Chapter 3 – Tittle Tattle
Elaine DuBois entered the editorial office of Tittle Tattle, the only Genovian gossip magazine with headquarters in Antiem. She'd rehearsed what she would say and what she would forget to mention. Yesterday evening her cat had thrown up in her sandals, something she'd found out just in time. When doing her shift she'd cursed both the cat and the shoes she had to wear. But right now the shoes were a blessing for they were black and had a small heel: not the type of shoes cleaners wear. She might have to say what kind of job she had later on, but she didn't want the journalists to think she was some poor stupid woman who didn't know what treasure she held. She knew what to say, she knew what she wanted (heaps of money, loads of money) and when she told the porter to call Mr Valmont (from one of his columns she knew that he was an early bird), he didn't hesitate to do her bidding.
OoOoOoO
´I always say that every story is worth while,´ Mr Valmont said, privately adding provided it is edited, polished and spiced.
´My story is,´ Mrs DuBois said, ´My story will triple TT's sales.´
Claude Valmont studied the woman in front of him. Would she tell him she was pregnant with the prime minister's child? Or had she caught viscount Mabrey in the arms of another man? Or, better still: could she prove that that bitch Elsie P was illiterate? When the silence lasted he raised his eyebrows.
´It's about Queen Clarisse...´
´I'm all ears.´
´I've got a story that's gonna triple TT's sales. It's about Queen Clarisse. Why don't you talk first?´
Valmont could see that she was nervous, but she hid it well. She wouldn't fall for his tricks, not right now. He nodded, making a little show of it, giving her some sighs and shaking his head as if he'd found his equal.
´I'll call the chief-editor,´ he gave in, ´But I do need a little more to persuade him to come?´
´I work at a hospital. Yesterday a man was brought in who has a special relationship with Queen Clarisse.´
Valmont grinned excitedly.
Mrs DuBois smiled and said: ´Better.´
OoOoOoO
The Tittle Tattle building buzzed. As if the coffee machines elsewhere in the office had broken down, people walked to the machine near Claude Valmont's office. The fact that an unknown woman had come to speak to him didn't raise their curiosity but the fact that chief editor Mr Sartre and TT's legal advisor, Miss Aboutaleb, had joined them did.
OoOoOoO
Mrs DuBois had been questioned again and again. It hadn't upset her. Having to tell the story repeatedly, it became true.
Miss Aboutaleb wanted to know at what time visiting hours started at the University Hospital. Mrs DuBois told her that the first shift was at 10.00 am.
´By then we can have someone drop by to check if Mrs DuBois is right.´
´I am!´
The legal expert sighed. The eyes of her colleagues were gleaming with anticipation. Mr Sartre pictured The Best Sold Issue Ever to be printed soon and Valmont could only think of The Final Ending of Elsie P.
´I love this story,´ Valmont said.
Yes, Miss Aboutaleb mused, that's all it is, a story. She wondered, not for the first time, how she'd ever ended up at a gossip magazine.
´Tell me all again,´ Mr Sartre invited Mrs DuBois.
´I was walking in a corridor, and I saw doctor Dumas enter the room of the Queen's Head of Security. There was a little stone or something in my shoe, and I leaned against the wall to remove it. And then I heard the doctor say You're still holding that letter. Then there was a rustling of paper and then the doctor said – as if he was quoting - Love and kisses darling from your C. Then he laughed and said You're married all right.´
Claude sighed happily.
´And then the doctor said You have a reason for not wearing your ring. And then I heard another voice say Why didn't she come to see me? There,´ Mrs DuBois said.
Miss Aboutaleb shook her head.
´What is it Mariyan?´
´First of all, C can stand for Cynthia or Claudette or Caroline and hundreds of other names and -´
´He's Queen Clarisse's Head of Security!´ Mrs Dubois exclaimed, ´And he's gotta keep his marriage a secret. If he wed a Carry there's no need for that eh?´
Despite the fact that Valmont nodded enthusiastically, Miss Aboutaleb continued her criticism: ´This is all hearsay. Someone eaves dropping outside a room, who can only have heard parts of a conversation, without knowing anything about the interaction between the speakers... Really gentlemen, I understand that this is tempting, but publishing it – provided the man is who he is believed to be – is dangerous. You might sell thousands of extra issues, but when the Castle goes to court, you will lose everything and more. And guess how Elsie will be laughing then Claude!´
Valmont accused Aboutaleb of being afraid of a lawsuit.
´I'm no more afraid of a court fight than you are of fantasizing about the Pulitzer prize!´
Mr Sartre recalled that his legal advisor preferred to settle cases outside the court of law. He also realised that it is easy to prove that you are married, but to prove that you are not, is not.
He smiled. ´Mrs DuBois,´ he said, ´you have given us a treasure.´
Before lunchtime Miss Aboutaleb found herself in want of a job.
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Author's note: I know, neither the Queen nor Joe appeared in this chapter, but I needed it to set things in motion... The two leads will naturally claim the stage in the chapters to come.