56 #RecordTraffic

The Daily Chronicle @DailyChronicle

Mother of @BryceTripleB warned TV star he’d be killed.

The tweet had a link to the Daily Chronicle’s website, which gave a teaser of April’s ‘World Exclusive’, a tabloid tag reserved for what were the biggest stories. April thought it was a hugely overused newspaper term and something of an oxymoron. A footballer getting his wife and mistress both pregnant at the same time was a proper scoop, but only meant something on these shores.

However, her interview with Flora Horrigan was probably April’s first true world exclusive as the murder of Bryce was still making headlines around the globe. Very quickly other news outlets would be running the quotes from April’s interview, which was technically illegal and breached copyright. But such was the clamour for instant rolling news, the other media websites would simply credit the Daily Chronicle in their stories and include a hyperlink to the Scottish paper’s homepage. If there was any fall-out, they’d let the lawyers work it out later. April’s exclusive proved to be something of a coup for her organisation, which saw its subscriptions suddenly go up at a rate of about 100 an hour – the fastest growth rate since they had gone behind a paywall a year earlier.

The splash in the print edition also had the world exclusive strapline and read: TV STAR’S MUM PREDICTED DEATH. Due to the constraints of page size and design it needed to be worded differently from the online version, simply to make it fit on a front page, which is measured in the centuries-old newspaper measurements of seven columns width – with 3.4 centimetres in each column. But online, the banner headline read, The mother of TV star Bryce Horrigan talks exclusively about how she predicted her son’s murder. This was so Internet search engines would pick up on the words ‘Bryce Horrigan’ and ‘murder’.

The editor from the online department excitedly burst into April’s broom cupboard office and babbled, ‘We’ve just seen a 300 per cent increase in subscriptions and passed the 51,000 hits mark for your story, too. Traffic is going through the roof.’

‘Well done,’ April replied as the online editor practically skipped out of her office. Not only had she failed to understand a single word that he’d said, she couldn’t even remember his name. April only knew him as the lanky, curly-haired boy that ‘did something with the computers’. When faced with the unknown, April just smiled. Usually she’d get away with it, unless Connor was around. He’d recognise that familiar vacant look and mutter, ‘You haven’t a fucking clue, have you?’

It was the same when they’d both bump into the paper’s political editor in the breakout area. Connor would immediately engage him in debate about the latest events at the Scottish Parliament and playfully try to bring the oblivious April into the conversation, with fear etched all over her face. Afterwards she would ask Connor how he was always so up to date with everything that was going on. He’d shrug and reply, ‘Because I actually read our newspaper.’

He had a point. Politics was carried daily on page two. April would just glance at it and glaze over. She had absolutely no interest in politics whatsoever, even though it still dominated television news. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d voted, but reckoned it was probably when she was still married to husband number two, who had been quite active with the Labour party… or the Liberals, she could never remember which. He was obsessed with politics, and insisted on talking about it morning, noon and night, until she could take it no more and ordered him to leave their home. When husband number two asked what he’d done wrong, April had snapped, ‘You’re actually boring me to death with your politics.’

He’d sniffed, ‘But I thought you liked politics? I thought it was “our thing”?’

April had replied, ‘Well “our thing” has got old, and life’s too short.’

And that had been the end of that marriage.

There had been a time when April had her choice of suitors. Now all she had was the lecherous old Italian restaurant owner Luigi, who would propose to her, without fail, on every occasion she ate in his restaurant. She could usually laugh it off, but he was persistent. Unfortunately she didn’t do much to put off her admirer as she kept insisting on eating there.

Now April felt hungry. She would definitely be stopping by Luigi’s for dinner tonight. He may have been an old sex pest but he still owned the finest Italian in Glasgow.