The Cinderella Reflex (5 page)

“
Hi. I can’t believe how the years have flown since we were all at college together. I seem to have lost touch with everybody! I’ve travelled a lot – US elections, embedded in Iraq, covered Afghanistan. I felt privileged to be there. It made all the hard work at college worthwhile. But I’m back for the foreseeable future and I thought it would be a good opportunity to meet up ten years on, to see how we’re all doing.”

How we’re all doing indeed, Tess thought, as she scrolled down to where Chris suggested they all link up via a special reunion Facebook page. The difference between how she was doing and how Chris Conroy was doing was extreme. They had both travelled the world – separately, of course – but Chris had come back with an amazing CV while Tess was going to have to explain to every prospective employer forever why her one-year career break had morphed into almost a decade-long one. The first year had turned into two and then, when she had come home, she couldn’t settle. So after a few temping jobs she was off on her travels again. It was only when she had started receiving news of her friends getting bling rings and having gigantic weddings and babies, for God’s sake, that she’d panicked and come home.

She hit the reply button now and began to compose a note of regret, then paused – she’d better discuss it with Andrea first.

“Anything interesting?”

It was Helene, hovering again.

Tess swiftly minimised her email. “Er … I was making a few notes for the show.”

“Great!” Helene sat on the edge of the desk. “We’ll all have to do better, Tess. That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about, actually.”

“You have?” Tess asked cautiously.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking. I think it’s time you went on-air.”

“
What?
” Tess swung around to face her boss, astonished.

“It would only be part-time,” Helene warned, “and it would be on top of your work producing
This Morning
of course. But it’s a good opportunity for you and –”

“What would I be doing?” Tess was acutely aware that Andrea was at the next desk, pretending to be concentrating on something on her computer but listening closely to the conversation. She didn’t want Andrea to feel threatened, particularly as she was the one who’d got her the job here in the first place.

“You’re our new Agony Aunt!” Helene beamed. She shoved her notebook in front of Tess. “See? I’m going to call you ‘Agony Aunt of the Airwaves’. It has a good ring to it, hasn’t it?”

“
What?
” Tess stared at Helene, mystified.

“What?” Andrea’s head whipped away from the computer screen.

“Will you all stop saying ‘what’?” Helene said testily. “I am telling you
what
right now.
What
I want is an agony-aunt slot, Tess, once a week. And I want you to make it really hot and sexy.”

“You want me to be a
sex
agony aunt?” Tess felt a flicker of anger. That would be just perfect, if she did ever bump into Chris Conroy again, explaining how she had ended up as a sex advisor.

“Not talking about actual sex,” Helene said impatiently. “Well, not necessarily. But just make the slot sexy. You know … career women climbing the corporate ladder who are too busy to meet Mr Right. Or,” she glanced sideways towards Andrea, “women who are trying to juggle work and family and finding it all too much of a struggle. Or,” Helene tapped her biro on Tess’s desk, “women who are in relationships with commitment-phobic men. There’s a lot of that about I can tell you. Or men whose bitter ex-wives won’t let them see their kids. That sort of thing.”

“But I wouldn’t know how to do that!” Tess blurted out.

“What’s there to know?” Helene demanded.

“How will I find suitable people to call in with their problems? And, more to the point, where will I find the answers?”

“How the hell do I know?” Helene snapped. “Put out a call for people to contact us and, in the meantime, make up the problems. And the answers while you’re at it. Make ’em short, make ’em snappy, and make ’em up! That can be your motto.” She smiled as if she’d solved Tess’s problem.

“It doesn’t sound very ethical,” Tess pointed out, “and even if it was … well, I don’t think being an agony aunt is exactly my forte, Helene.”

“Really?” Helene asked coolly. “And what do you think your forte is, exactly? Yesterday you finished your programme with an item about pooper scoopers, which Ollie is still wrecking my head over. So maybe you should start thinking about what exactly your forte is before you go dissing my ideas!”

Tess bit her lip. “Of course I’ll think about it. When were you thinking of starting it – the agony-aunt slot?”

“Immediately would be good.” Helene was already moving away from the desk, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

“When is immediately?” Tess called after her in alarm.

Helene stifled a sigh. “What does ‘immediately’ usually mean, Tess? How does tomorrow sound?”

