The Cinderella Reflex

by Buchanan, Johanna

  “I’m not. I have used my elevator speech so many times in my career. And with amazing results, if I’m allowed to blow my own trumpet for a moment.”

  “Right,” Tess murmured. Maybe he’d gone a bit bonkers since she’d last seen him. Something to do with all those war zones he’d been caught up in.

  “And I’ve used other psychological techniques too.” Chris continued seriously. “Like ... have you heard of mirroring?”

  “Erm ... no. But you’re going to tell me about it, right?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “This is serious stuff, Tess. It works. What you do is mirror people’s actions back at them. So if they move their head one way you copy them. And if they cross their legs you cross yours as well,” Chris crossed and uncrossed his long legs in demonstration. “They get the idea that you like them – and they like you right back. It’s basic but it works. It’s all about body language, Tess.” He reached out and grabbed her hand in his enthusiasm.

  “Right.” Tess looked down at her small hand enveloped in his large one.

  “It’s difficult to explain it here.” Chris was looking at her with his intense stare again. “I’d need to show you how it all works with role-play. But I can’t do it here. We’d need somewhere more private.”

  Tess looked around the bar. Katie and Elaine were now engaged in a giddy Do you remember? game and everyone else was also deep in conversation.

  “I have a room here at the hotel,” she said slowly.

  “Really?” Chris stroked the underside of her wrist with his thumb.

  “Really,” Tess said decisively. She had wanted to lay to rest the ghost of Chris Conroy for a long time now and she was going to do it tonight. She had to admit he had a strange chat-up line nowadays. Come up and let me role-play my weird job-seeking techniques with you. But then he had always been a strange sort of guy. Charismatic, but strange. Tess drained her glass and got to her feet, wobbling a bit on her heels. She scribbled her room number on the side of a damp beer mat.

  “Follow me up in a while and don’t make it obvious,” she instructed.

  She slipped away before anyone noticed. Once in her room, she threw off her shoes and sat on the end of the unfamiliar bed, her heart fluttering a bit too fast. Some part of her realised this probably wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had.

  There was Chris’s It’s complicated Facebook status to consider. And the fact that he had dumped her before and had never tried to contact her in the intervening years. But how else was she going to do the closure thing, she asked herself, a bit drunkenly. How else was she going to quit thinking of Chris as the one who got away?

  The knock at the door made her jump off the bed. She padded across the room in her stocking feet and hesitated for a few seconds before twisting the doorknob and pulling it open slowly. And then it was as if ten years and a lifetime of What Ifs had disappeared and she was back to the star-struck girl she had once been.

  Chris Conroy looked crazy, dirty, sexy.

  “Come in,” she said quietly and walked across to the window. “There are drinks in the minibar,” she called over her shoulder.

  Chris pulled out a bottle of beer and a vodka and tonic and walked over to join her.

  She pressed her glass against the windowpane and stared out at the cityscape below them. The reflection of the streetlights illuminated the scene outside, the lovers walking arm in arm, a gang of young women out on a hen night.

  She stiffened as she became aware that Chris was standing right behind her now, so close she could feel the feather touch of his breath on the nape of her neck. She shivered and turned around to face him, lifting her face slightly to his. She had forgotten how blue his eyes were.

  “So Tess,” he said softly, “about the elevator speech script.”

  Tess snapped her head downwards. He actually wanted to talk about an elevator speech? She turned away, so he couldn’t see the expression on her face.

  “Look, Chris, I’m sure this sort of thing goes down well in Hollywood or London. Possibly even here in Dublin. But ... Killty is small. And kind of ... quaint. It’s not an elevator speech sort of place.”

  “Everywhere’s an elevator speech sort of place, Tess,” he said. “Besides, you won’t always be stuck in Killty.”

  The way he said it made Tess want to jump contrarily to the town’s defence. But then he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him again.

  “I have a hunch about you, Tess Morgan. And my hunches are hardly ever wrong. So – trust me on this one – you need to go to Jack McCabe and pitch him the idea that you want your job back and why he should give it you. You owe it to yourself. Promise me that you’ll at least try?”

