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 Fragment #20 - The dreadful editorial

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MessageSujet: Fragment #20 - The dreadful editorial   05.01.09 12:13

Tuesday, April 29th 2008
In Glasgow

I'm working. Hard. Thursday, I'm off to the Isle of Skye. I called Gran, yesterday. She seemed surprised to get me on the phone. When I told her I was coming, she said that she didn't expect me to come this year. Apparently, Paul went to see her with Emma, and he said that we were all invited to Mum and Dad's. I love the fact that everybody but me seems to know about that meeting. Anyway, I confirmed that, no, I was coming to hers, and yes, I will be coming alone. I hesitated a bit about Steve, but I think it will do us both good to live a bit separated for a while. He is not a bad flatmate but... Since I have talked to Beth, something slightly upsets me...
Cameron comes in, and puts on my table the drafts of next week's page and a bunch of letters. I look at him.
"What's that?"
"Just the letters from your fan club." He winks at me. "Stephanie, from reception, gave them to me."
"What did they cost you?" I say, smiling.
"A kiss, and an invitation in a French restaurant."
"Ok, ok. Come at mine some time next week and we'll have a nice dinner, ok?"
"Deal, Princess. Now, open them, I want to know what they say."
I open the first one.
Dear C. Collomb,
How did you get your degree in journalism? Are these the standards in our universities? Well, then, our system is obsolete and completely dull. I do not salute you, madam, who proved to me that our youth is decadent and lazy."

I look at Cameron.
"Waouaw", he says, "that's harsh."
"I am not sure I want to read the other ones..."
"Come on Charlie, you are not going to stop on a bad experience?"
And since I don't look convinced:
"Ok, I'll read them."
He opens a new one and reads it aloud. My head shrinks in my shoulders.
Dear Miss,
Thank you. I loved your editorial. I already liked your magazine but with that new page in, I'm going to feel even more at home in my lovely Glasgow!
Good luck, from (to copy your expression) another citizen of the world.

Cameron has a "victory" expression on his face.
"See, I told you, some are real good."
I smile, and, while he opens another one, pick up the phone which was ringing.
"Charlie Collomb speaking."
"I found you, little bitch."
"Excuse me?"
"Short memory, have we? I haven't forgotten you, lassie."
"I think you have the wrong number..."
"Oh, no, I don't, hen. I know it's you. See, I've got a good BALLS memory..."
Oh, my god. The guy from the Walkabout. And the Counting House. How?... I look at Cameron. I'm livid. I can feel the blood leaving my face.
"What? What is it, Charlie?"
"Oh, so that's your little name, eh? Charlie? Mmmm..."
I hang up.
"What? Charlie, look at me. Who was it?"
"It... it was..." I can't stop looking at the phone.
Cameron grabs me by the shoulders and gives me a little shake.
"It was the guy from the Counting House. He found me again."
My eyes fall on the cover of yesterday's front page. At the top, right next to the editorial, my picture and my name...
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