Best of Friends (60 page)

Abby leaned forward and patted his hand in a warm gesture. “I knew you’d say that,” she said.

The crew clapped when the cameras stopped rolling and the actor hugged Abby goodbye.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done such an enjoyable interview,” he said genuinely. “It really was great fun. You’ve got to get the job, Abby.”

She blushed. But before she could say, “Don’t be ridiculous!” the actor had been whisked away and the lady novelist was sitting on the set instead.

The second lot of filming was ready to begin and, yet again, Abby didn’t have a chance for nerves. The novelist was slightly harder going. Abby began to see the wisdom of the director’s words as she struggled in the early stages of the interview. Before the filming, she’d blurted out to him that, because of a communication breakdown, she hadn’t known about the interviews in advance and that her preparation had been a quick glance through the two guests’ biogs in make-up.

The director had said her secret was safe with him and added that she’d probably do a far better job if she just went with her instincts instead of having a mental list of questions from which she refused to deviate.

“There’s nothing worse than an interviewer who can’t follow where the interview takes them,” he said. “Look at it this way: if you can go in and interview someone with only ten minutes’ preparation time, then you know that you are going to be able to work under any circumstances. That’s what live TV is all about—expecting the unexpected. You’ve got to be ready if a guest shows up drunk or on drugs or doesn’t want to talk about something he had previously agreed to talk about. It’s the seat-of-your-pants experience. Good luck,” he finished.

He was certainly getting the seat-of-your-pants interview experience now, Abby thought to herself. This second interview wasn’t going well at all. She fumbled around for something to talk about that would help her gel with this woman. Discussing literature hadn’t worked because the lady novelist couldn’t seem to grasp the concept that Abby hadn’t consumed her books with something approaching joy. Not a mistake Abby would ever make again, if she was actually presenting the show for real. She racked her brains for subjects they could talk about and finally thought of one: children. Somehow she dragged the woman away from discussing problems with foreign tours.

“You’ve talked a lot about your family in the past,” Abby said, taking a huge risk because she could remember a mention of kids in the novelist’s biog but was a bit hazy on how many children she had or if they were grown up or not.

For a moment, she thought the novelist was going to bleat that she didn’t talk about her personal life but then as quickly as if Abby had turned on a switch, she started to talk. Yes, she had children, teenage children at that, and, Lord, they could be difficult. Her youngest had just done her Junior Cert and everyone was like a cat on a hot tin roof thinking about the results that would come in September. Relief flooded through Abby. Now she was on safe ground. They bonded over discussions about study timetables and the trauma of the exams. The frosty intellectual was gone and in her place sat a working mother with exactly the same problems as any of the other parents who’d be watching the show.

By the end of the interview, they were the best of friends and the people behind the cameras were again beaming from ear to ear. After another hug goodbye, Abby was finished, and she walked out to where Mike sat behind the cameras with a smile lighting up his face.

“Abby, I don’t need to tell you that you were just fantastic,” he said.

And Abby could see that he really meant it.

“It was hard going, especially the second one,” she admitted, “but I think it worked OK.”

“Worked OK?” demanded Mike. “It worked brilliantly. They loved you. I don’t know what you did to those people, but you got everything out of them. Talk about probing their inner secrets.”

“That’s what I do when I dejunk somebody’s house,” Abby explained simply. “You can’t go into someone’s life and rip apart all their most precious possessions without knowing what makes them tick. That’s what I tried to do up there today—to understand the people I was interviewing.”

“Abby!” shrieked a voice. It was the rather flamboyant executive producer rushing over to throw his arms around her. “What a woman! You were incredible,” he said. “This show is going to be a prime-time hit.”

Abby laughed. “I thought we were just
talking
about making a chat show. I didn’t know anyone had definitely decided to do it.”

“After today,” the producer said, “we’re definitely doing it. And you’re the star.” He turned to Mike. “We need to discuss contracts and see what your schedule allows you to do. We just want to facilitate matters for you,” he added to Abby. “Whatever works for you, we’ll do it.”

“Brilliant,” said the director, shaking Abby’s hand. “If that’s what you do with ten minutes of preparation,” he whispered into her ear, “I can’t wait to see you when you’re firing on all cylinders!”