  “I’ll try,” Tess agreed, but only because she knew if she didn’t he wouldn’t let it go and she’d never succeed with her quest to consign him to her romantic recycle bin. She tilted her chin upwards again, convinced he was finally going to make his move. But he let her go again and bounded across the room.

  She watched, bewildered as he hunkered down at the bedside locker and pulled out a notepad with the hotel’s logo on it and a tiny pen attached with a string. He came back brandishing the stationery like a weapon.

  “We’d be better off with index cards but this will have to do for now. So, Tess ... what five words would you use to describe your best qualities?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Helene wasted no time in devising her strategy to win the contest. She’d slotted herself into This Morning for a series of reports on her Ten Years Younger efforts, determined to get her talent recognised by Jack McCabe. She decided that he couldn’t know she was having an affair with Richard because he would have let her go by now.

  Helene was finally starting to appreciate why Richard had insisted on keeping their relationship secret. Of course Rachel Joy’s poisonous postscript to her report in the Killty Times was a cause for concern. Helene twirled a strand of hair around her finger, wondering if there was anything she could do to stop the journalist from naming her in a future edition. The phone on her desk rang and Helene was jolted back to reality.

  “Hello, may I speak to Helene Harper?”

  “Speaking ...” Helene said cautiously, trying to place the voice.

  “Oh! Well, look, my name is Grandma Rosa and—”

  “You!” Helene remembered now. It was the old bat who had phoned in to the ill-fated agony aunt slot.

  “Er ... yes, it’s me. I’m phoning with an idea I have for the radio? The Psychic Granny Show.”

  Despite Helene’s worries, she found herself smiling. “I’m afraid we’re fighting a constant battle at Atlantic 1 FM to attract younger listeners, Mrs ...?”

  “Grandma Rosa will do.”

  “Okay then, Grandma Rosa. I have to say Psychic Granny is a great title, but I’m afraid it’s not really us.”

  “But it’s young listeners who will like this slot the most!” Rosa persisted. “Think about it! They’re the ones who are building careers, dealing with debt, looking for a partner, juggling children or else the idea of children. It’s all happening for them at the same time – they need advice.”

  Tell me about it, Helene thought wryly. She had always thought her life would be sorted by forty. But here she was fighting to keep her job and having relationship difficulties all at the same time. Richard hadn’t been in touch with her since the press conference and she was dismayed to find that she was missing him like crazy. She tapped her foot under the table. How was it she and Richard weren’t getting along any more? She remembered Annie, the therapist at the spa, saying her throat chakra was blocked. Maybe that was it – she couldn’t communicate her feelings to him properly because of the blocked chakra. Her heart quickened as a thought occurred to her. What if Grandma Rosa could unblock her chakras?

  “It’s young people who need Psychic Granny the most,” Grandma Rosa was continuing with her pitch. And then, a little uncertainly, “Helloooo ... are you still there?”

  �
��Yes, I am.” Helene made a fast decision. “Look, how about I come along to visit you and let me see what I think then?”

  “But that’s fantastic!” Grandma Rosa was delighted. “When? Can you come today? I have a free slot just after lunch.”

  “Great,” Helene scribbled down Rosa’s directions. The visit would get her out of the office, even if nothing came of it. She put down the phone and forced herself to concentrate on her work. It was tough going lately, trying to fill the gap Tess Morgan had left, keeping up with her own job and working out how to win the contest. She worked on through her lunch, eating a yoghurt at her desk and set off for Rose Cottage.

  She parked her car in a lay-by and walked down the winding road, looking for the address. A dark-haired man, sitting on a wooden bench was lazily rubbing the ears of a black and white collie panting beside him. As Helene passed him by he smiled a greeting. He looked as though he didn’t have a care in the world, which reminded Helene of Matt from the Travel Cafe. She was going to get Matt in to do a slot soon – his enthusiasm about travelling was infectious and she was sure he would go down well with the listeners.

