The Cinderella Reflex (10 page)

And she was gone, streaking past the window in a fast jog.

Tess left soon after and ambled along the seafront until she found a bench. She pulled out her journal and jotted down random thoughts as they occurred to her. It was a habit she’d got into when she’d first set off on her travels. She had so many memories recorded now that she didn’t want to give it up, even while she was here in Killty where most of her journal entries consisted of whinges about what Ollie or Helene had done to torture her on a particular day.

She spent the rest of the day trying to relax but she still slept badly that night. By the time her alarm went off next morning, she felt as if she’d had no sleep at all.

She got to work early and settled down with a coffee in the bit of scrubland that passed for a garden at the back of the radio-station building. The sun was warm on her back but she was too keyed up to appreciate it.

“‘
So if you would like to write or email me in with your problem I promise I’ll do my best to help,’
” she read out loud.

She wiped her clammy hands in her jeans. Why was she finding this so difficult? It wasn’t as if she had to worry about live callers. After the fiasco with the strange man she’d run into at Rose Cottage she had given up trying to find a guinea-pig caller. She had decided that this morning would be just about announcing the agony-aunt slot and inviting listeners to contact her. Helene wouldn’t be pleased of course. But – Tess stiffened her spine – it was the best she could do on short notice so she’d have no choice but to go along with it, at least until after the programme. When she would probably have her guts for garters, but she could worry about that when the time came.

“So this is where you’ve got to!”

She looked up to see Sara barging through the door into the garden.

“You’re on in fifteen minutes and Helene wants to speak to you about it first.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to her too – make sure she’s okay with this script. I was looking for her earlier.” She got up and began to gather her things together.

“She’s only just arrived and I have to warn you – she’s like a demon today. And she’s producing the show herself, after promising she’d give me a shot at it!” Sara looked mutinous. “Daddy doesn’t understand why I want to work here at all. I’m never going to get a break.”

“I’m sorry,” Tess said and meant it. Sara had been due to act as producer for the day to allow Tess to concentrate on being on-air. Now the thought of Helene scrutinising her every mistake from the control room made Tess feel more nervous than ever.

She followed Sara back into the building.

“It’s not even certain Jack McCabe is going to buy in at all,” Sara continued. “Daddy says Jack may have the Midas touch, but even he can’t work miracles.” She looked back at Tess. “So should I just go ahead with setting up the
Ten Years Younger
item then? It might help Helene to calm down. But then, what if Jack drops it? It’s all very confusing here lately.”

“We continue as normal,” Tess said, absently repeating the current mantra of everyone at Atlantic 1FM.

They had reached the studio and she’d barely have enough time to talk to Helene before it was time for her to go on-air.

But as soon as she swung open the door she could see something was wrong. Helene was sitting ramrod straight, her whole body rigid with tension, her left leg jigging up and down under the desk. She looked at Tess and gestured angrily at the clock overhead.

“You’ve left it late enough. I wanted to discuss the slot with you before you went on, but a call has fallen through now so you’ll have to go on early. As in
now
, Tess!”

“Oh, okay …” Tess hurried through to sit down opposite Ollie, her fragile confidence faltering with this unexpected change to the schedule. She glanced out at Helene, looking for reassurance, but she was deep in conversation with Sara.

Tess placed her hands on the desk, saw they were shaking and shoved them into her lap. Ollie glanced down at her knowingly and she ducked her head down towards her script so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

And then, there it was. The familiar signature tune for
This Morning with Ollie Andrews
was jingling through the room. The same tune she had heard over and over again for the last six months. She had imagined that hearing it would settle her down, make her feel professional. Instead she felt the start of panic beginning to lick around her insides.

She closed her eyes briefly and focussed on her breathing. Andrea had instructed her to take a deep, slow breath at the beginning of each sentence, which would stop her making the beginner broadcaster’s mistake of having to take huge, audible gulps of air at inappropriate places.

But Tess’s breath was coming in short little gasps and she felt nauseous. She tried again. Breathe in to the count of four, out to the count of six. But it wasn’t working.
It wasn’t working
. She was going to be sick – but there was no time to be sick because she saw the red light come on and she could hear Ollie’s voice, sounding tinny and as if it were coming from a great distance. There it was. They were on-air.

