The Cinderella Reflex (9 page)

“Because I’d feel sorry for someone if I’m their only port of call when they have a problem. I can’t even sort out my own problems. And it seems exploitative. And unethical.” There was that word again. Tess was beginning to get on her own nerves saying it.

“So maybe it’s time you moved on if you find yourself compelled to doing things that are unethical and exploitative,” Rosa said calmly.

“It’s not that easy ...” Tess began.

“You keep saying that,” Rosa pointed out.

“Do I?” Tess hadn’t noticed.

“Look. Worthwhile things are rarely easy. And staying in a job you hate and doing things you find unethical – well, that can’t be easy either.” Rosa overturned another of Tess’s card choices and peered at it. “What about love and romance? Tell me, have you someone new in your life?”

Tess shook her head dumbly. There wasn’t a single man in the whole of Killty as far as she could tell and with her debut slot as Agony Aunt of the Airwaves starting on Monday, romance was the last thing on her mind.

“Are you sure?” Creases appeared in Grandma Rosa’s forehead as she concentrated on her cards. “There’s a big romance showing here. Have you got your eye on someone maybe?” Grandma Rosa sounded so convinced that, despite herself, Tess peered at the cards.

“How can you tell?”

“It’s my skill.” Rosa looked at her. “So do you know who it might be?”

“Haven’t a clue. I’ve been concentrating on my career lately.”

“What sort of a life is that? Especially with the problematic career you have?” Rosa was openly incredulous.

“But that’s why I’m here. Because I want help to sort it all out.”

“Well then, you’ll think about what I said. About moving on.”

“Look,” Tess said forcefully, “there’s a recession on. You’ve just told me how hard business is for you. The media industry is not an easy place to be job-hopping in at the moment. Lots of people would do what I do for nothing, just to get a foot in the door.”

Rosa pursed her lips. She shuffled some more cards and her eyes widened. “You’ll be getting a proposition shortly – I’m not sure what sort. When I was young a proposition would have meant an engagement ring. But these days that could just mean a sleepover. Or,” she raised her hand in anticipation of Tess’s further protest, “a career move.”

Tess smiled. She didn’t mean to be uncharitable, but it was no wonder business was going down the tubes for Grandma Rosa if this was the best she could come up with. A new romance, big changes on the horizon. So far, so predictable. So much for being the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter! She paid her money and let herself out, resisting the temptation to look back towards the kitchen.

Tess looked up as the cafe door swung open and Andrea swept in. She had been here half an hour already and was enjoying the ambience of the Travel Cafe, remembering all the good times of her own globetrotting days. Andrea had mentioned that a new cafe had opened recently and they had arranged to meet to discuss Tess’s new role as agony aunt.

Tess had got here deliberately early and spent some time browsing through the brochures and books. Andrea, on the other hand, arrived after a five-kilometre run. Her auburn hair was plastered into her head and she was out of breath but she looked pink cheeked and exhilarated. Sunday mornings were what she called her ‘sanity time’ and Tess was grateful she was taking the time out to give her some advice.

She sat down opposite Tess and ordered herself an herbal tea. “So! How is the Agony Aunt of the Airwaves coming along?”

Tess rolled her eyes. “Not very well, actually. The harder I try to relax, the more wound up I get about it. I keep picturing Ollie’s sneering face on the other side of the table. I feel like a square peg in a round hole in this job, Andrea.”

“You need to ignore Ollie and concentrate on yourself,” Andrea advised.

“But he hates me. And so does Helene,” Tess sighed.

“Helene has it in for us all.” Andrea shrugged. “She considers me a liability because I have children and I can’t be at her beck and call twenty-four hours a day. I’m already getting that anxious Monday feeling because I have zero ideas for tomorrow. I need to find time to look through the newspapers this afternoon but then Joe will be like a demon because he says Sundays are supposed to be family time. Sometimes I feel like I’m being pulled in two.”

“How’s he getting on with being a house husband then?” Tess asked speculatively. She’d noticed that since Joe had lost his job her friend had become much more distracted at work.