  If only Richard were as uncomplicated and easy-going. Normally, by this stage in the day, he would have been on to her half a dozen times, either giving her work instructions or else arranging when he could get away to be with her. But since their row at the press conference he had been keeping his distance. She hadn’t realised how empty her life would feel without Richard in it.

  Finally she reached Rose Cottage. She stood still for a few seconds, her hand on the rickety gate, reading the hand-painted sign in the garden.

  Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter!

  Let Grandma Rosa foretell your future!

  Tealeaves (cup of tea free!), Cards and Crystals.

  The cottage had an untidy thatched roof and a crooked wooden fence. The garden was a riot of colour, with multi-coloured tulips and primulas crowded into every available space. A fat black cat was sunning himself in the window. Helene pushed open the gate and marched purposefully up the path. She was looking for a bell when the front door opened and an elderly woman motioned for her to come in.

  Helene took a step backwards. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting from her Psychic Granny, but Ugg boots? Purple hair? And, perhaps most unnervingly of all, huge silver ear hoops, not unlike Helene’s own trademark earrings.

  “I’m Helene Harper,” Helene touched her right earring self-consciously. “From Atlantic 1 FM.”

  “Of course!” Rosa opened the door wider. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come on in to the parlour.”

  Helene followed her into the hall and peered into the tiny room. It was so stuffed with clutter that Helene, whose own apartment was a monument to minimalism, felt slightly sick just looking at it. A shabby floral sofa festooned with cushions was backed up against the wall. An ancient rocking chair creaked in the corner and a low, scratched table was set with a large silver teapot and a pair of terracotta coloured mugs. Dozens of ornamental cats jostled for space on the bookshelves. Pen and ink drawings of more cats crowded the walls. The smell of incense was overpowering. Something soft brushed against Helene’s legs and she jumped, startled.

  “Millie! How many times have I told you about frightening away my clients?” Rosa chided. The black cat Helene had seen in the window skulked into a corner and hissed at Helene, staring at her with huge, green eyes. Helene stared back until the cat gave up and screwed itself up into a defensive black ball of fur.

  “So,” Helene turned her attention to the fortune teller.

  “Sit down there and make yourself comfortable.” Grandma Rosa took the rocking chair and gestured for Helene to sit on the sofa.

  “Would you like tea leaves, tarot cards or,” Grandma Rosa indicated a large glass ball with a pair of white ornamental hands on top, “the crystal ball?”

  “Actually,” Helene sat down gingerly on the edge of the sofa, “I’d like my chakras unblocked.”

  “Your whats unblocked?” Rosa looked mystified.

  “My chakras.” Helene rubbed the hollow of her neck thoughtfully. She’d swear she could almost feel where Annie had detected the blockage. “A therapist told me my throat chakra was very blue which means, apparently, I find it difficult to express myself. Have you heard of chakra therapy?”

  “I can’t say I’ve heard of chakras.” Rosa poured out two mugs of tea. “Milk? Sugar?”

  “Just milk.” Helene was disappointed. “So – what can you do?”

  “Well ... I always recommend tea leaves for first-timers,” Rosa poured the milk and shoved a mug towards Helene.

  “Tea leaves?” Helene raised her eyebrows. If Grandma Rosa was serious about getting a radio slot she was going to have to do better than that. She didn’t want her yakking on about dark handsome men and overseas trips. She opened her mouth to say as much but Rosa interrupted her.

  “To be honest this scene is changing so fast it’s hard to keep up with it. Apparently, if you’re not moving forward you’re basically dead in the business world.”

  Helene’s mouth tightened. “Tell me about it. That’s partly why I’m here.”

  “What other therapies have you had done?” Rosa asked.

  “Oh, loads of stuff.” Helene tried to remember all the therapies she’d ever had. “There was the angel workshop. Feng shui. Rescuing my inner child. Meeting my Guides. Reflexology. Iridology. Spiritual cleansing ...”

  “What did you do? That you needed your spirit cleansed?” Rosa asked suspiciously.

