“Right.” Tarkie looks none the wiser. “Well, I’m afraid I haven’t seen any of those films, but I’m sure they’re jolly good.”
Ken Kerrow looks profoundly shocked. “You haven’t seen Yentl?”
“Ahm …” Tarkie looks trapped. “Sorry … did you say ‘Lentil’?”
“Yentl!” Ken Kerrow almost shouts. “Streisand!”
Poor Tarkie. He clearly doesn’t understand a word Ken is saying.
“I watch a lot of wildlife documentaries,” he says desperately. “David Attenborough. Marvelous man.”
Ken Kerrow just shakes his head pityingly, but before he can say anything else, Suze swoops in.
“Darling, let’s go and watch the dancers.” She gives Ken Kerrow a charming smile. “I’m so sorry to drag my husband away. Bex, shall we go and watch the dancers?”
As we’re heading toward the stage, I’m distracted by a sign on one of the tables: SILENT AUCTION PRIZES.
“I’m just going to have a quick look,” I say to Suze. “I’ll catch up with you in a sec.”
There’s an amazing necklace on a stand, which is up for auction, and as I draw near I feel the tugging of lust. God, it’s beautiful, all pale-pink crystals and a hammered-silver heart; I wonder how much …
Oh my God. I’ve suddenly seen the printed label below it. Reserve price $10,000. I hastily back away, in case anyone thinks I’m bidding for it. Ten thousand dollars? Seriously? I mean, it’s a nice necklace and everything, but … ten thousand dollars? Just for some pink crystals? I don’t even dare go near the pair of watches at the end of the table. Or that gift certificate for a Malibu villa. Maybe I’ll go and watch the dancers with Suze instead. I’m about to turn away when I see a doddery old man making his way slowly along the prizes. He looks quite frail and is keeping his balance by clutching at the table.
Not a single person has noticed, which makes me feel quite incensed. I mean, what’s the point of coming to a benefit to help people and then ignoring a poor old man who needs help right in front of your eyes?
“Are you all right, sir?” I hurry forward, but he bats me away.
“Fine, fine!”
He’s very tanned, with perfect teeth and what looks suspiciously like a white toupee, but his hands are gnarled and his eyes are a bit rheumy. Honestly, someone should be looking after him.
“It’s a lovely event,” I say politely.
“Oh yes.” He nods. “Wonderful cause. Discrimination is the blight of our lives. I’m gay, and, let me tell you, the world is not an open place. Not yet.”
“No,” I agree.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t encountered discrimination yourself. As a woman. And in other ways. Because, in my opinion, no human on this earth is free from discrimination in some way or other.”
He’s so full of fervor, I don’t like to contradict him.
“Definitely.” I nod. “I’ve been discriminated against in lots of ways. Heaps. All the time.”
“Tell me some examples of this shocking behavior.” His rheumy eyes fix eagerly on me.
My mind is blank. Come on, quick. Discrimination.
“Well, obviously as a woman … and …” I cast my mind around. “I once had to take out my earrings to work in a café, so that was discriminating against jewelry … and … er … hobbies can be discriminated against and … pets …” I have no idea what I’m saying. “It’s terrible,” I end lamely. “We need to fight it.”
“And we will.” He clutches my hand. “Together.”
“I’m Rebecca, by the way,” I add. “Rebecca Brandon.”
“And I’m Dix.” He flashes me a white smile. “Dix Donahue.”
Hang on. Dix Donahue. That sounds familiar. I glance at a nearby poster and, sure enough, it’s printed in big gray letters: HOST: DIX DONAHUE.
This is the host? He looks about a hundred.
“Dix!” A plump man with a neat black mustache bears down on us and pumps his hand. “Victor Jamison from EQUAL. I’m a big fan. All set for your introductory speech?”
“Gathering inspiration all the time.” Dix flashes his smile at me, and I beam back. He must be famous in some sort of way. I wonder how? Luke will know.
The two men head off, and I drain my glass. I really must find Luke and Suze, but the trouble is, everyone’s started clustering around the stage area and it’s hard to see. The dancers have stopped their routine and the band has fallen silent and there’s an expectant air. Then the band strikes up again, with some tune that everyone recognizes, going by their nods and smiles at one another. Dix Donahue mounts the steps with a hop and a jump—and it’s obvious he’s an entertainer. He seems to sparkle under the lights, even if he is a zillion years old.
As he starts to tell jokes, I edge my way round the corner of the throng and suddenly see Luke. I’m about to join him when the room goes dark and a spotlight moves around the crowd, and Dix Donahue takes on a grave manner.
“But seriously, folks,” he says. “We’re here for a very fine cause tonight. Discrimination is an evil and it takes place in all shapes and forms, often in the place you’d expect the least. Later we’ll be hearing from Pia Stafford, who battled workplace discrimination regarding her disability after a car accident.”
The spotlight falls on a woman in black, who lifts a hand and nods soberly.