Food Fight

by Anne Penketh

  “That’s not all of it. I tracked down Tony Stella.”

  “The guy from R and D we talked about?”

  “I should have told you. He confirmed that it’s an enzyme. The bottom line is that what DeKripps is doing is wrong. I mean developing an addictive ingredient, hiding it from the FDA, and then deliberately putting it into the food of rich people to make them fat and dependent? What were they thinking?”

  “Is that what’s happened? The FDA didn’t know?”

  “And by hitting the luxury market they’ve bitten off more than they can chew, as it were.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. Honestly, Susie, you should see Barney and the rest of them. They’re all at each other’s throats. Are they going to go for Bubba?”

  “I expect so. But Stella certainly made it clear that Barney knew all about it.”

  Susan could see that Ellen had figured out which way the wind was blowing. She pressed her advantage.

  “You don’t have to make up your mind now, obviously, but this could be a way out for you. Think of your own future.” She handed her Mark’s card. “He’s my legal adviser. I trust him. Talk things over at home and contact him if you’re willing to tell them what you know.”

  “But what do I know? I’m pretty low down the food chain. Most of what I know is second hand at best.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Ellen. It’s a question of doing what’s right, isn’t it? And if someone like you sets an example, others may follow.”

  A wave of tiredness enveloped her again. “I’d better go. Coffee and painkillers aren’t doing my wooziness much good. Best of luck.”

  She manoeuvred herself out of the leather chair, which was less comfortable than it looked, and left her former colleague pondering the bottom of her coffee cup.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  She glanced anxiously at Mark as they entered the glass cube law offices on Connecticut Avenue. He’d told her that it might be useful to meet the lead counsel of the class action before she left for home.

  But when they were ushered into the seventh floor corner office of Aaron Steinfeld, she almost walked straight out again. Seated in front of his desk were two sets of couples, each well-dressed but noticeably overweight. She realised immediately they must be plaintiffs in the suit.

  Steinfeld, an elderly, reassuring presence whose creased features resembled so many of the seniors still active in Washington, stood up to make the introductions. He was dressed in a pinstriped suit and shoes as shiny as Barney’s.

  “Pleased to meet you, Ms Perkins, may I congratulate you on the stand you’re taking in the public interest.” Susan stretched out her good hand. “Mr and Mrs Stephens have flown in from San Francisco, and wanted to meet you.”

  The middle-aged couple struggled out of their chairs to shake hands. The other couple, introduced as Mr and Mrs Kelley, looked like young executives from DC. None of them was smiling. None of them commented on Susan’s appearance, as Mark helped her take off her raincoat.

  “First of all, let me say that Bradley, Steinfeld and Moore has a strong record in class action cases,” said Steinfeld.

  “In the case of DeKripps, the federal authorities are also investigating. But we’ve obtained record sums on behalf of our clients who have taken collective action. I’m the lead counsel, which is why I was keen to bring you all together today.” He turned to Susan. “Ms Perkins, if you would be so kind as to update us on how you came to be where you are today.”

  She looked towards Mark for support. He flashed a brief smile of encouragement, and she proceeded to summarise why she had gone public after realising she’d been duped by the company into marketing a dodgy product.

  Steinfeld’s quizzical gaze went from one couple to the other. The first to speak was Mrs Kelley, a blonde who looked like a retired air stewardess. “Ms Perkins, we are suing your company because of the damage it has done to our two young children.” The woman’s voice began to tremble. “May I show you?”

  Susan had no choice in the matter, as the woman took out a small photo album. She obviously intended to show them ‘before’ and ‘after’ pictures of her children. Mrs Kelley sighed as she turned the pages.

  “This is our son, Jason, one year ago. Before you put Guilty Secrets on the market. This is him now, Ms Perkins.”

  Susan was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. She was starting to fear a lynching. She understood perfectly how these DeKripps customers must feel, but she didn’t like the way they were referring to her as though she was the company representative.

  She took the proffered album and flicked through it. The change in the little boy in short trousers was there for all to see, the normal sized child had morphed into a blob in the space of a few months.

  “He simply couldn’t stop eating them. I stopped buying them but found empty wrappers in his room. Hundreds of them under the bed, along with the receipts, thank God. He hid them from his own mother. He was spending all his allowance on Guilty Secrets, and I didn’t even know!”

  She turned the page. Susan had to stop herself from gasping when she saw Jason’s sister, blonde like her mother. The slim, pretty girl in the first picture was scarcely recognisable in the next.

  “And how old is she?” she asked.

  “Thirteen.”

  She could see that the woman was on the brink of tears. She felt terrible. She imagined how she would be behaving if the same thing had happened to Mimi. She also felt responsible. She was responsible, there was no getting away from that. The Scum had put its finger on it in the headline about kids being addicted to ‘magic’ chocolate. She’d never given it a thought when devising the strategy for rich people.

  Of course they’d dreamed up the ad with a woman and her child. DeKripps knew how to sell to families. They’d deliberately targeted the children’s market with a product that turned out to be dangerous for people’s health. DeKripps and its shareholders had got rich and so had she. But at what cost?

