by Jane Lythell
Chalk Farm flat, Sunday evening
It was a hot thundery evening and I wrestled with the French doors to shut them. They were sticking again and I cursed Ron Osborne as I pushed them closed and locked them. If he hadn’t messed me around I would have had the new doors by now. I turned on my laptop and studied the instructions on the small claims court website. It made clear that before instituting legal proceedings you were expected to show that you had made every attempt to resolve the situation. Now that I had Ron Osborne’s address, which he was clearly cagey about sharing, I could send a letter to him by recorded delivery. I drafted a legal-sounding letter which gave him seven days to return my deposit or I would commence legal proceedings. I hoped this would shock him into returning my money. I felt pleased with myself as I printed and signed it with a flourish.
But later I suffered from a bad attack of the Sunday night blues, brought on by my spending the whole weekend on my own. I thought about it. Had I got the Sunday night blues while Ben and I were living together? Probably not, but we might have been arguing instead. I put more lamps on and rang my mum in Glasgow for a long catch-up. Mum has retired from teaching and in December she’ll be off to Kenya for a two-year work placement with Voluntary Services Overseas. Since Dad died Mum always has to be doing something useful. Once she sets off to Africa Flo and I will see her, at best, once a year. I am proud of her, though, for her courage and her resilience.
There was a sudden flash of lightning and Mr Crooks belted through the cat flap. I stood at the French doors and watched giant raindrops bouncing on the ground and my hollyhocks rocking against the wall.
13
StoryWorld TV station, London Bridge
A story on our news bulletin this morning had me crying in the gallery. A fifteen-year-old girl had gone missing last week. Her distraught parents had made urgent calls for information, saying she wasn’t the sort to run away and pleading with the public to help them find her. There was something about the mother that I connected with and yes, the missing girl was the same age as Flo. I imagined how terrified I would be if she had gone missing. We have been running updates on the search ever since. Her body was found late last night in a lock-up garage. The thought came to me that the girl would have cried out for her mother and her mum wasn’t there and I couldn’t stop tears rolling down my cheeks at the sheer bloody horror of it.
*
After the morning meeting Harriet popped her head round my door.
‘How’s Flo? She told me about her hair.’
‘Really? Then you are one of a select few. I’ve been forbidden to mention it to anyone. Come on in.’
She perched on the arm of my sofa.
‘She WhatsApped me but wouldn’t send a pic even though I told her I did something similar when I was at school. I dyed the front of my hair blue.’
‘Blue?’
‘Yes, dark blue, almost black. I was aiming for a goth look. My mum was beside herself and I was grounded for weeks.’
I couldn’t imagine the stylish Harriet as a goth, ever.
‘How old were you?’
‘Fourteen.’
‘And you were into goth?’
‘I had a major thing about this boy. He was into goth and I was into him.’
‘Well, I’m seeing a whole new side of you, Harriet.’
She laughed. ‘Anyway, I wanted to cheer her up so I mentioned Guy’s idea for a teenage makeover slot.’
‘I don’t know about this?’
‘He got this fantastic letter from a sixteen-year-old who asked why he never discussed fashion for her age group. So he’d like me to find three teenage girls to do a fashion makeover. The letter-writer is going to be one of them and I thought Flo could be one too. She’d be ideal.’
‘It’s sweet of you, Harriet, but won’t it smack of nepotism if we use Flo?’
Harriet looked blank.
‘You know, me using my position to favour my daughter.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that won’t matter at all,’ Harriet said breezily.
As the daughter of a newspaper editor she was used to privileges coming her way and couldn’t see any conflict of interest. Her impulse had been a kind one, to cheer up Flo. I wished she had mentioned it to me first though. I could imagine how thrilled Flo would be at the idea and I knew she would brook no opposition.
‘Would this be a studio item?’
‘No, Guy thought we should shoot it on location, maybe at a street market, and do a montage of the girls before and after,’ she said.
I could see that working and it was a perfect August story. But Flo as one of the models, the idea made me uneasy.
I had lunch in the Hub with Martine and Ellen. I like my new-found friendliness with Martine. The Hub was having an Italian week and red, white and green bunting was strung along the food counter. The room smelled of oregano and baking pizza dough and there was a different pasta dish on offer each day. I had toyed with the idea of a salad, as I’d like to shed a couple of pounds, but in the end we’d all gone for the linguine carbonara which was lovely and creamy. We discussed Friday’s party and how sweet Zachary was and what a marvellous job Loida did in supporting Fizzy. Ellen was struck by how keen Fizzy was to get back to work.
