The Cinderella Reflex

by Buchanan, Johanna

  “He hasn’t signed on the dotted line yet, Helene! Didn’t you think it important enough to tell me he was about to go on-air?”

  She had never seen him like that before. Looking at him, in a full-on temper tantrum, with his complexion all red and his eyes sort of bulging she had been afraid he might have a heart attack there in front of her. She had been that concerned for him. But then he had hissed at her, “I cannot stress how important it is that Jack McCabe buys in, Helene. I just hope you haven’t blown it!”

  “Actually, I was listening to Cindy, and her interesting problem about having an affair with a married man,” she snapped. “Did it remind you of anyone, Richard? Us perhaps? Did you tell Cindy what to say?”

  Richard looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Of course I didn’t. She’s an actress. She made it up.”

  “Well, I think it’s a great big coincidence that Cindy would just happen to phone in with that particular problem,” Helene said stubbornly.

  “Helene!” Richard threw a warning look at Sara, who was all ears, her head swivelling from Richard to Helene and back again, openly staring at them as it dawned on her that her boss and her boss’s boss were having an affair.

  “Great! Bloody great!” Richard snapped. He turned on his heel and left, slamming the studio door behind him.

  Helene settled back shakily into her chair. She was acutely conscious of Sara stealing sidelong glances at her and knew it was only a matter of time before it was all over Facebook, Twitter and whatever other hideous social networking site had been invented in the ten minutes since Helene had last looked ... unless Helene could come up with a way of silencing her assistant. That’s when she’d had the idea of offering her the producer job she’d wanted for so long. Tess Morgan’s job. It had only been a fleeting thought. Helene would never have gone through with it if she hadn’t gone to Ryan’s. She had left a message on Richard’s phone, asking him to meet her there but he hadn’t shown up. And she had become so stressed that she drank the whole bottle of wine she had ordered for them to share. She had then spotted Tess Morgan acting as if nothing at all had happened and something in her had snapped.

  Now, of course, she realised she had acted way over her pay grade. She didn’t actually have the right to fire anyone. She was surprised Tess hadn’t figured that out by now. She was probably going to sue her for wrongful dismissal! Helene wiped her forehead with one of the white towels piled up beside her and picked up a leaflet from the table – anything to distract herself from the torture of her own thoughts. The Spa Fantastic is where top people come to relax and be pampered, she read. A sumptuous oasis of me time, a place to renew and revitalise.

  It was exactly what Helene had thought she needed. But when she turned her gaze towards the floor to ceiling windows of the spa, all she could see was rain driving through the fields. She could hear the wind howling like a banshee through a small vent in the windows.

  “You ready for your Sole to Soul experience?” A girl with an Australian accent appeared beside Helene’s day bed. She had a name badge with Annie printed on it pinned to her white therapist jacket. Annie looked unnervingly healthy – a tall and tanned young woman with athletic limbs, big white teeth and an absurdly cheerful countenance.

  “I think so,” Helene said with some trepidation. What the hell did a Sole to Soul experience entail? She followed Annie down a dim corridor and into one of the treatment rooms, her spa slippers sinking into the thick pile carpet.

  “Just relax,” Annie soothed. She started by pouring oil on Helene’s feet and as the scent of roses filled the room Helene could feel the muscles in her body relaxing. But then Annie began to hum and wave her hands in a weird formation over Helene’s body, stopping at certain parts as if she was listening to something. Helene’s shoulders shot up around her ears, all the tension back again.

  “Relax. I’m trying to unblock your chakras,” Annie explained cheerfully.

  “My whats?” Helene frowned.

  “Your energy points, according to Eastern philosophy. Your throat chakra in particular feels blocked. That means you have a lot to say for yourself but you’ve never really been able to express it. Does that make sense to you?”

  “Yes, it does!” Helene was amazed. That’s exactly how she felt when she was talking to Richard lately. Unheard. She felt a surge of excitement. “Can you unblock it for me? The chakra whatsit?”