For a moment, Abby basked in their admiration. It was a nice feeling, particularly after the last few weeks.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “You and Mike can talk about the details, but first,” she grinned at them all, “I could kill a cup of coffee.”

twenty-eight

F
lorida was sweltering. Abby couldn’t imagine how people lived all the time in the overpowering temperature. Heat rose in waves off the sidewalks and rippled in the air at ankle level. Even in her cool linen trousers and sandals, she felt roasting, her feet stuck to the sandals and her armpits glued to the little white cotton T-shirt she wore. Appropriately enough, Jess seemed to have ended the cold war for the moment, and mother and daughter groaned in unison about the heat.

“I mean, I can’t believe it’s so hot,” Jess said as they got out of the taxi in front of their hotel in Miami. “How are we ever going to cope?”

“Turbo-charged air conditioning, I hope,” said her mother, fanning herself with her hand. “If it comes to the worst, we can just stay inside the whole time.”

A movie-star-beautiful blonde girl on roller blades swept past, wearing the tiniest of tiny yellow shorts, long caramel limbs gliding effortlessly. Both mother and daughter turned to look at her go.

“Maybe we could learn to cope with the heat,” Jess said, staring enviously after the girl. “I’d love to get a tan, and I’d love to have a go on roller blades. Do you think I could?”

Abby grinned. “Yes, we could both do it. I’ve always wanted to roller-blade. Although if I go home with scabby knees and elbows, it’s all your fault, right?”

“Oh, no, Mum,” laughed Jess. “You’re not going roller-blading with me. I have my reputation to think of!” But she was only joking.

For the first time since they got on the plane, Abby allowed herself to relax. This holiday might be all right after all.

“We’ll check out roller-blading tomorrow,” she promised, “but today let’s just get into the hotel, relax in the air conditioning, unpack and then go somewhere absolutely fabulous for dinner. How does that sound?”

“It sounds brilliant,” said Jess, “apart from the actual unpacking bit. I thought we could just live out of our suitcases.”

Abby looked up at the elegant hotel. “Not in a place like this,” she said. “They probably have maids to unpack for you anyway.”

She sighed as she thought of her badly packed suitcase. Oh well, who was she trying to impress anyhow? Here in America, she didn’t have to pretend to be Abby Barton, TV personality, anymore—she could just be Abby Barton, normal mother, a woman who didn’t know how to pack. That would be much more relaxing.

Their hotel wasn’t one of the grand art deco hotels for which Miami was so famous. Instead it was a giant modern complex with every luxury known to woman, from incredible designer shops in the lobby, to an Olympic-size swimming pool and spa on the top floor. When she read about the spa in the brochure as they checked in, Abby had a little laugh to herself, thinking of how she had fooled Maria Carroll into thinking she was going to a wonderful spa in Arizona. There was no mention of Native American rituals in this particular hotel, but you could have every sort of massage possible, including hotstone therapy, and intense body wraps, which promised to take at least two inches off your thighs. Two whole inches! Abby decided she was definitely going to have one of those. Twice.

Jess was fascinated by the huge entertainment centre in their room. It wasn’t just a TV—there was a DVD player, video, music system, you name it.
And
she could watch films that weren’t even out yet in Ireland.

“Wow, Mum,” she said, looking at the on-screen list of films on the hotel’s pay TV system, “this is incredible. Steph and I said we were going to go and see this film at home but it’s not going to be coming for months and I can see it here now. Steph is going to go postal!”

“Glad you approve,” Abby said, admiring the bathroom, an oasis of marble with towels so fluffy they must have been soaked in fabric conditioner for a month.

But Jess had moved on from the TV and was already deep in the hotel guide that listed all the huge shopping malls in the area.

“Look at this, Mum,” she said, sounding even more impressed. “This mall has everything from Versace to DKNY.”

“So, what with the roller-blading and the shopping and the watching videos, we’re going to have a pretty good holiday, don’t you think?” her mother asked.

Jess smiled at Abby, the sort of sweet smile she used to give her mum before everything had gone wrong. “Yes,” she replied, “we’re going to have a great holiday.”

