Part Twenty Six
At around eight the next morning, Karen drifted slowly in to wakefulness, only to discover that her head was throbbing and the only thing she wanted to do was to go back to sleep. It was Friday, which meant that she would normally be in a mad rush all day trying to get her section of the paper together. She groaned audibly, but immediately regretting making any sound at all. Slowly, she let her eyes gradually open and become used to being open. Then she carefully shifted herself in to a sitting position, quickly realising that drinking that amount of scotch on a completely empty stomach was definitely not a good idea. She fought the wave of nausea and reached for the phone. She asked to be put through to Zandra, her secretary, but got Barbara instead.
"Barbara, it's Karen Betts. Please would you tell the powers that be that I won't be in today?"
"Yes, of course. You sound terrible."
"The thing is," Continued Karen, "There's a mountain of work on my desk that someone needs to see to. I don't even know what my reporters were doing yesterday."
"I'll let Mr. Meyer know," Said Barbara gently. "And he'll probably give you a ring. In the meantime, I'd go back to bed if I were you." After hanging up, Karen decided that this was excelent advice. Yvonne, on appearing in Barbara's office, had caught the tail end of the conversation.
"Who's on the skive this morning, Babs?"
"Karen Betts, and she sounded awful. I've got to let Mr. Meyer know because of all the work she's left." Yvonne thought that Karen was probably suffering from the biggest hang over of her life and vowed to go and see her at lunchtime if she got the chance. Fridays, like Mondays, were always a real nightmare. These were the days before the paper was due to be sold, which meant a furious correcting of proofs, finding of photographs and most crucial of all, getting everything in the right place and set correctly for printing. anton appeared then, clearly on his way up to his office, but Yvonne called to him.
"We've got a problem," She announced. Anton heard her explanation of the situation and dug a bunch of keys out of his pocket. Beckoning Yvonne to come with him, he approached Karen's office door.
"I think we ought to see just how much work Miss Betts has left us with," He said, fitting the key in the lock. The office was as tidy as Yvonne had left it yesterday. One of the Julies had been in with the hoover and a duster, but apart from this Yvonne could tell nothing had been disturbed. In the bright morning sunlight, the enormous stack of proofs looked larger than ever. anton gave them a cursory glance and then turned to Yvonne.
"You know where Karen is, don't you?"
"I'd take a wild guess that she's at home in bed," Said Yvonne, trying to avoid his penatrating gaze.
"And she isn't there through a simple case of food poisoning, is she?"
"I wouldn't know," Said Yvonne, not liking where this conversation was going.
"In your own words, Yvonne," He said blandly, "You're talking bollocks." Yvonne was perhaps more surprised to hear such a phrase come out of the mouth of the most cunning journalist she'd ever met, than because he'd seen right through her.
"Wherever Karen Betts may or may not be, and why she isn't here this morning are not my confidences to share, sir," She said, adding the sir in a clear contrast of his previous use of vulgarity.
"Then I take it there is a reason why Karen may be avoiding coming to work?"
"Like I said," Repeated Yvonne, "It isn't my place to tell you. But I think she'll be back by Monday."
"did something happen?" Asked Anton, concern now clearly outweighing curiosity. This was too much for Yvonne. She walked over to the door and shut it very carefully, trying to give herself some time to get her anger under control. Then she walked back to Anton and looked him straight in the eye, gazing right in to his soul with that infamous Atkins glare. Anton began to feel like he was the one being questioned not her.
"I really don't want to tell you this," She began, "Because this happened to Karen, not me, and it's her who's got to deal with this. But seeing as you're insisting on getting something out of me at any cost, I'll tell you why Karen isn't here today and why she wasn't here yesterday. On Wednesday night, here in this office," She gestured to the desk without thinking. "Karen was raped, and before you asked, she was raped by that Jim can't keep his flies fastened Fenner. Are you satisfied now." Anton, never the one to let anyone read his inner feelings moulded his expression in to as blank an appearance as was humanly possible.
"Did she go to the police?" He asked. Yvonne sighed, feeling like she was repeating herself from Yesterday.
"No, and she isn't. She wasn't here yesterday because she was black and blue and not in any state to see anyone. I suspect she's not in today because if I know Karen, she probably got very drunk last night and is currently suffering from a real bastard of a hang over. But, I'm fairly sure she just needs a few days to work up the courage it's going to take to see Fenner, let alone work with him. I think she just needs everyone to give her that time."
"Does Mike know?" Was Anton's next question.
"yes, and I had to tell him pretty much what I've just told you. But I swear, if you even think of letting her know I had to break her confidence, you'll be two editors short not just one. Do I make myself clear?" Yvonne was well aware she was putting her job on the line in talking to Anton like this, but she didn't care. After all, what was he but an ordinary bastard bloke.
