Rivals by Jilly Cooper Read Free Book Online Page B

trying to boost the area for Chrissake.’
    ‘What about a programme on the role of women in Cotchester town hall?’ stammered Simon Harris, tugging at his straggling yellow beard.
    ‘And have the town halls at Bath, Southampton, Oxford, Winchester, Stratford, et cetera et cetera in an uproar because we haven’t done programmes on them,’ said Cameron crushingly.
    ‘I thought your idea, Tony, of interviewing the wives of celebrities living in the area looked a winner,’ said Cyril Peacock, desperate to get back into favour.
    ‘“Behind Every Famous Man”?’ Cameron turned on Cyril furiously. ‘That was my idea.’
    ‘We could start with one of our director’s wives, or perhaps,’ Cyril lumbered on, ‘even Lady Baddingham.’
    Tony looked not unpleased. ‘I think that would be a bit close to home.’
    ‘Why not do a series on the very very rich?’ said Charles Fairburn, who had not quite sobered up, ‘They’re far more of a minority group than anyone else. We could start with you, Tony.’
    He was quelled by an icy glance from Tony, who, aware that the meeting was slightly lacking in carnage, suddenly realized that his Head of Operations, whose role was to tell creative people what they could not do, was missing.
    ‘Where’s Victor Page?’ he said ominously.
    ‘Gone to his grandmother’s funeral,’ said Miss Madden, her lips tightening.
    ‘But he killed off two grandmothers during Wimbledon last year.’
    ‘This was his step-granny,’ said Miss Madden. ‘His mother married twice.’
    ‘No doubt his other step-grandmother will pop off during next Wimbledon,’ said Tony, making a note on his memo pad. That would be five people for Cyril to fire on Monday.
    Tony then turned to the points made during his talk with Lady Gosling that morning. There was no need to let his production staff get complacent.
    ‘Several viewers,’ he said, ‘have complained about field mice copulating too long on our “Nature at Night” programme.’
    Charles Fairburn, who had a round red face like a Dutch cheese, suppressed another smile. He’d better do his expenses. He hadn’t been anywhere this week, but he needed some cash to buy drinks for his airline-steward friend at the ballet tonight.
    ‘Cloakroom and gratuities £5,’ wrote Charles Fairburn. ‘Drinks with the Archdeacon £15.’ That was pushing it; the Archdeacon was teetotal, but the Accounts Department didn’t know it. They’d be shut if Tony didn’t wrap up this meeting soon.
    ‘On the kids’ programmes front,’ went on Tony, ‘we’ve also had complaints about too much violence in “Dorothy Dove”.’
    ‘What kind of violence?’ asked Simon Harris.
    ‘Pecking Priscilla Pigeon and pulling out all her feathers.’
    James was tempted to say his children had absolutely adored that particular episode, but decided not to. The Head of Kids’ Programmes had rejected his advances at the Christmas party; he didn’t owe her any favours.
    ‘Dorothy Dove is supposed to be a symbol of peace,’ said Tony.
    ‘Peaceful is the dove that is strongly armed – or beaked in Dorothy’s case,’ murmured Charles Fairburn and regretted it.
    ‘There have been complaints,’ went on Tony nastily, ‘about insufficient religious content in our religious programmes. I’ll talk to you after the meeting, Charles, and the IBA are very unhappy about “Rags to Riches”.’
    Simon Harris turned dark red. It was he who had bought the format for ‘Rags to Riches’ from America and adapted it for the British network.
    ‘But the ratings are sensational,’ he protested.
    ‘I know, but the IBA have pointed out that the contestants are far too glamorous and upmarket. We do need a few unemployed frumps to add a touch of reality, and please remember our ethnic minorities.’
    ‘You can borrow my black unmarried mother,’ said Cameron, shooting Tony a venomous look.
    ‘The IBA,’ went on Tony, squinting down the polished table, like a daily looking for smears,