Read Online The Choice by Monica Belle - Free Book Online Page B

that I wasn’t the only one looking blank. After having my own idea squashed so easily I didn’t want to speak up again, but Susan was bolder.
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘Essentially the argument is that prostitution should be legal, but run like any other business, designed to make a profit but regulated to prevent abuse, the idea being that any state-controlled system inevitably panders to the lowest common denominator, resulting in a dull, uninspiring service, low wages for the producers – in this case the girls who actually do the work – and a top-heavy management.’
    ‘Isn’t that just right-wing theory?’
    ‘Yes, it is, which is why I want Giles to think it will be the main thrust of our argument when in fact I intend to emphasise the social disadvantages of state control: government intrusion, data gathering and its potential misuse, poor service and so forth, topical things that will resonate with the audience and, hopefully, win us the vote. Also, I want to …’
    He carried on, the three of us listening as he outlined a complete plan, leaving only one question I wanted to ask.
    ‘How are you going to make sure Giles thinks we’re going to use the capitalist argument?’
    ‘Because, Poppy, you are going to tell him.’
    I couldn’t have hoped for a better task. Not only was it great fun, making me feel like a secret agent, but it gave me an excellent opportunity to revenge myself on Giles for his behaviour. The only question was: how to go about it without arousing his suspicions?
    Approaching him directly wasn’t going to work. He was much too crafty to fall for it, and for all his arrogance he had to be aware that I wasn’t best pleased with him. If he came to talk to me it would be different, as I could pretend to let something slip, perhaps after one too many drinks at the Chamber bar, which was where I went after my Wednesday-afternoon tutorial. Giles was there, as I’d expected, but to my surprise so was Stephen. They were talking together, and when I came up to them I was sure there was a hint of embarrassment or even guilt in Stephen’s voice as he greeted me. ‘Hello, Poppy, everything OK?’
    ‘Yes, fine, I just fancied a drink after my tute.’
    Giles was his normal self. ‘After an hour of Jarrow John on social philosophy I bet you need one. Let me get it. What about you, Mitchell?’
    ‘Another pint, please.’
    ‘Port, please.’
    ‘You’ll get gout. Have a gin and tonic.’
    He made for the bar, leaving me to sit down beside Stephen. There was a question I’d been meaning to ask ever since they’d met in Jackdaw Lane. ‘Why do you and Giles call each other by your surnames?’
    ‘It’s a school thing, at Laon Abbey and most other public schools.’
    ‘That’s weird.’
    ‘Not really. It was normal in the nineteenth century, among higher classes anyway, and the tradition has been maintained, that’s all, much the same way as judges and lawyers wear wigs or we wear gowns when we matriculate.’
    ‘I suppose so. It just sounds so formal.’
    ‘Maybe, but for me it’s something I only do with my closest friends.’
    ‘So I’ll know you really like me when you start calling me Miller?’
    He laughed. ‘I will if you like.’
    ‘No. It would be too much like being told off at school. Are you coming to hear me speak tomorrow night?’
    ‘Yes, of course, and Giles. He’ll win, you know, he always does.’
    ‘You might be surprised. Dr McLean has some very strong arguments.’
    It would have been the perfect opportunity to drop my little piece of disinformation into the conversation, but Giles had managed to get served in record-breaking time and was already on his way back. Besides that, I couldn’t guarantee that it would have been passed on. As soon as I’d got my drink I tried a different tack.
    ‘What are your arguments going to be, Giles?’
    ‘Do you really think I’m going to tell you that, twenty-four hours before the debate?’
    ‘Why not, if you’re