  “Not in one session, mate,” Annie replied, thumping her on the shoulders. “And not by me. It’s something I picked up on in India but I’m only a beginner.”

  “You’ve been to India?” Helene thought of Matt and all the places he’d been to, and the way he’d marked them out with tiny yellow pins on the map on the wall of the cafe.

  “Yeah. It was part of my world trip. This is too.” Annie asked Helene to turn on to her stomach and began to knead the knotted up muscles in her neck and shoulders. It must be the travelling that made Annie and Matt so relaxed, Helene decided.

  The thought of her and Richard travelling together came back to her and she drifted into a very pleasant daydream where she was backpacking with Richard in India. She had given away all her designer clothes and she didn’t need any products at all, just a bit of soap and a toothbrush and an old comb because her hair was cut really short.

  But then Annie spoilt it by giving her a slap across the small of her back.

  “That’s it,” she said. “You’re all done.”

  She led Helene to yet another relaxation area, where a tray of mint tea and a single strawberry was set out on a small table beside another heated lounger. Helene settled into it, sipping the tea and flicking through the pages of one of the glossy magazines piled up on the table beside her. After only a few minutes she dropped the magazine listlessly. Jesus, she hadn’t realised spas were so boring.

  She fished out her mobile again and felt her heart rate quicken. Four missed calls! She’d switched her phone to silent while she’d been having the Sole to Soul treatment. Helene stared at the screen. They were all from the same number – Richard’s. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d stormed off in his huff, even though she had texted him several times. Well, she wasn’t going to be available as soon as he decided he was ready to talk to her.

  Helene stuffed the mobile unanswered into the pocket of her dressing gown and picked up a silver vanity mirror from the side-table. She pulled her chestnut brown hair away from her face and scrutinised her features carefully. Her eyebrows were artfully plucked, her hair carefully coloured, her high, disdainful cheekbones a distinct genetic advantage. She looked at her long, pale throat, picturing it blocked because she couldn’t express herself.

  She spotted Annie carrying a bale of white towels to another treatment room.

  “Hey! Can you tell me how I can find out more about this chakra stuff?” she called after her. She felt excited about being able to express herself properly.

  “Sorry, I have another client at the moment,” Annie called back.

  “Well, can you get me a radio then?” Helene had promised herself a media-free few days, but the whale music echoing eerily through the room was seriously freaking her out.

  “I’ll get the manager to look after you,” Annie promised, disappearing into a therapy room. Five minutes later the manager arrived at Helene’s lounger, proffering a personal radio with earphones.

  “Is everything to your satisfaction, Madam?”

  Helene nodded and clamped the earphones over her ears, already fiddling with the dials on the radio, trying to tune in to Atlantic 1 FM. All she could find was a local station playing country songs. As she listened to some love-gone-wrong song, Helene’s eyelids grew heavy and she dozed off into a dream where Richard told her that he and Louisa had mended their relationship, and were going to travel the world together, and she was pleading with them to take her along too, that three wasn’t really a crowd, and Richard was telling her to answer the phone ... answer the phone ...

  Helene awoke with a
start, conscious of something vibrating against her thigh. Bleary-eyed, she groped around until her hand closed over her mobile. She pulled it out in a panic and squinted at the screen. Deeply upset by her nightmare, she hit reply straightaway.

  “Hello ...” she began.

  She saw the manager lurking behind a palm tree plant and hissed, “I’m in a spa, Richard. Supposed to be chilling. Why didn’t you call me before now?”

  “You need to get her back!” Richard said urgently.

  “I need to get back? Why?” Helene looked at her phone. Maybe she had misheard. The coverage in this place was terrible.

  “No. Get her back,” Richard said.

  “Who back?” Helene frowned as she tried to focus. She was still feeling quite drowsy.

  “Tess Morgan! Andrea told me you sacked her?”

  “Um ... it was a breakdown in communication, actually.” Helene chewed on her lip.

  “Jack McCabe likes her, Helene!”