Andrea raised her eyes heavenwards. “Hmm. Mondays he coaches school football, Wednesdays he’s involved in computer classes for the elderly, Thursdays it’s a support group for men made redundant. Not a lot of housework going on. And now he needs – get this – Me Time!”

Tess stifled a snigger. “I thought that only existed inside the pages of women’s magazines?” But she felt bad about making fun of him. Andrea was the reporter across all of the weekday programmes on Atlantic, which meant a lot of unsociable and unpredictable hours. It couldn’t be easy for him, adjusting to a life at home and having to deal with all of that too.

“Well, Joe says it’s hugely important when you’re a stay-at-home dad. Otherwise your creativity gets stifled, apparently.” Andrea shrugged. “Anyhow, have you brought your script for tomorrow?”

“I was just going through it when you arrived.” Tess shoved a sheet of paper across the table. Andrea glanced through it and slid it back. “It’s absolutely fine to start you off. Next week, when the problems start rolling in, we can sit down and work out a detailed plan. Just get it kicked off tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Tess shoved the paper into her bag. She had planned to rehearse it with Andrea, but it was clear her friend had more than enough on her plate. As it turned out, she hadn’t even got around to telling her that she’d been to see the fortune teller when Andrea’s mobile bleeped. She squinted at the screen, sighed, and pushed her half-full cup of tea to one side. “Time’s up, I’m afraid. See you tomorrow so. And stop worrying, Tess. You’ll be absolutely fine.”

And she was gone, streaking past the window in a fast jog. Tess finished her coffee and then ambled along the seafront until she found a bench. She pulled out her journal, jotting down random thoughts as they occurred to her. It was a habit she’d got into when she’d first set off on her travels. She had so many memories recorded now that she didn’t want to give it up, even while she was here in Killty, where most of her journal entries consisted of whinges about what Ollie or Helene had done to torture her on a particular day. She spent the rest of the day trying to relax but she still slept badly that night. By the time her alarm went off next morning, she felt as if she’d had no sleep at all.

She got to work early and settled down with a coffee in the bit of scrubland that passed for a garden at the back of the radio station building. The sun was warm on her back but she was too keyed up to appreciate it.

“So if
you
would like to write or email me in with
your
problem I promise I’ll do my best to help,” she read out loud.

She wiped her clammy hands in her jeans. Why was she finding this so difficult? It wasn’t as if she had to worry about live callers now. After the fiasco with the strange man she’d run into at Rose Cottage she had given up trying to find a guinea-pig caller. She could worry about callers when the problems started arriving.
If
problems started arriving.

“So this is where you’ve got to,” she looked up to Sara barging through the door into the garden. “You’re on in fifteen minutes and Helene wants to speak to you about it first.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to her too – make sure she’s okay with this script. I was looking for her earlier.”

“She’s only just arrived and I have to warn you – she’s like a demon today. And she’s producing the show herself, after promising she’d give me a shot at it!” Sara looked mutinous. “Daddy doesn’t understand why I want to work here at all. I’m never going to get a break.”

“I’m sorry,” Tess said and meant it. Sara had been due to act up as producer for the day to allow Tess to concentrate on being on-air, as Helene wanted the agony aunt slot established as soon as possible. Now the thought of Helene scrutinising her every mistake from the control room made Tess feel more nervous than ever.

“It’s not even certain Jack McCabe is going to buy in at all,” Sara continued. “Daddy says Jack may have the Midas touch, but even he can’t work miracles.” She looked back at Tess. “So should I just go ahead with setting up the Ten Years Younger item then? It might help Helene to calm down. But then, what if Jack drops it? It’s all very confusing here lately.”

“We continue as normal,” Tess absently repeated the current mantra of everyone at Atlantic 1 FM. They had reached the studio and she’d barely have enough time to talk to Helene before it was time for her to go on-air.

But as soon as she swung open the door she could see something was wrong. Helene was sitting ramrod straight; her whole body was rigid with tension, her left leg jigging up and down under the desk. She looked at Tess and gestured angrily at the clock overhead.

“You’ve left it late enough. I wanted to discuss the slot with you before you went on, but a call has fallen through now so you’ll have to go on early. As in now, Tess!”

