The Cinderella Reflex (17 page)

“Good luck with everything,” he said as he left.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said shyly.

She walked over to her bay window and watched him drive away. Funny, he hadn’t seemed like the psycho-stalker she’d thought he was, after all. He had been perfectly pleasant today. Funny even. She found herself wishing she could get to know him better. But he was bound to have a partner already, probably a go-getter like himself. He’d hardly be interested in a hippy drifter like her.

She switched on her mobile and rang Andrea who was all agog with the news that Jack had bought the station.

“You should have been there when the woman – Paulina her name is – I think she and Jack might be an item actually – anyway, when she said they were launching the contest to find a new star Ollie went mental! I think he might have been drunk. Now, it seems Atlantic will definitely go national later this year. Tess, you have to ring Helene and get back in here before you leave it too late!”

Tess glanced at the framed caricature of herself. She already felt ridiculous for spinning such a web of lies to Jack.

“I think I already have, Andrea.”

Chapter Eleven

“So what are you going to do now?” Andrea asked anxiously.

“Get another job?” Tess shrugged. They were chatting over a coffee and Tess had filled Andrea in on Jack’s astonishing visit.

“Where, though?” Andrea persisted.

“I don’t know.
Somewhere.
Atlantic 1FM isn’t the only employer in the world, you know. Look at Chris Conroy and how well he’s doing for himself.”

“Chris?” Andrea couldn’t hide her surprise. “You’re hoping you’ll get a job like
his
?”

“Hey, I got
better
results than he did in college!” Tess said defensively.

“And then you went rambling around the world,” Andrea reminded her, “while he devoted himself to his career!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Tess didn’t need reminding of the ten-year gap on her CV just now.

“I’m just saying that maybe you should have more realistic expectations. What about that reunion he emailed us about – it’s next week, in Dublin? I can’t make it, but you should go. It would be a good place to start networking.”

“I’m a bit reluctant though because, well, you remember what happened between myself and Chris.”

“You and Chris broke up years ago,” Andrea reminded her.

“I know. But I wasn’t planning on meeting up with him again in this lifetime.”

Andrea was well aware of how badly Tess had taken the break-up. What she didn’t know though was that Tess had developed a habit of checking up on Chris afterwards. Devouring his newspaper articles online, reading his blog – and, since she’d been home, analysing his performances on radio and television in a mildly compulsive way. In fact, she had been telling herself she needed to stop when she had received his email about the reunion.

“Look, there’ll be other people at the reunion besides Chris Conroy,” Andrea pointed out. “People who might help you to find another job. And meeting Chris again might mean you’ll finally get over him – leave you free to meet someone else.”

“I am over him. So, what if everyone at the reunion has heard about the agony-aunt fiasco?”

“Come on! This is Killty we’re living in. And if Helene Harper’s histrionics are anything to go by, we must only have about ten listeners by now.”

“That’s true.” Tess started to relax.

“So, that’s it then.” Andrea was matter of fact. “You’re going to go to the reunion and network like crazy and I’m going to pitch for my own show.”

“I can help with that if you like,” Tess offered. “Now that I’m at a loose end.”

“Would you? It would be a great help. Thanks!” Andrea smiled. “So can you tell me any more about Jack McCabe?”

“Only what you know already – he seems really keen to get started and he has big plans for Atlantic.” She didn’t want to talk about Jack McCabe. She didn’t want to let slip that she’d felt so attracted to him. It wasn’t as if anything could ever come of it, since he seemed to be with his glamorous PR woman.

A week later, Tess was standing in a dressing room in a shop off Grafton Street wearing a short red shift dress and skyscraper heels. The reunion had seemed like a good idea when she and Andrea had been talking about networking and re-inventing yourself and
yadda yadda ya
. But now that she was in Dublin, in an over-bright changing room, it felt different. Wrong somehow.

“It’s perfect.” The sales assistant was nodding approvingly.