  “Do? I didn’t do anything. That’s what the therapist was offering.”

  “I’d imagine you’d have to have at least murdered someone to need your spirit cleansed.” Rosa pursed her lips.

  “Well, I didn’t murder anyone!” Helene retorted. Although, she had killed off a fair few careers in her time, she thought guiltily, an image of Tess Morgan floating in front of her. “Look, I just had stuff I needed to get off my chest with the spiritual cleansing thing.”

  “So why not just go to confession? Are you Catholic?”

  “Eh ... I don’t think that’s any of your business! Look, spiritual cleansing was just in at the time, all right?”

  “I should learn about that too then. What about Cosmic Ordering? That’s the latest, according to my psychic’s network group.”

  “You can do Cosmic Ordering?” Helene felt a flutter of excitement. She could order the Universe to make her the outright winner of It’s My Show. She would become super famous and Richard would be raging that he hadn’t believed in her when he’d had the chance.

  “I’m studying it,” Rosa said. “What is it you want to order?”

  “I want to win It’s My Show – that’s a competition Atlantic 1 FM is running,” Helene said immediately.

  “Right. Well, I don’t actually know how to do Cosmic Ordering yet.” Rosa shuffled her tarot cards and looked at Helene shrewdly. “But I believe you can only wish for something which is for the greater good. You can’t wish ill on your enemies, for instance.” Her eyes brightened. “Oh yes – and you need to say what you want to happen in the present tense, as if it’s already happened.”

  “Like ‘yes, yes, yes, I’m a millionaire-ess’?” Helene asked tersely. “I’ve tried that already – it didn’t work.”

  “Well, I think you have to really believe it before it can work. But as I’ve explained, it’s not my specialist subject.” Rosa leaned towards Helene. “Look, to be honest, I am aiming to diversify into the new therapies but at the moment I am more comfortable with the more traditional fortune-telling techniques. Tarot and tea leaves. I think the Tarot would suit your listeners best. They phone in, I concentrate on their energies over the airwaves and choose their cards on the basis of that. For example,” Rosa gave the cards one more shuffle, and fanned them out in front of Helene, “pick nine cards.”

  Helene chose the cards, feeling silly and nervous at the same time and watched as the older woman arranged th
em in the shape of a cross and scrutinised them in silence for several seconds. Finally she spoke.

  “I can see here you’re going through quite a difficult time in your life right now.”

  Helene craned her neck to see more of the colourful cards. “That’s true.”

  “This one,” Grandma Rosa tapped firmly on one, “is telling me you’re facing a big crossroads in your life. And this one,” she patted another, “tells me there’s someone who may be deceiving you. What they say is not necessarily what they mean.”

  Helene frowned. She didn’t think Richard was untrustworthy. Just hot-headed and impulsive. Still, maybe she should find a proper New Age therapist, one who did know about Cosmic Ordering and chakras? She noticed Rosa’s eyes widening slightly as they lit on another card.

  “What?” Helene demanded, leaning over to try and see the card more clearly.

  “It’s to do with a man in your life. There’s something that’s not being said between you. Something you are keeping from one another. Are you torn between two lovers by any chance?”

  Helene blinked. Suddenly she had an urge to spill out the whole sorry story of her and Richard to this woman with the unconventional dress sense and kind eyes. But it would be hard for even Helene’s best friend – if she had a best friend – to understand the exquisite nuances of her and Richard’s love affair, never mind a complete stranger who didn’t know the first thing about either of them.

  “Look, if I need to consider you for a slot, you’ll need to tell me something I don’t know already,” Helene said bluntly.

  Grandma Rosa looked at her levelly. “Actually, I think I can. I wasn’t sure how much to reveal because it’s your first time here. But if it’s what you want.” She waved one of the cards around in the air. “This card here, Helene. It’s the Empress. It signifies fertility and motherhood. Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean a baby. It could be telling you that you need to nurture your own inner self. But tell me – could you by any chance be pregnant?”