  “Likes her?” Helene was mystified. “What was there to like? She was on-air for ten minutes and caused absolute chaos in that time!”

  “Be that as it may,” Richard replied, “but Jack has been on to me raving about her. I think he’s definitely going to buy, Helene.” Richard couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “So it’s up to you to get Tess back – to keep Jack on side.”

  Helene thought of her last meeting with Tess and swallowed.

  “It might not be that easy,” she said cautiously.

  “Offer her more money. Or her own programme. Whatever it takes,” Richard instructed as if Helene hadn’t spoken.

  “Her own programme?” Helene was outraged. “The whole reason the agony aunt slot went so wrong in the first place is because Tess is not cut out to be on-air.”

  Jesus. Didn’t Richard ever listen to a word she said?

  “Well, persuade her, Helene,” Richard said flatly. And then, “Look, as soon as Jack signs on the dotted line, it won’t affect us whether Tess Morgan creates chaos or not.”

  Helene’s heart skittered. He had said “us”.

  “Because we’ll be leaving Atlantic?” She held her breath.

  “It will be all to play for,” Richard confirmed. “But nothing can go wrong at this juncture, Helene. So I want you to leave whatever it is you’re doing there and go and find Tess Morgan.”

  “Right this minute?” Helene thought of the paraffin pedicure she had lined up next.

  “Yes.” A touch of impatience entered Richard’s voice. “There’ll be plenty of time for spas later.”

  “It’s work,” Helene reminded him acidly. “Research for my Ten Years Younger series. Why can’t you just phone her yourself, anyway? Say it was all a mistake and that you’re going over my head.”

  “Tried already, I’m afraid. Her mobile is switched off.”

  Helene wrinkled her forehead. He’d already tried to go over her head without even informing her? That wasn’t good. But then everything was all mixed up since the takeover bid. As soon as Atlantic was sold, she and Richard could get back to normal. Hopefully.

  “Andrea will know where she lives. Maybe you could call around?”

  “Andrea is off work today. Apparently one of her kids is sick.”

  Helene snorted. “Welcome to my world. Now you know what I have to deal with every day.”

  “Look, Helene,” Richard confided, “I shouldn’t really be telling anyone this yet, but Jack is about to make his announcement about buying the station shortly.”

  Helene recalled her conversation with Paulina, Jack’s right-hand woman. “Really? And have you heard anything about a search for a new star? One with the ... er ... X factor?”

  “How do you know about that?” Richard asked sharply.

  “Oh, there are lots of things you don’t know about me, Richard Armstrong,” Helene said flirtatiously. But Richard wasn’t in the mood.

  “Can you get Tess Morgan back?” he asked sharply.

  “Fine,” Helene snapped, deflated. “I’ll do it! But, Richard?”

  “Yes?” The phone cackled again and she could barely hear him.

  “Afterwards,” she let the word hang meaningfully in the air, “you had better make this up to me!”

  The phone went dead and Helene tossed it into her bag. She looked at the tropical fish in their aquarium and envied them their simple life. Then she belted up her robe, shoved her feet into her slippers and went up to her bedroom to pack. She’d only had one night here but she checked out with little regret. Spas were not really her thing, she realised, as she threw her weekend case into the boot of her car. She was far too dynamic for all that sitting around.

  By the time she arrived home, however, Helene was feeling far from dynamic. Her stomach felt sick and her right ear was itching like mad – probably from that Hopi ear candle therapy she’d had earlier. She threw her bags in the hall, and went in to her bedroom to lie down, pulling her patchwork quilt around her shoulders. Far from being revitalised, as the spa had promised, she felt utterly exhausted.

  A wave of nausea overcame her and she got up reluctantly, padding into the kitchen searching for something to eat. The hotel’s meals had been sparse, tiny portions of health food all designed, allegedly, to help the body to detox. Maybe that’s why she felt so ill now?

