The Cinderella Reflex (12 page)

“And, er … did you ask the fortune teller to call in too?” Andrea asked.

“No! I wasn’t expecting either of them! Or Cindy, whoever she is. But look, hands up. I should have been able to handle the situation no matter what was thrown at me. As I keep saying, being on air is just not me.”

“You’re being way too hard on yourself!” Andrea protested. “Everybody makes mistakes the first time they try something. It’s just that yours was very visible, and that makes it harder. But, if we’re to believe Helene about our falling listenership, not that many people will have heard it anyway.”

“But the people who mattered heard it. Helene. Richard Armstrong. Jack McCabe. But on the bright side,” Sara said, “there was a very good reaction to Grandma Rosa – loads of people were ringing in for her number.”

“Really?” Tess brightened. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad once she’d faced the wrath of Ollie and Helene.

But, back at the station, as the time came and went for the programme meeting there was no sign of either Helene or Ollie. Tess’s dark thoughts returned. They were probably having a summit meeting about this morning’s fiasco. She tried to concentrate on her work but the time crawled by. She was delighted when Andrea swung by on her way home.

“I have an hour before my train leaves if you want to talk about it some more?”

“Great!” Tess gathered her things. “Where?”

“The pub?” Andrea flashed her a sympathetic look.

But Tess’s hopes of a quiet drink were dashed almost as soon as she walked back into Ryan’s bar. She was carrying drinks down to their table when she caught a glimpse of Helene, partially hidden by a marble pillar, and perched on a bar stool.

Tess tiptoed by and had just reached her table, congratulating herself on passing by unseen, when Helen’s voice cracked after her like a whip.

“
Tess Morgan!
”

She turned to see Helene lurching unsteadily towards their table.

“Here comes trouble,” Andrea muttered as Tess hastily sat down.

Tess frowned as Helene came closer. Two patches of bright red flushed her cheeks and her eyes were glazed as if she was having trouble focussing. She seemed drunk. But Helene was far too much of a control freak for that to happen at this stage of the early evening.

Seconds later, as Helene banged her glass of wine so hard onto the table that it spilt over the top, Tess had to hastily revise her opinion. She grabbed some tissues out of her bag and mopped at the blood-red wine.

“Helene, why don’t you sit down and join us?” Andrea said coolly.

Helene slumped into a seat and peered at Tess over the rim of her glass. “So this is where you’ve got to. You storm out of the studio leaving me to deal with your mess. And here you are – drinking!”

Tess raised her eyebrows. Kettles calling pots black came to her mind, but she thought she should at least make it clear that she had spent the afternoon at the station. She opened her mouth to speak but Helene raised an imperious hand.

“Save it, Tess. I’ve given you every opportunity to better yourself. I gave you your own
on-airslot
for God’s sake. But you not only made a mess of it, you walked out on your mistakes as well. And that,” she grabbed her glass and took a big gulp, “is a heinous crime in my book.”

Tess stifled a giggle. A heinous crime indeed. What would Helene call a mass murder?

Helene surveyed her suspiciously. “Do you think it’s funny?”

“No.” Tess bit her lip.

“Did you know that caller was actually Jack McCabe?”

“No! How could I have known that?” Tess was indignant. “Sara told us at lunchtime. Before that I didn’t have a clue.”

“Did you know?” Helene turned to Andrea.

Andrea shook her head.

Helene looked at Tess malevolently. “He was probably putting us through some sort of test. One that we’ve obviously failed. Thanks to you!”

“But why would he do something like that?” Tess asked a bit desperately. She thought of what Sara had said earlier. “Was it some sort of market research, do you think?”

“How the hell do I know?” Helene snapped. “The point is you should have been prepared to talk off the cuff to callers. You were billed as an Agony Aunt of the Airwaves for God’s sake!”

“I didn’t think
any
callers were ringing in today,” Tess pointed out. “I thought I was simply reading a script.”

“And she didn’t know he was Jack McCabe when she asked him to ring in!” Andrea said in support.

Helene swivelled around and glared at Tess. “You
asked
Jack McCabe to ring in? And you didn’t tell me?” Her voice rose incredulously. “Didn’t you just say you didn’t know who he was?”