"I'll have to talk to her, about all this if nothing else," He said resignedly, not actually agreeing to Yvonne's deal.
"Couldn't we do it between us?" Asked Yvonne. "There isn't much doing this week with finance, so I could take a fair share of that lot."
"That would be appreciated," Said Anton. "It'll be a change to get my hands dirty again." They began sorting through the pile of proofs on Karen's desk, and eventually came to an agreement as to who would deal with what stories. Anton then shot a glance at Karen's dark, silent computer. He said,
"I'll ask her for the password when I talk to her, if there's anything on there I need anyway." As Yvonne moved towards the door, her arms full of paper, she looked back over her shoulder at him.
"just go gentle with her," She pleaded.
"Give me some credit for being able to handle my staff tactfully," Was Anton's only reply.
At about quarter past nine, Karen's phone rang. cursing whichever individual was daring to disturb her sleep, she lifted the receiver.
"Karen, it's Anton Meyer."
"anton," Karen merely said with a slight feeling of resignation. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, first we need to talk about the work that needs doing in your absence. Yvonne and myself have decided to divide it between us. But I need to know if there's any more work on your computer that we need to get at." Karen tried to make her foggy brain start working.
"There could be some which were e-mailed to me yesterday, and yes, there are others on my hard drive."
"I'm going to need your password to access them." Karen gave him the information he needed.
"I would appreciate it if you only looked at e-mails which are relevant," She said, knowing that it would be Jim's cowardly way to appologise for the events of Wednesday night by a simple e-mail. She certainly didn't want Anton Meyer reading that.
"Of course," He said, as if merely suggesting what he knew he would probably do was outrageous. Then he continued, changing his approach completely. "Karen, is everything okay?" His enquiry hit her like a punch to the abdomen. Surely, no, he couldn't know of what had happened. She knew she'd hesitated far too long.
"Yes, everything's fine. I'll be back to work on Monday."
"I'm not especially concerned about that," Said Anton gently. "It is very unlike you to take any time off work. I am simply trying to ascertain if your supposed reason for coming up with the most plausible yet the most frequently used excuse in the book isn't covering up for something more serious." Karen had never spent much time getting to know her boss. She'd always found him interesting, possibly somewhat of a mystery. But she suddenly had the urge to spill all to him. She had to take a deep breath and furiously bite her lip to stop herself from crying.
"I'm not entirely clueless to the hurt of others you know, Karen," Anton said gently.
"I never suggested you were," Said Karen in a high, strangled voice that didn't sound anything like her own.
"Then, why not talk to me?" Asked Anton.
"Because it isn't that simple," Said Karen, slowly getting her voice back under control.
"Why?"
"Because I suspect that you would probably try and persuade me to do the one thing you will never get me to do, and because one of your employees would be implicated in quite a serious crime which I'm sure you wouldn't want to keep quiet about." She realised she was beginning to sound angry and tried to calm down a little.
"Whatever you say here and now will remain here. Do I make myself clear?"
"I'm not sure you really want to know this," Said Karen, in a pathetic attempt to deter him from his chosen path of enquiry.
"Karen, anything that seriously impacts on the lives of my staff, I want to know. Okay?"
"Okay," She said with a resigned finality that shocked her. As she spilled the entire story, from her break up with Fenner because of his sending pictures of her to The Sun, to what had finally happened on Wednesday night, she began to feel like some of the weight was being lifted from her. It struck her that never in her wildest dreams would she have considered Anton Meyer a good listener, but here she was, telling him about one of the most painful experiences she'd ever suffered. When she came to the end of her tale, her body sagged as if all the air had been let out of her. She felt deflated, punctured, like any remaining energy had been sucked away for ever. Anton took a couple of minutes to take everything in, time to try and formulate a response to such a sequence of events.
"And you're certain you don't want to take this any further?" He asked. Karen was firm on this point. "Then, all I can really say is that I'm terribly sorry this had to happen to you, and that if in the future you do want to take this further, you will have my full support."
"Thank you," Karen said in a quiet little voice.
"and I am always hear to listen, if you should ever need it," He said softly. When he ended the phone call, Karen just lay there stunned. What the bloody hell had just happened. What in hell's name had she just done. Not wanting to examine the possible consequences of that phone call too closely, she turned over and gradually went back to sleep. She was woken at twelve o'clock by the doorbell. Vowing that she wouldn't let anyone in, no matter who it was, she pulled on her dressing-gown and went downstairs. It was a tall blonde woman wearing the name of the local florist on her uniform.
"Miss Karen Betts?" The woman asked. Karen took the flowers and thanked her. She took them in to the kitchen to find a vase. Unwrapping the beautiful bunch of carnations, she found a card. It said:
"Karen,
I'm fairly sure these won't make the slightest difference, but nevertheless, I hope they may cheer you up. Rest assured, your confidence will remain unbroken.
