The Cinderella Reflex (8 page)

“Well, that was just for O’Brien to test the theory!” she was saying. “But the point is,” she rolled her big brown eyes dramatically again, “this is going to affect my living. That’s why I hired a webmaster to get me on the Net. Is that how you heard of me?” she pressed.

“Er ... yes, actually,” Tess replied.

“Well, it must be working then.” Rosa seemed satisfied. “He’s going to set me up on Facebook and Twitter next. So,” she sank down into the sofa beside Tess and looked at her sharply, “what can I do for you now? Tarot, the crystal ball, tea leaves?”

“Well ...” Tess began but stopped at the sound of the front door knocker banging again.

“Just give me a minute.” Grandma Rosa sprang out of the chair and marched off to answer the door. Moments later she returned with a man in tow.

“I have another client,” she announced cheerily. “That Net is a miracle. Now if you can both wait here while I go and clear the parlour of Mrs O’Brien’s aura – I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Tess smiled uncertainly at the newcomer. He was tall and rangy looking with very dark hair curling over his collar and a natural tan he hadn’t acquired in Ireland – not at this time of the year, anyway. He was dressed in faded blue denim jeans and a light cotton shirt. No jewellery. No wedding ring. Gay? He raised his eyebrows and Tess flushed as she realised he knew she was checking him out.

“So – is she any good?” He jerked his head in the region of the kitchen door.

“Haven’t a clue – I’ve never been here before,” Tess admitted. “It’s your first time too then?”

“Yeah.” He gave a wry smile. “My sister says it’s cheaper than therapy. And more fun.”

Tess frowned. “I don’t think fortune telling is suitable for serious problems that require therapy
.
Isn’t it meant to be just a bit of fun?”

“Don’t look so worried – my problem isn’t that serious. I just need some advice about something I can’t make up my mind about. So, in the interests of being open to new experiences – here I am.”

He flopped down into an armchair. Tess thought it weird that a guy would go to a fortune teller. Still, if he had a problem ...

Her eyes widened a fraction as her brain caught up with what he’d just said.

Here was someone sitting in front of her who had a problem and was looking for advice about it. Exactly what she was looking for! And it wasn’t even a serious problem. Talk about synchronicity! She took a deep breath.

“So what sort of problem do you have then?”

He let out a sigh. “It’s a very boring sort of problem, I’m afraid. It’s not a big love triangle or anything as interesting.”

“So.” Tess looked at him speculatively. “Let me guess then. Is it to do with a dysfunctional family?”

“Sort of.” He sounded impressed. “Hey, how did you know that?”

Hah, she thought triumphantly. All that swotting up on the agony columns had paid off already.

“I happen to have a particular interest in people with problems, that’s all,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Really? Why?” He steepled his fingers in front of him and watched her closely.

“Well, it’s just at the moment. I mean ...” Tess hoped she didn’t sound slightly insane. “I’m actually looking for people with problems. So I can solve them.”

“Really?” He gave her a disbelieving look.

“Yes, really. It’s part of my job. Well,” she amended, “what will be my job – if I can make it work.” She took another deep breath. “
My
problem, you see, is that I don’t actually have any people to tell me what their problems are.”

“What sort of a job is that?” He looked baffled.

“It’s in a radio station. I’m a producer there at the moment. But I’m about to become ... er ... an agony aunt.”

He sat up straighter. “A radio agony aunt? So who do you work for?”

“Oh, it’s nowhere important,” Tess said dismissively. “The local radio station here – Atlantic 1 FM. Do you listen to it?”

“I don’t live in Killty – I’m just in town on business.” He raised an eyebrow. “But how can I help you?”

“Well, I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never even been on-air before and I haven’t a clue how to kick it all off. My boss thinks I should make some stuff up to start it off, but I’m not sure if that’s exactly ethical.” Tess’s voice trailed off. When she said it out loud like that, it sounded pretty precious. Maybe Helene was right. Maybe she should just make the stuff up and stop stressing so much about it?

“But you think it would be ethical for me to ring you?” He pushed long legs out in front of him and gave her a quizzical look.

