Tess bit her lip. “Of course I’ll think about it. When were you thinking of starting it – the agony aunt slot?”
“Immediately would be good.” Helene was already moving away from the desk, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.
“When is immediately?” Tess called after her with alarm.
Helene stifled a sigh. “What does immediately usually mean, Tess? How does tomorrow sound?”
“Tomorrow? Are you mad?” Fear made Tess sound a lot more forceful than she felt. “I’ve never been on-air before. And I don’t have anything prepared! There’s no way I can do this tomorrow!”
“Well, as I was saying earlier, how hard can it be?” Helene turned back to face her. “Make up a few problems to get yourself started. I’m fed up with talking about how things have to change around here. But have you ever noticed how everything somehow remains exactly the same?”
Tess had noticed, as a matter of fact. But she didn’t see how making a show of herself on-air was going to improve that.
“Helene,” she said reasonably, “I really don’t have a handle on how this slot is going to work. It’s all very well to say to make up a few problems to start us off. But what then? What if we run out of problems? How are we going to sustain it?”
“Run out of problems?” Helene looked at Tess incredulously. “I have just given you a list of problems. And there’s more where they came from. Women whose love affairs have gone pear-shaped. Whose careers are facing meltdown? Who might be joining the ranks of the unemployed pretty soon!” Helene’s voice rose slightly. “Because in case you haven’t noticed Tess, we could all be out of here on our ear if this station closes down! And believe me, that is a possibility. So if you would just give it some thought, you might find plenty of problems from your own life to be getting on with.” Helene snapped her fingers. “Because just as soon as you think you have your life sorted, it ups and throws a curveball at you just for the hell of it! Don’t you find that, Tess?”
Tess swallowed. She thought life might have just thrown her a curveball right now. She could hardly solve her own problems – dead-end career, non-existent love life – never mind anyone else’s.
“I won’t be ready to start it tomorrow, Helene,” Tess said firmly. “Or the day after. I ... er ... need to brainstorm around the concept a bit.”
Helene shrugged. “Brainstorm all you want. For a week. That’s all I’m prepared to give you. After that? Just do it, Tess!”
Tess raised her eyebrows as she watched Helene stride out of the office. Andrea had inserted headphones in her ears and had turned back to her computer screen and the report she was working on. Tess felt it wasn’t a good time to ask her friend for much needed advice.
Chewing her bottom lip, she typed “agony aunts” into her search engine. She had to start somewhere and tomorrow’s show was pretty well organised, albeit with mundane stories that Ollie Andrews was going to scream blue murder about – pretty much as he had about this morning’s programme. But that was tomorrow and the only way Tess could get through working with Ollie was by working on today’s problems. She jiggled her foot, impatient for the results to load.
“O! My! God!” Sara exclaimed suddenly. Tess looked across at her. Her mouth formed a perfect O of astonishment. She had her silver mobile pressed to her ear.
“What is it now?” Tess asked easily. Sara’s O My Gods occurred several times a day, sometimes simply because her favourite make-up was out of stock or because she’d broken one of those nails she spent hours painting designs on.
“I’ve just heard something big. I need to check that it’s accurate!” Her face was alight with excitement.
Tess could hear her side of the conversation.
“And you’re absolutely certain?” There was a note of incredulity in her voice. “You are? O! My! God!” Sara closed down her phone and hurried over to Tess’s desk.
“Did you hear any of that?”
“I heard ‘Oh my God’,” Tess replied. “Several times. So what’s happened? Your favourite nail bar fallen victim to the recession?”
“It’s Atlantic 1 FM!” Sara’s blue eyes were dancing. “It’s about to be taken over!”
“What?” Tess dropped her pen on the desk, a dozen questions forming in her mind.
“Andrea!” Sara crossed the room to Andrea’s desk. “Have you heard?”
“Heard what?” Andrea pulled her earphones back off when she saw the look on Sara’s face.
