On the screen, the anchor moved on to other newspapers, but every tabloid led with Pippa.
Pauline could accept any insult to herself and laugh it off, but she could not bear the humiliation of Pippa. She was so enraged that she wanted to kill someone: the reporter, the editor, the proprietor, and all the brain-dead fools who read this kind of trash. Her eyes filled with tears of rage. She was possessed by the primal instinct to protect her child, but she could not, and the frustration made her want to tear out her hair. ‘This is not fair!’ she cried. ‘We conceal the identities of children who commit murder – but they’re crucifying my daughter just for smoking a fucking joint!’
The serious press had other priorities but nevertheless Pippa was on every front page. The conflict in Chad, and Pauline’s success in establishing a demilitarized zone, was not mentioned by the anchor.
Pauline said: ‘I can’t believe this.’
The summary of the papers came to an end and the anchor threw to a film reviewer. Pauline switched off and turned to Gus. ‘What am I going to do?’ she said.
Gus said quietly: ‘I think James Moore is responsible. He did this to push your DMZ off the front page.’
‘I don’t care who leaked it,’ Pauline said, and she could hear the shrill tone in her own voice. ‘I just need to figure out how to handle this with Pippa. It’s the kind of mortification that makes teenage girls suicidal.’ Her tears flowed again, and now they were tears of grief.
‘I know,’ said Gus. ‘My girls were adolescents only a decade or so ago. It’s a sensitive time. They can be depressed for a week because someone criticized their nail polish. But you can help her through it.’
Pauline checked her watch. ‘It’s after eleven, she’ll be asleep; she won’t have heard the news. I’ll see her as soon as she wakes up in the morning. But what am I going to say?’
‘You’ll say that you’re sorry this happened, but you love her, and together you’ll get through it okay. It’s nasty, but on the other hand no one died, no one caught a deadly virus, and no one is going to jail. Most of all, you’re going to tell her that this is not her fault.’
She stared at him. Already she was feeling calmer. In a more normal voice she said: ‘How did you get so wise, Gus?’
He paused. ‘Mostly by listening to you,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re the wisest person I’ve ever met.’
She was embarrassed by the unexpected strength of his feeling. She passed it off with a quip. ‘If we’re so smart, how come we’re in so much trouble?’
He took the question seriously. ‘Everyone who does good acquires enemies. Think how they hated Martin Luther King. I have a different question, though I believe I know the answer. Who told James Moore that Pippa had smoked marijuana?’
‘You’re thinking about Milt.’
‘He hates you enough – he showed that earlier this evening. I don’t know how he found out about her smoking weed, but it’s not hard to imagine – he was around here all the time.’
Pauline was thoughtful. ‘I believe I know exactly how and when he found out.’ She recalled the moment. ‘It was about three weeks ago. I had been discussing North Korea with Milt and Chess. Then Gerry came in, Milt and Chess left, and Gerry told me about the dope-smoking. While we were having that conversation, Milt came back to pick up something he’d left behind.’ She recalled looking up, startled, to check who it was, and seeing Milt grab that purple scarf. ‘I wondered then how much he’d overheard. Now we know. At any rate he gathered enough to put the Mail on the story.’
‘I’m pretty sure you won’t do this, but I have to mention it: if you want to punish Milt you have a means at hand.’
‘You mean reveal the secret of his affair? You’re right, I won’t do it.’
‘I didn’t think it was your style.’
‘Besides, let’s not forget that there’s another vulnerable teenage girl in the middle of this mess: Rita Cross.’
‘You’re right.’
Her phone rang. It was Sandip. He skipped the preliminaries and got right to the point. ‘Madam President, may I suggest how we might respond to the story in tomorrow’s New York Mail?’
‘We should say very little. I’m not going to discuss my daughter with those jackals.’
‘Exactly. I propose the following: “This is a private matter and the White House has no comment to make.” What do you think?’
‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Sandip.’
She saw that Gus was smouldering. He had not erupted suddenly, as she had, but instead burned under the surface, but now he was about to burst into flame. ‘What do these motherfuckers want?’ he said.
She was mildly startled. In the high-tension zone of the West Wing people were allowed to use profanity, but she did not think she had ever heard him use that particular swear word.
He went on: ‘You do something constructive, instead of shooting off your mouth, and they ignore that and target your kid. Sometimes I think we deserve to have an asshole like Moore for president.’
Pauline smiled. His anger heartened her. As he showed his rage, she was able to become more rational. ‘Democracy is a terrible way to run a country, isn’t it?’ she said.
He knew that saying, and he delivered the punch line: ‘But all the other ways are worse.’
‘And if you expect gratitude, you shouldn’t be in politics.’ Suddenly Pauline was tired. She stood up and went to the door.
Gus also stood. ‘What you did today was a small masterpiece of diplomacy.’
‘I’m pleased, regardless of what the media say.’
‘I hope you know how much I admire you. I’ve watched you for three years. Time and time again you’ve come up with the solution, the right approach, the telling phrase. I realized some time ago that I have the privilege of working with genius.’
Pauline stood with her hand on the doorknob. ‘I never did anything on my own,’ she said. ‘We’re part of a good team, Gus. I’m lucky to have you and your intelligence and friendship to support me.’
He had not finished. Emotions chased one another across his face until she lost track. Then he said: ‘On my side, it’s a little more than friendship.’
What did that mean? She stared at him, confused. What amounted to more than friendship? An answer came to the edge of her consciousness but she could not accept it.
Gus said: ‘I shouldn’t have said that. Please forget it.’
She looked at him for a long moment, not knowing what to say or do. Finally, she just said: ‘Okay.’
She hesitated a moment longer, then went out.
She walked quickly back to the Residence, followed by her Secret Service detail, thinking about Gus. His statement had sounded like a confession of love. But that was ridiculous.
Gerry had retired and the bedroom door was closed, so she went to the Lincoln Room again. She was glad to be alone. She had a lot to think about.
She brooded, planning her conversation with Pippa as she moved mechanically through the bedtime chores that required no thought: brushing her teeth, taking off her make-up, putting her jewellery in its box. She hung up her dress and dropped her tights into the laundry hamper.
She set the alarm for six o’clock, a full hour before Pippa would wake. They would talk for as long as necessary. If Pippa did not make it to school tomorrow no one would mind.