by Melissa Hill
The pub was very busy, and judging by the banners and balloons hanging from the ceiling, a 50th birthday party was being held there. She looked across at the revellers who, surprisingly for that hour of night, included a few young children – probably grandchildren, she reasoned. The kids looked tired and sleepy.
“I think we should stay up here,” Helen said to Paul. “It could get dangerous down there.” She indicated the busy seating area where the birthday girl and her companions were now dancing around the tables.
Paul shook his head. “That’s why I can’t stand these local-type pubs,” he said, with, Helen thought, a real edge to his tone. “They’re always filled with bloody kids.”
Helen looked at him. She knew what he meant; sometimes children could overrun pubs, but these particular kids weren’t doing any harm. Actually she felt a bit sorry for them as the grown-ups showed no sign of leaving anytime soon – in fact, they looked as if they were just getting going.
“Well, at least they’re not running around,” she said as if in agreement, although his tone had unnerved her.
“Doesn’t matter, I think they should all be banned.” Paul took a sip of his drink. “Pubs are no place for kids.”
Helen wondered whether he meant this out of concern for the kids, or concern for the drinkers. She couldn’t be sure.
“So you’re not a big fan of children, then?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
Paul nearly spat out his Guinness. “No way,” he said. “I can’t stand being within two feet of the little whingers. My sister has three and they’re right little bastards, with all their moaning and groaning and ‘I want this’ and ‘I want that’. I ask, you what’s the attraction? You’re expected to feed, clean and clothe the little feckers day in, day out for the best part of twenty years, and what do you get in return? Grief, that’s what.”
Helen’s throat felt dry. She took a huge gulp from her glass. “Well, I’m sure most parents feel differently,” she said, rubbing her hand provocatively across his thigh. “Anyway, we won’t stay here too long.”
His earlier annoyance forgotten, Paul grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Helen Jackson,” he said, “you’re my kind of woman.”
43
Laura was sorry she had ever made a phone call to Maureen, enquiring as to whether her sister had remembered the wedding-dress fitting this coming weekend. .
“Honestly, Laura,” Maureen sniffed. “I can’t understand why you had to go and get your dress made in Dublin. There’s plenty of dressmakers down this way too, you know. And poor old Cathy having to traipse all the way up there on the bus for a fitting, every time you snap your fingers.”
Laura heart quickened with annoyance. Traipse all the way up there! The way her mother carried on, you’d think that Dublin was on the other side of the world.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Lately everything her mother said – everything anyone said – was getting on her nerves. She wasn’t usually so touchy or irritable, but of late she found she was becoming oversensitive and irrational. “Mam, it’s the final fitting before the wedding,” she said as calmly as she could muster. “Cathy knows that.”
Maureen harrumphed. “Well, that’s all very well, but I’m the one that’s stuck looking after the twins while the two of you are living it up in Dublin.”
“Listen, Mam, I have to go,” Laura said now, “there’s another call coming in and it could be important.”
She hoped it would be. She needed it to be.
“It’s like that now is it, Laura?” Maureen was put out. “Too high-flying these days to have a decent conversation with your own mother?”
“I really have to go,” she said, refusing to rise to her mother’s bait. “Tell Cathy I’ll meet her outside Easons on Saturday morning.”
“Well, make sure you don’t leave her waiting too long … with the way things are going in Dublin these days, you wouldn’t know what could happen – she could get shot or anything –”
“Goodbye, Mam.” Laura disconnected and briskly picked up the other line. “Good afternoon, Laura Connolly Design?”
“Hello, I’d like to speak to the owner or manager please?” a chirpy female voice asked.
“Speaking. How may I help you?” Laura said, a slight smile crossing her features. Owner or manager. That she most certainly was. This sounded promising.
“Oh, hi, how are you today? My name is Jenna McCauley, and I’m calling from Business Network Marketing Management. We’re a marketing consultation company, and I wondered if you might be interested in our services?”
Laura’s heart sank. Another sales call. It seemed that every time the phone rang these days it was some telemarketer or advertising rep, trying to sell services that the business just couldn’t afford. Neil told her not to entertain it, that maybe someday she could afford them, but it always irked Laura to have to explain that this was a small company, and the advertising budget ‘just couldn’t stretch to additional advertising’.
Unfortunately for Laura, chirpy Jenna was an über-seller and couldn’t be fobbed off by non-existent marketing budgets, or Laura’s feeble attempts at being firm.
“If I could just have a few minutes of your time, it won’t take that long, and if you could give me some information about the company I could design a sample business strategy and –”
“Look, I’m sorry, we’re really very busy here,” Laura began.
“Well, maybe we can arrange a more convenient time. I could perhaps call to the premises, and explain exactly what we could do for Laura Connolly Design. You wouldn’t believe what a constructive marketing solution could do for your company. Say ten am, Monday?”
“No, I really don’t think –”
“Ten it is then. Looking forward to it, I really feel that Business Network Marketing can grow –”
“I said no!” Laura bellowed, her hands shaking with adrenaline. “I don’t want you calling here for a meeting. I don’t need a constructive marketing solution – whatever that might be. I told you I wasn’t interested. Now stop annoying me!”
