It's All About Him (15 page)

Lisa rummaged in the drawers for a minute, muttering something about grannies and then pulled out some camisoles and vest tops. 'Ah, now, this is more like it.'

'I can't wear one of them, it's March,' Dee protested.

'You're in a studio under very hot lights,' Lisa retorted, 'you'll be roasting. This is the one.' She held up a silky chocolate brown camisole that would look great against Dee's creamy complexion and dark brown eyes. 'And you can borrow my boots.'

Dee looked up. 'You've only just bought them.' Lisa had shown her the fabulous, knee-high, brown leather boots and even she knew they were gorgeous.

'Yes,' Lisa agreed, 'and if you get a mark on them I will murder you.'

'You won't have to,' Dee said solemnly, 'I'll kill myself.'

'Now, what jewellery have you got?'

Dee looked blank.

'You need something colourful for around your neck,' Lisa prompted, 'or maybe some dangly earrings or a flashy bangle.'

'I don't have anything like that—' She stopped.

'What?'

'I have some stuff that belonged to my mother.' Dee went to the wardrobe and pulled an ancient jewellery box from a top shelf. 'I haven't looked in here for years but I'm pretty sure it's all just costume jewellery.'

Lisa pounced on it. 'Sounds perfect.' Her face lit up like a child at the ropes of crystal and pearls, a necklace of pink stones – 'What are they?'

Dee shrugged. 'Probably just glass.'

And then Lisa found a long gold chain with blue stones and a matching bracelet.

'This is perfect.'

'It is?' Dee looked at the pieces. They were pretty enough but nothing special.

'The stones will match your skirt and the gold will liven up the brown top.' She arranged the outfit on the bed and Dee had to admit it did look kind of funky.

'We just need to sort out your hair and make-up and you're ready.'

'The producer said they'll do my make-up.'

'You lucky thing! I'd kill to be made up by a professional make-up artist.'

'You could always take my place,' Dee volunteered.

Lisa grinned. 'Not a chance! Now, your hair.' She tugged at the band that was holding Dee's ponytail in place and fluffed her hair around her face. 'Yes, that's better, but it's a pity you don't have time for a trim; it's not in great condition.'

'Thanks.'

But Lisa wasn't listening. She went to the phone by the bed and dialled.

'Who are you calling?'

Lisa grinned. 'A friend.' She turned away from Dee and spoke into the phone.

'Lou? It's Lisa. Listen, I need a really big favour. My friend is going on the telly in a couple of hours and she badly needs your help.' She listened. 'Great!' She gave the girl directions and then put down the phone. 'She'll be here in thirty minutes.'

Dee's eyes widened. 'Was that Lou as in Louise Mulvaney from Short Cut?'

Lisa nodded. 'The very one, she's dating my cousin and the most obliging girl you've ever met.'

'But isn't she busy?'

'Don't worry, it's her day off,' Lisa explained.

Dee laughed and hugged her friend. 'You are amazing!'

Lisa looked at her watch. 'I doubt Martha would agree, I'd better get back downstairs.'

'Oh, has she been on her own all of this time?'

Lisa looked at her crossly. 'As if I'd leave her alone with eight children, what do you take me for? I asked Paula next door to come in and paint with the older children while I sorted you out.'

'Sorry.'

Lisa swatted her friend on the bum and headed for the door. 'Don't let it happen again.'

'Lisa? Thanks.'

Lisa blew her a kiss. 'Just remember me when you're rich and famous.'

When she was alone, Dee turned again to look at the outfit on the bed. It was the most feminine outfit she'd worn in years and she just hoped she could carry it off.

Louise, true to her word, turned up thirty minutes later and walked around and around Dee.

'I know, it's in an awful state,' Dee apologized. 'I've been meaning to make an appointment but I'm just so busy.'

Lou grinned. 'Don't worry, we'll have you looking like a star in no time.'

'I'd settle for presentable,' Dee laughed nervously. The last thing she wanted was some ornate, complicated hairdo that would make her even more uncomfortable and nervous. She cringed as Louise picked up bits of her hair, gathered them together, stood back and looked at her, frowning in concentration. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

'Right.' Louise smiled. 'I think I've got it.'

Dee tried to smile. 'Do you?' she croaked.

