The Dead Side of the Mike Read Free Page B

seemed to be exactly pleased to see each other. ‘How was your trip?’ he asked after a pause.
    â€˜Fine. Smashing.’
    â€˜Good.’
    â€˜Yes, it was. Very good. Made me completely rethink my life, what I’m going to do.’
    â€˜Good.’
    â€˜I am going to unearth the truth. I think the truth’s very important. Everyone should know the truth.’ There was a pause. She swayed slightly with exhaustion. Then she grabbed Steve’s hand and said, ‘Come on, Roger and Prue are over there.’
    Steve muttered an apologetic ‘Goodbye’ to Charles as the two girls disappeared into the crowd.
    Mark studiously didn’t comment on their departure. ‘Look, I’ve just been talking with John Christie and he wants you to join this committee.’
    â€˜What committee?’
    â€˜This Features Action thing.’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’
    â€˜You see, the thing about it is, John doesn’t want it to be just BBC staff. Thinks we’re in danger of getting too insular. Says we should involve creative people from outside too. Well, Helmut Winkler had got Reggie Morris set up – do you know him? – he did that big feature on Nietzche which was nominated for the Italia Prize.’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜It was called
Zarathustra Meets Übermensch
. . .’
    â€˜Still no. In fact, even more no.’
    â€˜Anyway, Reggie’s suddenly rung through to say he can’t make it – pissed, I imagine – so we haven’t got anyone representing the writing end of Drama features. So I told John about the smashing job you’d done on Swinburne and he said, Great, you’d be ideal.’
    One decision Charles had taken very early in life, in fact while still at school when he had been elected on to the committee of the Drama Society, was that he would never again be on any committee for anything. Committees he knew to be time-wasting, long-winded, inconclusive and mind-blowingly boring. One of few advantages of his footloose life as an actor was that he did not have to take part in regimentation of that sort. Committees should be left to that unaccountable group of people who actually enjoyed them.
    So he started to make his excuses, but was interrupted by the arrival of the pin-striped suit which had been identified as John Christie. ‘Charles Paris, I’m delighted you’re going to be with us,’ he said with the unctuous charm of a Tory MP opening a garden fête.
    â€˜Yes, well you see, the thing is . . .’
    â€˜John, shall I get a couple of bottles to take over? I mean we can have a drink at this job, can’t we?’
    â€˜Of course, Mark, of course. I do want this to be totally informal. Not BBC at all. In fact I’ve organised a few bottles of the old Sans Fil over there.’
    â€˜Oh great. If we run out, I can come back for more. Come along, Charles. The meeting’s over in BH. In John’s office on the Sixth Floor.’
    So Charles went along. As he caught up with Mark, he asked, ‘What’s the old Sans Fil?’
    â€˜BBC Club wine. It’s French for “wireless”.’

CHAPTER TWO
    â€˜SO WHAT WE are saying is, okay, stuff Management. Let’s forget all the old prescribed answers and see what we can come up with by just gathering a few of the real creators together. Let’s think laterally. Are we going to do better by sticking with the current
ad hoc
way of making occasional features or by starting a department formed just for that purpose?’
    As John Christie concluded his opening address, Charles was again struck by the political image. The candidate was still opening the fête, smiling at everyone, on everyone’s side, concerned about everyone’s minor ailments, defending everyone against Them and obscuring in a welter of solicitude his own identity with Them.
    An earnest thin-faced young man picked up the gauntlet. ‘The