Best Kept Secret

5





NATALIE WAS STANDING in the lobby waiting for him at 6 a.m. She looked just as crisp and perky as she had done when she’d left him the day before. Once they were seated in the back of the limousine, she opened the inevitable folder.

‘You begin the day being interviewed by Matt Jacobs on NBC, the highest-rated breakfast show in the country. The good news is that you’ve been given the prime slot, which means you’ll be on some time between seven forty and eight a.m. The not-so-good news is that you’re sharing it with Clark Gable, and Mel Blanc, the voice of Bugs Bunny and Tweetie Pie. Gable’s promoting his latest movie, Homecoming, in which he stars alongside Lana Turner.’

‘And Mel Blanc?’ said Harry, trying not to laugh.

‘He’s celebrating a decade with Warner Brothers. Now, taking into account sponsors’ breaks, I estimate you’ll be on air for four to five minutes, which you must think of as 240 to 300 seconds. I cannot stress enough,’ continued Natalie, ‘how important this show is for launching our whole campaign. You won’t be doing anything bigger in the next three weeks. This could not only get you on to the bestseller list but, if it goes well, every major show across the country will want to book you.’

Harry could feel his heartbeat rising by the second.

‘All you have to do is find any excuse to mention Nothing Ventured,’ she added as the limousine drew up outside the NBC studios at the Rockefeller Center.

Harry couldn’t believe the sight that greeted him when he stepped out on to the pavement. The narrow entrance that led to the front of the building had been fenced off and was crammed on both sides with screaming fans. As Harry made his way through the crowds of expectant onlookers, he didn’t need to be told that 90 per cent of them had come to see Clark Gable, 9 per cent Mel Blanc, and possibly 1 per cent . . .

‘Who’s he?’ someone shouted as Harry hurried past.

Perhaps not even 1 per cent.

Once he was safely inside the building, a floor walker escorted him to the green room and briefed him on timings.

‘Mr Gable will be on at seven forty. Mel Blanc will follow him at seven fifty, and we’re hoping to get you on by seven fifty-five in the run-up to the news.’

‘Thank you,’ said Harry as he took a seat and tried to compose himself.

Mel Blanc bounced into the green room at 7.30, and looked at Harry as if he was expecting to be asked for an autograph. Mr Gable, accompanied by his entourage, followed a few moments later. Harry was surprised to see the screen idol dressed in a dinner jacket and carrying a glass of whisky. Gable explained to Mel Blanc that it wasn’t an early morning drink, because he hadn’t been to bed. Laughter followed him as he was whisked away, and Harry was left alone with Mel.

‘Listen carefully to Gable,’ said Mel as he sat down next to Harry. ‘The minute the red light goes on, no one, including the studio audience, will realize he’s had anything to drink but orange juice, and by the time he comes off, everyone will want to see his new movie.’

Mel turned out to be right. Gable was the ultimate professional, and the title of his new film got a mention at least every thirty seconds. And although Harry had read somewhere that he and Miss Turner couldn’t stand each other, Gable was so gracious about his co-star that even the most cynical listener would have been convinced they were bosom pals. Only Natalie didn’t look pleased, because Gable overran his slot by forty-two seconds.

During the ad break, Mel was escorted up to the studio. Harry learnt a great deal from Mel’s performance, during which Sylvester, Tweety Pie and Bugs Bunny were all given an outing. But the thing that most impressed him was that when Matt Jacobs asked what was clearly the final question, Mel just went on talking, and stole another thirty-seven seconds of his precious time.

During the next ad break, it was Harry’s turn to be led up to the guillotine, where he knew his head was about to be removed. He sat down opposite his host and smiled nervously. Jacobs was studying the inside flap of a copy of Nothing Ventured that looked as if it had never been opened before. He glanced up and returned Harry’s smile.

‘When the red light goes on, you’ll be on the air,’ was all he said before turning to the first page. Harry checked the second hand of the studio clock: four minutes to eight. He listened to an advertisement for Nescafé, as Jacobs scribbled down a couple of notes on a pad in front of him. The ad ended with a familiar jingle, and the red light went on. Harry’s mind went blank, and he wished he was at home having lunch with Emma, even facing a thousand Germans at Clemenceau ridge, rather than 11 million Americans enjoying their breakfast.