“Good morning, folks! This is Ollie Andrews and this isthe
This Morning
show! Well, we’ve lots of stuff lined up for you today as usual, and one special treat to start with. In studio with me this morning is Tess Morgan. That name might be familiar to some of you and that’s because Tess is the producer of this programme. But today she’s swapping her behind-the-scenes role to become your very own … agony aunt.” Ollie’s voice dipped in a sneer. “Tess Morgan – Agony Aunt of the Airwaves! But first – let’s have some music …”

A blast of heavy metal music filled the studio and Tess blinked in astonishment. Why was he playing this? It must be to unsettle her. She could feel the deep
boom boom
of the beat juddering through the room. She looked out for Helene’s reaction but she was still busy talking to Sara.

Tess hunched over her script and tried to block out the noise. She had prepared a composite of typical problems to give listeners a flavour of the issues she intended to deal with. She would then invite them to email or write in with their own dilemmas and that was it really for today. If she could just stop panicking …

From the corner of her eye she noticed Helene gesticulating to get her attention, stabbing her finger downwards in a vigorous motion. Tess squinted through the soundproofed glass window, trying to figure out what she meant.

“Put on your headphones!” Ollie barked.

“Oh, right.” Flustered, Tess clamped them onto her head, her ears still ringing from the raucous music that was thankfully fading away now. What did she need the headphones for, Tess wondered vaguely, trying to stop her papers from rustling.

She understood why too late.

“Tess!” Helene was hissing into her ear. “You have a caller!”

“What?” Tess jerked her head up and saw Ollie glaring at her, warning her that she was now on-air and that listeners would hear whatever she said.

“Ask her what her name and her problem is!” Helene instructed.

Tess opened her mouth but no sound came out. She swallowed. Her mouth was parched. Shakily, she took a sip of water. Why hadn’t Helene warned her about this? She heard the voice of a young woman.

“Hello? Hello, Tess?” She sounded shy and a bit hesitant.

“Tess Morgan,” she confirmed. “How … how can I help you?”

“Well, my name is Cindy and I have a problem.”

Her air of vulnerability made Tess begin to forget her own fears.

“Right. And you … er … you want to tell us about that, do you?” Tess stammered. She tried to ignore Ollie who was rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disbelief that his show had come to this.

“Yes, I do. My problem is this.” The woman’s tone of voice changed suddenly. “My boyfriend is a bastard!”

“Right.” Tess lifted her script in front of her face, trying to block out the sight of Ollie who was now openly sniggering. “So … er … what makes you say that?”

“Well, I didn’t always think it. Obviously when we met I thought he was quite different. I thought it was serious between us. I thought hewas serious!” She sighed heavily. “And he was. Seriously married!”

“Married? How did you find that out?” Tess was interested despite herself.

“His wife rang me,” Cindy’s voice got stronger. “She said I should leave her husband alone. She said if I didn’t, she would come and find me and cut me!”

“Cut you?” Tess was appalled. The woman should be visiting the police, not ringing a radio station. She looked out at Helene for direction but her boss looked as bewildered as she did.

“So what did
you
say?” Tess decided to play for time, giving Helene an opportunity to decide how to cut the woman off. Maybe she could get Ollie to cue a break or something …

“I didn’t get a chance to say anything!” Cindy continued. “She kept going on at me! Said I wasn’t the first girlfriend he’d had and that I wouldn’t be the last. She said,” Cindy dipped her voice as if she were in the movies, “‘Remember this,
bitch
– he always comes back to me. Always!’” She sniffed. “She became very emotional.’”

“Well, she would do,” Tess said reasonably. “In the circumstances.”

“Whatever,” Cindy said offhandedly. “The point is – what should I do?”

“What should you do?” Tess cast around in her mind for an answer.

Ollie was leaning back in his chair, his mouth curved in a wide smile, hugely enjoying her discomfort.

“Well, if you ask me it all sounds very clichéd,” Tess said finally.

