“Hello!” Emma says cheerfully, and sits down on the sofa. “So you’re the finance people, are you? Gosh, I’m dying for a wee.” She frowns into the lights. “How long is this slot, Zelda?”
“Hi there!” says Rory, and shakes my hand. “Roberta.”
“It’s Rebecca!” says Emma, and rolls her eyes at me sympathetically. “Honestly, he’s hopeless.” She wriggles on the sofa. “Gosh, I really need to go.”
“Too late now,” says Rory.
“But isn’t it really unhealthy not to go when you need to?” Emma wrinkles her brow anxiously. “Didn’t we have a phone-in on it once? That weird girl phoned up who only went once a day. And Dr. James said. . what did he say?”
“Search me,” says Rory cheerfully. “These phone-ins always go over my head. Now I’m warning you, Rebecca,” he adds, turning to me, “I can never follow any of this finance stuff. Far too brainy for me.” He gives me a wide grin and I smile weakly back.
“Ten seconds,” calls Zelda from the side of the set, and my stomach gives a tweak of fear. Over the loudspeakers I can hear the Morning Coffee theme music, signaling the end of a commercial break.
“Who starts?” says Emma, squinting at the TelePrompTer. “Oh, me.”
So this is it. I feel almost light-headed with fear. I don’t know where I’m supposed to be looking; I don’t know when I’m supposed to speak. My legs are trembling and my hands are clenched tightly in my lap. The lights are dazzling my eyes; a camera’s zooming in on my left, but I’ve got to try to ignore it.
“Welcome back!” says Emma suddenly to the camera. “Now, which would you rather have? A carriage clock or £20,000?”
What? I think in shock. But that’s my line. That’s what I was going to say.
“The answer’s obvious, isn’t it?” continues Emma blithely. “We’d all prefer the £20,000.”
“Absolutely!” interjects Rory with a cheerful smile.
“But when some Flagstaff Life investors received a letter inviting them to move their savings recently,” says Emma, suddenly putting on a sober face, “they didn’t realize that if they did so, they would lose out on a £20,000 windfall. Rebecca Bloomwood is the journalist who uncovered this story — Rebecca, do you think this kind of deception is commonplace?”
And suddenly everyone’s looking at me, waiting for me to reply. The camera’s trained on my face; the studio’s silent.
Two point five million people, all watching at home.
I can’t breathe.
“Do you think investors need to be cautious?” prompts Emma.
“Yes,” I manage in a strange, woolly voice. “Yes, I think they should.”
“Luke Brandon, you represent Flagstaff Life,” says Emma, turning away. “Do you think—”
Shit, I think miserably. That was pathetic. Pathetic! What’s happened to my voice, for God’s sake? What’s happened to all my prepared answers?
And now I’m not even listening to Luke’s reply. Come on, Rebecca. Concentrate.
“What you must remember,” Luke’s saying smoothly, “is that nobody’s entitled to a windfall. This isn’t a case of deception!” He smiles at Emma. “This is simply a case of a few investors being a little too greedy for their own good. They believe they’ve missed out — so they’re deliberately stirring up bad publicity for the company. Meanwhile, there are thousands of people who have benefited from Flagstaff Life.”
What? What’s he saying?
“I see,” says Emma, nodding her head. “So, Luke, would you agree that—”
“Wait a minute!” I hear myself interrupting. “Just. . just wait a minute. Mr. Brandon, did you just call the investors greedy?”
“Not all,” says Luke. “But some, yes.”
I stare at him in disbelief, my skin prickling with outrage. An image of Janice and Martin comes into my mind — the sweetest, least greedy people in the world — and for a few moments I’m so angry, I can’t speak.
“The truth is, the majority of investors with Flagstaff Life have seen record returns over the last five years,” Luke’s continuing to Emma, who’s nodding intelligently. “And that’s what they should be concerned with. Good-quality investment. Not flash-in-the-pan windfalls. After all, Flagstaff Life was originally set up to provide—”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Luke,” I cut in, forcing myself to speak calmly. “Correct me if I’m wrong — but I believe Flagstaff Life was originally set up as a mutual company? For the mutual benefit of all its members. Not to benefit some at the expense of others.”
“Absolutely,” replies Luke without flickering. “But that doesn’t entitle every investor to a £20,000 windfall, does it?”
“Maybe not,” I say, my voice rising slightly. “But surely it entitles them to believe they won’t be misled by a company they’ve put their money with for fifteen years? Janice and Martin Webster trusted Flagstaff Life. They trusted the advice they were given. And look where that trust got them!”
“Investment is a game of luck,” says Luke blandly. “Sometimes you win—”
“It wasn’t luck!” I hear myself crying furiously. “Of course it wasn’t luck! Are you telling me it was compete coincidence that they were advised to switch their funds two weeks before the windfall announcements?”