“Tomorrow? Are you mad?” Fear made Tess sound a lot more forceful than she felt. “I’ve never been on-air before. And I don’t have anything prepared! There’s no way I can do this tomorrow!”

“Well, as I was saying earlier, how hard can it be?” Helene turned back to face her. “Make up a few problems to get yourself started. I’m fed up with talking about how things have to change around here. But have you ever noticed how everything somehow remains exactly the same?”

Tess
had
noticed, as a matter of fact. But she didn’t see how making a show of herself on-air was going to improve that.

“Helene,” she said reasonably, “I really don’t have a handle on how this slot is going to work. It’s all very well to say to make up a few problems to start us off. But what then? What if it doesn’t work? What if we don’t have enough people phoning in with their problems?”

Listeners to talk-shows thought there was an endless supply of people just dying to get on-air, but Tess knew it took a lot of behind-the-scenes work to get the right type of caller, one that wasn’t going to dry up on air, someone who would sound as interesting as a professional broadcaster but who was actually just an average citizen. It was a tall order, and one that bigger radio stations employed entire teams to work on. She would have to do everything herself, and she was already overloaded with work.

“Run out of problems?” Helene looked at Tess incredulously. “I have just given you a list of problems. And there’s more where they came from. Women whose love affairs have gone pear-shaped. Whose careers are facing meltdown. Who might be joining the ranks of the unemployed pretty soon!” Her voice rose slightly. “Because in case you haven’t noticed, Tess, we could all be out of here on our ear if this station closes down! And, believe me, that is a possibility. So if you would just give it some thought, you might find plenty of problems
from your ownlife
to be getting on with.” She snapped her fingers. “Because just as soon as you think you have your life sorted, it ups and throws a curveball at you just for the hell of it! Don’t you find that, Tess?”

Tess swallowed. She thought life might have just thrown her a curveball right now. She could hardly solve her own problems – dead-end career, non-existent love life – never mind anyone else’s.

“I won’t be ready to start it tomorrow, Helene,” Tess said firmly. “Or the day after. I … er … need to brainstorm around the concept a bit.”

Helene shrugged. “Okay. Brainstorm all you want. For a week. That’s all I’m prepared to give you. After that? Just
do
it, Tess!”

Tess raised her eyebrows as she watched Helene stride out of the office.

Andrea had inserted headphones in her ears and had turned back to her computer screen and the report she was working on. Tess felt it wasn’t a good time to ask her friend for much-needed advice.

Chewing her bottom lip, she typed “
agony aunts
” into her search engine. She had to start somewhere and tomorrow’s show was pretty well organised, albeit with mundane stories that Ollie Andrews was going to scream blue murder about – pretty much as he had about this morning’s programme. But that was tomorrow. She jiggled her foot, impatient for the results to load.

“
O! My! God!
” Sara exclaimed suddenly.

Tess looked across at her.

Sara’s mouth formed a perfect O of astonishment. She had her silver mobile pressed to her ear.

“What is it now?” Tess asked easily. Sara’s ‘O My Gods’ occurred several times a day, sometimes simply because her favourite make-up was out of stock or because she’d broken one of those nails she spent hours painting designs on.

“I’ve just heard something big. I need to check that it’s accurate!” Her face was alight with excitement.

Tess could hear only her side of the conversation.

“And you’re absolutely certain?” There was a note of incredulity in her voice. “You are?
O! My! God!
”

Sara closed down her phone and hurried over to Tess’s desk.

“Did you hear any of that?”

“I heard ‘Oh My God’,” Tess replied. “Several times. So what’s happened? Your favourite nail bar fallen victim to the recession?”

“It’s Atlantic 1FM!” Sara’s blue eyes were dancing. “It’s about to be taken over!”

“
What?
” Tess dropped her pen on the desk, a dozen questions forming in her mind.

“Andrea!” Sara crossed the room to Andrea’s desk. “Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” Andrea pulled her earphones off when she saw the look on Sara’s face.

“The rumour that we’re about to be taken over! Daddy just told me – he thinks it’s pretty accurate.” Then she added importantly, “He heard it from one of his business associates.”

“Taken over?” Andrea looked at her, bewildered. “But why? Did he say who was supposed to be taking it over?”

