The Cinderella Reflex (15 page)

“Hi, Rachel. Can I tell you about my plans for the contest? It’s Helene Harper. Helene, spelled with an ‘e’.”

As Rachel opened her notebook on a new page, Helene watched Richard going back up to the podium, looking murderous and she knew she had crossed a line. But if Jack McCabe was looking for the next big thing, who deserved it more than she did, after working so hard for the last five years? He need never find out that
she
was the one Richard was having the affair with.

For the next few minutes, Helene concentrated on her interview with Rachel Joy. Then she gathered up her belongings and swept out of the room, barely giving Richard a glance as she passed him by. She was in the contest now and after the conversation they had just had this evening, she was definitely in it to win it.

Tess opened her eyes and lay very still, aware of something nudging at the edge of her consciousness, something vaguely worrying. Still half asleep, she automatically ran through her to-do list for the week.

There was that weekend home she’d been promising herself. There was the mountain of laundry piling up in her closet. And she wanted to finish reading a new self-help book about dealing with difficult people. Its basic message was that there was no such thing as difficult people, only people with difficulties, and Tess had made up her mind to adopt this strategy in future when she was dealing with Ollie.

And then she remembered. She wouldn’t have to deal with Ollie Andrews today. Or tomorrow. Or ever again. She had been sacked from Atlantic 1 FM. Ever since that night in Ryan’s bar, Tess had retreated into a self-protective state of shock, refusing to face reality. This was how she coped when bad things happened – she convinced herself that if she didn’t acknowledge it then it couldn’t be so.

Andrea had been texting every day begging her to get in touch with Helene Harper and sort it out, until finally Tess had replied that she didn’t want to talk about it. In truth she had been half expecting Helene to call, realising she’d overreacted and asking her to come back to work. But it hadn’t happened and finally Tess had switched off her mobile just to stop herself checking it every five minutes.

She shoved her feet into her slippers and pulled on her ancient pink dressing gown. It was the comfort garment she had taken with her when she left home, the one she wore whenever she had a bad day. She had worn it for a month after Chris Conroy dumped her. She had worn it when her sister Verity had gone to live in London. And she had worn it every day since she had been sacked.

She pulled the belt tightly around her now and wandered into the kitchen. It was time to face reality. Okay, so she had never been sacked before but she had been unemployed many times in the last decade and something had always turned up. Of course the whole reason she had worked so hard at Atlantic was because she had thought it was her chance to get a foot on the ladder of a real career. But it hadn’t worked out and it was time to move on.

Tess filled the kettle and rooted around in the cupboards, making a face at the couple of slices of stale bread lurking there. She used to buy a coffee and croissant on her way to work and eat breakfast at her desk. She’d have lunch out with Andrea and pick at something in the evening. Clearly the first thing she had to do in her new life was to stock up on food. Now that she was unemployed she could seize the opportunity to sort out her life completely, tackle all the stuff she’d put off because she’d been too busy or stressed or preoccupied.

The kettle hissed to boiling point. Tess threw a teabag into a mug, added a drop of milk and wandered into the living room. She sank onto the sofa and leaned back in the seat, wracking her brain as to what she should do next.

She felt too bruised to start over quite yet. She couldn’t trust Helene to give her a good reference either. She opened her laptop to check the online version of the
Killty Times
with the forlorn hope that she might find something in the jobs ads that might suit her for a few weeks while she was wondering what to do next. Her eyes widened when she saw their lead story.

Tensions were evident at local radio station Atlantic 1 FM this week when entrepreneur Jack McCabe finally confirmed his plans to buy the ailing station. But the business sound bites of the day were drowned out by the sound of a storm brewing at the station.

Flamboyant presenter Ollie Andrews, well known for his eccentric on-air outbursts, slammed future plans for the station, which include a nationwide contest for a new star. He called It’s My Show a shameless publicity stunt, and insisted he was the real star of Atlantic 1 FM. Former producer Tess Morgan walked out of studio recently in the middle of her debut stint as an agony aunt on Andrews’s show and hasn’t been heard of since. Insiders say the real reason for Morgan’s untimely departure from the station was a massive personality clash with Ollie. Yesterday, Helene Harper, Morgan’s former boss, said Morgan was pursuing other projects and it was unclear if she’d be back on-air soon.

