In the Still of the Night

‘Annie doesn’t like the idea,’ Sean said wryly.

Billy gave that beatific smile which had made one TV critic call him the Evil Cherub, a description Billy cherished, and which had spawned a series of cartoons in the popular press, the originals of which Billy had paid through the nose to get, and which hung on one of the panelled walls.

‘Annie will do what she’s told. She’s just an actress. Don’t ask her, tell her.’

Sean persisted. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, either, not yet.’

‘Well, I do,’ Billy cut across him. ‘Built up at the right pace, it could mean a big rise in the ratings again. Take it slowly but make sure they all know it’s coming. We want them tuning in every night in case they miss the big moment. Right? Let me see the scripts for the next month; I want them on my desk by the end of the week.’

Sean looked at Harriet, who gave him a wry smile.

‘Right,’ Billy said, satisfied that he would be obeyed. ‘Now, what’s this whisper I hear about our Annie and Derek Fenn? Surely to God it isn’t true? Wouldn’t do her image any good at all. Man of his age … and a failure … and what’s this about a kid? Has she got a kid tucked away somewhere, or adopted?’

‘No. There’s no child, and she never had any affair with Derek.’ How did he hear these rumours so quickly? Harriet pondered furiously. Who was his spy? One of the actors? A member of the crew? There was no point in smoking the spy out – Billy would only replace him or her.

‘No smoke without fire.’ Billy often spoke in little gnomic phrases, aphorisms and proverbs which served instead of actual thinking. He had a handy portable piece of wisdom for most situations.

‘Unless you use a smoke machine,’ said Harriet, and he laughed, showing very white, false teeth.

‘Never thought of that. Good for you, Harry.’

She wished he wouldn’t call her Harry, he only did it when he was irritated with her, because he knew it annoyed her. The trouble was, she and Billy knew each other intimately by now. She wasn’t unaware of the fact that Billy would like their relationship to be even more intimate. He wasn’t putting any pressure on her to go to bed with him, but his eyes had a possessive gleam in them when he looked at her. In some ways, she was tempted; not simply because if she became Billy’s mistress it would get her anything she wanted, while it lasted, all the clout and influence she hungered for, not to mention the freedom to make the programmes she really wanted to make but knew were something of a risk. No, quite apart from that, although he wasn’t good-looking, Billy had something you couldn’t ignore. Like a Roman Emperor, he had the power of life or death – and that made him intensely sexy.

It shouldn’t, Harriet thought, and some women might not respond to it, but she was ambitious, she knew she wanted power, herself; she found it exciting, and it played around Billy’s head like lightning, making-him magnetic.

‘Well, I hope Annie isn’t going to unleash a scandal on us,’ he was saying to Sean. ‘Not her image. She’s on the side of the angels. Mike could weather any amount of scandal. He’s a wild boy and they like it, but they won’t like it if Annie turns out not to be as pure as driven snow.’ He looked at Harriet and his eyes glittered. ‘So I hope you’ve got the lid screwed down on whatever is behind all this.’

I hope so, too, she thought, but only smiled reassuringly at him. ‘We’ll take care of it, BG.’

‘You’d better. I can always get a new director if you let me down,’ he told her silkily.

She wasn’t scared by the threat, she was always conscious that if she needed to she had an ace she could play and scoop the pool.

‘There’s no need to threaten Harriet!’ Sean said, and Billy looked at him, at once, his lip curling.

‘And a new writer, too. Actually, I was thinking the other day that it was time you moved on, came up with a new series. We need a change of direction from you, Halifax, or are you just a one-idea man? That will be the acid test. Can you come up with a new idea?’ His tone was scathing, dismissive, meant to get under Sean’s skin and make him feel small.

Harriet glared at him – what did he think he was doing, taking her writer away from her? Any new series Sean thought up, she wanted first approval. She’d discovered him, he was her property. Billy wasn’t handing him over to anyone else.

‘Funny you should say that,’ Sean drawled. ‘Actually, I’ve got an idea I’ve been polishing for some time, but it isn’t all worked out yet.’

‘Well, get it ready, get it ready,’ Billy Grenaby said, a little cross because he hadn’t scared either of them. Billy loved to play at being a Billygoat Gruff, to watch people wince and turn pale when he growled at them.

He glanced at his watch, his face sulky. ‘Sorry, got to kick you out – another appointment, I’m afraid. Keep in touch. Bear in mind what I’ve said.’ Only when they were on their way out did he call after them, ‘Oh, and dump Fenn, will you? At once. Rewrite all the scripts to cut him out.’

Marty Keats rang Sean at the studio half an hour later while he and Harriet were dissecting their interview with Billy and deciding that their honeymoon with him was over and difficult days might well lie ahead. The fact that their climb up the ratings had slowed, even if the show was still climbing, was probably what lay behind Billy’s sudden hostility. You were only as good as your last ratings, as Harriet said just as the phone rang.

‘Oh, hello, Marty,’ Sean said. ‘You got my messages, then? Where have you been?’

‘What’s it to you? Today was my day off. I’ve been out since early this morning, visiting my sister in Reading, just got back. What’s all this about Derek? I haven’t seen him since yesterday.’

‘He didn’t come to work, and he isn’t answering his phone – we thought he might be with you.’

‘No, he isn’t. It’s odd, though. It isn’t like Derek, not turning up for work. Maybe he’s ill? I’ll go round to his flat. He has a woman in twice a week to clean for him, and she has a key. She lives across the road. If Derek doesn’t answer the door I’ll get her to come over and open the door.’

Sean made up his mind on the spur of the moment. ‘I’ll meet you there.’

Marty arrived first. She collected the key of Derek’s flat from his cleaning woman, who was in bed with flu and said she hadn’t been over for several days. Maybe Mr Fenn had the flu too? He might have caught it from her.