  “And now that Guilty Secrets are off the market, is their health improving?”

  Mr and Mrs Kelley looked at each other mournfully.

  “Slowly,” he said. “But fat is a lot harder to lose than it is to gain. And they had less control over that gain than most, right?”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. What more could she say? She wanted to get out of that office as soon as possible.

  She asked the couple at what point they had realised the link with Guilty Secrets, and whether they’d contacted the company. They looked at each other again before Mrs Kelley said, “Of course we wrote to customer services. On more than one occasion. But we never received a single reply.”

  What had Barney done with the correspondence?

  “And did you keep copies of the letters or emails?”

  “We did. And our next step was to contact our lawyer.”

  Half an hour later, after listening to the Stephens explain how they’d flown in by corporate jet and were determined to ‘break’ DeKripps for what the company had done, she and Mark escaped.

  “How do you think that went?” he said. She was waiting for him on the street while he finished up inside.

  “It was an ambush. I don’t know why I allowed myself to be persuaded to do that. You told me it was strictly voluntary but they were behaving as though it was me on trial. Anyone would think I developed the enzyme. I didn’t like to mention it in there but DeKripps actually tried to kill me!” she said, raising her sling.

  “Well, I did warn you that you’d have to be strong. It’s not going to be a walk in the park, you know. In fact, you should also prepared to be called in by the FDA in due course. They’re sure to be interviewing all the DeKripps executives.”

  “But didn’t Steinfeld warn you they were going to be there?”

  “No, he didn’t, actually. I was as surprised as you. But you need to remember that you’re on the same side against DeKripps. And I would vouch for Steinfeld. He has more class action experience than probably any lawyer in
Washington.”

  “I guess I’ll have to trust you on that. But how old is he? He looks like a Mummy. I hope he can survive until the trial.”

  “Hey, careful where you’re going with this. Don’t even think for a moment that a lawyer would support age discrimination.”

  “But don’t people ever retire in this town?”

  He laughed. “Maybe their pensions aren’t good enough. We’re not in Europe, you know. Look Susie, you’re leaving tomorrow, right? Let me buy you a goodbye drink before you go.”

  They strolled down towards the Dupont Circle Metro and round the corner to a wine bar.

  “So what happened in there after I left?” she said as they went down the steps into the lounge.

  “Oh, Steinfeld was just telling me that DeKripps wanted to settle.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Spotting a bench in a quiet corner, Susan lowered herself hesitantly into it. Mark sat across from her.

  She didn’t know what to think. Mark had announced the news so casually but this sounded like a big development to her. Had her sacrifice been for nothing?

  “Out of court? You mean there won’t be a trial?”

  “It’s to be expected in a case like this. Obviously their reputation is at stake, they’ll be praying they can avoid a trial. But Steinfeld says the plaintiffs are adamant because of the public interest.”

  “Thank God. They were pretty fired up in there.”

  She was glad they had the space to spread out; they’d arrived before the evening rush.

  “So, what’s your poison then?”

  “Guilty Secrets of course.” They smiled at each other. “I’d love a glass of Chardonnay. Don’t mind me, though, if I spill it all over my blouse with my wrong hand.”

  He seemed nervous. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind.

  “Susie. I have to tell you this. I’m attracted to you but you’re my client. That poses a particular problem for me.”

  Until that moment she hadn’t been sure it wasn’t all in her mind.

  “To tell you the truth, I’m very much attracted to you too. You know that though, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “But what I’m saying is that this can’t happen. At least not yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not ethically correct, having a sexual relationship with your client. As a lawyer, you might lose all sense of objectivity. It’s opening a can of worms.”

  “But you’re my legal adviser, not my lawyer.”

  “It comes down to the same thing. I could be disbarred.”

  “You could always deny it, like Clinton. I did not have sex with that woman!”

  “Funny.” He was gravely serious. He called the waitress and ordered their wine, along with a couple of pizza slices. Susan remained silent.

  “In fact, we shouldn’t even be here. It’s socializing. We should be discussing business in my office.”

  “Oh. But in the great scheme of things, I mean, how bad would it be? It’s not like DeKripps poisoning the entire population, is it?”

  “No, but that’s not the issue. It’s a question of decency.”

  “I have to admire you for saying that. But actually, I could jump into bed with you right now. Except that I’ve got a broken shoulder,” she said.

  “Me too, Susie, believe me.”

  She asked him if he’d been married. He had, after Harvard, but the marriage hadn’t lasted or produced children. “In case you’re wondering,” he added.

  “But a clever, attractive guy like you must have had other relationships since then?”

  “Yeah, sure. Maybe my heart wasn’t in it, or theirs wasn’t, because it never worked out. Also I was working pretty hard. Before I came to DC I worked in Indiana. Two sets of bar exams after qualifying. What about you? What did your husband do?”

  “He was a scholar and a poet.” Why was she trying to impress him with her dead husband’s credentials? “He was French, actually. He wrote about Camus, the French writer.” She’d pricked his interest.

  “The Stranger? I read it in my spare time when I was at law school. It made quite an impact on me at the time.”