Meanwhile ... who’s the busy executive enjoying a radio romance with someone they shouldn’t be? Watch this space ... Rachel Joy.

Tess blinked. Insiders? What insiders? She read the report again. Clearly the romance related to Helene and Richard but who was giving Rachel Joy her information? She squinted at the accompanying photograph. Jack was barely recognisable from the guy she’d met at Rose Cottage. In the picture he was every inch the business tycoon. The five o’clock shadow had been replaced by a close shave and he was wearing a sharp black suit, white shirt and a crimson tie. He was flanked by a beautiful blonde woman described as his PR guru.

The sound of the doorbell pealed through the apartment and Tess looked towards the hall door, puzzled. Nobody called here in the middle of the morning. Most of her neighbours left at the crack of dawn, dropping children off at crèches before going on to work. She reckoned it must be a door-to-door salesman or someone doing a survey. She considered not answering at all, but Tess had done enough of these sort of jobs herself to be nice to other people doing them. She opened the door – steeling herself to be diplomatic with whoever was on the other side – and took a step backwards in surprise.

Jack McCabe – the phantom phone-in caller, the newly announced owner of Atlantic 1 FM, the man who would have been her new boss if she still had a job – was standing on her doorstep.

“What do you want?” Tess asked, belligerently.

After all, this was the man who was at least partially responsible for the fiasco that had led to her losing her job. If he hadn’t phoned into the show when he did, she would have limped to the end of her slot without disaster striking. She would be at work now, part of all the buzz for the soon to be revamped Atlantic 1 FM, instead of at home, still in her dressing gown, trying to think of yet another new direction.

“I’m glad I caught you in,” Jack said. He was dressed the same as he had been in the newspaper photo – all designery looking. Tess looked with alarm at the black crocodile briefcase he was carrying. Maybe he was going to sue her for breach of contract because she’d walked off This Morning? She thought of having to use her meagre savings to pay legal fees to defend herself against the media mogul standing in front of her. She’d be stuck in Killty forever at this rate.

“Look, I’m a bit busy.” She took a deep intake of breath as Jack hunkered down and started fiddling with his briefcase.

He looked up at her quizzically. “Are you okay?”

“No comment,” Tess half-closed the door in his face, determined not to incriminate herself.

“Er ... right,” Jack flashed her his disarming smile. “It’s just you’ve gone a bit pale. Look, I ...”

One of the locks on the briefcase snapped opened and Tess took a step backwards. Maybe she should just slam the door in his face before he could serve her with a summons paper or whatever it was you did when you were suing someone? Then, thankfully, she heard her landline phone ringing.

“Er ... I have to get that.” She moved to close the door fully but Jack stepped smartly into the hall first.

“I can wait – it’s no bother.”

Tess snatched up the phone, acutely conscious of him standing behind her.

“Hello?” She gestured for Jack to go into the living room. The hall was much too tiny for both of them. She could smell his aftershave, a citrusy scent that would have been pleasant if Tess hadn’t been way too tense to care about such things.

“Hi,” she whispered into the receiver.

“Tess!” It was Andrea. “Why aren’t you answering your mobile? I’ve left a ton of messages!”

“I had it switched off.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I can’t talk at the moment.”

“Why, who’s there?”

Tess sneaked a look in through the open door to her living room and saw Jack throw his jacket over the side of the sofa and loosen the knot in his tie.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she breathed.

“Oh! Well, ring me as soon as you can,” Andrea ordered. “Have you heard the news? About Jack McCabe confirming he’s bought Atlantic?”

“I’ve just read about it online. But I can’t talk about it right now. Look, I’ll call you back, okay?” Tess replaced the receiver without waiting for a reply and walked warily into the living room. Jack had the briefcase on the sofa beside him. He opened his mouth to speak but Tess got there first.

“I’m a bit busy, actually. Late breakfast.” She took the dozen steps to reach her tiny kitchenette and turned on the kettle switch.

