It was rare for reporters from The Daily Socialite and The Daily Trail to socialize. The rivalry was intense; the margins were wafer thin and the reporting staff had a clash of egos on matters of camouflage and safe hiding places while capturing candid moments of the celebrities and aristocrats they stalked. This was one of the rare occasions when a relatively polite chat did take place. It was raining. Outside a café, Jones and Fernsby found themselves staring at each other. Many nods and glances later, Jones decided to be magnanimous and invited Fernsby in for a cup of tea. The following conversations took place.
Jones: I love my job Fernsby, you know why?
Fernsby: I am sitting out of professional courtesy, Jones. Also, you offered to buy me a cup of tea. If you try giving me inspirational insight, I will drink my tea and leave immediately.
Jones: Because I get paid to capture beauty.
Fernsby: That is the exact same thing I get paid to do. I do it better too. What are you driving at?
Jones: I captured this one. Lady Roberta Wickham and Lady Angela Travers. Once you’ve shaken off that envy, you might actually learn something. I captured this one “with permission”. Something you can only pray for.
Fernsby: Oh, dear God.
Jones: Do not worry, dear Fernsby. You were defeated by the better man. No shame in that. Allow me to continue your education. Here is another capture.
Jones: I had no intention of doing this to you, my dear colleague. However, you brought it upon yourself when you were trying to compete with me on that Italy assignment. When someone roars in my jungle, they have to know who is king. Now, what do you have to say? Hang on, let me get you another cup of tea. You will need it to fortify yourself. Some rusk?
Fernsby: Jones, I will remember this.
Jones: I know, some sugar? Do tell the boys over at The Daily Trail what happened to you here today.
Fernsby did not answer immediately. He took a sip of tea and gave a contented sigh. He set the cup down and opened his leather portfolio. Jones looked at him, puzzled.
Fernsby: Before I do, Jones… here. “With permission.”
Fernsby slid a photograph across the table.
Jones: What?… What is this?… Where?… Wimbledon?… No… No…
Fernsby: Lady Travers asked me to take that picture. It was an exhibition match to raise money for a cause. You know, the events where the ‘good people’ get invited. What’s the matter Jones? Looks like, you could you another cup of tea yourself. Maybe two spoonfuls of sugar. Maintain that equanimity, yes?
Jones: Why, you sneaky monkey!
Fernsby: Aah, let us not descend into name calling here, old chap. My great ancestor had burned the boat once he had discovered an island. I am made of stuff, you cannot fathom. Here, this one should make you consider your employment choices. Lady Roberta Wickham and Lady Angela Travers… photographing me as I photographed them.
Jones: I…
Fernsby: It is over.
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