Food Fight Read online

  She finished her drink and said brightly: “Well, good to meet you. See you again maybe.”

  He nodded and stood up.

  She left the bar dejected, but by the time she got home she’d convinced herself that the date hadn’t gone so badly.

  He’d seemed keen on meeting up again. Or maybe he was being diplomatic. Non-committal.

  She noticed with gratitude that the housekeeper had replenished the neat pile of Guilty Secrets in the fridge.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The cable TV news was always on mute in the DeKripps reception, although Susan never usually paid attention to the screen unless there was a Congressional hearing into food issues. But after the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, there was huge interest in the impending appearance of her fellow Briton, Tony Hayward, before the House Energy Committee.

  “Hey, Susie, how’s your guy going to wriggle out of this one?” Barney asked her.

  To which she could only say, “He’s not my guy.”

  The worst oil spill in US history seemed to have caused a bit of a transatlantic rift, and even Obama repeatedly used BP’s former name of ‘British Petroleum’ to make his point.

  On the morning of the hearing, a few colleagues gathered round the television out of curiosity to watch the public lynching of the BP chief executive. Just after he began reading from a written statement, a woman leapt to her feet and began screaming at Hayward, her hands and face daubed with oil. But that wasn’t the image that caught Susan’s attention. It was the face of her daughter, standing right behind the woman, being pinned to the wall by a member of the US Capitol police.

  Nervously, she glanced at her colleagues. None of them had met Mimi, so she was safe on that score. They were all engrossed in the session, in which the hapless Hayward, accused of ‘astonishing complacency’ by the Committee, stuck to his talking points, which were varying versions of ‘not me, guv’. The DeKripps people watching agreed it was a disastrous performance.

  Had Mimi been arrested? How could she track her down? Were these the people she’d been staying with?

  Struggling to appear relaxed, she rushed back to her office and shut the door. Should she find a lawyer first or try to get hold of the Capitol police? She was trawling through pages of lawyers’ offices in Washington on the Internet, and had just alighted on Smithson and Hopkins close to the DeKripps offices, when her mobile rang. It was Mimi.

  Somehow she managed not to fly off the handle and wrote down the address of the police station located inside a Congressional building. She took the precaution of calling Smithson and Hopkins who assigned her a lawyer named Palin, and rushed out of the office to catch a cab to the Hill.

  Mimi looked sheepishly up at her mother from the chair to which she had been handcuffed. With her nose stud and a new tattoo showing under the strap of her T-shirt, she looked every bit what Americans called a ‘perp’.

  “How are you doing, Ma’am,” said the officer in charge after Susan passed through security screening. “We understand that this young lady is your daughter. I’m afraid that she’s not going to be able to stay in the United States any longer.”

  Deported? “Just a moment, officer,” she said. “My lawyer is on the way, I’m sure we can sort this out.”

  The man was polite. “There’s nothing to be sorted out Ma’am. She’s committed a felony.”

  “Well I’d still like to wait until my lawyer arrives,” she said. She looked mournfully at Mimi who refused to acknowledge her mother’s concern. She sat down and the policeman returned to his computer. After about twenty minutes, a man in a sports jacket and chinos arrived. Could this be him? It wasn’t the image that Susan had expected of a hot shot Washington attorney. He was tieless. Everyone in DC wore a tie.

  The man came towards her. “Ms Perkins? Mark Palin, Smithson and Hopkins. We spoke earlier.”

  He turned to the officer who explained that Mimi’s case had been referred to the immigration authorities, and that she had been working illegally while in the US on a tourist visa. Then he had a chat with Mimi. Susan heard him say “don’t worry” as he turned back to her. He promised to ring her as soon as possible once he had looked into the case, but he sounded confident that they could avoid deportation.

