Darn It! (4 page)

Brilliant. Not only would Nicki have to suffer the indignity of losing out on the job to Alva, but she’d also be expected to do work for her too.

‘What did Kenny think of that?’ asked Nicki. She struggled to keep her voice level, but Alva could see through her.

‘He thought it was a fantastic idea,’ said Alva, with a fake smile. ‘So you needn’t worry, we’ll still be working together.’

‘Goody,’ said Nicki flatly.

‘Ok, ladies, it’s time to get on with things,’ said Terri, the stage manager pushing them towards the recording room. ‘They’re just ready for you now.’

Nicki felt butterflies in her stomach as she walked on set. There was an ad break on as they took their places. Danielle shot her a warm smile as Sorcha touched up Greg’s make-up. Honestly, he required more attention than any woman in the building.

Danielle and Greg were on one sofa, facing Alva, Nicki, and Imelda – one of the women that she had interviewed during the week. Alva picked the end of the sofa closest to the cameras and crossed her legs in a way that showed an eyeful of fake tanned thigh to the camera. Freddy the camera looked rooted to the spot.

‘Thirty seconds!’

‘Hi,’ said Nicki, sitting down beside Imelda. ‘How’s Colin?’

‘He’s doing all right; the doctor is sending him for an MRI to see how his condition is progressing.’

‘Twenty seconds!’

‘Your dress is nice,’ said Alva, across Imogen.

‘Thanks,’ said Nicki, pleased despite herself. She smoothed the skirt down over her legs.

‘Of course, it was nice seven seasons ago,’ Alva continued airily. ‘Has it been in your wardrobe all this time?’

‘Ten seconds!’

‘Give it up,’ said Alva, shaking her head at her. ‘You’re way out of your depth here.’

There was no time to come up with a reply.

‘Hi, and welcome back to Focus Hibernia,’ said Danielle, smiling at camera one. ‘Tonight we’re looking at the plight of people who choose to care for seriously ill relatives at home, and the lack of support that they’re currently receiving from the government.’

Greg took up the narrative. ‘Tonight is an extra special edition, because instead of having one in-depth report, we have two! Now that Regina has moved on to new pastures, we decided to let you, the viewers, decide who the next lead investigative reporter is. Nicki and Alva are both seasoned researchers for the showThey both went out to talk to some of the carers, and put together a report. The one that gets the most votes from you will go on lead up the segment every week. You can vote by calling or texting the numbers on screen, through our website, or on Twitter, by naming the reporter of your choice using the hashtag #focushibernia.’

‘I think we’ll have a look at both reports, and then come back to Alva, Nicki and with carer Imogen, to discuss this. People have been voting all week long on our website, but if you have a preference you have to vote!’

The video started to roll, meaning that they were no longer live on air.

‘I’m going to get some water,’ said Alva, uncrossing her legs and walking off-set.

‘God, she’s horrible,’ said Imelda.

Nicki giggled. ‘Yeah, she is. She’s not usually as rude as she was just then, though.’

‘Then the vote must be close,’ said Imelda.

‘Are you kidding?’ said Nicki. ‘You must have seen the two reports, hers is amazing!’

‘It’s very slick and fancy, but it’s all about her,’ said Imelda. ‘That’s why I wouldn’t let her anywhere near my Colin; I could see from the second she walked in the door that she couldn’t believe that I live such a dreary life. You couldn’t confide in her, open up to her. She’s cold. I mean, she might be great talking to politicians, but she’s just not interested in other people. She lashed out because she’s worried.’

‘But there’s no way that she could know how the voting is going,’ said Nicki.

‘Really?’ said Imelda. ‘There’s no one who could even give her the slightest indication?’

Nicki looked at Alva as she walked towards her. She was beautiful: of course there was some guy in the backroom who could have tipped her off.

But if Imelda was right, that meant that she could actually have a chance at this? That couldn’t be right. From the second she’d heard about it, she’d dismissed her chances.

