A Very Accidental Love Story Read Online Free PDF Page B

bashing out a first draft of a story breaking in the Middle East while the rest of the Western world snoozes peacefully on.
    So I happen to know that Robbie rarely gets any time off to be with his own young and growing family and to his credit, it’s something he’s never once complained about. I may not let it show, but I’m genuinely fond of him; as I’ve told the Board of Directors on many occasions, Robbie is someone who does consistent good work in the face of pressure that would drive a lesser personality straight to the nearest home for the bewildered.
    The only slight downside in these meetings is that Robbie’s sole weak spot tends to come to the fore; his unhealthy obsession with Barack Obama, to the point that the running joke in the office is that he’s actually a tiny bit in love with him. I’m not kidding, he eats, drinks, sleeps and breathes Barack Obama and the highlight of his life to date was getting to shake the hand of The Mighty One when he visited Ireland. True, there were about four hundred other people in the room with him at the time, but Robbie still managed to wangle past the secret service and touch the hem of the garment of the Chosen One, so to speak. All while making it sound like they’d shared an intimate one-on-one meeting, just the two of them chatting about the re-election campaign over a nice cuppa and a plate of Hobnobs. He even had a photo of said momentous event taken and turned it into his personalised Christmas card last year.
    ‘Eloise, you have to listen to me,’ Robbie’s insisting, getting red-faced now as his voice rises to be heard about the clamour. He doesn’t lose his cool often, but when he does, it’s almost like watching a cartoon: eyes popping, red veins bulging out of the side of his neck, white hair nearly standing up straight on the top of his head, the whole works.
    ‘This is getting to be too big a story just to tuck away on page three in world news beside David Cameron making a speech about landmine victims in Angola, like we did yesterday.’ He has to almost shout to be heard above the racket in the room. ‘The primaries are in full swing, the election proper is only round the corner and it’s high time it got the front page! Can I remind you that it’s page one on every US national daily and has been for weeks now? So why are we lagging behind US coverage, when we need to keep pace with this story!’
    Robbie might sound narky and aggressive, but I know he’s not; this is just how he comes across and I know him well enough to know it’s not bolshiness on his part, it’s purely because he cares so much.
    Sign of a good political editor.
    On and on he goes, enthusiastically firing off statistics about Democratic versus GOP expenditure on the President’s re-election, to heated shouts of ‘ahh, not this again! Give it a rest, will you?’ from the rest of the room, while a few hacks start humming a sarcastic chorus of
The Star Spangled Banner
.
    Next thing, Seth Coleman sits back, arms folded, and throws in his two cents’ worth.
    ‘Yes, we’re all aware there’s an election coming up in the US, thanks for that Robbie,’ he spits dryly, with his lizardy unblinking eyes focused on me. ‘As ever, your fundamental grasp of the obvious is overwhelmingly helpful. Can we please move on to some actual hard news?’
    And although I’m nodding, giving the outward appearance of being focused and interested in the game, the truth is … to my shame I’m actually miles away, utterly and totally absorbed in my own worries. I may look like I’m listening but all I can really hear is the sound of the blood singing in my ears as my pulse rate feels like it’s soaring well up into triple figures.
    Then, dimly in the background, like a kind of accompanying soundtrack to all my stressing and fretting, our Northern correspondent, Ruth O’Connell manages to successfully shout Robbie down, take up the intellectual cudgels and is now aggressively pitching