'Yes. I think you should wear your hair loose but we'll take about an inch off so it just rests on your shoulders. Also, it's too severe the way you pull it back off your face.'

'I did have a fringe but it's grown out.'

'Yes, well, we'll bring it back again, but not a heavy fringe or you'll look like Cher. I'll feather it to frame your face, how does that sound?'

'Great!' Dee smiled, relieved that she wasn't going to end up with a beehive.

Two hours later, she was on her way to the studio in a chauffeur-driven Mercedes with a soft leather interior. She clutched her notes on her lap but reading them had made her feel queasy and she was terrified she'd throw up all over her lovely outfit or, worse, Lisa's boots. The phone hadn't stopped ringing before she left with Ronan, Conor, Zoe and Vi all calling to wish her luck. She was on her way out the door when she realized she hadn't told Aunt Pauline and the woman would be infuriated if she heard about it after the event.

'I'll call her,' Lisa said, propelling her out towards the car. 'What about Neil?'

Dee looked at her blankly and Lisa smiled. 'Well, there's hope for you yet. You hadn't even thought of him, had you?'

'No,' Dee admitted, 'I hadn't.'

'Good.' Lisa hugged her tightly and only let go when Sam came hurtling down the path and threw himself at Dee.

'Good luck, Mummy, good luck.'

Dee sank to her knees, gathered him into her arms, and buried her face in his neck.

'Thank you, sweetheart.'

'We're going to record it so you can watch yourself later,' he told her importantly.

Dee rolled her eyes. 'Great, I can't wait.'

Now, as the car swung through the gates of the television studio, the butterflies in her stomach took flight. Stuffing her notes into her bag she waited until the car came to a halt in front of a doorway and mumbled an embarrassed thank-you when the driver rushed around to open the door for her.

'Good luck, love,' he said with a kind smile.

'Cheers,' Dee said gratefully and went inside to be met by an attractive middle-aged woman who smiled and held out her hand. 'Dee? I'm Carolyn Maher.'

Dee shook it. 'Hi.'

'You're not related to Bono, are you?'

'Sorry, no.'

Carolyn laughed. 'Never mind. I'm so glad you could make it, I think this is going to be a very interesting piece and we're sure to get lots of phone calls.'

Dee nodded dumbly.

'I'll take you down to make-up although' – she scanned Dee's clear complexion, large dark eyes and wide mouth – 'you don't really need it.'

'Thanks.' Dee followed her down the narrow corridors and wished she could come up with something witty or intelligent to say but she couldn't. It didn't bode well for the show.

They came to a tiny room with a large mirror and three chairs in front of it. A plump, blonde girl was setting out palettes of colours on a side table and she looked up and smiled when Carolyn and Dee walked in. 'Hi.'

'Pat, this is Dee Hewson.'

'You can sit here.' The girl indicated the chair in the centre and Dee sat down.

'You can watch the show on that,' Carolyn pointed to the monitor, 'and we'll come and get you in about ten minutes. Can I get you some water?'

Dee shook her head dumbly. She could do with a drink but then she was afraid she might need to use the loo when they were going on air. No, she'd do without a drink. She licked her lips nervously and watched in amazement as Pat transformed her into a sophisticated and, if she did say so herself, rather pretty woman.

Pat chattered on about make-up, the show, the weather and holidays and Dee knew she replied but she couldn't remember afterwards what she actually said. Pat was just applying lip gloss when Carolyn returned.

'Don't you look gorgeous? That eye-shadow is fabulous, Pat.'

'It's nice, isn't it? I've been meaning to try it out for a while but it only really works well on wide-set eyes.' She appraised her handiwork critically. 'I think it will look good on camera.'

Dee thought she looked a bit like a panda but she thanked the girl anyway and followed Carolyn down more corridors and into another small, dark room.

'They're just going to an ad break and then you can go in. I'll introduce you to Marge Preston, our presenter, and the three other guests and then you'll be on in three.'

Dee nodded but said nothing.

'Are you going to be okay?' Carolyn asked, giving her an anxious look.

Dee nodded again and then mumbled an affirmative.

'Just remember what you've come to talk about,' Carolyn advised kindly. 'From what I've read about you, it's something you feel strongly about.'

'Yes — yes, it is.'