  By the time she got home that evening, the pictures from the Congressional session were leading the television news. She cringed as the protesters who disrupted the session were identified as Diane Wilson, a shrimper and co-founder of Code Pink for Peace, who had yelled at Hayward, and a British activist who worked for USAway. USAway! So that was her NGO – the most anti-American outfit in London. But at least Mimi’s name wasn’t mentioned.

  She walked to the office the next day, dreading the reaction. As soon as she arrived, she was called into Barney’s office. She wanted to fade into the carpet, feeling the receptionist’s eyes on her, as she walked along the corridor. He pushed that morning’s New York Tattle across his desk towards her.

  “Mimosa Fizzes!” was the tabloid’s headline. The story announced under a photo of Mimi that Mimosa Perkins, daughter of an executive working for the DeKripps food manufacturer, was being booted out of the country for ‘anti-American activities’ after joining the Code Pink protest about the Gulf oil spill.

  “We like to keep DeKripps out of the papers unless it’s good news,” he said. “Particularly when our senior staff are connected to hostile international activists, who openly campaign against us.” She didn’t dare ask to see the paper.

  “I swear I didn’t know anything about it. And I had no idea she worked for that organisation.”

  USAway was known to have an axe to grind against DeKripps. In fact, she dimly recollected seeing protesters in London holding up placards saying ‘DeKripps is Krap’, before she left for Washington. She realised with horror that Mimi must have had something to do with that.

  “Well you need to get your priorities straight,” he said. “This company has been very good to you,” – she lowered her head in bitter acknowledgement – “but Christ, Susan, if this is how you repay us, dragging our name through the mud, there are some serious questions to be asked here.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she began, but was cut off as Barney threw the newspaper in the rubbish.

  She rang the lawyer. He said he might be able to persuade Homeland Security not to go ahead with deportation as Mimi was only in Washington for another week. But he suggested that she was booked on a flight out as soon as the arrangements had been approved. “So technically, it won’t be deportation,” he said.

  Three days and $5,000 later, Susan was riding with Mimi in a cab to Dulles airport.

  “Congratulations on getting yourself noticed again. Big time. Why didn’t you tell me you’d joined USAway?”

  “I did, but you weren’t interested.”

  “I certainly would have been if I’d have realised that it was that particular bunch. I thought you were with an NGO doing good work in public advocacy, not the most vocally anti-American group in Britain. Have you given any consideration to the consequences? Do you realise this sorry episode cost me $5,000 and possibly my career?”

  “It’s all about you isn’t it?” Mimi sobbed. “You only care about me because I could ruin your reputation.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not about the money, of course.”

  Susan reached for Mimi’s arm and squeezed it. She was so angry, she felt like squeezing until it bruised.

  “Have you no idea how much trouble you’re in? You’re lucky you have a mother like me, or you’d be out on your ear back in England.”

  “Okay, okay, now let me go.” For the rest of the journey they nursed their mutual resentment, and Susan was relieved when the car pulled up outside the airport terminal.

  “Get in touch me when you get home.”

  With a jerk of her head, Mimi got out of the cab, and took the escalator up to international departures.

  *

  In the days that followed, Susan noticed a change in the
atmosphere at work. She sensed the critical gaze of colleagues as she walked to the coffee dispenser. She could swear she heard “Mimosa” whispered disparagingly as she passed Barney and Judy by the water fountain. Or maybe it was paranoia. She knew that Frank would be furious with her too, so she didn’t call him for sympathy. He’d never stood up to Barney and would have heard already his version, she was certain.

  She tried to put the incident behind her. She’d warned Mimi against giving press interviews on her return to London, and she had reluctantly complied. Mimi was going to be out of touch for a while anyway as she and Josh were off to Glastonbury, where for once, sunny weather was forecast.

  But she didn’t seem to comprehend that she’d gone too far this time, and never gave the slightest indication that she might be concerned about a backlash against Susan.

  In fact, she seemed to relish the attention.

  “Any luck with the lonely hearts club?” Mimi asked her on one of their Saturday morning calls. Susan turned down a CD of Lily’s ensemble and leaned in.