“The rumour that we’re about to be taken over! I’ve just checked with Daddy and he says he thinks it’s pretty accurate. He heard it from one of his business associates,” she added importantly.
“Taken over?” Andrea looked up, bewildered. “But why? Did he say who was supposed to be taking it over?” Andrea was asking all the questions Tess wanted to ask, so she flew across the room too and perched on a corner of Andrea’s desk. Sara shrugged.
“Some whizz kid apparently. And wait for the best part. Apparently, he plans to finally take the station national!”
“Are you sure?” A frown creased Andrea’s forehead.
“Yes, I’m sure. His name ... is ...” Sara frowned and she went back to her own desk to where she peered at a scrap of paper. “I wrote it down ... Jack. That’s it. Jack McCabe.” She looked up expectantly. “Did either of you hear of him?”
“Jack McCabe? No, never.”
But Andrea had already tapped the name into Google. Tess waited tensely, Sara standing behind her now, both of them jiggling impatiently as they waited for the results. Seconds later Andrea was reading aloud: “Jack McCabe made most of his money courtesy of the property boom and crucially got out before the crash. Gifted with the Midas touch, McCabe is known for turning ailing businesses around even where others have failed. His business instincts have been described as uncanny and he is famed for not shying away from hard decisions when it comes to profit margins.”
“Oh my God!” Sara butted in. “That fits in exactly with what I’ve heard. Daddy says Jack McCabe will go for a really youth orientated vibe. He’s heard he is going to axe the entire staff and only employ people who are under thirty!”
“Is that not illegal?” Tess asked faintly.
“Of course it’s illegal,” Andrea snapped, eyes squinting as she read on silently. “Besides, this is all only gossip and rumour. There’s no evidence whatsoever that Atlantic is going to be taken over at all! Where did your dad hear it anyway, Sara?”
“Golf club.” Sara shrugged insouciantly as she walked away. “And Daddy says this could be my big chance because I am young!”
Tess and Andrea exchanged glances.
“Coffee?” Andrea mouthed, making a sign for a coffee cup with her hands. Tess nodded. They needed to analyse and parse this, to try and figure out what, if it were true, it might all mean for them. But she had only taken her jacket off the back of her chair when the phone buzzed. Tess reluctantly picked up the handset. “Yes, Helene? Your office? In ten minutes? Okay, I’ll tell the others.” She replaced the receiver and looked over at Andrea. “Looks like Sara and her dad aren’t the only ones who’ve heard the rumours. Helene wants to meet us all!”
Minutes later, they were all crowded into Helene’s office and it was clear the news about the takeover was a bit more than a rumour. The room was thick with tension. Tess slipped into the chair opposite Ollie, who was cracking his knuckles restlessly. Two lines formed a deep frown between his eyebrows, and his complexion had a grey pallor about it, as if he hadn’t slept in days.
He’s evidently heard Atlantic might soon be a wrinkly free zone, Tess thought. Serves him right. It might teach him a bit of humility.
Helene was sitting at the top of the table, two spots of scarlet staining her cheeks. “Right, that’s everyone here,” she said as Sara pushed closed the door. “I’ve called you here because ... because in the next few days you may hear some, er, rumours about this station,” she began.
“We already have,” Sara cut in. Hele
ne raised her eyebrows and Sara fell silent.
“And if you do,” Helene continued, “I want you all to remember that any information about Atlantic 1 FM is commercially sensitive and therefore you are not, – repeat, not – at liberty to discuss it.”
“So is it rumour or is it true?” Andrea asked directly.
Helene flung her hair over her shoulder. “To be honest, I don’t have very much information at present. But as soon as I know, you’ll know.” She looked closely at Sara. “So what have you heard, Sara?”
“I thought you just said we can’t discuss it?” Sara pouted.
“Outside here we can’t discuss it. Inside, we can! Now tell me what you know.” Helene folded her arms on the desk.
Sara began, delighted to have centre stage, “Well, from what I hear, Jack McCabe is reputed to have the Midas touch and is not shy of making the hard decisions!” She stopped as Ollie breathed a long, exasperated sigh.
