‘So we have to get out in front of it.’
‘I agree.’
‘Which means I have to fire Milt.’
‘As soon as possible.’
Pauline put her glasses back on, a sign that the meeting was coming to an end. ‘Find out where Milt is, please, Jacqueline. Ask him to come in and see me –’ Pauline turned and looked at the grandfather clock – ‘first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Will do.’ Jacqueline stood up.
‘And brief Sandip. We’ll have to do a press release. It will say that Milt has resigned for personal reasons.’
‘With a quote from you, thanking him for his years of service to the people of the United States and to the president –’
‘And we need to choose a new Veep. Make me a list of names, please.’
‘I’m on it.’ Jacqueline left the room.
Pauline had read only a few more pages about the shortcomings of inner-city schools when she heard a sound in the hall. Her parents were visiting Washington and spending the night at the White House, and it seemed they had arrived. The voice she heard was that of her mother, reedy and pathetic, saying: ‘Pauline? Where are you?’
Pauline got up and went outside.
Her mother was in the Center Hall, a big, pointless space with furniture that was never used: an octagonal desk in the middle, a grand piano with a locked lid, sofas and chairs that no one sat on. Mother looked lost.
Christine Wagner was seventy-five. She wore a tweed skirt and a pink cardigan. Pauline remembered her half a lifetime ago: she had been briskly competent, making breakfast while at the same time ironing a clean white shirt, finding Pauline’s homework, brushing the shoulders of Daddy’s grey flannel suit as he headed out the door, and listening for the honk of the school bus. Once a smart and strong-willed woman, she had become timid and anxious in the last few years. ‘So there you are,’ she said, as if Pauline must have been hiding.
Pauline kissed her. ‘Hello, Mother. Welcome. It’s good to see you.’
Her father appeared. Keith Wagner’s hair was white but his neat moustache was black. A businessman who had worn navy and grey suits for half a century, he had taken to shades of brown. He had on a new-looking outfit, a tan sport coat with chocolate-coloured pants and a matching tie. Pauline kissed his cheek, and they moved into the East Sitting Hall. Gerry joined them.
They talked about the parents’ hobbies. Keith was on the board of the Commercial Club, Chicago’s elite business group, and Christine was a volunteer reader at two local schools.
Pippa came in and kissed her grandparents.
Keith said: ‘So, Pauline, what global crisis have you resolved lately?’
‘I’ve been trying to get the Chinese to be more careful who they sell guns to.’
Pauline was ready to explain the problem, but her father was more interested in his own reminiscences. ‘I did business with the Chinese, now and again, back in the day. Bought millions of polythene bags from them and sold them to hospitals. A very clever race, the Chinese. When they decide to do something, they get it done. There’s something to be said for authoritarian governments.’
Pauline said: ‘They make the trains run on time.’
Gerry said pedantically: ‘Actually, that’s a myth: Mussolini never did get Italian trains to run on time.’
Keith was not listening. ‘They don’t have to pander to every little group that stands in the way of progress because they want to protect the nesting grounds of the lesser spotted tit warbler—’
Her mother said: ‘Keith!’ and Pippa sniggered but Keith ignored them both.
‘– or they think the ground is holy because that’s where the spirits of their ancestors gather under the full moon.’
Pippa said: ‘And the other amazing thing about authoritarian governments is that if they want to murder six million Jewish people no one can stop them.’
Pauline considered whether to silence Pippa, and decided that her father had asked for it.
But Keith was untroubled. ‘I recall, Pippa, that your mother also knew all the smart answers when she was just fourteen years old.’
Christine said: ‘Don’t pay attention to your grandfather, Pippa. Over the next three or four years you’ll do things you’ll remember later with deep embarrassment. But when you’re old, you’ll wish you’d done all of them twice.’
Pauline laughed happily. It was a flash of her mother as she used to be, feisty and funny.
Keith said grumpily: ‘Pearls of wisdom from the geriatric ward.’