The Ghost Writer Page #2

I'll call you next week.

...and long-term psychological trauma.

In other words, torture.

Hello, sir.

Would you like a newspaper to read?

- Have you got the Evening Standard?

- We do, yes.

Thanks. Thank you.

Hello, madam.

Would you like a newspaper to read?

Yes, please. Thank you.

Passport?

This is an absolute scandal!

Amelia Bly. Welcome.

I'm Adam's assistant.

Adam's in New York, unfortunately,

and won't be back until later this afternoon.

Actually, forget I said that,

it's bloody ridiculous!

Oh, dear. I'm so sorry.

I'm afraid Ruth's having one of those days.

If this isn't a good time, I could go to...

No, no. She's keen to meet you.

- Right. Shall we make a start?

- Right.

- How was your journey?

- Long.

- We're a small team.

- Thanks.

This is Alice.

Lucy's traveling with Adam.

We need another pair of hands, but Adam

couldn't bring himself to replace Mike.

- They were together so long.

- How long were you with him?

Eight years.

I'm an attachment from Number 10.

Ah. Poor Number 10.

Before I show you the manuscript,

I need you to sign

this confidentiality agreement.

Sign here.

And here.

And here.

Wow, quite a place.

Don't you get Ionely at night?

It's my husband I miss the most.

Are you married?

I noticed you don't wear a wedding ring.

I can't, sadly. It's far too large.

- It bleeps when I go through airport security.

- Oh.

Here we are.

The manuscript is not to be removed

from this room. It's not to be copied.

You have six hours

before Adam gets in from New York.

- Can you finish by then?

- I'll try.

I'll ask Dep to bring you up

a sandwich for lunch.

Thanks.

Have fun.

"Langs are Scottish folk,

originally, and proud of it.

"Our name is a derivation of 'long,'

the Old English word for 'tall,'

"and it is from north of the border

that my forefathers hail."

F***.

"My great-grandfather, Ebenezer Lang,

"was born in 1862 in Pitlochry, Scotland.

"One of nine children, seven of them boys."

"The American President

was much taller than I had expected."

"This year's European summit

was particularly interesting."

"I always found the Queen, in private,

to have a delightful sense of humor."

Thanks.

"I've always been an optimist.

The present is where we live.

"Ruth and I look forward to the future,

whatever it may hold."

As bad as that?

Oh, hello.

Well? How bad is it?

You haven't read it?

Not all of it.

- Well, let's just say it needs some work.

- How much work?

Well, all the words are there.

They're just in the wrong order.

Come on. You look like you need a break.

You were my idea.

I was?

You wrote Christy Costello's memoirs,

didn't you?

You read those?

We stayed at his house in Mustique,

last winter.

The book was beside the bed.

- I'm embarrassed.

- No, why?

It was brilliant, in a horrible sort of way.

How you turned his ramblings

into something vaguely coherent.

I said to Adam, "Here's the guy

to write your book, not Mike."

God, I miss home.

It's like being married

to Napoleon on St. Helena.

- Why don't you go back to London?

- I don't feel I can leave him alone.

There's something not quite right

with him at the moment.

Amelia told me he was very upset

at the death of Michael McAra.

Oh, she did, did she?

Quite when Mrs. Bly became the expert

on my husband's emotions, I'm not sure.

Losing Mike was a blow, of course,

but it's not just that.

It's having to relive everything,

year by year, for this bloody book.

Oh, dear.

You must be wondering

what you've let yourself in for.

Fine, fine. I'll tell him.

They're just about to land.

On Thursday, he's in Chicago.

Actually, I think I'll go and meet him.

Amelia can stay here

and polish her nails or something.

Why don't you come, say hello?

Fine. I'll travel in the backup car.

I can do my nails in there.

Hi, darling.

- How was New York?

- Short and sweet.

Hi, Barry. Hi, Amelia.

Hello. Who are you?

I'm your ghost.

Right.

Don't worry. He isn't always such a jerk.

This place really comes alive at night.

You'll be with us for four weeks,

is that right?

I'm afraid so.

And the bill goes directly

to the Rhinehart Corporation?

Good.

That doesn't include the mini-bar.

All right. He's ready for you.

How's your hotel? Quiet?

Monastic.

That's nice. No distractions.

Thanks, love.

Hi, man. You ready to start?

Absolutely.

- Is the manuscript loaded on this?

- It is.

Can I have it?

I'm sorry,

that would be a security risk.

You mean I've got to retype

the whole manuscript?

Have you really got my entire book

on that little thing?

We can get 100 books on it, Adam.

And it can be copied in a flash.

That's the trouble.

Amazing.

You know the worst thing about my life?

You get so out of touch.

Everything's done for you.

You don't drive, you don't carry money.

If I need cash,

I have to borrow it from the protection boys.

This is the kind of details

we need in the memoirs.

I couldn't put that in.

People would think I was a complete idiot.

No, not at all. No, this shows what it's like

being Prime Minister.

That's exactly

what the readers want to know.

How does it feel to run a country?

How does it feel to be so cut off?

How does it feel to be so hated?

Thanks a lot.

And so loved.

Amelia, what do you think?

I think I should leave you two alone.

So, how do we go about this?

I interview you.

I turn your answers into prose.

Here and there, I'll add linking passages,

imitating your voice.

Okay.

- You heard about Mike?

- Yes. I'm sorry.

We should put in

something nice about him.

I think his mother would like that.

Of course.

Well, um, the first thing that struck me was,

you became such a successful politician

precisely because

you didn't appear to be a politician.

It's certainly not something I wanted to do

when I was younger.

I thought most student politicians

were complete nerds.

Well, I'm with you there.

So, what turned you on to politics?

Turned me on, indeed.

Let's see, I was 23, something like that,

a couple of years out of Cambridge.

And I remember it was a Sunday afternoon,

it was raining.

I was still in bed.

And someone starts knocking at the door.

And, you know,

I'd been out the night before

and had a few drinks and what have you.

So, I get the pillow and I put it

over my head, and it starts up again.

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

And I get up, I'm swearing,

I go to the door and there's this girl.

She's soaking wet, but she just launches

into this speech about the local elections.

And that's it.

- I'm in love.

- And this is Ruth?

This is Ruth.

And the only way I can see her again

is to join the party and hand out leaflets.

This is great.

You want to use this?

Use it? I think we should open

the whole book like this.

"I went into politics out of love,

"not love for a party or an ideology,

but out of love for a woman."

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