“I asked a random stranger to ring in – I didn’t know who he was at the time. And in the end I told him not to bother!” Tess desperately tried to explain. “If I’d known he was Jack McCabe I wouldn’t even have spoken to him.”

“Where did you meet him?” Helene asked suspiciously.

“At that fortune teller’s. Grandma Rosa’s.”

“Grandma Rosa? So you invited that old bat to ring in today too! The one looking for her own slot?”

“No!” Tess said quickly. “I had no idea she was going to ring. Or Cindy either!”

“Well, at least I knew about Cindy.” Helene lifted her glass and drank deeply.

“You knew about Cindy?” Andrea raised her eyebrows.

“Well, I didn’t know what she was going to say. Richard said he’d set someone up to help Tess out – and to give the slot a kick-start. Not that it matters now.” She stared moodily into her drink.

“It’s clear I’m not cut out for being on-air,” Tess offered. She swung her satchel onto her shoulder, preparing for an early exit.

“You can say that again,” Helene responded bitterly. “What you did,” she narrowed her eyes across the table at Tess, “is a sackable offence!”

“Excuse me?” Tess was dumbfounded. First it was a ‘heinous crime’ and now this? Helene was obviously even drunker than she looked.

“Not being properly prepared for your work. Walking out of studio.” Helene stared at the drink in front of Tess. “Drinking!”

Tess looked at Helene’s wineglass pointedly. “It’s five thirty, Helene. We’re entitled to have a drink if we want to.”

“Maybe we’ve all had a bit too much to drink,” said Andrea.

“Yes,” Tess agreed. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Why did you tell Cindy to dump her lover?” Helene asked abruptly.

“I just said the first thing that came into my head!” Tess stopped short, remembering what Sara had said about Helene having an affair with Richard. Did she think Tess had known about the affair and was making fun of her? “Helene, I would never assume to know what other people should do with their lives,” she said hesitantly. “That’s why I was so worried about taking up the agony-aunt slot in the first place.”

“You can cut the Little Miss Innocent act,” Helene snapped. “I know what you must think about me and Richard. What everyone thinks. But that’s not the point. The real issue here is that you walked out of studio. I just don’t know if I can trust you again, Tess.”

“I didn’t know anything about you and Richard,” Tess began but felt a sharp jab as Andrea’s elbow made contact with her ribs. She bit her lip to stop herself from saying any more. But suddenly she was sick of it all. Of being scapegoated by Ollie when things went wrong, of being hounded by Helene to produce better results, of trying in vain to get validation for her efforts from either of them. But none of it had worked.

“It’s true. I
can’t
trust you any more, Tess.” Helene obviously hadn’t finished with her yet.

Tess slumped back down in her seat, defeated. She’d just have to wait for the onslaught to pass.

“Which is why,” Helene knocked back the rest of her wine in one gulp, “I’m going to have to let you go. I’ll have to find someone else to do the slot.”

“Oh, hang on a minute!” Andrea intervened.

But Tess felt a wave of relief sweep over her. She was dismayed at how much of a flop she had been but at least now she wouldn’t have to go through it all again next week. She could concentrate on the job she had and hope she kept it when the takeover happened.

“No argument,” Helene said. “I’m letting you go. And from being producer on
This Morning
too. I am going to give Sara the opportunity, see what she makes of it. You can have her job if you like. But that means Sara will be your boss so I’ll understand if you want to consider your options.”

“You can’t be serious?” Tess couldn’t keep the dismay out of her voice.

“You can’t just demote someone in a pub!” Andrea gave Helene a warning look. “Especially after you’ve had a bit to drink.”

Helene twisted her head to look at Andrea, and Tess realised she was about to turn on her too.

“Leave it, Andrea.” Tess turned to face Helene. “Do you think it’s pleasant working for you, Helene? Someone whose moods change like the weather? Someone who likes to dish out the blame but can’t face up to their own part in things?” Her voice rose, a well of suppressed feelings suddenly exploding inside her. “And do you think I studied my arse off in college to sit listening to people phoning me in with problems I do not have
any
idea how to solve?”