Her face hot and her heartbeat going a mile a minute, Laura hung up. For a long moment, she stared at nothing in particular, trying to get a grip on herself. Why was it that everyone thought they could roll her over like a trained dog, thinking that they could take advantage of her? The other day, Helen had asked Laura to drop off a disc to a client in Dun Laoghaire.
“There’s no rush with it or anything. But seeing as it’s on your way to the preschool …”
It was nowhere near the preschool – in fact it was an extra forty minutes in Dublin traffic out of the way of the preschool, and Laura had been livid, absolutely livid.
At the beginning she had been happy to do Helen a turn, and get her out of a spot, but why couldn’t her friend do the same? Why couldn’t she see that Laura was working, that she was trying to get her business off the ground, and that being away from the phone every afternoon while she was off collecting Kerry wasn’t going to help? She took a deep breath. Well, at least Kerry would be starting school soon, so hopefully Helen wouldn’t need her anymore. Then again, as far as she knew Helen hadn’t found another childminder – as far as she knew she hadn’t even looked. So it would be the same old story – Laura would now be collecting Kerry from school, and trying to keep her entertained until her mother decided she would turn up to collect her.
Just then, the phone rang again and Laura snatched up the receiver, deciding that if this was Ms Tele-marketer bothering her again, she was really going to give her a piece of her mind. But she was wrong.
“Hello, is that the jewellery design place?” the caller tentatively asked.
“Yes, this is Laura Connolly – how can I help you?”
“Well,” the caller began, “I know this might be a bit short notice, but my boyfriend and I are getting married at the end of October and we were thinking of … well, I was thinking of, getting our wedding rings specially designed. I have a few
ideas in my head …”
Laura was so excited she barely heard the rest of the sentence. A customer, a real live customer – and someone looking for a one-off design! Oh, this was good, this was really good!
“So, I wondered if I could maybe call into your studio and show you what I have in mind?” the caller went on. “I’m really anxious to get this organised. You’re in Ballinteer, aren’t you? I could call on my lunchbreak – around two o’clock if that would suit? I’m so sorry for calling at such short notice but –”
“Of course, yes. That would be fine, absolutely fine,” Laura replied and then her heart sank. Kerry! She had to collect Kerry from playschool at two. Oh, blast it, this wasn’t on, she had to be here for this. It was her first personal consultation for goodness sake. No, Laura thought, her thoughts tripping over themselves as she tried to find a solution. She would ring Helen, explain the situation and hopefully her friend could make some alternative arrangements for today. She knew Helen’s work was important, but damn it, Laura’s was too.
“Oh, that’s terrific! I sooo appreciate it,” the caller said, and Laura couldn’t resist a smile.
This was a sale, it was definitely a sale. She could feel it in her bones. Maybe things were finally looking up.
“See you at two then,” Laura said, after taking the girls’ details and giving her directions to her studio. “My studio,” she repeated out loud to herself. Yes, that sounded good, and much better than a simple old workshop. “This afternoon I am having my first consultation in my studio,” she told a bored-looking Eamonn, who was sitting on the floor across from her, his long tail swinging from side to side.
Then she grimaced. Now, she had to tackle the rather unpleasant task of telling Helen she couldn’t collect Kerry this afternoon. For all her giving out about Helen earlier, Laura did feel as though she was letting her down. After all, Helen was depending her. First she dialled Helen’s mobile, and not getting any answer from that, tried her direct line at XL.
“Hi,” Helen’s sultry tones came through the mouthpiece and Laura idly wondered if sounding like an advertisement for one of these phone-sex lines was good for business. Maybe she should try it herself. It certainly seemed to work for Helen anyway. The woman could buy and sell anyone. She was about to answer, when Helen went on, “You have reached Helen Jackson’s voicemail. Please leave a message and I will call you back as soon as I can.”
Damn. Not at her desk, what should she do? She couldn’t just leave a message. What if Helen was in a meeting and didn’t get out ‘til well after two? Poor Kerry would be in an awful state. No, she couldn’t do that – she’d have to find some way of letting Helen know. Laura bit her lip and mulled over it for a while. Then it hit her. Reception! She could ring reception, find out where Helen was and if she was contactable or, alternatively, leave the message with reception to pass on.
“Good morning, XL, Paula speaking.”
“Hello, I was looking to speak to Helen Jackson please,” Laura said pleasantly.
“I’m sorry, Helen isn’t in today,” Paula said, and Laura sat up in her chair.
“Isn’t in? Isn’t in the office today, you mean?”
“No, she isn’t in at all.”
“So, she’s out sick?” Laura said, more to herself than to the receptionist. But how did Helen get Kerry into the preschool this morning if she wasn’t well … wait, she thought, mind racing, that was even better because there was a chance that Kerry wasn’t in preschool at all today, so she wouldn’t need to collect her – but then why hadn’t Helen let her know?
“No, she took an annual leave day. I spoke to her yesterday and promised to hold all her calls ‘til tomorrow, so if you’d like to leave your name and number –”
“What?” Laura gasped. “She knew she’d be off today?”