'And this is your opportunity to talk to thousands of parents out there and persuade them that they can feed their children healthier options. It's only a twenty-minute slot, Dee, and there are four other people in that studio. If you want to get your message across you're going to have to speak up loudly and clearly and not be intimidated by the other guests.'

For the first time, Dee looked through the window at the people already seated on each side of the presenter and gulped. There was a well-known male journalist who was always on the TV slamming one thing or another; a TV chef – surely she would be on Dee's side? – and another woman whom Dee didn't recognize. She was about to ask Carolyn who she was when the 'on air' light went off and Carolyn was ushering her into the studio.

'Marge, this is Dee Hewson.'

'Oh, any relation to Bono?'

'No, I—'

'Dee, if you sit over there next to John.'

Dee took her place beside the journalist and smiled nervously at him. 'Hi.'

He gave her a brief nod and went back to looking at his notes.

'And this is Polly Underwood.'

The chef waved and smiled at Dee. 'Hi.'

Dee smiled back.

'And this is Ann Baker, junior minister for agriculture and food.'

Dee's ears pricked up. 'Hello.' She nodded politely at the older woman. Ann inclined her head regally.

'Okay, folks, back on air in thirty seconds,' someone called and Dee swallowed hard.

'Right, people,' Marge said, 'I'll introduce this piece by reading a quote from the article in the
Daily Journal
where Dee slams the standard of food labelling in Ireland. Then, Dee, I will come to you and after that I will invite comments from the rest of the panel. If we have time, we'll take some viewers' questions.' She stared into the monitor. 'And that, as they say, will be that. Are we all ready?'

'Five seconds,' yelled the disembodied voice.

Marge smiled into the camera. 'Welcome back. Joining me now is a lady who doesn't believe in chicken nuggets or cola, who won't give her child sweets and who has some very strong views on the labelling of food; particularly food which is aimed at children.' Marge read an excerpt from the newspaper article and then turned to smile at Dee. 'Welcome, Dee Hewson.'

'Thank you.' Dee managed a small smile.

'Dee, tell me, what made you decide to ban processed food from your home?'

'I wouldn't say that I banned it, exactly, but when my son started to get sick I realized that food had a large part to play in both the cause and the prevention.'

Marge nodded. 'Explain that to me.'

'Well, my son was diagnosed with both eczema and asthma just before he turned three. I did a lot of research into both conditions and I discovered that a healthy diet and an elimination of processed foods would help him.'

'Are we just talking about sweets and fizzy drinks, Dee?'

'No, not at all. I'm talking about any processed food and yes, that includes fish fingers.'

Madge's eyes widened. 'But fish fingers are the staple food of most of the kids in the country.'

Dee nodded. 'And for most kids that's okay, in moderation, but I would still suggest that parents read the labels carefully before they buy if they want to be confident their kids are getting a reasonably healthy meal.'

'Why, what kind of things should they be looking for? Give me an example.'

'In the case of fish fingers, buy ones that state there are no added colourants or preservatives, that are low in fat and low in salt,' Dee ticked the items off on her fingers, 'and if they don't mention any of these things on the front of the packet, don't buy them.'

'That seems a bit over the top, if you don't mind me saying so.' Marge smirked at her other guests.

Dee bristled. 'Not really. It's a very competitive market and if the producer has something to brag about you can bet it will be on the front of the packet. By the same token, I would always suggest that you read the full list of ingredients. If the writing is tiny, it's usually not a good sign.'

'What other things get your back up, Dee?' Marge asked.

Dee put her head on one side. 'Salt is a real problem in our diet and I think it's ridiculous that some labels talk about sodium and some talk about salt when it's not the same thing and their recommended daily allowances are different.'

Marge looked confused. 'I don't understand.'

'Not many people do, that's the problem. To get the salt content of food you need to multiply the sodium figure by 2.5. Our RDA—'

'Sorry?'

'Recommended daily allowance, that's basically what we should be having per day and the RDA of salt is 6 grams. It's a lot less than that for small children. Now some labels show salt content and some show sodium content and it's very confusing.'

'I have to interrupt here,' the politician said, with a patronizing smile. 'We've run a major advertising campaign telling people about the dangers of salt and it's been hugely successful.'