THE M-WORD
by Susan Elkin
“No, of course I won’t bloody well marry you, Vinnie” says Bella, angrily pushing a strand of long, straight coppery hair away from her eyes. “The very idea is preposterous. I can’t quite believe that you even said it.”
Both wearing bright orange lanyards bearing grey security passes, Bella and Vinnie are sitting in Starbucks round the corner from their shared workplace. He, in his forties, is the editor of a famous national newspaper. She is a 21-year-old intern. The coffee machine fizzes and hisses from beyond the counter. Someone calls out “Soya latte for Franny”. Chatter is humming. At the next table two men and a woman heatedly discuss forced marriage in Afghanistan.
Bella had been quietly enjoying a cup of mint tea, checking her emails on her laptop, seated alone in a corner, absently drumming the fingers of her left hand on the table. Then Vinnie strode in, grabbed a double espresso and joined her. Of course he was uninvited. On noticing him arrive in the queue besuited, tieless and faintly dishevelled as usual, she thought about making a dash for it but didn’t. It was time for a confrontation with this man and she was in the mood. This wasn’t the first time he’d casually intruded on her in off duty time.
Vinnie sighs as he eases the lid off his laughably small takeaway coffee cup with its feathery green logo and says: “OK – sorry if that was a bit abrupt. Only we’ve spent quite a bit of time problem solving together recently and I thought we had vibes between us.”
“Vibes?” says Bella, trying to not to shout. “Is that what you call it? If you contrive one more encounter like this, I shall report you for stalking”. She glares at him. “But first, would you like me to tell you why I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you or even a minute longer in your company than I can help?”
“Yes,” answers Vinnie leaning forward so that his torso strains against his shirt buttons, exposing tiny triangles of pink, hairy flesh. “because I really don’t understand. Forget what some people might regard as my ‘status’ and tell me frankly. From the top.”
“Oh, you just try and stop me, Vinnie,” says Bella, sitting up straighter and snapping her laptop shut. “For a start, it’s beyond me how a household name like you can edit a famous national newspaper, manage a staff of 350, be on first name terms with most of the Cabinet and the Royal Family and have so little understanding of real life and people. It’s called empathy. And you don’t have it. So let me explain where I’m coming from.”
Vinnie, takes a slurp of his coffee, smiles faintly and sits back to listen. He once attended a class on body language and he’s trying to look open, relaxed and receptive.
“First, you tell everyone you’ve got a sabbatical and you’re going away on jaunt, leaving Archie to run the paper. Archie of all people! You knew perfectly well that he’s tosser, womaniser and liar despite the holier-than-thou front he tries to present to the staff. You are aware, I take it, that he propositioned me? And there were death threats – death threats! – against my brother Charlie who was quietly working on the sports page until Archie took against him, decided to fire him and send the vigilantes out. That man should be in prison.”
Vinnie shifts uncomfortably because Bella is right. None of this is news to him.
“And as for you – what sabbatical? You didn’t go away at all. You simply shaved off your beard and put on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Then you covered your face with a Covid mask, like a Japanese tourist, and lurked in here every day on the assumption that you wouldn’t be recognised while you eavesdropped on staff getting their coffees. If that’s not the behaviour of a creep, I don’t know what is.”
She pauses to work up more invective. “Actually, Vinnie, you were still trying to control your empire anonymously from the sidelines. Not that you succeeded very well because Archie is so corrupt that even you struggled to fathom the depths of his awfulness.”
“That’s not quite fair,” protests Vinnie weakly “I wanted to try Archie out in the top job because he’s a good journalist and a promising deputy editor. I wanted to give him the chance to shine.”
“Well, I’ll take your word for it about his journalistic and editing prowess. I’m only an intern. What do I know? But from where I’m standing, he is just a hypocritical, lazy sod who delegated all the everyday work to the long suffering Ed – lovely man, by the way – while Archie got on with trying to get his hand, and more, into my knickers. And, for all I know, it wasn’t just my knickers. There are plenty of nubile young women floating about the paper’s offices who might have been willing to trade sex for promotion or a tasty assignment or two. The moment you got wind of this you should have put your work suit on, marched into the office, sacked him and reported him to the Met. But did you? Did you, hell.”
Noting Vinnie’s silence, Bella continues. “And I was still at Cambridge, quietly getting on with my theology degree in the all-female peace of Newnham College, when someone – was it you? – sent Luke the Letch to persuade me to come up to town ostensibly as an intern, but mainly to speak up for my poor victimised brother.”
She fortifies herself with a minty sip. “Luke is well suited to his job in the advertising department. Good appointment, Vinnie. He’s a slimy, disloyal, lying misogynist who struggles – like so many men round here – to keep his trousers on. But he’s all persuasive, smooth talk, flippant jokes and very full of himself which I suppose makes him perfect for the selling of ad space. I loathed him on sight, but he claimed to be a good friend of my brother, although I’d never met him before, so I did as he asked and came because he said Charlie was in serious trouble.”