“If that’s how you feel, you’re clearly in the wrong job, because that is exactly what I needed you to do,” Helene retorted. “So if you don’t want to work under Sara, consider yourself sacked.”

“That’s constructive dismissal,” Andrea said quickly. “It’s – er – illegal.”

“I’m glad you can find something constructive about today.” Helene gave them both the benefit of a glassy smile.

Tess stood up shakily.

“Tess!” Andrea put her hand on Tess’s arm. “Sit down,” she commanded. “We can work this out. Helene! Please!”

But Helene had a stubborn set to her mouth and didn’t look in the mood to change her mind.

Tess brushed off Andrea’s hand and made for the exit, half expecting Helene to call her back, to tell her that the whole thing had got out of hand and they would talk about it again tomorrow.

But she reached the door and Helene had still made no move to stop her. She pushed it open and blinked into the early evening. A fine drizzle of rain had started. She stepped out onto the pavement, bending her head against the misty droplets. She could hardly believe what had just happened. She was out of Atlantic 1FM.

Chapter Eight

Helene stretched out on a day bed at Spa Fantastic, propped up on a giant cushion. With all the drama at work she had almost forgotten about her
Ten Years Younger
project. Sara had texted her late last night to remind her she was booked into the hotel today and she was glad to get away for a couple of days. But now that she was actually here, it all felt a bit spooky.

She had read up on all the latest treatments available and, frankly, they sounded terrifying – ranging from needles being stuck in your face to chemical peels that would leave your complexion raw and red for days before the new, younger skin would allegedly put in an appearance. So, she’d opted for all the pain-free treatments instead.

She looked around the room, at the dimmed lights and flickering candles. Multi-coloured tropical fish were swimming aimlessly from one end of a huge aquarium to the other and weird whale music spilled from the speakers on the wall. The other six loungers, resplendent with huge white cushions and fluffy comfort blankets, were empty.

Helene’s nerves were still frayed over the Agony Aunt of the Airwaves debacle, and the fact that she had somehow managed to sack Tess. She didn’t want to think about it but the silence at the spa was unnerving. She pulled out her mobile to see if she had any messages. She half expected to see a text from Tess, asking for her job back. That would have allowed her to agree magnanimously and everything could be back to normal before anyone realised anything about it. But there were no new messages.

She felt someone standing behind her and looked up to see the manager, shaking his head reprovingly at her phone.

“What?” she snapped. “Are you afraid it will disturb the fish?” She shoved the phone into the pocket of her fluffy robe, pressed her head back into the cushion, and ordered herself to relax. This was her chance to get de-stressed, detoxed and distracted from the toxic atmosphere at work and she wasn’t going to waste it.

So far she’d had a Reiki session, a Hopi ear candle treatment and was now waiting to get something called a Sole to Soul holistic experience, which involved a foot massage and some weird chanting. Sara had organised it, but how it was supposed to make her look ten years younger was anyone’s guess. And the real irony, Helene reflected ruefully, was that she now felt about a hundred instead of forty.

She felt so wound-up that when she closed her eyes, instead of visualising a perfect white Caribbean beach, as the therapist had instructed her to do earlier, all she could see was the agony-aunt slot playing across her mind like an unwanted film.

How had it all happened, Helene wondered, giving her shoulders a little shake. How had she, Helene Harper, self-confessed control freak, let it all happen? She cast her mind back over the sequence of events. First up, there had been the call from Cindy. Helene had been expecting her to call, was waiting to plug her through to Tess. But when she had heard her ‘problem’– which mirrored her own life so neatly – she had been dumbstruck.

It had been Richard’s idea to use Cindy in the first place. Helene’s eyes narrowed as she tried to piece it all together.

The night before the agony-aunt slot was due to air she and Richard had finally got some time together. It was the first uninterrupted evening they had spent together since all the changes had taken place at work and Helene had been determined to make the most of it. Richard had dropped in to her apartment unexpectedly around seven and, naturally, they had gone straight to bed. Richard had been ebullient, she remembered, giddily optimistic about the future. Afterwards, he had been all over Helene, even insisting on cooking for her. He had whisked up his speciality dish of linguine pasta with asparagus sauce, which Helene had interpreted as a very encouraging gesture indeed.