The Cinderella Reflex (32 page)

“Ollie is toast.” Paulina pulled a pile of press releases out of her briefcase and dumped them on Helene’s desk. “But on the bright side? You get to keep your job. Barely.”

“Barely?” Helene’s breath caught at the back of her throat. “What the hell does that mean?”

Paulina gave her an odd look. “It means that Jack knows you are having an affair with his sister’s husband, and it was all I could do to persuade him to keep his personal feelings out of his business decisions.”

“
Was
having an affair,” Helene tried to keep the tremble out of her voice. “It’s over.”

“Really?” Paulina looked at her appraisingly. “Well, that’s something, I suppose.”

“Well, sort of over. I don’t know if I should be telling you this but … well, the thing is …” Helene took a deep breath, “I’m pregnant.” She waited nervously for Paulina’s reaction.

“Seriously? Is it Richard’s?” Paulina couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

“Of course it’s Richard’s!” Helene was outraged. Was everyone she told going to ask her that question?

“I was just wondering.” Paulina looked at her coolly. “Being pregnant will make it harder for Jack to sack you. A lot harder.”

“Is that actually meant to make me feel better?”

“Look, Helene, I like you. And you once asked me for career advice, which is why I am going to give you some now. Jack will be relying on someone to hold Chris Conroy’s hand over the coming months – to make sure he fulfils his potential. We need him to become a household name – a star – and pretty sharpish for the whole relaunch of Atlantic 1FM to work. So make sure that that someone is you. Copper-fasten your position here,” Paulina’s eyes flickered to Helene’s waist, “and do it before your pregnancy becomes obvious.”

A phone rang and Paulina fished hers out of her pocket and squinted at the screen.

“Sorry I can’t stay longer, but I have a rake of stuff to do.” She winked at Helene. “But call me if I can be of any further help.”

Helene watched her go in disbelief. She had actually
winked
after hearing about Helene’s life-changing dilemma? She stared after her as Paulina strode unconcernedly past a huddle of staff watching her fearfully from their desks, head bobbing until she’d disappeared from sight.

Helene picked up one of the press releases and scanned it lethargically.

Chris Conroy will soon be the name on everyone’s lips. The broadcaster and journalist won a nationwide contest to host his own show on new national station Atlantic 1FM and is now facing a meteoric rise in his fortunes. What was once a low-key local station will soon be transformed into a …

Blah blah blah
. Helene let the sheet of paper slip out of her hand and watched it waft down to the floor. Could the day get any worse? But after a few minutes she realised that sitting holed up in her office wasn’t going to make it any better. Listlessly, she took up the pile of press releases. She might as well hand them out to people, put them out of their misery by confirming the rumour about Chris and
It’s My Show
.

“This has been a long time coming,” Helene announced as she passed by each desk. “And it is certainly a pity that it isn’t one of us who is getting the chance to host our own show, especially now that the station is finally going national.”

She started off on the pep talk automatically, and was about to continue with a host of platitudes about how everyone should now put their shoulder to the wheel and get behind the new presenter, and how a rising tide would lift all boats. But suddenly she couldn’t stand the fearful, subdued atmosphere a moment longer. And so, for the first time her life, she pulled a sickie.

She was home within an hour and, as she turned her key in the new lock, she tried not to think about the fact that she would never again hear Richard opening her hall door, surprising her with flowers or food or an unexpected night off from his family. She opened her wardrobe, looking for something more comfortable to wear. The skirt of her business suit was already starting to pinch at the waist. All her designer clothes and shoes looked pretty useless now, she thought ruefully, inspecting some of her dresses, wondering half-heartedly if any of them could be altered to accommodate her bump once it started to grow.

The dress she’d worn to her fortieth birthday party slipped off its hanger as she rummaged and, as she watched it float to the floor, everything that had happened came rushing back to her. What the hell was she going to do, she asked herself for the thousandth time? It was all very well for Paulina to fork out advice about Jack needing someone like her to make Chris a star. Helene knew that even if Jack went against his instincts and kept her on – and legally he would probably have to, now that she was pregnant – he could still undermine every decision she made.

