Daisy said: "Bad news, obviously. I'm sorry."
Jasper was rocked. "They gave the job to the current editor's sister! I never saw that coming." He recalled his conversation with Sam and Valerie in the coffee bar of the student union. The treacherous pair, neither had even hinted that Valerie was in the running.
He had been outmaneuvered by someone more guileful than himself, he realized bitterly.
Daisy said: "What a shame."
It was the British way, Jasper thought resentfully; family connections were more important than talent. His father had fallen victim to the same syndrome, and in consequence was still only a colonel.
"What will you do?" Daisy said.
"Emigrate," Jasper said. His resolve was now stronger than ever.
"Finish college first," Daisy said. "Americans value education."
"I suppose you're right," Jasper said. But his studies had always come second to his journalism. "I can't work for St. Julian's News under Valerie. I gave in gracefully last year, after Sam beat me to the job, but I can't do it again."
"I agree," Daisy said. "It makes you look like a second-rater."
Jasper was struck by a thought. A plan began to form in his mind. He said: "The worst of it is that now there won't be a newspaper to expose such things as the scandal of college governors having investments in South Africa."
Daisy took the bait. "Maybe someone will start a rival newspaper."
Jasper pretended to be skeptical. "I doubt it."
"It's what Dave's grandmother and Walli's grandmother did in 1916. It was called The Soldier's Wife. If they could do it . . ."
Jasper put on an innocent face and asked the key question. "Where did they get the money?"
"Maud's family were rich. But it can't cost much to print a couple of thousand copies. Then you pay for the second issue with the income from the first."
"I got twenty-five pounds from the Echo for my piece on Martin Luther King. But I don't think that would be enough . . ."
"I might help."
Jasper pretended reluctance. "You might never get your money back."
"Draw up a budget."
"Jack's on his way over here now. We can make some calls."
"If you put in your own money, I'll match it."
"Thank you!" Jasper had no intention of spending his own money. But a budget was like a newspaper gossip column: most of it could be fiction, because no one ever knew the truth. "We could get the first issue together for the beginning of term, if we're quick."
"You should run that story about South African investments on the front page."
Jasper's spirits had lifted again. This might even be better. "Yeah . . . St. Julian's News will have a bland front page saying 'Welcome to London,' or something. Ours will be the real newspaper." He began to feel excited.
"Show me your budget as soon as you can," Daisy said. "I'm sure we can work something out."
"Thank you," said Jasper.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
In September of 1963 George Jakes bought a car. He could afford it and he liked the idea, even though in Washington it was easy enough to get around on public transport. He preferred foreign cars: he thought they were more stylish. He found a dark-blue five-year-old two-door Mercedes-Benz 220S convertible that had a classy look. On the third Sunday in September he drove to Prince George's County, Maryland, to visit his mother. She would cook him dinner, then they would drive together to Bethel Evangelical Church for the evening service. These days it was not often he had time to visit her, even on a Sunday.
Driving along Suitland Parkway with the top down in the mild September sunshine, he thought about all the questions she would ask him and what answers he would give. First, she would want to know about Verena. "She says she's not good enough for me, Mom," he would say. "What do you think of that?"