‘If you want it you’re going to have to fight for it,’ said Imelda. ‘If I’m right, and the vote is very close, she’s going to try to undermine you on air.’

The bud of elation that had begun to flower in her stomach withered and died. Verbal sparring with Alva onscreen sounded like her personal version of hell.

Sorcha was waving and smiling at her from the edge of the set. Nicki tried to relax her clenched shoulder muscles as the crew prepared to go back to the studio.

‘So, there’s obviously a lot of issues brought up in that footage,’ said Danielle. ‘What do you think, Alva, is the most important challenge facing carer’s today?’

‘Undoubtedly, it’s the lack of funds,’ says Alva. She went on to quote some statistics. As she spoke, Nicki began to see the truth in what Imelda was saying. Alva looked the part and she was a natural on camera. But her tone and register were more suited to a political or current affairs programme. Nicki looked at Danielle, and could see the slight frown on her face showing that she wasn’t the only one who thought this.

‘What about you, Nicki?’ asked Greg, moving on to her. This was her big chance, she wasn’t going to let it go.

‘Really, I think the problem is that there’s no appreciation for the kind of sacrifices that carer’s make on behalf of their family. Careers, relationships, families are put on hold indefinitely. Most of the people I talked to said that they were happy to do it – they didn’t want their family to end up in institutions and felt that keeping their loved ones at home was one of the most important things that they could do. They’re not looking for the world here. But it has to be acknowledged that, if every carer was to stop looking after their family members, most of them would end up in state funded institutions – costing the state millions. If a fraction of that was made available to provide more supports and respite for carer’s, it would make their lives so much easier, and recognise the fact that these people are providing a vital service to some of our country’s most vulnerable people, allowing them to stay within their own homes with dignity for as long as possible.

‘Nobody denies that Imelda is doing a fantastic job, making sure that her son has an enriching life. But what about
her
life? It’s very easy for us to admire people like this in the abstract, but it allows the state to duck its responsibility to vulnerable families. There’s already a criminally low amount of services available to carers, cutting them will put far too much strain on families. It won’t save money in the long run, because it will push those families that are just on the cusp of coping far over the edge, meaning more people are reliant on state services around the clock. It’s a ridiculous measure, and it makes no sense from either a financial or a holistic point of view.’

‘That’s what I’m saying,’ Alva cut in. ‘My report highlighted those very facts.’

‘Yes, but talking with Colin really helped me put those aspects into focus I suppose,’ said Nicki. ‘I don’t think you talked to him, did you?’

Alva’s television smile never faltered, but her eyes were ice. ‘Yes, I don’t think he was well when I was visiting.’

‘It wasn’t so much that,’ said Imelda. ‘It’s just I’m pretty fussy over who I let interact with him. You remember me mentioning that, surely?’

There was an awkward silence.

‘Ok,’ said Danielle. ‘It’s time to take a final ad break, if you have a preference you have to vote soon because lines will be closing after the break.’

The adverts started to roll.

‘What was that?’ asked Alva angrily.

Nicki just shrugged. ‘If you have this job so sewn up, then it shouldn’t really bother you, should it?’

‘Thank you,’ she said to Imelda.

‘No problem,’ she said. ‘And thank you, you hit the nail on the head; it’s good to get that kind of exposure for what carers do.’

She walked off set. Free of the extra presence, Alva turned to Nicki. ‘This isn’t over, bitch.’

‘It kind of almost is,’ said Nicki. ‘Bitch.’

‘You don’t seriously think you have a hope do you?’

Nicki shrugged. ‘Guess we’ll see, won’t we?’

Kenny ran across the set. ‘Girls, I cannot have a catfight on the set! Plaster on a smile, and pretend you’re the best of friends, understand?’

They nodded, sullenly.

‘However,’ said Kenny. ‘If you positively
need
to get physical, try to wait until the after show party, ok? Preferably in front of a columnist from one of the leading newspapers or blogs. Good for publicity.’