And they did. It had been a brilliant idea to get away from Ireland and Dunmore, Abby thought many times during their ten days away. In the hot sultry atmosphere of Miami, the cold war really did end. It was like old times. In the mornings, they woke early and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in their room, eating fruits they’d never heard of before and gobbling up the seven-grain low-cal muffins that Jess had developed a fondness for.

And they braved the sweltering heat of the day by slathering on sun cream and very cool shades, and joining all the achingly fashionable citizens of Miami meandering onto the beach. Of course, it was too hot to do much meandering, and they inevitably ended up in the airconditioned shops, where Abby threw caution to the wind and got out her credit card. Not that Jess was a wild or greedy shopper. No, she’d never expected Abby to buy her wildly expensive goodies and that hadn’t changed.

“Mum,” she said one day, shocked when she saw Abby about to shell out $80 for a pair of particularly beautiful Calvin Klein sunglasses, “you can’t buy those for me! I’d be so worried about them all the time. What if I lost them or broke them or something… ?”

For some reason, Abby felt ridiculously like crying at her daughter’s words. Despite everything, Jess was still such a good sweet kid and her mother loved her. It wasn’t Jess’s fault that horrible teenage hormones and Abby and Tom’s break-up had messed up her life.

“Now, Jess, I want to buy you something nice and these sun-glasses look really wonderful on,” her mother insisted. She’d worry about the credit card bill later. Anyway, if the 727 Network chat show worked out, money wouldn’t be such a problem.

For four days they were in Miami, they ate in out-of-the-way restaurants and tried to experience some genuine local culture rather than just heading to the big tourist spots.

They both had a go at Salsa dancing, although Jess was a tiny bit embarrassed when she was teamed up with a very good-looking young Cuban guy. Abby loved it, though. Tom had never been into dancing and it was such a joy to be whirled around the floor by somebody who really understood what rhythm was all about.

When it came to roller-blading, Jess was the expert. Abby was hopeless and gave up after a terrifying twenty minutes when she panicked non-stop that she was going to plough into a little old lady or fall over and break a bone. But Jess loved it. She adored let-ting the sea breeze blow her hair back as she bladed smoothly along the sea front.

“I’m going to get a pair of these when I get home,” she told her mum. “Wouldn’t it be brilliant? I could nearly get into school without going on the train.”

Abby felt guilty. She hadn’t mentioned her plan about them moving to Dublin yet. If they moved, Jess might well be able to roller-blade into school, but she wouldn’t be at school with Steph and all her other friends. Still, that discussion was a long way away. Abby decided to say nothing for the moment.

“You should definitely get a pair of roller blades,” she merely re-marked.

At night they never stayed out too late because they were both tired after their early starts, but it was wonderful to wander back to their hotel along the lively streets, soaking up the atmosphere.

“Miami buzzes,” Jess said one night, and Abby agreed.

They were sad to leave when it was time to fly to Orlando. Repacking their cases was a nightmare because, somehow, they had acquired a lot more stuff. Jess even had to sit on Abby’s case to get it to shut.

Disney World was a lot different from Miami. Even the most bad-tempered person in the world couldn’t help but be cheered up by the wonderful fairyland, Abby decided. It certainly wasn’t just for kids—it was for everyone.

Jess, who had said before they left Ireland that she was too old to go on stupid roller-coaster things, suddenly turned out to be madly addicted to the most dangerous rides in the theme parks. Abby, who was afraid of heights, made her go on her own.

“I’ll just sit down here and wait until you’re finished,” she said. Sometimes she felt sick just looking.

Jess liked Sea World best, but Abby loved the safari experience. In fact, their main problem was that there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to do it all properly. The week sped past.

They spent practically no time in their hotel room, and when it was time for dinner, there were so many things to talk about, so many things they’d seen that day, that there was no time for introspection.

Abby had hoped that she might be able to have a grown-up, heart-to-heart talk with her daughter. There was so much to discuss: the break-up, selling the house, the new TV show and the possibil-ity of moving to Dublin. She knew that, above all, Jess wanted to be treated like an adult, so the right thing for her to do would be to confide in Jess and tell her of all the plans. But there never seemed to be the moment for such a conversation.