✍️ Undercurrent

“That’s the thing though, innit. They look all innocent, then next thing you know, they’ve run off without paying, and your phone’s been nicked. Can’t be doing with it. Why do they have to come here anyway? There’s so many other countries they could seek asylum in.”

Jenna did the traditional back-of-the-cab grunt, meaning “I don’t agree with you, but I also just want to get to my destination without drama”. She didn’t know why she preferred taking a black cab when she was in London. Something about the feel of it. There’s a romance to getting in the old-fashioned Hackney carriage, listening to a cockney geezer spouting racist nonsense, then arguing about whether or not they can accept Scottish banknotes. Ordering and paying for a cab through an app just wasn’t the same.

The cabbie went silent, perhaps sensing her mind was elsewhere. Jenna’s thoughts could hardly keep away from her assignment today. This was the big one. A career-maker. The headlines will write themselves here, no need for any ridiculous clickbait title editor now. “Jenna Donohue meets Sarah Carlyle” would be dynamite.

Jenna felt like she’d been working forever to get to this point. Over two decades now, if you included uni. University, where she’d studied investigative journalism. University, where she’d mapped out a career interrogating top level politicians, holding large corporations’ executives to account. University, where she’d signed up for the one internship that was actually paid, because she didn’t have a wealthy family to live off for 3 months while working doubly hard to prove herself. The one internship that she had basically never left, working her way up to being a senior reporter, sacrificing every personal relationship for the sake of building this career, on a website with top-performing headlines such as ”32 dogs who look like their owners - you won’t believe the third one!”

Any interview with someone like Sarah Carlyle would be an unbelievable boon to both Insight Media, the small media company where Jenna had spent her entire career so far, and her career itself. This was David and Goliath scale. Sarah Carlyle, darling of the UK TV industry for three decades, would be talking to the senior reporter for an online media organisation which was usually turned down even for Z-lister interviews. Insight made its money by finding funny things on social media and plastering a load of adverts all around it. Jenna really didn’t understand why the interview was even going ahead. Was this all thanks to the generous, supportive, and just bloody lovable Sarah Carlyle, who the country had made its latest National Treasure?

Or was there something else going on? Did Carlyle have an inkling of the real subject that Jenna had for the interview, and not just the fluffy cover story that she’d submitted to Carlyle’s PR?

If just any interview with Sarah Carlyle would top Jenna and her employer’s entire career, just wait until the actual interview landed.

“So what are you doing at TV HQ then?” asked the taxi driver.

“Oh, I’ve actually got an interview with Sarah Carlyle”, Jenna replied. She was excited for this, and wanted to leave an impression on the cabbie. She wasn’t just some nobody, on her way to interview another nobody. This was a household name, someone the driver would have heard of. She’d never had that before.

While she had been expecting something like the slow whistle that the cabbie emitted, what she wasn’t expecting him to do was to narrow his eyes.

“You’re not the first person I’ve had in here who’s gone to meet her. My advice? Don’t push your luck. You hear some funny things in my line of work. That image she has, of her being the nation’s best friend, it don’t always keep up when the camera stops rolling, if you get my drift.”

Jenna was surprised. The whole country loved Sarah Carlyle. She was possibly the least controversial personality you could think of. Putting her on a show was like having an infinite money cheat code, an easy ratings win with any demographic. And yet, the whole purpose of this interview was to get Carlyle’s response to this same story that the cabbie had just told her. Jenna had friends in the media industry who spoke of Sarah Carlyle not as the nation’s best friend, but as the bogeyman.

“You’re an award-winning actor. You host some of the most popular TV shows in the country. Your podcast has tens of millions of subscribers. You play - and win - Celebrity game shows, raising so much money for charity - which you always match personally. And most recently, a CBE. Do you agree that in the last few years, you’ve become a bit of a national treasure?”

“Oh darling, don’t say that! You’ll jinx it!” And Sarah Carlyle gave her trademark smile, instantly making its recipient feel like an insider, like one of Sarah’s closest friends.

“But seriously, Jenna, it’s such a wonderful compliment. And of course I do my best to be entertaining, and relatable. I think national treasure is incredibly generous, but it’s certainly not how I think of myself. I’m an entertainer who’s currently doing well. But one never knows when this could all come to an end.“

“Well, that’s such a refreshing viewpoint. And a perfect example of why the country loves you so much. Sometimes it feels like you could get away with anything!”

