ratings. We’re looking for more programmes like this that project the area into the network.’
    ‘Hear, hear,’ said Cyril Peacock, his false teeth rattling with nerves.
    Tony’s conveniently forgotten that ‘Four Men went to Mow’ was my idea in the first place, thought Simon Harris bitterly. Cameron, still ignoring Tony, gazed sourly at the framed photograph on the wall of him smilingly assisting Princess Margaret to plant a cherry tree on the Corinium front lawn.
    Christ, they have had a row, thought James.
    ‘I’d like to give the go-ahead for a second series,’ Tony went on. ‘We’ve got the co-production money again from USBC, but I think it would be a good idea, Cameron, if you introduced perhaps a black unmarried mother into the cottage of the agricultural students to appeal to the IBA.’
    Charles Fairburn suppressed a grin. The IBA were crazy about minority groups. Cameron looked outraged.
    ‘Black unmarried mothers don’t become agricultural students,’ she snarled.
    ‘There’s always a first time,’ said Tony smoothly. ‘She could be the girlfriend of one of the four boys.’
    ‘For Chrissake, why not have a gay shepherdess with one leg?’ said Cameron.
    ‘Why not a deaf, unemployed merry peasant?’ suggested Charles Fairburn with a hiccup. ‘Or a handicapped harvester?’
    ‘That’s enough,’ snapped Tony.
    He then went on to OK plans for an obscure Michael Tippett opera, which Cameron also scowled at, detecting Lady Baddingham’s influence (Tony’s wife was crazy about opera) and a production of Midsummer Night’s Dream as a sop to Stratford-on-Avon which was just within the Corinium boundary.
    Now it was the turn of James Vereker, who, having finished re-writing his links, helped himself to a glass of Perrier and then suggested Corinium ought to show its ‘caring face, Tony’ and do a series on poverty and the aged.
    ‘Jesus, how turgid,’ said Cameron, glaring at him through the screen of fading daffodils. ‘Of all the boring . . .’
    Tony raised his hand for silence, his huge signet ring catching the light.
    ‘Not a bad idea. We could do a very cheap pilot to impress the IBA. We don’t have to make the series. Perhaps Cyril,’ he smiled malevolently at his PA, ‘could front it. He’s been looking rather old and poverty-stricken lately.’
    Cyril Peacock cracked his twitching face, trying to smile back. Thus encouraged, James suggested they should do something ‘very strong, Tony’ on rioting and drug abuse at Cotchester University. Swiftly Cameron swooped, the falcon Tony had trained, tearing into James:
    ‘What a crappy awful idea,’ she screamed. ‘D’you want to antagonize the entire Tourist Board because everyone’s scared to visit Cotchester any more? No one will want to invest money here. We’re