nodding. The questions were hitting the target, the replies ticking the boxes.
And it mattered, how it felt it mattered. This was no standard interview. It was being haunted by a ghost of the living.
“On the subject of crusades, Annette’s got one of her own, hasn’t she?”
“Her charity work? You know how it all came about? Our little spat because I sent her to a private school. We talked about it… ‘Everyone’s a secret hypocrite,’ I said. ‘Not me,’ she replied. ‘Wait until you’re a bit older,’ I told her, ‘and then you might think differently.’ Anyway, that was how we left it. But being Annette, she said I had to pay a price. She decided the best way to punish a businessman was to hit him in the wallet, so we did a deal. The Soup Run was her idea. And she’s got other plans, as well.”
“Such as?”
Newman almost managed a laugh. “Annette has decided Roger’s Rugs has to become carbon neutral. How we’re going to make that happen with all the vans and warehouses I have no idea, but she’s insistent. I’ll probably end up having to plant at least a couple of forests.”
Dan took a glance at his notes to find a gap to think. They were approaching the difficult ground. The kingdom of thought-fear.
“You’ve given me a picture of a fine young woman. But Annette’s a teenager and she’s human; both dangerous traits. There has been… friction?”
“Oh yes,” the heart of the father replied. “There was her disappearance from school. That was one hell of a way to make a point. And she’s been in trouble for having a few drinks and dabbling with boys. But what young girl hasn’t? She’s got a boyfriend now – James, he lives in Manchester, they met on some trip – and do you know what she announced? She said she’s going to have him to stay, and in her room, too.”
Such familiar battles of the generations, aired so publicly. It would have prompted laughter, had it not been for the context of the interview. Annette was all around them. Those eyes, which relished life, now filled with dread. And looking here, to this room, this conversation and these few minutes for help.
“And what did you say to her… suggestion?”
“I said she would do no such thing. When she was 18 we might think about it, but not before. I tell you this: sometimes I wish I’d had a son. Daughters give you no end of trouble.”
Dan had matched Newman’s smile, but now let it fade. They were moving towards the end of the interview. It was time to change the mood, to ingrain the message which would fill the airwaves.
A great professional and a sensitive mind, Nigel felt the shift and gently zoomed in his shot for the power of the close-up. Newman’s face would fill the screen, the moistening of his eyes emphasised by the dark circles of sleepless fears that surrounded them.
“And worries are what we’re talking about here,” Dan said softly. “Difficult though it may be, can you tell us what you’ve been going through?”
With each answer before, Newman had taken a second or two to consider his words. But now the reply was instant. This was the only thought, the sole feeling, the one consideration.
“It’s been torment. There’s no other way I can describe it. Every minute, every second, I’m thinking of Annette. I’m wondering where she is. And…”
His voice cracked and almost broke, but he gulped in a hurried breath and rallied.
“I’m wondering what’s happening to her. Fearing it. Dreading it. I see her face everywhere, even when I close my eyes. Every time the phone goes, I think it’s someone calling to break the news – to tell me…”
Dan nodded at the unspeakable, unthinkable fear, but kept quiet; let the denouement of the interview play out. And it did – how it did.
“I can’t eat, I can’t sleep,” Newman continued. “I can’t do anything. I’m so lost. So damned helpless. All I can do is think about Annette. I’d ask – please, please, if anyone has
And it mattered, how it felt it mattered. This was no standard interview. It was being haunted by a ghost of the living.
“On the subject of crusades, Annette’s got one of her own, hasn’t she?”
“Her charity work? You know how it all came about? Our little spat because I sent her to a private school. We talked about it… ‘Everyone’s a secret hypocrite,’ I said. ‘Not me,’ she replied. ‘Wait until you’re a bit older,’ I told her, ‘and then you might think differently.’ Anyway, that was how we left it. But being Annette, she said I had to pay a price. She decided the best way to punish a businessman was to hit him in the wallet, so we did a deal. The Soup Run was her idea. And she’s got other plans, as well.”
“Such as?”
Newman almost managed a laugh. “Annette has decided Roger’s Rugs has to become carbon neutral. How we’re going to make that happen with all the vans and warehouses I have no idea, but she’s insistent. I’ll probably end up having to plant at least a couple of forests.”
Dan took a glance at his notes to find a gap to think. They were approaching the difficult ground. The kingdom of thought-fear.
“You’ve given me a picture of a fine young woman. But Annette’s a teenager and she’s human; both dangerous traits. There has been… friction?”
“Oh yes,” the heart of the father replied. “There was her disappearance from school. That was one hell of a way to make a point. And she’s been in trouble for having a few drinks and dabbling with boys. But what young girl hasn’t? She’s got a boyfriend now – James, he lives in Manchester, they met on some trip – and do you know what she announced? She said she’s going to have him to stay, and in her room, too.”
Such familiar battles of the generations, aired so publicly. It would have prompted laughter, had it not been for the context of the interview. Annette was all around them. Those eyes, which relished life, now filled with dread. And looking here, to this room, this conversation and these few minutes for help.
“And what did you say to her… suggestion?”
“I said she would do no such thing. When she was 18 we might think about it, but not before. I tell you this: sometimes I wish I’d had a son. Daughters give you no end of trouble.”
Dan had matched Newman’s smile, but now let it fade. They were moving towards the end of the interview. It was time to change the mood, to ingrain the message which would fill the airwaves.
A great professional and a sensitive mind, Nigel felt the shift and gently zoomed in his shot for the power of the close-up. Newman’s face would fill the screen, the moistening of his eyes emphasised by the dark circles of sleepless fears that surrounded them.
“And worries are what we’re talking about here,” Dan said softly. “Difficult though it may be, can you tell us what you’ve been going through?”
With each answer before, Newman had taken a second or two to consider his words. But now the reply was instant. This was the only thought, the sole feeling, the one consideration.
“It’s been torment. There’s no other way I can describe it. Every minute, every second, I’m thinking of Annette. I’m wondering where she is. And…”
His voice cracked and almost broke, but he gulped in a hurried breath and rallied.
“I’m wondering what’s happening to her. Fearing it. Dreading it. I see her face everywhere, even when I close my eyes. Every time the phone goes, I think it’s someone calling to break the news – to tell me…”
Dan nodded at the unspeakable, unthinkable fear, but kept quiet; let the denouement of the interview play out. And it did – how it did.
“I can’t eat, I can’t sleep,” Newman continued. “I can’t do anything. I’m so lost. So damned helpless. All I can do is think about Annette. I’d ask – please, please, if anyone has
Similar Books
