Best Kept Secret

'I get the message,' said Harry as the limousine passed slowly over Brooklyn Bridge and he was reunited with yellow cabs and their cigar-stub-smoking drivers.

'What makes it even tougher is that we have to visit seventeen different cities in twenty-one days.'

'We?'

'Yes, I'll be holding your hand throughout the trip,' she said casually. 'I usually stay in New York and allow a local publicist in each city to look after visiting authors, but not this time, because Mr Guinzburg insisted I wasn't to leave your side.' She lightly touched his leg again, before turning a page of the folder on her lap.

Harry glanced at her, and she gave a coquettish smile. Was she flirting with him? No, that wasn't possible. After all, they'd only just met.

'I've already got you booked on to several of the major radio stations, including the Matt Jacobs Show, which has eleven million listeners every morning. No one's more effective than Matt when it comes to moving books out of the stores.'

Harry had several questions he would like to have asked, but Natalie was like a Winchester rifle, a bullet was fired every time you raised your head.

'Be warned,' she continued, not drawing breath, 'most of the big shows won't give you more than a few minutes  -  it's not like your BBC. "In depth" is not a concept they understand. During that time remember to repeat the title of the book as often as possible.'

Harry began to turn the pages of his tour schedule. Each day seemed to begin in a new city, where he would appear on an early-morning radio show, followed by countless broadcast and print interviews before dashing off to the airport.

'Do all your authors get this kind of treatment?'

'Certainly not,' said Natalie, the hand back on the leg again. 'Which brings me to the biggest problem we have with you.'

'You have a problem with me?'

'We sure do. Most of the interviewers will want to ask you about your time in prison, and how an Englishman came to win the Silver Star, but you must always switch the subject back to the book.'

'In England, that would be considered rather vulgar.'

'In America, vulgar is what gets you on to the bestseller list.'

'But won't the interviewers want to talk about the book?'

'Harry, you must assume that none of them will have read it. A dozen new novels land on their desks every day, so you'll be lucky if they've read more than the title. It'll be a bonus if they even remember your name. They've only agreed to have you on their shows because you're an ex-con who won the Silver Star, so let's turn that to our advantage and plug the book like crazy,' she was saying as the limousine drew up outside the Pierre Hotel.

Harry wished he was back in England.

The driver leapt out and opened the boot as a hotel porter walked across to the car. Natalie led Harry into the hotel and across the lobby to the reception desk, where all he had to do was show his passport and sign the registration form. Natalie appeared to have prepared the way of the Lord.

'Welcome to the Pierre, Mr Clifton,' said the desk clerk as he handed him a large key.

'I'll see you back here in the lobby  - ' Natalie checked her watch  -  'in an hour. Then the limo will take you to the Harvard Club for your lunch with Mr Guinzburg.'

'Thank you,' said Harry, and watched as she walked back across the lobby and disappeared through the revolving doors and out on to the street. He couldn't help noticing that he wasn't the only man whose eyes never left her.

A porter accompanied him to the eleventh floor, showed him into his suite and explained how everything worked. Harry had never stayed in a hotel that had a bath and a shower. He decided to make notes so he could tell his mother all about it when he returned to Bristol. He thanked the porter, and parted with the only dollar he had.

The first thing Harry did, even before unpacking, was to pick up the phone by the bed and place a person-to-person call to Emma.

'I'll call you back in around fifteen minutes, sir,' said the overseas operator.

Harry stayed too long in the shower, and once he had dried himself on the largest towel he'd ever seen, he had only just started to unpack when the phone rang.

'Your overseas call is on the line, sir,' said the operator. The next voice he heard was Emma's.

'Is that you, darling? Can you hear me?'

'Sure can, honey,' said Harry, smiling.

'You sound like an American already. I can't imagine what you'll be like after three weeks.'

'Ready to come back to Bristol would be my bet, especially if the book doesn't get on to the bestseller list.'

'And if it doesn't?'

'I may be coming home early.'

'That sounds good to me. So where are you calling from?'

'The Pierre, and they've put me in the biggest hotel room I've ever seen. The bed could sleep four.'

'Just make sure it only sleeps one.'

'It's got air-conditioning, and a radio in the bathroom. Mind you, I still haven't worked out how to turn everything on. Or off.'

'You should have taken Seb with you. He would have mastered it by now.'

'Or taken it apart and left me to put it back together again. But how is the boy?'

'He's fine. In fact he seems more settled without a nanny.'

'That's a relief. And how's your search for Miss J. Smith coming along?'

'Slowly, but I've been asked to go for an interview at Dr Barnardo's tomorrow afternoon.'

'That sounds promising.'

'I'm meeting Mr Mitchell in the morning, so I know what to say and, perhaps more important, what not to say.'

'You'll be fine, Emma. Just remember it's their responsibility to place children in good homes. My only worry is how Seb will react when he finds out what you're up to.'

'He already knows. I raised the subject with him last night just before he went to bed, and to my surprise he seemed to love the idea. But once you involve Seb, a separate problem always arises.'

'What is it this time?'

'He expects to have a say when it comes to who we pick. The good news is that he wants a sister.'

'That could still be tricky if he takes against Miss J. Smith and sets his heart on someone else.'

'I don't know what we'll do if that happens.'

'We'll just have to convince him somehow that Jessica was his choice.'

'And how do you propose we do that?'

'I'll think about it.'

'Just remember not to underestimate him. If we do, it could easily backfire.'

'Let's talk about it when I get back,' said Harry. 'Must rush, darling, I have a lunch appointment with Harold Guinzburg.'

'Give him my love, and remember, he's another man you can't afford to underestimate. And while you're at it, don't forget to ask him what happened to - '

'I haven't forgotten.'

'Good luck, darling,' said Emma, 'and just make sure you get yourself on to that bestseller list!'

'You're worse than Natalie.'

'Who's Natalie?'

'A ravishing blonde who can't keep her hands off me.'

'You're such a storyteller, Harry Clifton.'