‘Think of the hours, though. When I’m a houseman. And I’d have to live in sometimes.’
‘Well – yes. That might be hard. Oh, why are we spoiling this wonderful occasion worrying about something so relatively unimportant?’
‘It would only be important if you cared about it. About the implications.’
‘Yes, but I don’t. Now let me give you some of this very special champagne and let us drink to Mr and Mrs Welles.’
‘Mr and Mrs Welles,’ said Jillie, raising her glass to him and then setting it down again. ‘Now can we do some more kissing, please?’
Chapter 23
1951
‘How’s it going then? You enjoying it?’ Donald Herbert raised his glass to Josh.
‘Yes, I really am. It’s bloody tough, of course. And Bedford is a bastard – constantly spiking my stuff, saying it’s not original, not sharp enough, not political enough.’
‘Well, that’s his job. He wouldn’t be political editor of one of the country’s most successful newspapers if he was a kind and cosy chappie. How do you get on with Harry Campbell?’
‘Hardly ever see him. But I admire him beyond anything. People are always saying he’s a bit like Cudlipp, has the same charisma, same passion. He’s certainly got the Cudlipp philosophy, that a newspaper should have a mission.’
‘And what’s the mission of the News?’
‘To support the ordinary man,’ said Josh. ‘The invisible one without a voice, who can’t make his grievances felt. He’s still having a hard time, that man – and his wife and family – six years after the war’s ended.’
Josh Curtis and Donald Herbert were having what had become a regular chat in El Vino’s bar in Fleet Street, opposite the Law Courts, where journalists famously drank and gossiped, often all afternoon.
‘Do you know,’ said Josh, warming up now, ‘only a third of households in this country have a proper bathroom, and one in twenty don’t even have running water? It’s a bit of an indictment of you lot, don’t you think?’
‘I do,’ said Donald Herbert. ‘But the answer’s not easy. There just isn’t room for everybody. The old East End houses, for instance, are built incredibly densely. There’s just not the room to build decent homes. Either people have to be moved out of London, which they don’t want, or some of these high-rise places have to go up.’
‘Yes, and there’s resistance to them, of course. Old biddy called Dame Evelyn Sharp, she represents the Ministry of Housing, says people will be upset by the sight of them. I bet she doesn’t have to wash in a tin bath by the fire.’
‘Well, that sounds like a great story to me,’ said Herbert, ‘so why don’t you write it. Give it a strong political angle; get some interviews with these people . . .’
‘Don’t you think I wanted to? But when I mentioned it to Clive, he liked it so much he made me do all the research, then wrote it himself. Campbell loved it. See what I mean?’
‘Well, yes. Bloody annoying. But that’s newspaper life, young Josh. It’s not a tea party. You’ll have to pitch a story to Campbell yourself, maybe one day when Bedford’s away. Want another one of those?’
He nodded in the direction of Josh’s glass.
His glass filled for the third time, Josh looked at Donald Herbert anxiously. ‘But I don’t want you to think I’m not enjoying it and I do know how lucky I am to be there at all, and I know I have you partly to thank for it –’
‘Well, only partly. Your cuttings from the Western Morning News were pretty impressive. All I did was make sure Bedford read them, and gave you a chance. I’ll see what I can do, try and find you a story from the inside track. We’re going to lose this next election, that’s for sure. So there’ll be plenty of material in that. Meanwhile, just keep your head down and do what Bedford tells you. Even if you don’t want to do it. Only way to learn.’
‘I know. Actually, I’ve got one to do tomorrow. About the Festival of Britain. More of a feature really, nothing political, and personally I think the place is a bit depressing, but apparently Campbell’s keen on covering it and told Bedford to get on with it.’
‘Right, well, good luck with that. Look, I must go. I have a company to run, keep forgetting about it . . .’
He hadn’t forgotten about it, of course; he never did for an instant, Josh thought, looking after his large figure as he made his way out to the Strand. He was currently regarded as a possible, if not probable, elevation to the House of Lords at the end of the present parliament and Josh knew he was lucky to have him as a mentor; he also really liked him. He had met him at the Curtis household, at one of their evening soirées.
Thinking of them reminded him of the news about Jillie’s engagement. There was to be a party shortly to celebrate; and he had been invited. He was very fond of Jillie, hoped the Welles fellow was worthy of her. He must contact her and congratulate her. He wondered if she’d give up her medical studies; shame if she did. There were precious few married women working; most men demanded – and got – one hundred per cent attention to themselves. Well, if he was ever lucky enough to find a wife, he’d let her do whatever she liked. The women’s editor on the News, Philippa Parry, was a great champion of women’s rights and commissioned many stories supporting this view. She always got a huge postbag from frustrated housewives after one of these. ‘But then the poor things just go back to their washing,’ she said to Josh one day, as they waited for the evening conference. ‘It’s such a slow battle. I thought the war would have done it, but they’ve all just slipped backwards into the kitchen. Or rather been driven there.’
She liked Josh; she found him amusing and liberal minded, not to mention rather attractive. She wished he could get more stories into the paper, but that was a slow battle too; it had taken years of fashion reporting of the most basic kind before she had finally gained any kind of authority. And that was entirely due to Harry Campbell, who had worked with her years earlier, and when a slot came up on the News, he called her in.
‘I want a lot more than reports on frocks and the height of heels,’ he said. ‘I want the women’s pages to be like the rest of the paper: a strong statement of what we stand for. Which means giving women a voice, so they can express their concerns and ambitions. Delivering that is all you have to do.’