“Well, of course it would be. You’re a real person with a real problem. You’ve just said so yourself. So it would be authentic and our listeners will get that straight away. It would be perfect to get me started off.”

He smiled. “So tell me a bit more about it then. Are you excited about this chance to go on-air?”

“Excited? No. Terrified more like. I’ve told Helene it’s probably going to flop. Helene’s my boss,” she added helpfully.

“So how do you know it’s going to be a flop?”

Tess shrugged. She was beginning to regret starting up this conversation. She thought he’d just agree to do what she asked. Or not. But he was giving her the third degree! “I suppose I don’t know for sure. But ...”

“Look, I’d
like
to help,” he said. “But it does seem weird, if you don’t mind me saying so. I’d have to broadcast my problem on-air and have everyone hear it?”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about anybody recognising you, if you don’t live around here. It’s not as if Atlantic has a huge audience. Helene, my boss, says we’re haemorrhaging listeners! As a matter of fact, I’d be surprised if the only people who get to hear your problem are myself and Ollie, the presenter. And Helene and a few of the rest of the staff of course. And my parents – they always listen in on the internet. And my sister Verity – she lives in London.”

“So what else can you tell me about the station?”

“It’s tiny. But maybe for not much longer,” Tess added mysteriously.

“Why?” Now he really was curious! Hah – she was reeling him in! But just in time Tess remembered Helene’s dire warnings about not spreading rumours and she pursed her lips. “I can’t really say any more. Sorry.”

“Okay. So what if I want to help you out? How do we do it?”

Tess felt a wave of elation. He was interested! She sat back and breathed a long sigh of relief. “It would be fantastic! This is my plan. You tell me what your problem is, I go away and research all I can about it – see what a real professional might have to say about it. And then when you ring me on-air on Monday,” she added rapidly before he could change his mind, “I’ll have the answer all ready for you!”

He leaned back in his chair, contemplating his scuffed, tan cowboy boots. “Help me with something I don’t understand first. You have a new slot on a tiny flop of a station with no listeners – why are you so worried about it that you’re asking perfect strangers to ring in with their problems?”

“Because I don’t want to make a show of myself, calling on-air for listeners to ring in, and then if nobody does, having to watch Ollie Andrews – the presenter – smirking into my face. And Helene Harper getting on my case afterwards. If you ring I’ll have a safety net – plus it will encourage other people to ring. That often happens,” she added helpfully, “when people hear other people talking about something on the radio, they ring in too.”

Tess stopped, catching his expression. “You think only crazy people with nothing else to do ring in to radio stations don’t you? Maybe you’re right.” Her earlier elation had started to evaporate now.

“Maybe.” He shrugged and shoved a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a biro. “What telephone number do I ring?”

“You’re going to do it? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! So – the show is called This Morning with—”

“This Morning with Ollie Andrews? Cos that’s the presenter’s name?”

“Right,” Tess reeled off the telephone number and watched as he scribbled it down on a used brown envelope he had pulled out of his other pocket. He seemed pleased with himself.

“I’m getting the hang of this.”

“You are. But you need to listen to the programme for a while first so it sounds natural when you get put on-air,” Tess explained.

“And is the show recorded or does it go out live?”

“It’s live. So – tell me what your problem is?” Tess pulled out her own pen and notebook so she could take his details. She hoped it wouldn’t be too difficult to work out how to answer it. But she could worry about that later. At least it was a real problem! This was the break she’d been praying for.

“Well ... I have a little condition to my participation in the programme.”

“What condition?” Tess asked carefully. It was starting to go wrong again.

“I don’t want to tell you what the problem is in advance of the show.”

“But that’s the whole point!” Tess burst out. Then she stopped. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She didn’t know the first thing about this guy, after all. And she had thought it was weird from the start: a bloke coming to a fortune teller on his own. She wiped a damp hand on her skirt.

“I think it would be better if you were to ad-lib the answer. That’s what people want to hear – what your take is on the problem, not some second-hand regurgitation of what a professional might say. Your own opinion would make for much better radio.”

