As the Cynthia Payne case continues, Caroline Phillips flew to Paris to talk to the celebrated Madame Claude

It never really occurred to me that I would make a good prostitute – it wasn’t the sort of thing the university careers officer ever suggested. But it was the first thing that struck Fernande Grudet; Madame Claude, that is, erstwhile owner of the world’s most prestigious call girl agency and brothel, based in Paris.

‘I’d soon have you married to a Duke,’ she said, fixing her doe eyes (pencil-pleat Saint Laurent skirt to match) on me. Nor would it be the first time she had effected such a marriage. Looking uncharacteristically amused (the finely structured, tight-lipped face almost manages the relevant muscular exercise), she says: ‘It makes me laugh when I see the photographs of the ladies and countesses in the social pages of Tatler, Harpers and Vogue, and count up which ones started off by working for me. ‘ Her major coup was when one of her girls – ‘the daughter of a mere concierge’ – married a peer.

‘I have retired,’ she adds, turning her attention to the wine list (her choice of restaurant: un bras et une jambe job). She points to a very expensive bottle of Chateau Margaux. While my face matures to a cheap claret colour, she sits there demurely: 63, looking an elegant fortyish.

Madame Claude gave up her call girl network 10 years ago: ‘Sexual liberation meant that the market was shrinking. ‘ But the primary reason was that she had run into tax problems. By 1975, her earnings were estimated at pounds 600,000 a year, and she faced charges of tax fraud and procuring more than 2,000 girls.

So she went to the United States for a decade’s vacation, and returned last year on bad legal advice believing, mistakenly, that her tax sins had been absolved. She came back to a four-month prison sentence, albeit in a converted 17th-century castle in the South of France. The prison experience failed to ruffle one of the Vidal Sasson-clipped hairs on her head. ‘Prison destroys those who can be destroyed,’ she says, pragmatically. Instead, she reflected on life (‘I have no complaints, no regrets’); watched television and completed her second book, Le Meilleur C’est L’Autre, which should appear in English soon.

The book contains advice to women on how to keep a man, culled from years of being confidante to thousands of disgruntled (mainly married) hommes. It runs the gamut from psychological hints to practical tips oon how a woman can retain her looks and mystery.

She believes that women are superior to men and can instinctively exploit them. But her views are pessimistic. She regards love, with its concomitant jealousies, as a handicap. And she believes that the sexes share little in common. ‘If you didn’t need a man and a woman to make children, they would never talk to each other,’ she says.

The critics derided her book ‘because I didn’t name names’, she says, claiming she doesn’t like scandal and prefers discretion. More to the point is the fact that she still owes pounds 2 million income tax on profits; and with many of her old faithfuls still pacing round Whitehall-sur-Seine, she probably prefers to let sleeping ministers lie.

Her girls were groomed for the most refined tastes, at prices that made dinner at Maxims beforehand seem like McDonald’s. ‘The men wanted the best and were prepared to pay for it. ‘ Kings, princes, ministers and ambassadors were, she claims, among her clients. But it was not easy to find her: ‘You needed high-class contacts to get my number. This was to maintain the calibre of clients. ‘ She had daughters of diplomats and generals, countesses, secretaries, students and married women working for her.

Recruitment was no problem: she maintains she was over-subscribed. ‘About 20 girls a month would come to me, and I would choose one. ‘ She judged them initially on ‘face, figure and intelligence’, and would have one of a handful of ‘friendly’ clients monitor sexual performance. ‘They would tell me whether the girl was any good, useless or worth educating,’ she says in the manner of a sophisticated executive talking about product packaging. Indeed, she liked to regard her girls as smartly-wrapped Christmas parcels, which saved the men the time of shopping.

Despite having been educated in a convent – her first job was selling Bibles – she says she had no qualms about her work. ‘I am a well-balanced woman with no hang-ups. ‘ Instead, she treated her profession with the utmost professionalism, rapidly becoming a workaholic in order to achieve the quality she desired. ‘I took out everything that is shameful in prostitution and elevated it to something chic and dignified,’ she says. ‘The girls were proud to be Madame Claude girls. ‘

She is a perfectionist, and wanted to create the perfect woman. ‘I felt like a sculptress,’ she says. She would send her ‘graduates’ to couturiers, beauticians, health farms and plastic surgeons. She taught them correct posture, to talk intelligently and read books. ‘A man wants a woman who is sophisticated, funny, intelligent and interested in him – totally supportive and never bothering him with her problems. ‘

It seems that she found the correct formula. ‘No one has matched me, before or since. ‘

When they heard that their son, Peter, was an Aids virus carrier, his parents felt annoyed. ‘We didn’t think it was our turn for another problem. But now we just want to let people know the positive things we feel about it’, says Norman, his father, a 36-year-old computer systems manager.