‘Good morning,’ said Jacobs into his microphone, ‘and what a morning it’s been. First Gable, then Mel, and we end this hour of the breakfast show with a special guest from Great Britain, Harry’ – he quickly checked the book’s cover – ‘Clifton. Now, before we talk about your new book, Harry, can I confirm that the last time you set foot in America you were arrested for murder?’

‘Yes, but it was all a misunderstanding,’ spluttered Harry.

‘That’s what they all say,’ said Jacobs with a disconcerting laugh. ‘But what my eleven million listeners will want to know is, while you’re here, will you be getting together with some of your old convict buddies?’

‘No, that’s not the reason I’m in America,’ began Harry. ‘I’ve written a—’

‘So Harry, tell me about your second impression of America.’

‘It’s a great country,’ said Harry. ‘New Yorkers have made me feel so welcome, and—’

‘Even the cab drivers?’

‘Even the cab drivers,’ repeated Harry, ‘and this morning I got to meet Clark Gable.’

‘Is Gable big in England?’ asked Matt.

‘Oh yes, he’s very popular, as is Miss Turner. In fact I can’t wait to see their new film.’

‘We call them movies over here, Harry, but what the hell.’ Jacobs paused, glanced up at the second hand on the clock, and said, ‘Harry, it’s been great having you on the show, and good luck with your new book. After a few words from our sponsors, we’ll return at the top of the hour with the eight o’clock news. But from me, Matt Jacobs, it’s goodbye, and have a great day.’

The red light went off.

Jacobs stood up, shook hands with Harry and said, ‘Sorry we didn’t get more time to talk about your book. Loved the cover.’



Emma sipped her morning coffee before opening the letter.

Dear Mrs Clifton,

Thank you for attending the board meeting last week. I am pleased to inform you that we would like to take your application to the next stage.

Emma wanted to ring Harry immediately but knew it was the middle of the night in America, and she wasn’t even sure which city he was in.

We have several suitable candidates for you and your husband to consider, a number of whom are residing in our homes at Taunton, Exeter and Bridgwater. I will be happy to send information on each child, if you would be kind enough to let me know which home you’d prefer to visit first.

Yours sincerely,

Mr David Slater

One call to Mitchell confirmed that Jessica Smith was still at Dr Barnardo’s in Bridgwater, but was hoping to be amongst those going to Australia. Emma checked her watch. She would have to wait until noon before Harry could be expected to ring and she could tell him the news. She then turned her attention to a second letter which had a ten-cent stamp on it. She didn’t need to check the postmark to know who had sent it.



By the time Harry arrived in Chicago, Nothing Ventured had come in at number 33 on the New York Times bestseller list, and Natalie was no longer placing a hand on his leg.

‘No need to panic,’ she reassured him. ‘The second week is always the most important. But we’ve got a lot of work to do if we’re going to make it into the top fifteen by next Sunday.’

Denver, Dallas and San Francisco took them almost to the end of the second week, by which time Harry was convinced that Natalie was among those who hadn’t read the book. Some of the prime-time shows dropped Harry at the last minute, and he started to spend more and more of his time in smaller and smaller book stores signing fewer and fewer copies. One or two proprietors even refused to let him do that because, as Natalie explained, they couldn’t return signed copies to the publisher as they were considered damaged goods.

By the time they touched down in Los Angeles, Nothing Ventured had crept up to number 28 on the bestseller list and, with only a week to go, Natalie couldn’t mask her disappointment. She began to hint that the book just wasn’t moving out of the shops fast enough. That became even more apparent the following morning when Harry came down to breakfast and found someone called Justin sitting opposite him.

‘Natalie’s flown back to New York overnight,’ Justin explained. ‘Had to meet up with another author.’ He didn’t need to add, someone who’s more likely to make it into the top fifteen of the bestseller list. Harry couldn’t blame her.

During his final week, Harry zigzagged across the country, appearing on shows in Seattle, San Diego, Raleigh, Miami and finally Washington. He began to relax without Natalie by his side constantly reminding him about the bestseller list, and even managed to mention Nothing Ventured more than once during some of the longer interviews, even if it was only on local shows.