  She didn’t mention Matt from State. “Oh, delete, delete. How are things with the unemployed librarian?”

  “Fine thanks. Actually, Ma, would you mind not describing him as an unemployed librarian? It gets on my nerves.”

  “Fine. So maybe you could stop calling me Ma. Likewise.”

  There was an awkward silence as they both stared into their computer screens on each side of the Atlantic. “So, is Josh in today? I hope to meet him properly when I’m in London next month.” He was out. “He’s gone to the shops because I asked him to. I’ve got something to tell you,” said Mimi.

  Even before her daughter told her she was pregnant, and that the baby was due the following March, Susan had a premonition of what she was going to say.

  “Are you completely mad? What do you suppose you’re going to live on? Dressing up as a corn on the cob in Parliament Square denouncing High Fructose Corn Syrup isn’t going to pay the bills you know.”

  “I’ll have you know I don’t dress up any more, I haven’t done for ages,” said Mimi. “I do communications.” She added: “And at least this is a baby who’ll have a proper father. And it won’t be an inconvenience like I was to you.”

  “What do you mean, an inconvenience? You were never an inconvenience for me, you know that perfectly well.”

  “You say that now,” said Mimi. But she’d landed a blow. Susan knew it was true. She’d never sought to play down the challenges of being a single mother. Unfortunately, to Susan’s eternal shame, Mimi had found out from a school friend that her biological father was a married man who didn’t want to have anything to do with them. That had been hurtful for them both.

  Susan never forgave the girl’s mother who’d betrayed her secret, breaking their friendship. But Mimi had taken Rod’s rejection personally. When she eventually managed to sit her daughter down, Susan tried to reassure her that she’d only wanted to protect her. But the slammed doors and pointed silences went on for months. Luckily Mimi had never found out that Rod had finished with her by fax. That had hurt her more than anything.

  Even then, Susan never regretted her decision to raise a child alone. Then Serge came along. Maybe things would have been different with Mimi if they’d had their own child. But there was no point in raking over that again. Not now.

  “Tell me more about this baby. How are you feeling? When did you find out about it?”

  “I’m fine,” came the reply. “I’ve got to run, we’ll catch up when you come over.”

  That was that. Susan felt like a boat that had been holed, tossed on the ocean and about to capsize. Not only was her daughter a penniless activist, she was a pregnant penniless activist.

  A baby, though. That was wonderful news. She’d been overwhelmed with euphoria herself when she’d found out she was expecting a daughter.

  For the first time in ages her thoughts turned to Rod.

  Where was he now? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. But as she picked up her shoes she was tickled to think he was about to become a grandfather.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was one of those late summer evenings when she felt like her old self again. She was back in London in a Bermondsey restaurant with Lily, reminiscing about their student days over dinner and a bottle of wine. It was a welcome distraction from the work tensions in DC.

  “Who was the one who introduced me to that idiot, what was his name?” Lily said, helping herself to the olive oil and bread on their table.

  “Brian! The sociologist? You mean who was the one who stole him from me?” Lily sat back in denial. “He was handsome. But he kept some strange company. He used to hang out with those chemical engineers.”

  “Oh yes, the chemical engineers. They were the worst. And thick!” The two burst into laughter.

  “That moment when you came into my bedroom, and there was Brian on top of me. He was just wiggling!”

  “Wiggling. Like a caterpillar,” said Susan.

  “Especially with that hairy back! No wonder you shut the door in a hurry.”

  “I was giggling so much I had to get out. The sex life of the British male. Ugh!”

  Lily feigned hurt. “Well not everybody finds a French lover.”

  “I know. God, that was a revelation for me,” said Susan. “Someone who actually knew what to do. Although it must be said that Rod knew how to satisfy a woman, too.”

  “That’s why he’s called Rod!” This was getting out of hand. Susan glanced sideways at the table next to them whose diners were staring at their mezze.

  “Have you any idea what happened to Brian?”