And even if he didn’t, did she have it in her to make Chris Conroy into a star? Helene knew more than anyone the kind of dedication, energy and sheer bloody-mindedness that particular task would require. To expect her to do it for the rival who had come from nowhere and scooped her dream job from under her nose was a big ask. Too big, Helene realised. And there it was. The answer she had been waiting for, ever since she had started her pros and cons list early that morning. She didn’t want to make anyone a star, ever again. Unless it was herself.

She would have to leave the station. But what then? It might be a welcome escape right now, but would it mean a slow spiral into single-parenthood poverty over time? She thought again about Richard’s cheque. It had seemed sizeable when she had a salary going into her bank account every month. But it wouldn’t last long by itself.

Still, it could buy her some time. Time to find out who she really was, or who she could become when she was no longer Helene Harper, executive editor at Atlantic 1FM, or Richard Armstrong’s lover. She had dismissed Richard’s idea that she should take time out to travel, because of her pregnancy. But maybe she could go somewhere once the baby was born? Somewhere she could recover from her broken romance and learn how to be a mother?

She thought of Zoey, living on the other side of the world in New Zealand. She and her sister had never been close, but Helene knew she would welcome her, especially once she knew she was pregnant. They were family. She could visit her, for a start.

Helene felt a great surge of energy course through her body. She could face the future after all, she realised. She would do it by taking each day as it came with her head held high and a smile on her face no matter what. Already she could feel the ghost of a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

The one thing she hadn’t been able to cope with over these past few weeks was not having a Plan. Because planning was Helene’s forte.

Chapter Twenty-Two

She noticed him immediately. He was at a corner table, deep in conversation with a young couple who had a map spread out in front of them.

“Helene!” Matt’s face lit up when he saw her. He finished up his conversation with his customers quickly and came over to greet her. “It’s so good to see you. I was a bit worried about you after the party night and … ah, but never mind all that now. How are you?”

“I’ve had better birthdays.” She gave him a rueful smile. “And better days than today, to be honest.”

It was true. She’d been shocked by her appearance this morning. No amount of make-up could disguise the purple shadows which were like bruises under her eyes. Her complexion was chalk white and she had an acne breakout on her chin. Halfway through trying to camouflage it all she’d stopped. What was the point? She needed a new life, not more make-up. And to think her main concern had, not so long ago, been how to look ten years younger!

“Carrot cake sometimes helps?” Matt offered.

“It certainly wouldn’t do any harm,” Helene conceded. “And I’ll have a full-fat cappuccino to go with it.” Being pregnant had some compensations after all.

“Coming up.” He flung his blue-and-white check teacloth over his shoulder and walked towards the kitchen, stopping to share a joke with a customer on the way.

It was the first thing she’d noticed about Matt, she reflected. How good-humoured he was. Even when he had been struggling to get the café opened, he’d had a smile and a chat for everyone. Even for her that day she’d arrived after the big row with Ollie, when she’d been so off-hand with him.

Helene wondered when, exactly, she had become such a bitch? Maybe it wasn’t one moment, she reflected. Maybe it was a series of incremental steps – instances when she’d decided that her perspective was more important than someone else’s, that her needs came first, every time, until she somehow got used to that and started to think that her viewpoint was the only valid one. And Richard had turned out to be every bit as selfish as she was.

Matt, on the other hand, seemed to go out of his way to help other people at a moment’s notice.

“I never got a chance to thank you for being so kind the night of my birthday party,” she said when he came back with a giant chunk of cake and a mugful of steaming coffee.

“It wasn’t a problem. Did you er … sort everything out, after?”

“Not really. Actually, I’ve come to ask you for another favour. I need to pick your brains about flights and stuff.”

“Oh? Going on holidays?” His eyes crinkled at the corners and Helene noticed for the first time that he had odd-coloured eyes, one sea-green, the other hazel, flecked with dark speckles.