When he flew back into New York on the final day of the tour, Justin checked him into an airport motel, handed him an economy-class ticket for London, and wished him luck.



Once Emma had filled in the Stanford application form, she wrote a long letter to Cyrus to thank him for making it all possible. She then turned her attention to a bulky package that contained profiles of Sophie Barton, Sandra Davis and Jessica Smith. It only took a cursory reading for her to realize which candidate Matron favoured, and it certainly wasn’t Miss J. Smith.

What would happen if Sebastian agreed with Matron or, worse, decided he preferred someone who wasn’t even on the shortlist? Emma lay awake wishing Harry would call.



Harry thought about calling Emma, but assumed she would already have gone to bed. He began to pack so everything would be ready for the early morning flight, then lay down on the bed and thought about how they could convince Sebastian that Jessica Smith was not only the ideal girl to be his sister, but his first choice.

He closed his eyes, but there wasn’t any hope of snatching even a moment’s sleep while the air-conditioning thumped out a constant rhythm as if auditioning for a place in a Calypso band. Harry lay on the thin, lumpy mattress, and rested his head on a foam pillow that enveloped his ears. There certainly wasn’t a choice between a shower and a bath, just a washbasin with constantly dripping brown water. He closed his eyes and reran the last three weeks, frame by frame, like a flickering black and white movie. There had been no colour. What a complete waste of everyone’s time and money it had all been. Harry had to admit he just wasn’t cut out for the author tour, and if he couldn’t even get the book into the top fifteen after countless radio and print interviews, perhaps the time had come to pension off William Warwick along with Chief Inspector Davenport and start looking for a real job.

The headmaster of St Bede’s had hinted quite recently that they were looking for a new English teacher, although Harry knew he wasn’t cut out to be a schoolmaster. Giles had graciously suggested, on more than one occasion, that he should join the board of Barrington’s so that he could represent the family’s interests. But the truth was, he wasn’t family, and in any case, he’d always wanted to be a writer, not a businessman.

It was bad enough living in Barrington Hall. The books still hadn’t earned enough money to buy a house worthy of Emma, and it hadn’t helped when Sebastian had asked him quite innocently why he didn’t go out to work every morning, like every other father he knew. It sometimes made him feel like a kept man.

Harry climbed into bed just after midnight, even more desperate to call Emma and share his thoughts with her, but it was still only five in the morning in Bristol, so he decided to stay awake and ring her in a couple of hours’ time. He was just about to turn off the light when there was a gentle tap on the door. He could have sworn he’d left the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle. He pulled on his dressing gown, padded across the room and opened the door.

‘Many congratulations,’ was all she said.

He stared at Natalie, who was holding up a bottle of champagne and wearing a tight-fitting dress with a zip down the front that didn’t need an invitation to pull it.

‘What for?’ said Harry.

‘I’ve just seen the first edition of Sunday’s New York Times, and Nothing Ventured has come in at number fourteen. You’ve made it!’

‘Thank you,’ said Harry, not quite grasping the significance of what she was saying.

‘And as I’ve always been your biggest fan, I thought you might like to celebrate.’

He could hear Great-aunt Phyllis’s words ringing in his ears: You do realize you’ll never be good enough for her.

‘What a nice idea,’ said Harry. ‘Just give me a moment,’ he added, before walking back into the room. He picked up a book from a side table and returned to join her. He took the bottle of champagne from Natalie and smiled. ‘If you’ve always been my biggest fan, perhaps it’s time you read this,’ he said, handing her a copy of Nothing Ventured. He quietly closed the door.

Harry sat on the bed, poured himself a glass of champagne, picked up the phone and booked an overseas call. He’d almost finished the bottle by the time Emma came on the line.

‘My book’s crept on to the bestseller list at number fourteen,’ he said, slurring his words.

‘That’s wonderful news,’ said Emma, stifling a yawn.

‘And there’s a ravishing blonde standing outside in the corridor holding a bottle of champagne, and she’s trying to break my door down.’

‘Yes, of course there is, darling. By the way, you’ll never believe who asked me to spend the night with him.’