Anton Meyer."
At around eight the next morning, Karen drifted slowly in to wakefulness, only to discover that her head was throbbing and the only thing she wanted to do was to go back to sleep. It was Friday, which meant that she would normally be in a mad rush all day trying to get her section of the paper together. She groaned audibly, but immediately regretting making any sound at all. Slowly, she let her eyes gradually open and become used to being open. Then she carefully shifted herself in to a sitting position, quickly realising that drinking that amount of scotch on a completely empty stomach was definitely not a good idea. She fought the wave of nausea and reached for the phone. She asked to be put through to Zandra, her secretary, but got Barbara instead.
"Barbara, it's Karen Betts. Please would you tell the powers that be that I won't be in today?"
"Yes, of course. You sound terrible."
"The thing is," Continued Karen, "There's a mountain of work on my desk that someone needs to see to. I don't even know what my reporters were doing yesterday."
"I'll let Mr. Meyer know," Said Barbara gently. "And he'll probably give you a ring. In the meantime, I'd go back to bed if I were you." After hanging up, Karen decided that this was excelent advice. Yvonne, on appearing in Barbara's office, had caught the tail end of the conversation.
"Who's on the skive this morning, Babs?"
"Karen Betts, and she sounded awful. I've got to let Mr. Meyer know because of all the work she's left." Yvonne thought that Karen was probably suffering from the biggest hang over of her life and vowed to go and see her at lunchtime if she got the chance. Fridays, like Mondays, were always a real nightmare. These were the days before the paper was due to be sold, which meant a furious correcting of proofs, finding of photographs and most crucial of all, getting everything in the right place and set correctly for printing. anton appeared then, clearly on his way up to his office, but Yvonne called to him.
"We've got a problem," She announced. Anton heard her explanation of the situation and dug a bunch of keys out of his pocket. Beckoning Yvonne to come with him, he approached Karen's office door.
"I think we ought to see just how much work Miss Betts has left us with," He said, fitting the key in the lock. The office was as tidy as Yvonne had left it yesterday. One of the Julies had been in with the hoover and a duster, but apart from this Yvonne could tell nothing had been disturbed. In the bright morning sunlight, the enormous stack of proofs looked larger than ever. anton gave them a cursory glance and then turned to Yvonne.
"You know where Karen is, don't you?"
"I'd take a wild guess that she's at home in bed," Said Yvonne, trying to avoid his penatrating gaze.
"And she isn't there through a simple case of food poisoning, is she?"
"I wouldn't know," Said Yvonne, not liking where this conversation was going.
"In your own words, Yvonne," He said blandly, "You're talking bollocks." Yvonne was perhaps more surprised to hear such a phrase come out of the mouth of the most cunning journalist she'd ever met, than because he'd seen right through her.
"Wherever Karen Betts may or may not be, and why she isn't here this morning are not my confidences to share, sir," She said, adding the sir in a clear contrast of his previous use of vulgarity.
"Then I take it there is a reason why Karen may be avoiding coming to work?"
"Like I said," Repeated Yvonne, "It isn't my place to tell you. But I think she'll be back by Monday."
"did something happen?" Asked Anton, concern now clearly outweighing curiosity. This was too much for Yvonne. She walked over to the door and shut it very carefully, trying to give herself some time to get her anger under control. Then she walked back to Anton and looked him straight in the eye, gazing right in to his soul with that infamous Atkins glare. Anton began to feel like he was the one being questioned not her.
"I really don't want to tell you this," She began, "Because this happened to Karen, not me, and it's her who's got to deal with this. But seeing as you're insisting on getting something out of me at any cost, I'll tell you why Karen isn't here today and why she wasn't here yesterday. On Wednesday night, here in this office," She gestured to the desk without thinking. "Karen was raped, and before you asked, she was raped by that Jim can't keep his flies fastened Fenner. Are you satisfied now." Anton, never the one to let anyone read his inner feelings moulded his expression in to as blank an appearance as was humanly possible.
"Did she go to the police?" He asked. Yvonne sighed, feeling like she was repeating herself from Yesterday.
"No, and she isn't. She wasn't here yesterday because she was black and blue and not in any state to see anyone. I suspect she's not in today because if I know Karen, she probably got very drunk last night and is currently suffering from a real bastard of a hang over. But, I'm fairly sure she just needs a few days to work up the courage it's going to take to see Fenner, let alone work with him. I think she just needs everyone to give her that time."
"Does Mike know?" Was Anton's next question.
"yes, and I had to tell him pretty much what I've just told you. But I swear, if you even think of letting her know I had to break her confidence, you'll be two editors short not just one. Do I make myself clear?" Yvonne was well aware she was putting her job on the line in talking to Anton like this, but she didn't care. After all, what was he but an ordinary bastard bloke.