Vinnie drinks a drop more coffee. In the distance someone calls “Americano for Pompey” and the door to the slightly whiffy single sex lavatory at the back of the room bangs shut. Out of the corner of her eye Bella watches the paper’s affable Nigerian security guard and gives him a wave. She often chats to Pompey as she passes through the entrance hall. Now he settles at a table with his coffee and a top shelf magazine to enjoy his break.
“And I’m certain you know what happened next?” says Bella, refocusing her attention on Vinnie. “That appalling, predatory Archie waited until he and I were alone in his office where he ordered me to sleep with him in return for his going easy on his brother. When I threatened to report him he told me that because of his position – and mine – no one would believe me. That old, old story. My word against his,” says Bella, her face flashing red with fury.
“My god, Bella, you’re gorgeous when you’re angry” says Vinnie, forgetting himself.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, shut it, Vinnie. Any more patronising talk of that sort and I shall walk out of here and away from your bloody paper without notice.”
“Whoops” says Vinnie, holding up his hands and pretending to back away. “I’m sorry. But most women like to be complimented.”
“Well, I’m not one of them. This is the 21st century, not the 17th. I may be twenty years younger than you but I am my own woman and I’ve recently had to grow up a lot and very quickly. I don’t need any flattery from you. I’m not going to be preyed upon or manipulated either.”
“So what are you going to do now?” asks Vinnie as meekly as he can. “I take it you don’t want a career in journalism although you have a lot of talent and I’d love to hire you permanently. Just say the word and a job is yours.”
“You didn’t really think I’d be up for that did you? I’m going back to Cambridge for a few weeks to finish my degree. Under the circumstances, my tutor has managed to pull strings and provided I can get my dissertation finished I’ll be allowed to graduate.” says Bella, calming down a little. “My title is ‘Is marriage a socio-religious construct which is now redundant?’ Would you like to read it when it’s complete?”
“And are you then going to stay in academia, as you originally planned?” asks Vinnie, ignoring the bait.
“No. I’m far too battered by the events of the last few months for that. I need to be out in the real world interacting with people in the hope that I can make a bit of difference and help others,” replies Bella.
“So, are you coming back to London.?”
“Yes but I shan’t be giving you my address or coming anywhere near your crappy newspaper. I have a job, teaching RE, lined up in a girl’s school to start next term. But I know I shall be needed out of school as well.”
“Needed?”
“Yes. Needed. My brother and his partner, Jules, have a new baby daughter. They’ve been through hell this year thanks to Archie’s vendetta. Charlie is struggling with his mental health because for ages they both really thought his life was in danger. And Jules, is inevitably struggling with quite bad post-natal depression at the moment – given the stress she’s been under I’m surprised it isn’t even worse than it is. I’m the little one’s godmother and I want to be near them because they’re all three going to need a lot of support. Goodness knows what long-term effects, those awful death threats will have on them,” says Bella. “Although you have, at least, given Charlie his job back so that they don’t have to worry too much about money. I suppose I should thank you for that.”
She goes on: “But that’s not all. There’s also my friend Mary Ann who has now teamed up with shitty Archie, thanks to you and your bloody manipulative interfering. Somehow you persuaded him to take her back because she was in bits after their separation last year. She just couldn’t hack the rejection.” Vinnie smiles faintly.
Bella adds: “Well, I know better than anyone what Archie’s really like and so do you. I think she’ll have an utterly miserable time, especially if there’s a child. But this is what she thought she wanted so I doubt that she’ll ever find the strength to walk away from him. I have to be nearby for her too. She is going to need a friendly face.”
“OK, I’ve got the message” says Vinnie. “A lot of bad stuff has happened amongst the staff at the paper and you blame me for all of it.”
“Yes, I do and I’m right. You have a lot of power and you’ve been abusing it for months,” says Bella.
“Well, I shouldn’t have mentioned the m-word as I did, Bella. It was crass. I have an Aspergers diagnosis and although I manage to control it most of the time, occasionally I lose the plot and get inappropriately direct. I’m inclined to cut to the chase without doing the groundwork first. And I make bad decisions – as you’ve pointed out forcefully. Not that any of that is your problem and I’m not asking for sympathy.”
Bella looks at him sharply and opens her angled hands in a “what can I say?” gesture. Then she drains her plastic cup before squeezing it and throwing it with finality onto the tray in front of her.
Vinnie, pauses, inhales and continues carefully. “But I was wondering if we might put all that behind us and start again? No pressure. Just friends for the moment.”
He adds: “I have a pair of press comp tickets for the new production of Measure for Measure at the National Theatre tomorrow night with Benedict Cumberbatch and Jodi Comer in the cast. The paper’s lead theatre critic, Olive Overdone gave it 5 stars so I have high expectations. Would you consider coming with me as my plus one?”
Copyright: Susan Elkin 2025