“I’d love a cup of tea if there’s one going. And maybe a bit of toast? I haven’t eaten all day and I’ve been up since five.”

“Five? What are you – an insomniac?” Tess cut blue bits of mould off the last two slices of bread and stuck them into the toaster.

“Only when I’m excited about something.” Jack appeared in the doorway of her kitchenette, dwarfing the tiny space. “And I’m excited now, about buying into Atlantic. It’s funny, now that I’ve made up my mind, I can see it was always the right decision.” He parked himself on one of the two breakfast stools. “But beforehand? I just didn’t know.” He shook his head ruefully. “Normally when it comes to business, I’m the decisive type. Yes. No. Buy or let go. But this was more difficult for me because it really was a dilemma about whether I should let my heart rule my head for a change.”

Tess vaguely remembered him saying that on the radio
.

“So what made you change your mind?” She pushed a mug of tea towards him and poured milk into her own. “Clearly it wasn’t my advice,” she added pointedly.

“Well, it was in a way,” Jack said slowly. “It was my sister Louisa who really wanted me to buy into the station. But I didn’t agree with her reasons.” He gave her a speculative look. “You know Louisa is married to Richard Armstrong?”

Tess spluttered as a mouthful of tea went down the wrong way. Richard Armstrong, who was having an affair with Helene Harper?

“Er ... no, I didn’t know that,” she mumbled, looking at him over the rim of her mug.

“Yeah, well she is.” Jack’s face darkened. “More fool her, if you ask me. Slippery Dicky is hardly what you’d call catch of the day in the husband stakes. But Louisa has always adored him, and keeps making excuses for him, even now when he has finally run his business into the ground. And,” his mouth tightened, “apparently she suspects he’s seeing someone else now as well.”

“Right.” Tess bit her lip. This was way too much information.

“Anyhow,” Jack continued, “Louisa thinks that me buying the station will take the pressure off the business, which in turn will take the pressure off their marriage. Which, of course, it won’t because Richard will still be a prick.” His jaw tightened. “It was Louisa who got me to go to Grandma Rosa. She’s been going to her since she and Richard moved to Killty. Said she’d helped her with lots of stuff. I thought it was all old guff to be honest. I only went to humour her because she’s been so miserable. But then I met you there,” he smiled, “and when I heard you worked at Atlantic – well, even I thought it might be fate. So when you asked me to phone in with a problem I saw it as an opportunity to get a feel for the business.”

“Well, I’m glad it worked out for you.” Tess’s tone was clipped. “Grandma Rosa didn’t prove to be as lucky for me, unfortunately.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Jack was eager to explain. “I don’t understand what happened that day. What made you walk out like that during the show?”

“It’s a long story.” Tess pulled her dressing gown cord tighter around her. She felt at a distinct disadvantage beside Jack in his sharp business suit. And she couldn’t stop thinking of the briefcase. He was probably taping this meeting so he’d have it on the record when she incriminated herself. She wished she were recording the meeting herself actually, in case she needed it in court.

“I have time,” Jack said easily.

“I wasn’t expecting any phone calls so I wasn’t prepared,” she said simply. She threw him an accusing look. “I
told
you not to call.”

“But I thought you were just panicking. It was a good idea, getting someone like me to ring in to kick the agony aunt slot off. I just thought it would make better radio if you ad-libbed rather than use a rehearsed answer.”

Tess folded her arms. “So after a couple of days of thinking about whether you should buy the station, you’re now an expert in what makes good radio? Believe me, it’s not that easy. I’ve been there months and I still don’t have a clue.”

“I tried to find out what happened to you. After you ran off like that. Richard said he’d sort it, but then I came up against a stone wall with him. So I thought I’d find out for myself.”

So he didn’t know that Helene had sacked her, Tess realised. But what good would it do if she told him now? He would never take her side over a manager. Bosses never did. She shrugged.

“I’ve just told you. I panicked on-air, that’s all.” Let him sue her if he had to.

“But that’s no reason to
leave
,” Jack countered. “Someone did contact you to ask you to change your mind, I hope?”