Carlyle smiled again, but this time, there was just a hint of a glint in her eye. What did I just catch there, wondered Jenna. Just take this slowly, don’t push it. See what else might come out with gentle nudges.

“Oh, I don’t know about that!” Carlyle was replying. Jenna forced herself out of her thoughts, to listen to the false modesty. She needed to be sharp to make this discussion go as she hoped. “We’ve had a couple of national treasures fall from grace in the last few years, haven’t we. The truth catches up with us all. I find it best to live alongside the truth in the first place, rather than having it chase after me.”

“Such an admirably honest approach to life,” said Jenna. She was surprised to realise that she was frequently complimenting Sarah Carlyle. Even with the story that Jenna was chasing, it was hard to see Carlyle as anything other than the charming superstar. Jenna was never usually one for flattery, even when it would help to build a strong relationship with her interviewee. It felt dishonest, and if anything, honesty was the central characteristic throughout her work. But today, it almost felt like there was something at work in this star’s home environment that was psychologically tricking her. Getting her questions in with a subtle edge was proving tricky. Maybe she’d just have to go in head first.

“So I did my research for this interview, digging into your career a little, as I always do for my interviews,” Jenna continued.

“Quite right too, Jenna.” Carlyle sounded completely relaxed, in her element. “And what juicy morsels have you discovered?”

“Well, I have encountered a couple of odd scenarios that I wanted to run past you, to see what you made of them. Trivial things, really,” said Jenna. She was feeling nervous now. Nobody goes to one of the most popular, one of the most powerful, people in the country and asks them awkward questions. She was risking a lot here.

“Do you remember Paul Fowler?”

“Oh, Paul, yes. He worked as a producer on my radio show a few years ago. He was really enthusiastic with his ideas, even if some of them were a bit on the unusual side. I always expected him to go on to big things. Have you heard from him in the course of your research?”

“Well, I’ve heard about him from a couple of sources. He didn’t have the best time on your show, as they tell it. And then they say he just… stopped showing up to work. I’ve actually not been able to get hold of him at all, and I’ve not been able to find anyone who has known him since then. He seems to have dropped off the face of the planet.”

“Ah, well that’s the thing with producers. If they don’t get their big break, they often move into something a bit less stressful. I’ve remained on excellent terms with a couple of them. One is a software developer now. The other is a baker, of all things!” They both laughed.

“Is it common for them to just ghost their employers though?” Jenna asked, trying to sound open-minded rather than accusatory.

“Oh, not at all, no,” replied Carlyle. “When we have staff members leave our shows, even if they’ve had a hard time and are leaving under a bit of a cloud, we still say our goodbyes. We love to celebrate what we’ve achieved together. Even if it hasn’t gone the way either party wanted, we still appreciate the effort and the work they’ve put in.

“So you said you had a couple of scenarios to run past me,” Carlyle continued. “We’ve covered Paul. What was the other?”

Interesting, Jenna thought. Moving us along. She certainly doesn’t want to linger on this one. Okay then, we can skip ahead a little if it makes you feel like you’ve got control of the situation.

“Ah, the other one was another disappearing act.” Jenna watched for a reaction, but Carlyle was very composed. She looked more disappointed than worried.

“Oh dear, really?”

“Why ‘oh dear’?”, asked Jenna.

“Well, like I said, people often move on from our show. It’s really not a productive topic for our interview, given we have a hard stop in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, this has been a very useful conversation for my article, no need to worry about that. This disappearing act was Ruth Burns. Do you remember Ruth?”

“I’m afraid I don’t recognise this name, no,” said Carlyle. “Where would I know her from?”

“Ruth was an apprentice member of the production team on your Fireside Chat podcast five years ago. She was let go pretty quickly, on the basis that her apprenticeship wasn’t going all that well. But when I’ve spoken to colleagues who knew her, it seems like it was a shock. They say she’d been doing well; good at her job, friendly, helpful, very keen to learn. But one day she just disappeared. Another ghost, it seems.”

“I’m afraid that one doesn’t ring any bells. But issues can arise in the production team, or any team after a new hire, our teams are all very close-knit, so changes can be unsettling. And someone who is showing technical skills in their job doesn’t automatically have the people skills to suit their role, for example. But as I say, I don’t remember that name, although I do hope that she’s thriving in her new role.”

“People saw you arguing with Ruth on the day of her disappearance.”