"I'll have to talk to her, about all this if nothing else," He said resignedly, not actually agreeing to Yvonne's deal.
"Couldn't we do it between us?" Asked Yvonne. "There isn't much doing this week with finance, so I could take a fair share of that lot."
"That would be appreciated," Said Anton. "It'll be a change to get my hands dirty again." They began sorting through the pile of proofs on Karen's desk, and eventually came to an agreement as to who would deal with what stories. Anton then shot a glance at Karen's dark, silent computer. He said,
"I'll ask her for the password when I talk to her, if there's anything on there I need anyway." As Yvonne moved towards the door, her arms full of paper, she looked back over her shoulder at him.
"just go gentle with her," She pleaded.
"Give me some credit for being able to handle my staff tactfully," Was Anton's only reply.
At about quarter past nine, Karen's phone rang. cursing whichever individual was daring to disturb her sleep, she lifted the receiver.
"Karen, it's Anton Meyer."
"anton," Karen merely said with a slight feeling of resignation. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, first we need to talk about the work that needs doing in your absence. Yvonne and myself have decided to divide it between us. But I need to know if there's any more work on your computer that we need to get at." Karen tried to make her foggy brain start working.
"There could be some which were e-mailed to me yesterday, and yes, there are others on my hard drive."
"I'm going to need your password to access them." Karen gave him the information he needed.
"I would appreciate it if you only looked at e-mails which are relevant," She said, knowing that it would be Jim's cowardly way to appologise for the events of Wednesday night by a simple e-mail. She certainly didn't want Anton Meyer reading that.
"Of course," He said, as if merely suggesting what he knew he would probably do was outrageous. Then he continued, changing his approach completely. "Karen, is everything okay?" His enquiry hit her like a punch to the abdomen. Surely, no, he couldn't know of what had happened. She knew she'd hesitated far too long.
"Yes, everything's fine. I'll be back to work on Monday."
"I'm not especially concerned about that," Said Anton gently. "It is very unlike you to take any time off work. I am simply trying to ascertain if your supposed reason for coming up with the most plausible yet the most frequently used excuse in the book isn't covering up for something more serious." Karen had never spent much time getting to know her boss. She'd always found him interesting, possibly somewhat of a mystery. But she suddenly had the urge to spill all to him. She had to take a deep breath and furiously bite her lip to stop herself from crying.
"I'm not entirely clueless to the hurt of others you know, Karen," Anton said gently.
"I never suggested you were," Said Karen in a high, strangled voice that didn't sound anything like her own.
"Then, why not talk to me?" Asked Anton.
"Because it isn't that simple," Said Karen, slowly getting her voice back under control.
"Why?"
"Because I suspect that you would probably try and persuade me to do the one thing you will never get me to do, and because one of your employees would be implicated in quite a serious crime which I'm sure you wouldn't want to keep quiet about." She realised she was beginning to sound angry and tried to calm down a little.
"Whatever you say here and now will remain here. Do I make myself clear?"
"I'm not sure you really want to know this," Said Karen, in a pathetic attempt to deter him from his chosen path of enquiry.
"Karen, anything that seriously impacts on the lives of my staff, I want to know. Okay?"
"Okay," She said with a resigned finality that shocked her. As she spilled the entire story, from her break up with Fenner because of his sending pictures of her to The Sun, to what had finally happened on Wednesday night, she began to feel like some of the weight was being lifted from her. It struck her that never in her wildest dreams would she have considered Anton Meyer a good listener, but here she was, telling him about one of the most painful experiences she'd ever suffered. When she came to the end of her tale, her body sagged as if all the air had been let out of her. She felt deflated, punctured, like any remaining energy had been sucked away for ever. Anton took a couple of minutes to take everything in, time to try and formulate a response to such a sequence of events.
"And you're certain you don't want to take this any further?" He asked. Karen was firm on this point. "Then, all I can really say is that I'm terribly sorry this had to happen to you, and that if in the future you do want to take this further, you will have my full support."
"Thank you," Karen said in a quiet little voice.
"and I am always hear to listen, if you should ever need it," He said softly. When he ended the phone call, Karen just lay there stunned. What the bloody hell had just happened. What in hell's name had she just done. Not wanting to examine the possible consequences of that phone call too closely, she turned over and gradually went back to sleep. She was woken at twelve o'clock by the doorbell. Vowing that she wouldn't let anyone in, no matter who it was, she pulled on her dressing-gown and went downstairs. It was a tall blonde woman wearing the name of the local florist on her uniform.
"Miss Karen Betts?" The woman asked. Karen took the flowers and thanked her. She took them in to the kitchen to find a vase. Unwrapping the beautiful bunch of carnations, she found a card. It said:
"Karen,
I'm fairly sure these won't make the slightest difference, but nevertheless, I hope they may cheer you up. Rest assured, your confidence will remain unbroken.
Anton Meyer."