“You’ve just read that on the internet, Sara! We all have. Is there anything you know that isn’t common knowledge, by any chance?”
“Actually, there is!” Sara bristled. “I’ve heard that Jack McCabe likes to have something good to look at when he comes in!” She pushed out her boobs and curled a tendril of hair around one stripey-nailed finger. Ollie’s eyes went out on stalks. Sara glared at him and let her hair go.
“And,” she snapped, “I’ve heard he wants a youth vibe going on and that staff over thirty aren’t going to be very popular once he arrives!”
“We’ll see about that, missy,” Ollie pulled a book out of his briefcase and jabbed his finger at the title, Seven Habits of Effective People. “It takes more than flashing your eyes at someone to make it in this business!”
“Really?” Sara was ready for a row but Helene silenced her.
“Can you both just shut up?” She had her head in her hands. Everyone fell silent. Helene looked up slowly, picked up a pencil and starting tapping it on the table. Tess realised she was holding her breath.
“Look, there’s not much we can do about any of this – apart from working our arses off, that is,” she said flatly. “If this Jack McCabe does decide to take over or buy Atlantic or whatever it is he is considering, then he must not find us wanting. When he arrives, we must give the impression of being dynamic and ambitious ...”
“And young,” Sara added helpfully.
“... and working to improve our listenership,” Helene finished icily.
After that there was an outbreak of questions, none of which Helene appeared to have the answers to. When the meeting finally broke up, the atmosphere was subdued and heavy. Tess walked slowly back to her desk, a feeling of dread settling over her. She had known the station was struggling but she had simply not seen this coming. None of them had.
“What about that coffee?” she called over to Andrea, but Andrea was already packing up her stuff.
“Sorry, I’m going to go home, try and get my head round this stuff. I honestly thought Sara was just repeating ill-founded gossip earlier, but after that,” she jerked her head towards Helene’s office, “it doesn’t look like it.”
As Andrea hurried out, Tess looked forlornly around her desk. Everything was changing in her life again. So much for thinking that this job was going to provide some stability for her at last. And who was this Jack McCabe anyhow?
She logged back on to her computer, intent on finding out more about him. The results for the agony aunts’ search she had entered into Google earlier were displayed and Tess glanced at them without much enthusiasm. What was the point, when she might be out of a job altogether soon? It was all very well for Helene to lecture them about working their arses off. Tess was already working harder than she’d ever believed possible and the thought that Helene was now going to up the ante was not a pleasant prospect. But since the recession, everyone was intent on keeping their head down, their mouths shut and their salaries coming into their accounts every month.
One of the results of her agony aunt search made her smile though.
Are you suffering from the Agony of unrequited love?
Are you uncertain of what the future holds?
Let Grandma Rosa read your fortune.
Tealeaves (cup of tea free!), Cards and Crystal.
Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter!
Tess read on, her interest piqued. The address was quite near to where Tess lived. She’d never had her fortune told, but she was definitely uncertain about the future. If Grandma Rosa could foresee anything on the horizon that wasn’t doom and gloom, Tess would love to hear it. In fact, the woman might even give her a few tips about answering people’s problems. It could be a research trip!
She could ask her about the station getting taken over. And tell her about how worried she was about being forced to become Agony Aunt of the Airwaves. Tess was sick of the tension in this office. She needed distraction. She needed gossip. She needed Grandma Rosa.
She turned over her spiral jotter, filled with the doodles and sketches she’d made of people she’d spotted around Killty, picked up the phone and dialled the number.
CHAPTER FOUR
Helene hunched over her desk, frowning at the piles of paper in front of her. She was having a very bad day. It had been a series of bad days really, ever since the announcement that the station might be taken over. She stretched and yawned, her eyes straying to the clock. She had let herself into an empty building, clutching her skinny latte and determined to make headway with the mountain of tasks ahead of her. Now, two hours later, it was still only nine a.m.