Eighteen months ago Peter, a haemophiliac, developed antibodies to the virus after receiving contaminated blood-clotting agent. He was then nine, and it was the first case of its kind in Britain. ‘But we are level-headed, and haemophiliacs and their families are used to dealing with problems’, says Norman.

To the family’s disappointment, the local haemophilia centre did not know what to do. ‘They didn’t seem surprised that it had happened, but said that there was nothing to worry about’, says Peter’s mother, Doree. Aids is not a notifiable disease, but because of the risks ofblood spillage the parents decided to inform Peter’s primary school: ‘We wanted them to take precautions in case Peter injured himself in the playground. ‘

The result was that many of the parents, fearful for their children, boycotted the school – and a quarter of the pupils were kept away. ‘I thought they were going to come and daub our house with a red cross,’ says Doreen. The couple were particularly worried that the disturbance would escalate and that Peter would be taken away from school. ‘Being haemophiliac, he can’t ever do manual labour. He desperately needs his education’, Norman explains.

However, after two public meetings and a talk at the school by an Aids expert, the outcry died down. Classes were back to normal after three weeks. Indeed, Doreen and Norman were impressed with the support they received. ‘The only time I got really depressed was when our dentist refused to continue treating any of us’, Doreen says. ‘But Peter’s friends went out of their way to play with him and invite ‘im round to tea. ‘ In addition, they felt the school eased a lot of the pressure during the trouble, installing a special assistant to allay parents’ fears and keep a watch on Peter.

Norman’s complaint is that, despite an impression to the contrary, there is no counselling and back-up system available to families of carriers. ‘It just doesn’t exist. We haven’t been offered anything unless we have gone out of our way to ask for it. ‘ ‘In a way, it was fortunate that the problem happened to us’, Doreen adds. ‘Peter was young, so it was not the emotional shock it would have been for somebody older. And because of his haemophilia, he has aways had to face up to the problem of being difficult. It could have happened to a less confident family. ‘ Both parents have been tested for Aids and been found antibody negative. It is reassuring to think that you can live in such close contact with someone without being contaminated. As far as Peter is concerned, he is bored with all the fuss. ‘

Their son’s predicament has had little effect on their day-to-day lives. They still kiss and cuddle him, and simply observe normal hygiene precautions. ‘We keep an eye on any health problems – but you would do that with any child. We are mindful of blood spillage and take extra care when injecting him, to avoid jabbing ourselves,’ Doreen explains. The only time she was scared was when Peter developed what she thought were the first signs of the virus swollen glands. It turned out to be mumps.

They have yet to face the greatest problems. They are worried, for instance, about his next school. ‘Parents will be involved who haven’t been before. But we have gone through the battle for his education, and that has laid the cornerstone for the next struggle’, Norman says. ‘Then there is the problem of girls,’ Doreen says. ‘I can envisage irate parents turning up on my doorstep when Peter gets to the stage of trying to kiss girls. And what will happen when he wants to marry and have children? All we can do is give him the information and support and ensure that he is honest. ‘

Always in their mind is the possibility that Peter might develop the full-blown Aids syndrome. ‘It makes me sick when people bang on about divine retribution, homosexuals and promiscuity’, Doreen says. ‘I think – what about a 10-year-old haemophiliac? If he develops the syndrome, we’ll cope. You can’t just crumble into a heap. ‘ (c) Times Newspapers Ltd, 1986

To most people, the public face of Sandy Gall is as an ITN newscaster. But he is equally a veteran war correspondent, having covered Vietnam, the Congo and Amin’s Uganda. And recently he returned from a perilous two months dodging Russian patrols in Afghanistan in search of the guerrilla leader Ahmed Shah Masud.

This was Gall’s third trip to Afghanistan and his second filming of Masud. He has also recorded how the Pashtuns, the majority tribe, were faring. This time, he wanted to see how Masud was progressing. ‘I wanted to go back because it is a disgrace that the fighting is still not being reported properly. After all, it is their Vietnam’, he says.

After waiting a month in Islamabad – ‘I hadn’t realised the high passes were snowbound and we physically couldn’t get across’ – Gall, along with an ex-army man and a cameraman, were smuggled over the Pakistani border with the help of the Mujahiden guerrillas. They were disguised in local shalwar (baggy trousers) and kameez (long shirts).