  Lily shook her head. “We didn’t have that much in common, did we? We were pretty innocent then, I suppose. He was into the anti-Thatcher radical politics at uni, and I just wanted to get on with growing up. Do you remember that big scandal when they compiled those files on students with political activities? Brian was in the thick of that. I think he must have been one of those Marxist Trotskyist anarcho-syndicalists. Somebody told me later that he was organizing poll tax riots.”

  “Oh, that makes sense. Maggie, Maggie, Maggie -”

  “Out, out, out!”

  They hadn’t shared the same group of friends in Brighton, although Susan had introduced Lily to Brian who was in her social sciences faculty. After that, Susan had been wrapped up in her relationship with Rod. He told her she reminded him of the pre-Raphaelite portrait of Ophelia, something which had amused both her and Lily.

  “It really could have been you,” said Lily. “She posed in the bath!”

  She’d disapproved of Susan going out with a married man, of course, and had noted Rod’s lack of candour regarding his wife. But Lily hadn’t been at home much that year: The university silver jubilee had been one long concert.

  Lily, who had switched to music after dropping out of law studies, had quite a following. She was known as the ‘flutie cutie’ with her trademark scrunchie tying back her sleek dark hair. Susan, too afraid of the sun to join other friends who took books to the beach, had drunk bottomless cups of coffee on campus with Rod, a former Sussex student who’d set up his own business and drove around in a flashy BMW. Another trait that hadn’t endeared him to Lily.

  “Guess what, I’m going to meet Josh tomorrow,” Susan said, lowering her voice.

  “The boyfriend? The one who looks like a meerkat? Are you going to the flat?”

  No, they were meeting on neutral territory in Vauxhall.

  “Well find out the name of the baby, at least. And tell me, how are things at work with slime-bag?”

  Susan confided that she’d been seriously considering returning to London.

  “But what about Matt from State? He might be The One.”

  “He never called me again. Nothing. And there I was thinking we had chemistry. He said I was fat!”

  “No. I can’t believe it. Who would do that?”

  “Not in so many words, but that’s what he meant.”

&n
bsp; “You could always ring him. Or maybe he doesn’t like redheads.”

  “Excuse me. Who doesn’t like redheads?”

  “But what were you going to say about Barney?” Lily leaned forward.

  “I’ve got the impression that he’s fed up with me. What do they say in America? Three strikes and you’re out? Well, I feel as though I’ve got two strikes against me. If I ask to come home, it could save face for us both.”

  “Tell me more about him.”

  Susan leaned on her hand. “Macho, powerful, intimidates people. Sexist. Racist. Scary. Then again, if he’d been Mister Nice, he probably wouldn’t be where he is today.”

  “Sounds charming. Married, presumably.”

  “Yes. Grown kids. He and his wife live in Georgetown. Like Frank and June in their little cottage in Cobham. It’s funny to think of these big Americans crammed into such twee places. Barney is like Frank’s evil twin.”

  “But what would you do if you came home?”

  “I’d get my old job back, of course.”

  “Are you sure?” Lily could spot a get-out clause a mile away.

  She hadn’t thought that far ahead. But it made sense to her to come home after a year away. And DeKripps had treated her generously until now. Practically like family. In fact, after Serge died, they’d been her lifeline. But from a professional standpoint, now that the Guilty Secrets successful launch was complete, there were fewer reasons to stay in DC.

  “Are you emotionally ready to come home?”

  “I think of Serge every day. I miss him so much. But yes, I think I’m ready.”

  At least she could pronounce his name now without tears stinging her eyes. What’s more, she missed Frank, she missed Lily, and of course she missed her family.

  “Anyway, Mimi’s having a baby and I want to be there. I’m fed up of being on my own in Washington.”

  “Well can I give you a word of advice?” said Lily. She momentarily stopped drumming her fingers on the table.

  “Of course.”

  “If I were you, I’d consider hiring a lawyer.”

  *