The venue for the reunion was a five-star hotel and Tess simply didn’t have anything suitable to wear in her wardrobe. This dress looked vaguely glamorous. She wasn’t sure about it, but then she always felt awkward out of her jeans. Well, she wouldn’t have to wear it after tonight. She paid with her credit card and made her way back to the hotel where she’d checked in overnight. She felt slightly paranoid that she might run into Chris if she stayed in the main shopping thoroughfare, so she spent the best part of the afternoon in the hotel’s swimming pool, doing fast lengths to work off some of her nervous energy.

By the time she got back to her room she was feeling a lot calmer and more optimistic. Wrapped in the complimentary white robe she’d found in the bathroom, she sat on the bed and pulled out a photograph. It had been snapped in London, shortly before she and Chris had broken up. Tess remembered it as a golden weekend, where they had done shamelessly touristy things, getting on the London Eye and even taking a city bus tour, which seemed to mortify Chris but he’d gone along with it because Tess had been so insistent. She had given her camera to an obliging passer-by in Hyde Park. She still looked like the hippy student she had been way back then – same untamed frizzy hair, same casual wardrobe of jeans and jumpers. Chris, she knew from watching him on TV, looked even better now. He had filled out, looked more mature. Wore way better suits.

Maybe Andrea was right. Maybe she needed to get Chris out of her system once and for all so she could stop obsessing about what might have been? In her years of monitoring him, his Facebook status had changed with startling regularity – from ‘
Single’
to
‘
In a relationship’
to ‘
Still looking’
.
Once he’d even written
In an open relationship’
, but Tess assumed that was a joke. Now he’d updated it again – this time to ‘
It’s complicated’
.

Since they had broken up, she’d had plenty of romances, but they had been short-lived relationships, which she ended whenever she thought they were in danger of becoming something more.

Maybe that was because Chris had hurt her all those years ago, as Andrea had been hinting. And maybe meeting him tonight might lead to closure for her after all?

She got ready in a flurry. She didn’t want to spend any more time soul-searching and she headed down to the reunion early and chose a seat which gave her a vantage spot to keep an eye on the door.

She wriggled onto the bar stool, trying to get comfortable. The dress felt a little too tight and a little too short now. And if she attempted to walk far in her sky-high heels, she mused, she’d probably go flying across the floor. Still, there was probably no need to venture far from the bar.

She ordered a vodka and tonic, and tried to stop worrying. She had lost touch with practically everyone from college and felt a bit guilty now that the only reason she was here was because she had lost her job. She spotted her reflection in the mirror running below the long row of upended spirit bottles opposite her. She’d spent yesterday afternoon at Veronica’s Cuts in Killty’s main street. The salon was most definitely
not
at the cutting edge of hair design. Tess’s hair was still brown and still frizzy, just a little shorter. In fact, after spending so long in the swimming pool this afternoon, it was frizzier than ever. She pushed her hand through her shorn locks, trying to get it to sit straight.

“Tess Morgan! Look at you!”

Startled out of her reverie by a familiar voice, Tess swirled around.

“Katie Lawlor!” Smiling widely, she stood up to greet her old friend.

She needn’t have worried that she mightn’t recognise people after all. Katie looked much like she did when she’d last seen her, only a bit older. The same straw-blonde hair whipped around her freckled face, and her wide green eyes still crinkled when she smiled. She even had the same dress style. Tonight she was wearing a floral maxi and skyscraper platforms. Within minutes Tess discovered that Katie was now a divorced detective.

“A detective? How did that happen?” Tess asked amazed.

“I went on to study criminology and that became my passion.” Katie shrugged.

Elaine Seymour was next to arrive – she was working as a medical journalist. And then a whole batch of people arrived together and they were all swept up in the excitement of hearing each other’s news. Jerry Healy was now a balding book publisher; Shay Murphy had put on at least two stone, worked as a news editor and had two children.

Everyone seemed well established in their careers and Tess was feeling bad about her own jobless status when Elaine suddenly said, “And you’re an agony aunt, Tess.” She smiled at the expression on Tess’s face. “My aunt lives in Killty – and she remembered we were friends back in the day.”

Tess’s fingers tightened on her glass.