“Oh, that’s not a surprise, I often get heated while recording. If she was let go due to her performance, then it seems likely that I would have had words for her. But ask anyone on my team here today, it’s common for me to be clear about what I expect, and to be disappointed if expectations aren’t met. I have such high standards, and to be frank, those high standards pay off for all who want to be involved. Some people don’t handle that well, and they move on.”

“That’s fair. You’ve had a lot of success, whatever you’re doing is clearly working for you. Some might argue, though, that the ends don’t always justify the means.”

“Quite correct, Jenna, quite correct. However, my conscience rests easy regarding how my work is produced.

“On the subject of ends and means, we only have a few more minutes until our end. I hope your means have been productive for you, although I confess I’m a little surprised at the direction we’ve taken today.”

Jenna checked her watch. She still had ten minutes left, Carlyle was clearly trying to hurry her along. I’ve got her rattled, she thought. Great. Let’s move onto the final mystery; if she’s rattled now, she’ll be completely shaken up by this.

“I suppose I’ll be continuing to surprise you then, Ms Carlyle. I have one more ghost to bring up: Lea Kelly.”

Carlyle’s eyes narrowed, her mouth tightened. This had certainly got her attention. We’re in deep now, Jenna thought.

“Lea has also disappeared upon leaving a role in your production team. She has also disappeared following a disagreement with you, in particular. I’ve spoken to multiple current and former colleagues of yours and none has seen Lea since she left your employ, 6 months ago.

“Most of those colleagues described witnessing an argument between you and Lea. And what’s strange about that is that Lea was last seen, by anyone other than you, getting into the passenger seat of your car. Not one person seems to have seen her since.”

“Yes, I’d heard you’d been intruding on the lives of my colleagues,” said Carlyle, all pretence of friendliness well and truly dropped now. “It’s partly why I was interested in taking this interview request. I wanted to see who was asking so many insipid questions about trivial producers who’d chosen to move on.

“You’re not very subtle, Ms Donohue. And you need to be very careful about what you say next.”

“Careful of what, Ms Carlyle?” replied Jenna, feeling angry now. “If I’m not careful, what will happen, exactly? Human beings who worked for you have gone missing. Nobody has seen any of them since the day they left your office for the last time. And not only Paul Fowler, Ruth Burns, and Lea Kelly. Around a dozen more. I’ve got their names, I’m looking into them.

“Tens of millions of people in this country trust you, Ms Carlyle. They find you entertaining, but more importantly they think you have shared values. They feel like you're their friend. And people disappear after conflict and direct contact with you. Help me understand how this isn’t a story? Help me understand why so many people have left Carlyle Entertainment in such a mysterious manner?”

“Oh my dear, such passion!” Carlyle was smiling, although there was no humour whatsoever in her expression. ”How is this not a story? Because if there was any reason for concern, the authorities would have been involved some time ago! Members of staff at the production companies for my various shows have left those companies. Often they have disagreements with me, their employer, which is a common cause of staff looking for alternative employment in all walks of life, not just on my shows. And they've then lost contact with their old colleagues. I appreciate your concern for these people, but I really don't see where this hysterical tabloid click-bait is coming from."

"These people who have disappeared didn't have friends or family. They had nobody.” Jenna responded, matching Carlyle’s vehemence. “Their job was their life, and they loved working on your shows. That's the common refrain amongst everyone I've spoken to. They're terrified of crossing you, because of what's happened to their former colleagues and friends. But they love the work that they do. And they love their colleagues, they're like a found family. Two different people have used that phrase with me, it’s very sweet. They’re all close. Nobody wants to leave. But if they did, I can’t imagine why on earth they’d all lose contact with their found families. To me, that makes it very clear that something is happening to them against their will."

"Oh Jenna." Carlyle stood up, looking at her watch. "We've run out of time I'm afraid."

Jenna sighed, and stood up. She’d really wanted this interview to uncover something new about these disappearances. But she’d got nowhere at all.

“I’ll see you out,” Carlyle said. “There’s something I’d like to show you, if you have another minute. This one’s off the record, however.”

Three days later, a man is sitting on the train on his way into work, browsing social media on his phone. "Oh wow, Insight has an interview with Sarah Carlyle! I love her," he thinks. “Insight usually just has fluffy kitten listicles, wonder how they got her?”

SARAH CARLYLE: I’M NOT REALLY A NATIONAL TREASURE by Cameron Parker

After reading, he went back to their homepage and swiped down some more.

OBITUARY: INSIGHT’S OWN JENNA DONOHUE

"That's a shame. Must be hard to write an obituary for someone they worked with." And with that, he closed the tab.

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