“A bit more than that.” Her stomach lurched when she thought about her plans.

“Sure.” Matt looked about the café
.
It was almost closing time, and there were only a few stragglers left, finishing their food or flicking through brochures. “Look, if you can wait for a bit I’ll close up and I can give you my full attention then.”

“Great.”

Helene spent the time thinking about her plans. Going to see her sister in New Zealand seemed to be the most logical first step. But should she wait until she had the baby? She couldn’t make up her mind. She seemed to have developed brain fog when it came to decisions and she kept falling asleep! She guessed it was the pregnancy hormones, but that was alarming when she had so much to figure out.

“Do you mind if we have our chat upstairs in my apartment?” Matt was finished work. “It’s been a long day and I could do with a break from the café.”

“I’d love to.” Helene drained her coffee and stood up. It would make a change from sitting in her own silent apartment night after night. She followed him through a door at the back of the café and up two rickety flights of stairs, where he stopped outside a purple door.

“Here we are.”

Helene stepped into the apartment and blinked in surprise. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the open-plan living space with light and the last of the evening sunlight sparkled across blond wooden floors. The walls were crammed with colourful abstract artwork and framed photographs of Matt’s travels. A pot of purple and white orchids formed an exotic arrangement on the coffee table.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll only be a few minutes.” Matt disappeared into his bedroom.

Helene sank onto the floral sofa, and looked about her curiously. It didn’t actually look like a man’s apartment. Her eyes fell on a small, framed photo sitting on a side table and she picked it up to examine it more closely. Matt beamed out at her, one arm around a waifish-looking woman who was wearing an oversized cowboy hat and a wide smile. They both looked tanned and happy. Sydney Harbour Bridge soared in the background.

The sun had enveloped the living room in a warm golden glow and it wasn’t long before Helene’s imagination had transported her to the other side of the world. She felt her eyelids drooping and when they fluttered open again Matt was sitting on the other end of the sofa, his feet on the coffee table. He had changed into casual jeans and a T-shirt and was nursing a large glass of red wine.

“How long was I out for?” Helene rubbed her eyes.

“Half an hour.” Matt glanced at the photograph that had slipped onto Helene’s lap.

She followed his gaze. “Is she the person responsible for your beautiful decor?”

“No, that was me!” Matt grinned. “Clearly I’m in touch with my feminine side.”

Helene tapped the glass frame with her fingertips. “She’s very pretty. Is she your girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. Roseanne.” He waved his glass in the air. “Broken romances. Don’t you just hate ’em?”

His words were light but Helene knew this was the woman who had broken his heart. She leaned over and propped the photo back on the table and saw a letter there addressed to Matt.
Matt Carver.
So that was his name.

He looked at her curiously. “Did you break up with the guy I met leaving your birthday party, then?”

“I did.” Helene looked at the photograph again. “And you? How long ago was your break-up?”

“A year ago now. She met someone else.” He sounded wistful. “What happened with your guy?”

“Girl meets boy. Boy dumps girl. Same old story.” Helene pushed her hair out of her eyes.

Matt pointed to the wine bottle on the coffee table.

“A drink to drown our sorrows?”

“Hah!” Helene laughed. “That’s where the complication comes in, actually. Not only is boy who dumps girl married in this case, but also dumped girl is pregnant at the time! So I’ll pass on the alcohol, thanks. But I’d murder a cup of tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Seriously?” Matt looked shocked. “So what are you going to do?”

“Be a great mother, I hope!” Helene laughed at his troubled expression. “Now that I’ve got over the shock I’m sort of looking forward to it. I thought that ship had sailed for me. And now that it hasn’t … well, it’s beginning to feel like a brand new adventure.”

Matt smiled. “Well, that’s a very positive attitude to take, I must say.” He put down his wine and loped off to the kitchen, returning with a tray of tea and an array of colourful cupcakes on an ornate stand.

Helene’s eyes widened. “You’re a demon baker?”