‘Twenty seconds!’

Kenny scuttled off set, Sorcha piled yet more face powder onto Greg’s oily visage and followed suit.

‘Well, the votes are in, and we can reveal that the new presenter is!’ Dramatic music played, the set darkened and a spotlight roamed around the set occasionally landing on Alva and Nicki. It was probably meant to heighten anticipation in an X Factor/ Dancing with The Stars kind of way but it seemed more like a gestapo searchlight.

‘Nicki!’

Yes! She couldn’t believe it. Judging by the fake smile and angry eyes of Alva, either could she. She must have hit more of a chord than she’d thought.

‘Is there anything you’d like to say?’ asked Greg.

She was so dumbfounded that she could hardly find the words to say anything. ‘I’d just like to thank Brenda who runs a charity shop on Dunvale’s main street in aid of cystic fibrosis, my dress is from there.’

As soon as they were off air Sorcha ran over and threw her arms around her friend. ‘I knew you’d get it.’

‘Oh, Alva? I’ll let you know what I need researched tomorrow,’ said Nicki sweetly. ‘It’s nice that I still get to work with you.’

Nicki savoured the sour look that Alva shot her, and went off to enjoy the after show party. She might as well enjoy herself while she could – there’d be work to do tomorrow after all.

THE END

Read On For the First Chapter of Christine’s Bestselling Novel

Storms in Teacups

CHAPTER ONE

As the second hand of the clock moved ever closer to a brand new year, Rose knew Daniel was going to ask her to marry him. The moment Daniel turned to her, his eyes soft and beseeching, and told her that he had something to ask her, she
knew
. She was going start the New Year as an engaged woman, a grown up, like her sister Charlotte. On second thoughts, maybe
not
like her sister Charlotte, because if being married to a man like her brother-in-law was the benchmark for fully fledged adulthood then quite frankly, Rose could do without it.

Rose didn’t like New Year’s Eve. The history teacher in her new that the date was arbitrary, when the New Year started depended entirely on which calendar you used. She knew that the date held great symbolism for some people, but she also knew that when many people woke up on January 1st the only thing different about them was a colossal hangover and a swollen wrist from some maniac pumping their hand up and down too vigorously to the tune of Auld Lang Syne. She’d only come to this party because Daniel had insisted that it would be fun.

But maybe this year would be different. After all, getting engaged was a big deal, a life changing event. Tomorrow
she would
be different from the person she was right now.

She wondered if he had already picked out the ring. In one way she hoped that he hadn’t, choosing a ring meant he was one hundred per cent sure that she was going to say yes. On the other hand, when she’d dreamed about this moment as a little girl, she’d imagined the man in question getting down on one knee, opening one of those unmistakeable ring boxes and gazing up at her with an expression of complete adoration on his face.

The countdown to the New Year began. ‘Ten! Nine!’

Honestly, she was surprised that Daniel was proposing at all. He wasn’t exactly the conventional type.

‘Eight! Seven!’ The crowd chanted.

Who would she have for her bridesmaids? Her sister Charlotte, obviously. And Frankie. Maybe Amelia could be a flower girl. . .

‘Six! Five!’

. . . Or maybe Amelia was too young. Was two years old too young to be a flower girl? Anyway, it depended on when they actually got married. They might wait for a couple of years, after all.

‘Four! Three!’

She needed to look surprised when he asked her. She didn’t want to ruin it for him by letting him know that she’d guessed his surprise.

‘Two! One! Happy New Year!’ A cheer rose up and everyone began to hug each other, misty eyed with alcohol-induced emotion.

Daniel gripped both her hands in his and gave her a winning smile. The deep violet of his shirt made his pale blue eyes stand out even more, and her breath caught in her throat.

‘Rose,’ he said, his voice low, anxious and heavy with meaning. ‘Will you move in with me?’