Woman of the Hour (9 page)

Enough! I didn’t want to think about that horrible time in my life any more. The flapjack mixture was ready and I spooned it into the baking tin and flattened it with a wooden spoon. I put the tin into the oven to bake.

I fed the girls pizza and warm flapjacks, as promised, and they took the plates from me without comment as if they couldn’t drag their eyes from the vampire drama on Flo’s tablet. Around eleven p.m. Paige decided to stay the night with us and she texted her mum to tell her this, so her mum and dad must still have been out and I wondered how often they left her alone in that big house.

Saturday

I indulged myself with a long lie-in and then carried a mug of tea back into my bedroom and sat up in bed. I had opened the blinds and watched as the autumn sun gilded our small garden. The flat was silent so the two girls were probably sleeping the sleep of the dead which adolescents seem able to do. Flo and I had made a plan for the day. We were going to get her a new jacket and some jeans from Top Shop. I had said I’d go with her even though I hate the crowds and scrum of Oxford Street. I got up and ran a deep bubble bath. I shaved my legs and was having a nice soak when Flo came into the bathroom around noon and perched on the edge of the toilet seat. Her hair was all tousled and her face was puffy from sleep and she looked sweet.

‘Hello, sweets,’ I said.

Flo yawned and stretched her arms above her head.

‘Hi.’

Her voice was croaky.

‘Did you two sit up late?’

‘We watched two films.’

‘Were they good?’

‘They were all right, seen them before.’

Flo doesn’t do enthusiastic any more. She was excitable as a little girl and would shriek with enthusiasm at lots of things but now she thinks it’s uncool to enthuse. She got up.

‘We’re going to Camden Market in a bit.’

Her look at me was challenging.

‘But we were going clothes shopping,’ I said.

‘Yeah, but if you give me the money I’ll get the jeans for myself.’

‘Sorry, sweets, but I’m not going to do that.’

‘Why not? You hate shopping!’

I don’t trust Flo with money because she has inherited her father’s spending gene and money burns a hole in her pocket. If I gave her the cash it was unlikely she’d come back with jeans and a jacket.

‘I want to be there when you choose them, like we agreed.’

‘You said you hated Oxford Street!’

Flo and I can go from civil to angry in ten seconds flat and her voice was aggressive.

‘We made a plan,’ I said firmly.

‘You are SO controlling!’

She stormed out of the bathroom with the inevitable slamming of the door. I felt like shouting something after her but remembered that Paige would hear me if I did. I got out of the water, wrenched out the plug and pulled a towel around me. I locked the bathroom door and caught sight of my angry face in the cabinet mirror. I had planned to cook them a brunch of scrambled eggs and grilled bacon but sod it, they could fend for themselves.

In the end Flo went off to Camden Market with Paige but without my cash. As she was leaving the flat I asked her what time she’d be back and she shrugged and said with a curl of the lip that she didn’t know, as if my even asking her was an affront. Paige did not thank me for letting her stay over. I felt both angry and sad as I watched them walk up the road chatting together. They had left the kitchen in a mess with toast crumbs everywhere and butter and jam smeared on the work surface. I took one look at it and called Fenton.

‘Another bloody bust-up. You know I can’t remember a weekend with Flo in the last year when we haven’t had an argument.’

‘Poor love. You could do without that,’ Fenton said.

‘I know I should be the grown-up and not rise to the bait but when she’s rude it makes me wild.’

‘Is there any way you can resist that?’

‘I wish I could, but she presses all my buttons.’

‘You handle conflict at work all the time,’ Fenton said.

‘It’s different at work. I think I actually find it easier to mother my team than to mother Flo.’

‘It’s because you two are so close.’

‘I feel I’m failing with her.’

‘That’s rubbish and stop beating yourself up. God, we’re all expected to be perfect all the time. You have a lot on your plate and frankly I think you’re amazing.’

‘No,
you’re
amazing,’ I said and we ended the conversation with our game of trying to outdo each other in compliments. What would I do without Fenton?

Flo and I did not really make up and there was a tense atmosphere for the rest of the weekend. I got into bed on Sunday night thinking that I hadn’t enjoyed my two days off and was almost looking forward to being back at work the next day.