  But she didn’t have time to detox, she thought as she picked up the phone and dialled in an order to the local Chinese takeaway. She still had to figure out how to get Tess back to work. She didn’t want to go kow-towing to her, like Richard had suggested. She would just get too big for her boots. No, Helene would prefer if Tess made the request herself. She just had to figure out how to make that happen.

  When the food arrived, the sight of the rice and chicken in their silver aluminium boxes lined up on her kitchen table brought on a fresh wave of nausea and she had to rush for the bathroom. As she dry-retched into the sink, Helene felt irked all over again that Richard had summoned her back from the spa. Getting Tess back could have waited.

  In fact, she thought, with a flash of defiance, it could still wait. Helene would go and find Tess when she was good and ready. Not a moment before. She dumped the food into the bin, made herself a pot of tea, put on her favourite box set and, for once, forgot about work completely.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was the day Jack McCabe was due to make his big announcement about taking over Atlantic 1 FM. Rachel Joy, a reporter with the Killty Times, was standing at the entrance to the hotel conference room, scanning the room. She was accompanied by a photographer, a young guy with dirty fair hair and a trench coat folded over his arm. Helene shifted in her chair and watched them closely. She knew Rachel’s unabashed ambition was to work for The Sun and with her instinct for trouble there was no reason why she wouldn’t achieve it.

  Today Rachel had her sights firmly trained on Ollie Andrews. There was no question but that he was already heavily under the influence. Helene had spoken to him when she had arrived. He was mad as hell at the rumour that Jack McCabe was to announce a competition for a new star today and that he intended to do it in public, so it would be a fait accompli and there wouldn’t be anything Ollie could do about it. He didn’t even bother to suck a mint to camouflage the smell of whiskey on his breath. Glancing back at him now, slumped on a chair in the row behind her, Helene reflected that Jack had yet to realise that Ollie was a law onto himself, and didn’t operate by the same social dogma as the rest of the world. After all, Richard wasn’t going to tell him how unstable Ollie was, not when he was so desperate for Jack to buy the station.

  Richard was sitting at the top table, facing the audience. He was fidgeting, tapping his biro on the white tablecloth and throwing anxious glances at the two empty chairs on either side of him. Helene was delighted to see him so evidently uncomfortable. He had called unexpectedly into her office earlier, asking whether she’d managed to persuade Tess to come back to work yet. She had tried to explain how nauseous and lightheaded she’d been feeling over the
last few days – how she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything else – but Richard hadn’t even been listening to her.

  “Anyhow, what’s with Jack McCabe’s sudden obsession with Tess Morgan?” Helene had asked finally. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” Richard had snapped and banged out of the office.

  A movement nearby caught Helene’s attention and she turned to see that Jack had finally arrived. Helene’s stomach lurched unexpectedly and she folded her arms protectively around her stomach. Everyone was nervous here today. It was only natural, with so much uncertainty about.

  Jack cut an arresting figure as he strode towards the podium to join Richard. He was dressed in a well-cut black suit, white shirt and scarlet tie. Paulina followed him. Her pale blonde hair was caught back in a chignon and her make-up was impeccable. She wore a cherry red dress and jacket and managed to look both sexy and business-like.

  Helene looked around the room to see how other people were reacting to the first sighting of Jack McCabe. Andrea was sitting a few seats down from her, pale-faced and white-knuckled, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. Sara was craning her neck, trying to get a better look at Jack. She was wearing a new outfit, a black fitted short skirt and matching jacket, which, she’d announced earlier, she’d bought especially for today.

  “Jack McCabe is like, a gazillionaire,” she’d pointed out seriously, “and still unattached as far as I can make out.”

  Up on the podium, Jack and Richard exchanged brief nods. Paulina nodded down at Helene and, thrilled with the public recognition, Helene gave her a little wave. She and Paulina had been in touch several times since they’d met at Matt’s cafe. She had been surprised to find Paulina had been every bit as helpful as she was at that first meeting – open about her success and generous with tips about how Helene could take her career forward to the next level. And if Paulina liked her, surely that was a sign that she would survive the changes that were coming?