Original Sin

‘I love it,’ whispered Brooke, squeezing David’s hand as they walked up a wide staircase into the master bedroom.

‘Yeah, it’s a find.’

He was trying to please her, but Brooke could detect the forced enthusiasm in his voice.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ said David, not looking her in the eye.

‘David what’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird all week when I’ve mentioned stepping up the apartment search.’

‘I just don’t think we’re going to be needing another apartment in New York,’ he said, opening a closet door with little interest.

‘Honey, I know you love the loft, but you know I want to start afresh.’

‘Maybe we should talk about this over dinner?’ he said, walking back to her. ‘In fact, maybe we shouldn’t. Tonight we’re supposed to be celebrating Portico, aren’t we?’

‘Well, I was rather hoping to end the biggest day of my working life finding our new home as well,’ she replied, turning towards the window, her arms folded.

‘Let’s not be greedy.’

She couldn’t understand his attitude. ‘David, what is the problem? I thought you’d love this place too.’

He paused, then looked at her seriously.

‘I’ve kinda had a big day at work too.’

She suddenly felt guilty; she’d been so excited by her own news, she hadn’t bothered asking about his day. And, from his expression, this was serious.

‘Oh wow, I’m sorry,’ she said, stepping forward and touching his hand. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ve been offered my own talk show,’ he said simply.

‘What? Like David Letterman?’

‘Kind of,’ he smiled. ‘A little more political.’

Brooke threw her arms around him and squealed. ‘Honey that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me? Oh that’s brilliant – and of course you deserve it, you’re so good.’

‘The problem is … ’ he said slowly, ‘it’s based in DC.’

‘A five–night–a–week gig, ten p.m. slot on NBS, very serious,’ he said excitedly. ‘It’s a brand–new show replacing that tired old political debate format. They’re really getting behind it and the exposure will be incredible.’

Brooke wanted to share David’s excitement, but instead she felt cold. Of course she’d been to Washington before, and each time she’d tried to make herself enjoy its European majesty, see it was the centre of the nation, feel the energy of change all around her. But she couldn’t. She found it a sterile, pompous, one–industry town where people seemed to grow old and cynical before their time.

‘Are you sure this is the right thing for you?’ she asked.

‘How could it not be right?’ said David, holding out his hands.

Brooke lifted her shoulders. ‘I mean, you certainly don’t need the exposure. You have media requests coming out of your ears and you turn ninety–nine per cent of them down. And anyway, won’t your father think that sort of exposure is vulgar?’

‘My father has mixed feelings,’ said David. ‘He knows it would be a heavyweight show interviewing heads of state and so on – that he likes. What he doesn’t like is the fact that it would mean putting the Congress run on the back burner.’

‘You spoke to your father about this before me?’ said Brooke, unable to hide her disappointment.

‘I was with him when I got the call, Brooke,’ he replied impatiently. ‘I wanted to wait until I saw you in person to tell you.’

The agent was hovering at the door. David flashed her a look and then closed the oak door behind her with a thump. He looked back at Brooke and his expression softened.