StoryWorld TV station, London Bridge

I made my way down to the gallery and watched Ledley doing his cookery demonstration. He was wearing chef’s whites and making crusted onion dumplings. There was no mention of the banned cooking oil. Fizzy relaxes with Ledley. She sits on a high stool by the kitchen area of the studio as Ledley demonstrates his dish of the day. She often teases him about the ingredients he uses and how high in calories his dishes are. He gets her to sample them and today he skewered a dumpling with a fork, wrapped the fork in a napkin and presented this morsel to Fizzy with a little bow. She laughed and nibbled at the edge of the dumpling.

‘Delicious and wicked,’ she said.

We do regular polls and Fizzy and Ledley come up as the viewers’ favourite duo. I love Ledley too. I’d talked to him about the cooking oil issue and he had taken it well. He said he understood my concern and would be careful in future to use a range of products when he was in the studio. He was no trouble on the issue of clothing either and had moved into chef’s whites straight away. How I wish the other presenters were as grown-up and laid-back as Ledley.

Mid-morning, Simon knocked and came into my room.

‘Good weekend?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, pretty good, thanks. I meant to tell you, last week I saw Julius coming out of that private hospital on Great Portland Street and he looked pretty rough.’

‘Really? When was this?’

‘Thursday morning. I was wondering if he was ill?’

I thought back to Thursday. It was the day Julius missed the morning meeting and then bawled me out about Sal. Could he be ill? I found the idea disturbing. I think of Julius as invulnerable, indestructible, a force of nature.

‘He
was
in a bad mood on Thursday. I’d be sorry if he was ill.’

‘That’s because you two are the mummy and daddy of this place,’ Simon said.

‘What a funny thought...’

‘It’s how we all think of you.’

‘Do you? I can’t think why... unless it’s because we’ve both been here so long? We are the ancient ones...’

I had answered lightly but the thought of Julius and me being seen in this light, as the mummy and the daddy of the station, made me feel uncomfortable.

‘It’s because he’s the one who shouts at people and you’re the one who goes around soothing everyone afterwards.’

I smiled at that.

‘He does have his moments. But I hope he’s OK.’

‘Anyway, thought I should tell you...’

‘Yes, thanks. He’s so private and if he is ill he won’t let any of us in on it. It’s probably best to keep this between us.’

‘Sure.’

‘Oh, and he split up with The Pouter; he told me that last week. Now, can you get the others in here?’ I said.

This week I planned for the team to shoot the stories we would use during the outside broadcast at St Eanswythe’s hospital. Simon and Molly had gone down there to identify possible interviewees. Simon had talked to a young man called Dirk who had wrecked his right leg in a motorcycle accident and had to have it amputated. He was starting his rehabilitation and was willing to talk about this, which was exactly the sort of dramatic story we were looking for. How does an active young man cope with amputation? Molly had found a woman who had breast cancer and who was a regular on the oncology ward. Molly said she was feisty and articulate on the subject of how she wouldn’t give in to the cancer beast and would kick its ass. I’d asked them to check with Connie Mears, who ran the hospital, that we could proceed with these interviews. We had the full cooperation of both patients but I had promised to keep her fully informed. Connie Mears had called me on Friday. She hadn’t said it in so many words, because of patient confidentiality, but she gave me a strong steer that the prognosis for Naomi Jessup, the woman with breast cancer, was poor. She suggested we might wish to reconsider her as an interviewee. This was a problem. Molly had stressed how keen Naomi was to talk about her illness and she was passionate about filming her.

My team came in and took their usual seats. It’s funny the way people have their favourite places. Molly and Simon always sit in a specific chair and Harriet goes for the sofa.

‘We’ve been allocated a crew for Wednesday,’ I told them.

‘Oh no! I’m away on Wednesday,’ Simon said.

‘Are you?’

‘Yes, I
have
to go to St Albans. Some family stuff.’

‘I’m sorry you’ll miss it but I have to make use of that crew. You know what it’s like here.’

I could see how fed up Simon was that he was going to miss the shoot. It is rare for us in the features team to get access to a camera crew. The news team have first call on the crews. Most of our pre-recorded feature stories are supplied by independent production companies. This means that my team get little chance to go out with crews and learn about that side of production.

‘Molly and Harriet, you’ll need to go with the crew. Please make sure Connie Mears is kept in the picture throughout and don’t forget to get all the contributor release forms signed. It’s very important with these stories.’