“Oh, okay ...” Tess hurried through to sit down opposite Ollie, her fragile confidence faltering with this unexpected change to the schedule. She glanced out at Helene looking for reassurance but she was deep in conversation with Sara.

Tess placed her hands on the desk, saw they were shaking and shoved them into her lap. Ollie glanced down at her knowingly and she ducked her head down towards her script so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

And then, there it was. The familiar signature tune for This Morning with Ollie Andrews was jingling through the room. The same tune she had heard over and over again for the last six months. She had imagined that hearing it would settle her down, make her feel professional. Instead she felt the start of panic beginning to lick around her insides.

She closed her eyes briefly and focussed on her breathing. Andrea had instructed her to take a deep, slow breath at the beginning of each sentence, which would stop her making the beginner broadcaster’s mistake of having to take huge, audible gulps of air at inappropriate places.

But Tess’s breath was coming in short little gasps and she felt nauseous. She tried again. Breathe in to the count of four, out to the count of six. But it wasn’t working.
It wasn’t working
. She was going to be sick – but there was no time to be sick because she saw the red light come on and she could hear Ollie’s voice, sounding tinny and as if it were coming from a great distance. There it was. They were on-air.

“Good morning, folks, this is Ollie Andrews and this is the This Morning show. Well, we’ve lots of stuff lined up for you today as usual, and one special treat to start with. In studio with me this morning is Tess Morgan. That name might be familiar to some of you and that’s because Tess is the producer of this programme. But today she’s swapping her behind-the-scenes role to become your very own ... agony aunt.” Ollie’s voice dipped in a sneer. “Tess Morgan – Agony Aunt of the Airwaves! But first – let’s have some music ...”

A blast of heavy metal music filled the studio and Tess blinked with astonishment. Why was he playing this? It must be to unsettle her. She could feel the deep
boom boom
of the beat juddering through the room. She looked out for Helene’s reaction but she was still busy talking to Sara.

Tess hunched over her script and tried to block out the noise. She had prepared a composite of typical problems to give listeners a flavour of the issues she intended to deal with. She would then invite them to email or write in with their own dilemmas and that was it really for today. If she could just stop panicking ...

From the corner of her eye she noticed Helene gesticulating to get her attention, stabbing her finger downwards in a vigorous motion. Tess squinted through the soundproofed glass window, trying to figure out what she meant.

“Put on your headphones!” Ollie barked.

“Oh, right.” Flustered, Tess clamped them onto her head, her ears still ringing from the raucous music that was thankfully fading away now. What did she need the headphones for, Tess wondered vaguely, trying to stop her papers from rustling.

She understood why too late.

“Tess!” Helene was hissing into her ear. “You have a caller!”

“What?” Tess jerked her head up and saw Ollie glaring at her, warning her that she was now on-air and that listeners would hear whatever she said.

“Ask her what her name and her problem is!” Helene instructed.

Tess opened her mouth but no sound came out. She swallowed. Her mouth was parched. Shakily, she took a sip of water. Why hadn’t Helene warned her about this? She heard the voice of a young woman.

“Hello? Hello, Tess?” She sounded shy and a bit hesitant and her vulnerability made Tess forget her own fears.

“Tess Morgan,” she confirmed. “How ... how can I help you?”

“Well, my name is Cindy and I have a problem.”

“Right. And you ... er ... you want to tell us about that, do you?” Tess stammered. She tried to ignore Ollie who was rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disbelief that his show had come to this.

“Yes, I do. My problem is this.” The woman’s tone of voice changed suddenly. “My boyfriend is a bastard!”

“Right,” Tess lifted her script in front of her face, trying to block out the sight of Ollie who was now openly sniggering. “So ... er ... what makes you say that?”

“Well, I didn’t always think it. Obviously when we met I thought he was quite different. I thought it was serious between us. I thought
he
was serious!”

She sighed heavily. “And he was. Seriously married!”

“Married? How did you find that out?” Tess was interested despite herself.

“His wife rang me,” Cindy’s voice got stronger. “She said I should leave her husband alone. She said if I didn’t, she would come and find me and cut me!”