“And you know this – how exactly?” Disappointment made Tess sound more belligerent than she intended. But people were always thinking they knew what made better radio when in reality they didn’t have a clue. They thought it involved just getting behind a mike and talking
.
But there was a lot more to it – not enough people realised that.

“It’s just a feeling,” he said mildly. “There’s no need to get so disturbed about it.”

That was exactly the word for her, Tess thought. Disturbed. She’d come to a fortune teller and ended up giving her advice on her new, ‘funky’ image! And then she’d asked this perfect stranger to ring her on-air when for all she knew he could be a psycho-stalker from hell. She was taking the whole thing far too seriously. Tess stuffed her pen and notebook back into her satchel.

“Listen,” she said, “I’ve changed my mind about you ringing. It was a mistake. So let’s just pretend this conversation never happened. Okay?”

“But what about all that stuff you said about being afraid of making a show of yourself in front of the presenter? And your boss getting on your case?” He looked baffled again.

“Well, that’s for me to worry about,” Tess said shortly. “I told you from the start I would need to know what your problem was because I don’t have any experience in answering problems. That was the whole
point
of the conversation!”

“Look, if it’s that important to you, I’ll do it,” he was conciliatory. “Take your pen back out. I’ll tell you what my problem is.”

Tess looked at him, flustered. She didn’t know what to do now. The kitchen door opened and Rosa appeared in the hallway, beckoning for Tess to follow her into the parlour.

She stood up. “It’s too late now. Let’s just forget it.”

“Really?” He scratched his five o’clock shadow and had the nerve to look disappointed. “Well, good luck with it anyway.”

Tess rolled her eyes to heaven and turned to follow Grandma Rosa into the tiny front room. She could hardly remember what she had come here for now. She perched on the edge of another ancient sofa. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to dissipate the tension.

“You seem nervous,” Rosa said. She had a deck of tarot cards in her hands. She shuffled them and held them out to Tess. “Here, pick nine cards.”

Tess picked the cards absent-mindedly and waited while the older woman arranged them into a cross shape on the coffee table between them. She was still thinking of the guy in the waiting room.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting.” Rosa was studying the cards. “Well, the first thing the cards are telling us today is that there are big changes on the horizon for you,” she began.

“Yes, I know that! That’s why I’m here,” Tess interrupted. “The reason I came was because the radio station I work for is about to be taken over and—”

Rosa’s eyes widened. “You work in a radio station?”

“Yes, but I don’t know for how much longer. I’m not sure if the new owner will want to keep the same staff and—”

“Do you think you could get me on the radio? Doing fortunes? Maybe even Cosmic Ordering? Listeners would love it! And if I had a media profile I’d never be out of work. What’s the radio station called?”

“It’s called Atlantic 1 FM – it’s the local station here in Killty. It’s tiny. You’d be better trying somewhere bigger,” Tess said apologetically.

“No – local would be good, especially for drumming up new business. And I know Atlantic 1 FM – I listen to that show in the morning. What’s it called again?”

“This Morning with Ollie Andrews
.
That’s the one I produce.”

“You’re the producer!” Grandma Rosa was impressed. “So you could get me a slot then?”

“It’s not that easy!” Tess sighed. “There might be a new station owner and he is supposed to only want young people! And I know you’ve had your makeover and everything, but I mean
really
young. In fact, I might even be too old to work there myself soon.”

“What?” Rosa blanched. “Sure you’re only a child.”

“I’m not! I’m thirty! And Sara, that’s the girl I work with, she says the new boss might only want
under
-thirty-year-olds. She heard it from her father who knows all these business types. But even apart from the station being taken over, my job is terrible at the moment! My boss keeps hounding me to come up with better ideas and get more listeners. And now? Now she wants me to be an agony aunt!” Tess’s thoughts came out in a jumble.

Rosa looked down at the cards, her head leaning to one side. “That’s something I’d be very good at, if you don’t mind me saying – an agony aunt! But you’re right – I couldn’t pass for under thirty. It was a makeover I had, not a miracle. But the point is, I’d
love
to do it. So why is it a problem for you then?”