Tess flew across the room and perched on a corner of Andrea’s desk.

Sara shrugged. “Some whizz kid apparently. And wait for the best part. Apparently, he plans to finally take the station national!”

“Are you sure?” A frown creased Andrea’s forehead.

“Yes, I’m sure. His name … is …” Sara frowned and she went back to her own desk where she peered at a scrap of paper. “I wrote it down … Jack. That’s it. Jack McCabe.” She looked up expectantly. “Have either of you ever heard of him?”

“Jack McCabe?” Tess said. “No, never.”

But Andrea had already tapped the name into Google. Tess waited tensely, Sara standing behind her now, both of them jiggling impatiently. Seconds later Andrea was reading aloud: “‘
Jack McCabe made most of his money courtesy of the property boom and crucially got out before the crash. Gifted with the Midas touch, McCabe is known for turning ailing businesses around even where others have failed. His business instincts have been described as uncanny and he is famed for not shying away from hard decisions when it comes to profit margins.’
”

“Oh my God!” Sara butted in. “That fits in exactly with what Daddy said! He says Jack McCabe will go for a really youth-orientated vibe. He’s heard he’s going to axe the entire staff and only employ people who are under thirty!”

“Is that not illegal?” Tess asked faintly.

“Of course it’s illegal!” Andrea snapped, eyes squinting as she read on silently. “Besides, this is all only gossip and rumour. There’s no evidence whatsoever that Atlantic is going to be taken over at all! Where exactly did your dad hear it anyway, Sara?”

“Golf club.” Sara shrugged insouciantly as she walked away. “And he says this could be my big chance because I
am
young!”

Tess and Andrea exchanged glances.

“Coffee?” Andrea mouthed, making a coffee-cup gesture with her hand.

Tess nodded. They needed to analyse and parse this, to try and figure out what, if it were true, it might mean for them. But she had only taken her jacket off the back of her chair when the phone buzzed. She reluctantly picked up the handset.

“Yes, Helene? In five minutes? Okay, I’ll tell the others.” She replaced the receiver and looked over at Andrea. “Looks like Sara and her dad aren’t the only ones who’ve heard the rumours. Helene wants us all in her office in five minutes.”

Minutes later, they were all crowded into Helene’s office and it was clear the news about the takeover was more than a rumour. The room was thick with tension. Tess slipped into the chair opposite Ollie, who was cracking his knuckles restlessly. Two lines formed a deep frown between his eyebrows, and his complexion had a grey pallor about it, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

He’s evidently heard Atlantic might soon be a wrinkly-free zone, Tess thought. Serves him right. It might teach him a bit of humility.

Helene was sitting at the top of the table, two spots of scarlet staining her cheeks. “Right, that’s everyone here,” she said as Sara pushed closed the door. “I’ve called you here because … because in the next few days you may hear some, er, rumours about this station.”

“We already have,” Sara cut in.

Helene raised her eyebrows and Sara fell silent.

“And if you do,” Helene continued, “I want you all to remember that any information about Atlantic 1FM is commercially sensitive and therefore you are not – repeat,
not
– at liberty to discuss it.”

“So is it rumour or is it true?” Andrea asked directly.

Helene flung her hair over her shoulder. “To be honest, I don’t have very much information at present. But, as soon as I know, you’ll know.” She looked closely at Sara. “So what have you heard, Sara?”

“I thought you just said we can’t discuss it?” Sara pouted.

“Outside here we can’t discuss it. Inside, we can! Now tell me what you know.” Helene folded her arms on the desk.

Sara began, delighted to have centre stage. “Well, from what I hear, this Jack McCabe is taking us over. He’s reputed to have the Midas touch and is not shy of making the hard decisions.”

Ollie breathed a long, exasperated sigh. “You’ve just read that on the internet, Sara! Is there anything you know that isn’t common knowledge, by any chance?”

“Actually, there is!” Sara bristled. “I’ve heard that Jack McCabe likes to have something good to look at when he comes in!” She pushed out her boobs and curled a tendril of hair around one stripy-nailed finger. Ollie’s eyes went out on stalks. Sara glared at him and let her hair go. “And,” she snapped, “I’ve heard he wants a youth vibe going on and that staff over thirty aren’t going to be very popular once he arrives!”