“
If
I ask you?” Cindy sounded mystified. “Of course I’m asking you. Isn’t that why I rang up the show? And what do you mean by it all sounds very clichéd? Are you saying I’m making it up?” Her voice rose. “Or that I’m some sort of fantasist?”

“Well, it’s an old story, isn’t it?” Tess pointed out patiently. “The married man. The girl who thinks he’s going to marry her. The wife who finds out. I’ve read about lots of similar situations in magazines.” Especially the magazines she’d been swotting up on all last week.

“Would you read in a magazine that the wife said she’d come and cut me?” Cindy challenged.

“Well, maybe not that part,” Tess admitted.

“Well, anyway.” Cindy took a deep breath. “It’s even more complicated than that.”

Jesus, Tess thought. She looked out at Helene again, making a throat-cutting gesture to indicate she should cut the caller off. Now!

“Em … so how is it more complicated?” she asked.

“Well, I gave up my job for him, for one thing.”

“What did you do that for?” Tess couldn’t keep the astonishment out of her voice.

“We worked in the same firm and he said it would look bad if it got out about us. Anyway, being a trophy girlfriend was a job in itself, I can tell you,” Cindy said with feeling. “All those manicures and pedicures and waxes and shopping. He said that me looking good made
him
look good. Hah! We’ll see how good he looks when his wife gets around to him. I wonder will she threaten to cut
him
?” Her voice rose hopefully.

This was insane. Tess was going to have to end it. “How old are you, Cindy?” she asked briskly.

“Twenty-five.”

“And your boyfriend is?”

“Forty-five. Ish.”

“And before his wife rang you to say she’d cut you if you didn’t leave him alone, did you never suspect that he might be married already? At forty-five years of age?”

“He said he was separated,” Cindy said sulkily.

“So what did you work at before you became a … er … trophy girlfriend?”

“I was a secretary. His secretary. He’s a partner in a law firm.”

“And how much did you earn?”

Ollie leaned forward on his desk again, interested now despite himself.

“Thirty thousand euro.”

“And so was he going to pay you thirty thousand euro a year for being his girlfriend?”

“
No!
” Cindy was horrified. “What do you think I am? A prostitute?”

“I just wondered how you thought you could afford to give up your job, that’s all,” Tess said mildly.

“I didn’t think of it like that. We were having fun. We went to restaurants, weekends away …” Cindy sounded wistful now.

“But now you’re left with no job and no boyfriend and a wife threatening you.”

“You’re not very sympathetic!” Cindy burst out. “You’re supposed to be an agony aunt. Aren’t you supposed to be giving me advice?”

“Yes, well … I’m getting to that,” Tess countered. “I think you should dump him.”

“That’s it?” Cindy was incredulous. “That’s your advice?”

“Yes, it is. You’re involved in a situation that is making you unhappy. And unsafe. Who wants to be in a situation where someone is threatening to come around and cut them? So, yes, Cindy – I say dump him. Go out with your friends. Research new career options. Read a good book. Get a life!” Oh dear. She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. Still, she
had
asked. “So anyway, that’s my advice,” she said in a softer tone. “And er … thank you for calling.” Her whole body was now bathed in a film of sweat and she badly needed to get some air. And maybe a vodka and tonic.

“And now …” She took a deep breath and looked down to finally read her script.

“Tess! You have another caller!” Helene sounded surprised herself this time. “Er … the same drill as before, I suppose. Ask her for her name and her problem.”

Tess had to swallow hard before she could speak. “Okay so … and I believe we have another caller. Hello, caller, may I ask your name? Caller?” I’m babbling, Tess thought wildly, I need to stop babbling
.

“Certainly, dearie. My name is Rosa. But most people call me Grandma Rosa.”

Tess felt the blood drain from her face. The
fortune teller
was calling her?

“So you have a problem, Grandma Rosa?” she asked in a strained voice.

“Yes!” Rosa’s voice was filled with suppressed excitement. “I was listening in and I heard you’re called the Agony Aunt of the Airwaves. So I thought, well, I have plenty of agony going on in my life at the moment. Do you think you can help me?”