She felt wrecked and hadn’t made any real progress. Ever since Richard had heard about the possible takeover he had changed into one hell of a taskmaster. Overnight, it seemed, she had gone from being a big fish, albeit in a very small pond, to a minnow, darting this way and that as she tried to respond to Richard’s ever-escalating demands. This latest thing she was working on was “a full appraisal of the Ollie Andrews’s show” – who were the anchors, who were the contributors, who were the advertisers, blah blah blah.
“Don’t you know all that already?” she’d asked crossly when Richard had given her the assignment. But apparently it was all for the benefit of the mysterious Jack McCabe. Helene had been furious that Sara, the most junior staff member, had found out about him at precisely the same time as she had.
“Do you know how that made me feel?” She had railed at Richard that evening when he’d dropped by her apartment.
“Truthfully? No.” He took off his tortoiseshell glasses and polished them with a cloth he unfolded from his pocket. “But I know how we’ll both feel if this takeover doesn’t happen.”
A nerve was twitching in his right temple and Helene noticed the deep lines etching his forehead, the vague look in his eyes. He seemed unusually stressed, and she couldn’t help feeling he knew more than he was telling her.
“But are you still in charge?” she cajoled.
He gave her a half-smile. “I am at the moment. Helene, I’ve told you all I’m prepared to tell you for now. All of this is deeply confidential. You need to make sure the staff keep these rumours to themselves.” HeleHh
Helene laughed out loud. “They’re journalists, Richard! There’s no way this will be kept secret. Just tell me this – is my job safe?”
But Richard had refused to talk about the takeover any more and Helene had had to leave it at that. They had opened a bottle of wine, and watched a DVD, but Richard had left early, saying he needed an early night.
The phone on her desk jangled loudly, interrupting her thoughts. She sighed. She knew who it would be even before she lifted the receiver.
“Yes, Paulina, what is it this time?”
“Ah ... Helene, there are a few more things I need to know ...”
There would be, Helene thought wearily, pressing the save and close buttons on her computer. This was the third time Paulina had phoned this morning and Helene was finding it increasingly difficult to be nice to her. But Ri
chard had warned her that this woman was Jack McCabe’s Representative on Earth and Helene was at all times to furnish her with whatever she needed to know. Which was an apparently endless supply of information about the radio station and all who worked in it.
Yet for all Paulina wanted to know about them, Helene suddenly realised she knew pretty little about her. Apart from the fact that she was a PR supremo, whatever that meant. But if she was so important, maybe Helene should be making an effort to get to know her a bit better?
“Paulina, why don’t we meet up and we can go over this stuff in person?” she asked suddenly. “I’m almost finished that appraisal you wanted.”
“Sure. When?” Paulina sounded as perky as she had at seven a.m.
“How about later this morning?” Helene asked hopefully. The walls of her office were starting to close in on her.
“I’d have to re-schedule my other appointments.” Paulina seemed doubtful. “But it’s a good idea to meet up. Let me just check with my PA, Anita?”
Helene heard her calling her assistant and made a face into the phone. That’s what she should have said! Let me check with my assistant. Maybe she can find a window for you ...
“Helene?” Paulina was back. “I can make eleven if that suits you? Shall I come around to the office?”
“God no!” Helene blurted out. That was the last thing she wanted. She’d love to suggest a swanky hotel, where their meeting could roll over into a long liquid lunch, but Richard had warned her to be frugal with expenses at the moment. She wrinkled her nose, trying to think of somewhere she could meet Paulina without running into anyone from work.
She remembered the new coffee shop she had stumbled into the other day. What was it called again? The Travel Cafe – that was what that guy Matt had said he was going to call it. It should be open by now – and it would show Paulina that Helene wasn’t being a spendthrift with company money. Paulina assured her she would find it and Helene put the phone down and sat back in her chair, her hand unconsciously rubbing the nape of her neck.
The Cinderella Reflex Page 4