Katie gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re an agony aunt? Remind me to tell you about a few of my problems when we get a chance.” She threw back her head and laughed and Tess had to smile, despite the tension building up inside her.

She cleared her throat to explain how she didn’t work in Atlantic 1FM any more but the collective attention of the group was suddenly diverted elsewhere. Tess followed their gaze and her pulse quickened. Chris Conroy had arrived. She watched as people shifted slightly as he passed, moving automatically to allow him through. He’d always had that quality, she thought. Something intangible which marked him out as different. Something people recognised and responded to.

Tess had often wondered how she’d feel when she finally saw him again in the flesh. He was certainly as good-looking as ever. His blondish hair was thinner than she remembered, with a few streaks of grey already showing around his temples, but he was tanned and fit-looking, and had a certain joie de vivre etched into his craggy features.

“Sorry I’m late, folks!” He grabbed a seat and ordered a beer. “I got called in at the last minute to do a live TV link. That’s why I’m so overdressed.” He looked down at his formal navy suit and sharp white shirt with self-deprecation.

“It must be great being a celebrity, Chris,” Katie said slyly, but any irony was entirely lost on Chris.

Within minutes he had become the centre of attention, regaling their small group with tales of his derring-do. They sat riveted, their own achievements dwarfed by his tales of assignments in war-torn countries, the big political stories he’d broken, even a near-death experience he’d allegedly had at the hands of the Taliban. Tess felt certain he was embellishing events, but no one seemed to mind. Another effect Chris had on people.

“Tess Morgan.” Finally he seemed to notice her. “Agony Aunt of the Airwaves. I tuned in to Atlantic 1FM on the internet and there was our Tess, solving the problems of the nation,” He unfurled himself from the bar stool he was straddling and moved closer to Tess.

Katie, knowing their history, turned to talk to Elaine.

“So, tell me, what’s this Jack McCabe really like?” Chris asked.

“I hardly know Jack McCabe,” Tess said primly.

He leaned in closer, and lowered his voice, “I often wondered about you, Tess, and how life had treated you after we split up.” His voice was soft. “I always harboured a vague hope that we might be friends again someday, but you seemed to go completely off the radar after college. Did you ever think of me?”

“Not that you’d notice.” Tess gave a small shrug.

Chris gave a rueful smile. “I wouldn’t mind but Naomi and I barely lasted five minutes after I broke up with you.”

“Naomi? Her name was Claire.”

“It was?” He looked perplexed. “Well, anyway. We don’t want to waste time on that old story. Let’s talk about you, Tess. So how did you get into radio then?”

For a moment, he looked so genuinely interested that Tess toyed with the idea of telling him the long version. About arriving home after years of travelling, desperate to put down some roots. About Andrea getting her into Atlantic 1FM but that it hadn’t exactly worked out and about how she was sacked and … but she guessed Chris would be bored with all the details.

“I’ve, er … moved on from Atlantic now.”

“Moved on?” Chris frowned. “But I heard you just recently.”

“Yes, well, that was my last day actually.”

“It was?” He was puzzled. “I thought the presenter said it was your debut slot?”

“It was. It was my first and last slot.” She swallowed a large mouthful of vodka.

“Why did you leave?” Chris looked at her intently. “Did you get a better job? At a bigger radio station? What?”

Tess smiled. “None of those things. I’ve just told you. I’ve moved on from Atlantic.”

“But moved on to where?” he asked patiently.

“Well, to nowhere in particular … I haven’t got another job yet. I’m examining my options.”

“You’ve got options? In these times?” Chris raised an eyebrow.

She felt a stab of resentment. How many times had
he
switched jobs to get to where he was now, she wanted to ask him? Plenty of times, according to the stories of adventure and success he’d just been regaling them all with.

“I felt I had gone as far as I could go there, really.” That sounds right, Tess thought, pleased. It was the sort of comment that an ambitious go-getter would make, not someone who had let the grass grow under her feet for the last ten years.

“Tell him about your other projects,” Elaine piped up.

Tess swung around and realised that Elaine had been listening intently to their conversation.