“Well, yes, as far as I know she has a personal matter to attend to today, but I’m sure that someone else here can help you and –”
“It’s fine, thank you,” Laura said shortly and hung up.
What was going on? When Helen had called to collect Kerry yesterday there was no mention of a day off or a ‘personal matter’. If Helen had the day off, why didn’t she tell her? Here she was, feeling bad about letting Helen down and all the time Helen didn’t need her because she could collect Kerry herself. And the worst part was, she didn’t even let her know.
Laura stood up and, trying to clear her mind, began tidying her office space, hoping to make it look a little bit more presentable for her potential client’s visit. Then she stopped dead, remembering something Helen had said yesterday when picking Kerry up. “I might be a bit late collecting her tomorrow, if that’s alright,” she had said, on her way out the door. “The boss has scheduled something last-minute and, knowing him, it could go on for a while. I hope you don’t mind,” she added, with her trademark angelic smile.
Laura didn’t think she had ever felt so annoyed in her entire life. What was Helen Jackson up to?
Two hours and umpteen phone-calls later to Helen’s apartment, her mobile, Kerry’s playschool and back again to the XL office, and still Laura was none the wiser. The only thing she knew for sure was that yes, Kerry was in playschool and she had no choice but to go and collect her. She had been lucky in a sense that the school – by now well familiar with Laura – agreed to let her pick up Kerry an hour earlier than normal, so at least she could be back in time for her consultation. But she didn’t feel right about doing that and it was embarrassing having to ask. And after all, she shouldn’t even have to – Helen was the child’s mother after all.
But she was nervous enough about this meeting without having to worry about whether or not Kerry would be okay by herself in the next room watching TV, or whether she might come in and interrupt them, giving the client a terribly unprofessional first impression.
As it turned out, the client was lovely and was so impressed by Laura’s designs that she there and then signed up to commission her wedding rings. Laura was more relieved by this than anything else, her annoyance with Helen so great that she just didn’t have the mindset to enjoy her small triumph. By the time the client left late that afternoon, Laura was hassled, weary and very very angry.
In fact, she was livid. Livid that Helen could lie so easily to her, livid that she would take advantage of her, livid that she was such a soft touch. Though it wasn’t as though this was anything new. She had always been this much of a pushover, hadn’t she? She was always the one people turned to – the one that never said no to anyone.
Most of the time it didn’t bother her, but these days Laura felt wound up like a tight spring. And lately the spring was being stretched beyond belief. Maybe it was all finally getting to her – the stress of the wedding, the worry of the business, the self-doubt.
Maybe this was all wrong.
Well, no more, Laura thought, her mouth set in a firm line. When Helen Jackson deigned to turn up here this evening, boy, was she going to get it.
Later that evening, Helen sailed into the hallway in a cloud of J’Adore.
“Where the hell were you today?” Laura snapped, giving it to her straightaway with both barrels, Kerry safely out of earshot in the kitchen with Neil.
“What? What do you mean where was I?” Helen stopped short and, Laura noticed, looked a little wary.
“Well, you weren’t at work,” she said, her tone faintly sarcastic, “because I tried to phone you earlier to tell you that something had come up, and I wasn’t available to be your gofer today.”
“My gofer? I’m sorry but I don’t understand. Is this about collecting Kerry from playschool? I spoke to you yesterday and you said –”
“No, you said, Helen, you said that you would be late collecting Kerry today because you had some meeting or another, yet they knew at work that you were taking a day off.” Laura’s voice shook with anger and her heart pounded. “Isn’t it well for you to be able to take a day off and leave the worry of looking after your child to someone else – som
eone who actually was working today?”
“Laura, I’m sorry, really I am but Paul and I had organised this trip and …” Helen, stopped short, and her complexion reddened.
“Paul? Who the hell is Paul?” Laura said frowning, although one look at Helen’s face told her all she needed to know. Paul was obviously some new Romeo she’d hooked up with. She didn’t believe this.
“He lives in Cork and we haven’t seen one another in a while. I just didn’t think you’d mind. I wasn’t that much later so –”
“That’s not the point though, is it? The point is that weeks ago you asked me to do you a favour, and because you’re my friend and you were stuck, I obliged. But it’s not an open-ended favour, Helen. I’m working too, although you don’t seem too concerned about that. If I was working in an office, would you expect me to take time off every day to collect Kerry – would you?”
“Well no, but – ”
“But nothing. It’s the same thing. But just because you don’t take me – and this business – seriously, don’t think you can walk all over me. Even worse, now you’re using me to spend time with some guy.”
“Oh, Laura, that’s not true,” Helen said, putting a hand on her arm. “I promise you, I have been looking for another childminder, really I have. But it’s difficult to get someone at this time of year …” She trailed off, her shoulders slumped. “Look, I’m really, really, sorry, Laura,” she continued, her voice barely a whisper. “I know I’ve been taking advantage of you, and I would have told you about Paul, it’s just …” she blushed slightly, “well, it’s early days with us, and I didn’t feel comfortable saying anything before now.”
“Helen, you did a very dangerous thing today. Forget the fact that I couldn’t contact you because it wasn’t convenient for me to collect her – what if something had happened? What if she got sick or there was an accident or something?”