The trio entered Afghanistan in the north and spent two weeks trekking through Nuristan to the Panjsher Valley. They then went up to Takhar Province and northwards to Farkhar. For a country still at war, it was a remarkably incident-free trip.

The team twice drove in a captured Russian jeep. Otherwise they rode or walked across mountainous terrain in uninterrupted stints of 10 to 12 hours. Food was scarce and they survived on vast quantities of rice and tough goat – supplemented with their own supplies of bully beef, tinned sardines and tinned cheese.

When they found Masud in Farkhar, Gall discovered a remarkably able and well-organized commander who is still full of confidence. ‘He was half-way to becoming a Tito-type overall partisan leader and running the war very well in his own northeastern constituency. ‘

Masud was planning an attack on an Afghan army garrison of about 300 people, just north of Farkhar. It was heavily defended, with machine-gun posts on the surrounding hills.

On August 17, Masud attacked with heavy weaponry, including machine-guns and devastating BM12 multi-rocket launchers. The cameraman went into the thick of the action, and the battle footage should be spectacular. Masud claimed a major victory, finally overrunning the last post in a new attack 36 hours later.

Gall feels that Masud is making headway, but that he is an exception. There have been huge changes since his last visit. ‘The balance of power has shifted in favour of the Soviets and Afghan governmen,’ he says. The Russians have improved their tactics in the past two years and adapted conventional tank-fighting methods to guerrilla warfare in the mountainous country, employing more special Spetnaz forces to carry out strike operations.

‘In many areas the Mujahideen have been put under extreme pressure and some are very dispirited. But there is no suggestion they will give up, even if they are beaten to their knees. ‘

However, Gall is wary of generalization, pointing out that covering and assessing the war is almost impossible. ‘You have to walk or go on horseback, so you only get to see one area. You rely on other people’s reports. ‘ Still, he will attempt an assessment in a one-hour documentary on ITV in November – after considering the plight of the Afghan nation and profiling Masud.

Their ‘plight’ he says, is that one-third of the population (5 million people) are refugees in Pakistan and Iran. There are also swarms of internal refugees living with relatives in shanty towns or caves in the hills.

‘Guerrillas are a very elusive target, and so every day, Russians are carrying out atrocities and killing civilians. It is not reported because there is nobody there to do so.

In December it will be seven years since the Russians invaded. ‘It must rank as one of the great tragedies of the century, one of the most vicious wars and the biggest since the Second World War’, says Gall. ‘It shows no sign of letting up. ‘

Nor does Gall. The proceeds of the Boisdale Ball for Afghanistan on September 25 will be divided between Afghan Aid and the Sandy Gall Appeal, which supplies Afghans with artificial limbs.

When Vanessa, a battered wife for 10 years, met a battered husband, she found it difficult not to laugh. A year later, she takes the issue very seriously indeed. ‘I think it may be worse for men’, she says. ‘They aren’t likely to tell anyone and there isn’t a refuge for them to go to. ‘

These are the problems being addressed by Jenni Manners, co-ordinator of the Women’s Aid Centre, a refuge for battered women in Swindon, Wiltshire.

‘I was extremely puzzled when men started phoning asking for help. From 1980, three or four would ring a year’, she says. ‘But since 1985 I’ve taken about three dozen calls, mainly from the Swindon area. ‘

She suspects the incidence of violence perpetrated on husbands could be almost as prevalent as ‘wife bashing’ – itself the most unreported crime until the 1970s.

Can the phenomenon be accounted for by the growth of feminism, or has it always been around? Jenni Manners has no explanation for the sudden increase in calls from men, but decided to take some action. Earlier this year, a team from the centre went to visit the world’s only refuge for battered men in Vasteras, Sweden. There 15 people are involved in offering help on the telephone.

The team was impressed, and now the local Labour council is looking into funding a 24-hour help line and refuge for battered husbands in Swindon. The only problem is that the men who Jenni Manners has counselled are unwilling to be publicly involved in the project. So the scheme will be run by the women from the centre. Ironically, the male victims who call up often feel a woman would be more sympathetic.

The popular image of a battered husband is ridiculous. ‘People have this idea of a wimp of 5ft 2in being bashed by his 16-stone wife. Nothing could be further from the truth’, says Jenni Manners, fresh from advising a client of 6ft 4in who was beaten by his 5ft 4in wife. She has never counselled a male victim shorter than 5ft 8in. The violence ranges from kicking and scratching to stabbings with potato peelers and kitchen knives.