Harriet looked puzzled.

‘We need permission to broadcast interviews and they’re the forms we get people to sign. It’s a legal requirement,’ I said.

‘We call them blood chits,’ Molly said.

‘Won’t you be coming?’ Harriet asked.

‘No, we can’t all be out of the office. Molly will show you what’s needed.’

I got up and fetched the Tupperware box I had brought into work.

‘Anyone like one of my home-made flapjacks?’

There were a lot of flapjacks left over and I felt a pang that Flo and Paige hadn’t eaten many of them. Flo was growing up and leaving behind the favourite things of her childhood and sometimes it felt like my team were my new children.

*

I knew it! Fizzy and Bob must be having an affair. I was coming back from lunch with an agent and we had met at a restaurant tucked away near Russell Square. I’d had to go to her because she could dictate whether or not we get Ashley Gascoigne, a major A-lister, for interview next week and I want him on the show very much. Over lunch we’d agreed that I could have Ashley but I had had to promise airtime to two of her B-listers who are appearing in a Noel Coward revival on Shaftesbury Avenue. We parted outside the restaurant and I was walking up Gower Street. There are a number of discreet three star hotels along that road and I saw Bob and Fizzy walking into the entrance of one! Fizzy was wearing dark glasses and Bob held the door open for her. It was three in the afternoon and neither of them saw me as they entered the hotel. I think Fizzy may have a thing for married men. This is not the first time she’s got involved with someone else’s husband.

I had a meeting back at base at four with Julius and the sponsor to update them on how the outside broadcast is shaping up. I took an instant dislike to the sponsor, who represents one of those awful tax-evading companies who are doing this show to try to shine up their tarnished image. We call it polishing a turd. The man kept going on about the need for inspirational stories which would lift the spirits of the viewers. I played along and said that the hospital we had chosen was a community one which was well respected in the neighbourhood. We had selected moving stories to tell, including Dirk, the brave young man who had lost his leg and was determined to rebuild his life.

‘And I’m going to put Ledley into the hospital kitchen to cook for the patients.’

‘I like that idea,’ the sponsor said.

‘Ledley is very popular with our viewers and I’ll get Fizzy to join him and she can help him deliver the food to the patients.’

Julius didn’t say a lot. I was thinking about whether he could be ill and I kept scanning his face for any tell-tale signs. I know his face so well. I’ve had years of watching him at the morning meetings, trying to gauge his mood. I probably know the contours and the expressions of his face in the way that one gets to know a lover’s face. I found that idea quite disturbing. The sponsor seemed content with my update and he stood up and shook hands with me. Julius walked him to the door and asked me to stay behind.

‘You did well,’ he said when he came back.

He sat down on his sofa, not behind his desk.

‘Thanks. The team are working hard on it. He’s a bit of a sleazeball, isn’t he?’

‘Dealing with sleazeballs is one of the delights of our business,’ he said.

We exchanged a look of recognition, almost of warmth.

‘Is everything OK with you?’ I asked.

He looked down at his hands.

‘My brother Steven is poorly.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. What’s wrong?’

‘Another chest infection. He gets them a lot, but this one is hanging around too long.’

‘Is he, I mean, has he been hospitalised?’

‘No, it hasn’t come to that thankfully. He finds hospitals frightening places. He likes to be at home with his things around him. I’ve got a nurse coming in to be with him. I can’t get in till lunchtime tomorrow so will you chair the morning meeting?’

‘Of course.’

He stood up and I had the urge to comfort him so I touched his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘And I wish Steven better soon,’ I said.

I remembered that day I had seen Julius at the zoo. It was the week after Flo’s tenth birthday and I had taken her to London Zoo in Regent’s Park. Flo loves animals and when she was younger her walls were plastered with posters of kittens and rabbits and ponies. Now it is pictures of half-naked young men. We had had a brilliant time and particularly liked Penguin Beach at feeding hour. You cannot help but smile when you watch penguins. We had headed over to the Reptile House where it was warm and dark. To my great surprise I saw Julius standing by one of the display cabinets with his arm around another man’s shoulder; he was pointing at a giant lizard. Both men were smiling and there was a sweetness and a softness about Julius’s face that I had not seen before. Then he saw me and his face closed down at once. I gave a tentative wave, not sure whether he wanted to talk to me. But I walked over with Flo anyway.