  “Is that what they call it here?” she said. “The translation I read was called The Outsider. Actually, I think outsider is better. It expresses the alienation. It doesn’t really make sense to call it The Stranger. He wasn’t a stranger. Or I suppose it could be The Foreigner. But outsider is best. Definitely.”

  She paused. Then she said, “You’ve brought me here to tell me that we can’t ever be together, haven’t you? Is that why you called it a goodbye drink?”

  “Not never. Just not now. I have to be careful. As a professional person, you understand that.”

  Unfortunately, she did understand. She made one last desultory attempt. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

  She regretted it immediately. He must think she was desperate. But he grinned and said, “You’re pretty badass, aren’t you?”

  “It’s just that I’m not used to a clinical conversation about a relationship that hasn’t even started. This is a bit too cerebral for me. In my book, if you fancy someone, and they fancy you, then you jump into bed.” Something else she regretted saying.

  He held up his hands as though to say, what can I do about it?

  “There is an alternative, isn’t there?” she said.

  “You mean I could recuse myself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to do that, Susie?”

  “No. Bad idea. I want you to be involved in this case.”

  “Good. Me too,” he said. “And there’ll be plenty of time to get to know each other better over the next few months. You really are a very special person, Susan.”

  “That’s so kind of you to say so, Mister Palin,” she said, trying to affect a Deep South accent, while adjusting her grubby sling. He asked her what she planned to do after the trial. She told him of her plans to study law, joking that he was her model.

  He looked surprised. But without missing a beat, he said, “Have you considered studying over here?” She hadn’t, but the idea immediately appealed to her.

  “Why law though? I’d have thought you might have been put off by your experience here.”

  “On the contrary. I loved my job, I really did. I’d never been hugely ambitious after university, and of course Mimi came along, so I was grateful for the chance to do as well as I did. But when you’re inside a company you only see the inside, you’re part of the corporate culture. When I think about it now, I can see there was plenty that was ethically questionable. I mean, look what they call 100 percent orange juice these days. It’s a joke. And do you know what cellulose is? The stuff they list on the Food Facts? They want you to believe it’s fibre but it’s sawdust! And don’t get me started on Crunchaloosa. Western diets breeding Western diseases. And it comes to you with the FDA’s blessing.”

  “Really?”

  “Barney and Frank used to say, not only, ‘Let’s give the consumer what they want’, but ‘Let’s make some money’. They, we, were thinking about the shareholders. The profit motive. And that’s where there are legitimate questions, I think, about company behaviour. I should’ve seen a huge red flag when Barney said that the compliance and regulations departments weren’t to know about Project Candy. But to come back to your question, I want to feel I’m making a difference, helping people. That’s what’s changed I suppose.”

  “You mean do something like Mimi?”

  “Funnily enough, I never actually thought of her work in that way. But I suppose that now I wouldn’t rule it out. Campaigning for something you believe in, something important. I used to think she was there mainly to annoy people.”

  They finished their drinks, discussing the next moves in the legal process. Then she slipped on a sleeve of her raincoat, pulling it round her injured shoulder, and he walked with her to a cab. This time there was no goodbye kiss as he opened the car door.

  A
s it closed with a heavy clunk, something landed gently in her lap. It was a little gift-wrapped box. She untied the ribbon and tore open the packaging with one hand and her teeth. It was a flacon of Coco Mademoiselle.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  All of the Perkinses were waiting for her when she arrived at Heathrow on the redeye flight from Washington.

  “Whoa! Morning!” Susan dropped her wheelie as her mother threw her arms round her, causing her to wince in pain. She hugged Mimi as best she could, and then kissed Meadow on the cheek.

  “Welcome home, darling. I’ve been beside myself with worry. Let me look at you, Danger Woman!”

  “How are you, Mum?”

  “I’m a bit tired. I didn’t sleep. But the arm feels like it’s starting to heal. I’ll get it checked out by the doctor in Hackney.”

  For the first time in years she walked proudly past the welcoming crowd at Arrivals. Mimi, sporting a short haircut which set off her chiselled features while revealing ears full of piercings, led the way to her car, the first she’d ever bought.

  “It’s Josh’s actually. A friend wanted to get rid of his old Fiesta so we picked it up for 300 quid. It’s actually been more useful than I thought.”

  “And how’s Josh?”

  “He says Hi. He’s fine. He’s still at Granta and it’s going well. We were talking about paying the rent ourselves on the flat.”

  That was news to Susan. “You don’t have to, you know.”

  “No, that’s fine. You’re the unemployed one now, remember.” Mimi tossed her head as though signalling the end of the exchange, and unlocked the car where Nellie was barking away.

  “Down Nellie, down,” her mother murmured as the dog sprang up. Mimi strapped Meadow into her seat in the back, before setting off cautiously towards London in the morning traffic.

  Her first visitor that week was Lily. She took out a celebratory bottle of wine from the fridge and they went to a nearby gastropub for supper. But Lily didn’t feel like celebrating. She’d gone to the police about a stalker who’d been tracking her concerts and had discovered her address. She’d found him waiting for her on a couple of occasions when leaving the flat.