‘Kitchen implements and boiling water are favoured. But then I have seen a couple of men with fractured skulls. One was coshed with a brick while he was building a patio, and the other got whacked with a piece of wood after suggesting to his wife that they should see a marriage guidance counsellor. Ashamed to confess they are the victims of their wives’ assaults (and having no refuge), many men enter hospitals claming to have bumped into a door or dropped a kettle. Frequently no one beyond the immediate family will know what is really going on. When Jenni Manners sees the men – ‘occasionally in their homes, but more often on a park bench or in a pub’ – they often admit to a catalogue of injuries.

The men come from all walks of life. ‘It exists in every class, just as violence towards women does. It’s just that the higher up the social strata you go, the more ways there are to get out of the situation. ‘

She has counselled managing directors, solicitors, lorry drivers and policemen. Usually they are in their mid-30s to late 40s. ‘If there is any trait in common, it is that they are caring men – often exceeding the generally accepted male role in terms of looking after the kids – and they are respectful of women. ‘

Colin, a taxi driver, is one such example. Extremely reticent, he is 26 and looks 10 years older. (His wife, an office clerk, was 11 years his senior. ) He put up with his wife’s violence – which started just three months after they married – for six years. She would draw blood from him with her bare fists and sharp rings or hit him over the head with a frying pan.

‘Initially, I was quite shocked – I didn’t know what to do, because she used to go crazy – but I would never hit a woman’, he explains. The outbursts occurred bi-monthly and were, as with wife bashing, worse when his spouse had been drinking. Did he ever take steps to restrain her?

‘At first I did. I used to try to calm her down by talking to her, but that made no difference. Sometimes I sat her on the floor, but then she would re-attack when I was off my guard. ‘Jenni Manners confirms that restraining the assailants tends to increase them even more.

Colin got used to it. ‘I knew what to expect and found it easier just to let her get it over with. ‘

He could not make out why she did it. He simply knew that he was ‘frightened and didn’t have anywhere to go’, and that retaliating could have made things worse. He was also worried that it was his fault and that it would recur in another relationship. He did not tell anyone.

‘You’re ashamed of making a fool of yourself. People would think you were wet and not a proper man. ‘

He thought of notifying the police, but knew they dislike getting involved in domestic situations. ‘Help, my wife’s bashing me’, is likely to provoke ridicule. In Jenni Manners’s experience, those who have been to doctors are greeted with disbelief, followed by a prescription for tranquillizers.

Then by chance one day Colin picked up the once-battered Vanessa in his taxi – and moved out to live with her. His wife still comes around to terrorize him at Vanessa’s house, ‘out of jealousy, I think’. He found that an application for legal aid and an injunction met with derision. The court would think it was stupid, the lawyer said.

‘At least I’ve got to the stage now where I can tell people’, Colin says with relief.

Adam, a 36-year-old, 6ft fireman, endured his wife’s violence for 13 years before doing anything about it. He is now trying to ‘find himself’ through philosophy and psychology. ‘I would certainly hit back if a man attacked me,’ he says, ‘but I let her chuck bottles and plates, boiling water and hot dinners at me. ‘

Yet he maintains that he thought this was normal. ‘I don’t consider it a violent marriage, I thought all marriages were like that. ‘

‘Lots of men don’t see it as violence’, says Jenni Manners, ‘because deep down they feel that if the need arises, they can defend themselves by holding the woman down’.

Things came to a head when he was at home, having contracted cancer. Violent episodes started to occur as often as three times a week.

‘In the process of that strained couple of years, we had a role reversal – I was very happy to look after the kids and she returned to her job as a lab technician. I think she felt threatened in her role as a woman – and that manifested itself in further violence. It was her way of getting what she needed. It became too much – and she said she was leaving. ‘ He agreed on condition that she left the children.

The tendency on dissolution is to award home and children to the wife. Jenni explains that many of the men she has counselled fear that if they leave home, the violence will then be transferred to the children. The majority of men she has advised have been awarded custody.

It wasn’t until Adam sought Jenni’s advice – at the suggestion of a close friend in the social services – that he realized all his rights and the true extent of the violence in his marriage.

The help Jenni gives is recognition and support, with some guidance on legal and housing rights. It’s what these victims of the opposite sex want. ‘The men want to know that they’re not alone in their problem. Accommodation isn’t such a consideration. It’s easier for them just to walk out. ‘

The way things are going, Jenni expects to get a lot more calls from men. The calls always start: ‘I don’t know if you’ll want to talk to me. I’ve got a very strange problem ..’