‘He’s still so tiny. I hope she’s not rushing it. It’s only been three months and I took eight months off with Tara,’ Ellen said.
‘I was off for nine,’ I said as I twisted the linguine onto my fork.
‘But she loves her job. She gets such a buzz from connecting with the viewers,’ Martine said.
‘She does. She actually gets energy from them, I think. And she’s not the stay-at-home kind, is she?’ I said.
Ellen added black pepper to her pasta.
‘I guess not. And even though Ledley is doing a good job, Fizzy is StoryWorld.’
‘It will be great to have her back,’ Martine said.
Lori was sitting on her own at a corner table with a half-eaten pizza and a newspaper spread on the table before her. Ellen glanced in her direction.
‘She didn’t come to the party, did she? I’ve only exchanged words with her once and I’m not sure what to make of her,’ she said quietly.
‘She’s stand-offish and I never knew a woman who worked as hard as her. “Driven” doesn’t even begin to describe it,’ Martine said.
The two women looked at me, waiting for me to say something. It was interesting how they too had found Lori disconcerting.
‘I think she’s a woman in a hurry. She wants to prove herself,’ I said.
*
It was mid-afternoon when Ledley appeared at my threshold.
‘You got a minute?’
‘For you, always,’ I said.
He smiled and closed the door. He was looking smart again in a pale grey linen suit and he hung his jacket over the back of the chair before he sat down. The jacket was lined with apple green silk and looked expensive. Ledley is handsome and could almost pass for a male model these days, but I still preferred the scruffy street-style Ledley.
‘Angela called me. Thanks for approving all the ideas,’ he said.
‘My pleasure, but you’ve signed yourself up for a whole lot of travelling.’
‘That’s fine with me. I like trains. Can we keep what I’m about to say between us?’
‘Of course.’
He tapped his fingers on my desk and without looking at me said: ‘I was watching Bob at Fizzy’s party.’
My stomach plummeted because I knew what was coming.
‘And the feeling has been growing on me that Bob is Zachary’s father.’
He had raised his eyes to my face and somehow I managed to make my expression look incredulous.
‘What on earth gave you that idea?’
‘The way he was with Fizzy, the way he looked at the baby, the way he talked. He was unbelievably tense.’
‘Oh, come on,’ I said.
I was relieved that he had nothing else to base this on.
‘I know how to read people, Liz.’
‘I’m sure you do, but Bob and Fizzy? No way. They’re good friends because they both come from Burnley.’
‘He’s married with two kids, you know.’
‘I know. I’ve met his wife, Pat,’ I said.
‘So have I. And she’s a nice lady. And wasn’t that Geoff she was involved with married too?’
He was being uncharacteristically righteous on the issue and I tried to tease him out of this.
‘I didn’t have you down as a guardian of morals,’ I said.
He would not be deflected and repeated his conviction that Bob was Zachary’s father.
‘They had plenty of opportunity to meet up. I often saw them in the Hub together.’
‘As friends... having a coffee,’ I said, hoping I wasn’t protesting too much.
‘It was more than that. I know it was. You could call Zachary an in-house production!’ he said.
I felt a strong need to protect Fizzy. I had to stop Ledley from voicing his suspicions to anyone else in the station.
‘You’re basing this on what, Ledley? On body language? My strong advice is to let this go.’
‘The truth always comes out in the end,’ he said.
It occurred to me that he was trying to stir up trouble against Fizzy and why would he do that? Was this burst of moral outrage tied up with his wish to retain his position as the anchor? I feared that it was. Being on camera does something to people. I’ve noticed it before. It has a corrupting influence and I felt less fond of Ledley than I had before. Should I say something to Fizzy about Ledley’s suspicions? I didn’t think I would. It would only get Fizzy into a state.
Chalk Farm flat, 8 p.m.
Flo called me from Portsmouth and although I asked her about her weekend on the Isle of Wight all she could talk about was the teenage fashion makeover and how Harriet had told her she had the opportunity to be a model on TV.
‘We can get my hair done in time. Please, Mum, I really, really, really, want to do this.’
I tried to explain my reservations.
‘I’m worried it will look like favouritism,’ I said.
‘You have to let me do it.’
Later, I had settled down to watch Douglas do his evening bulletin when my landline rang. I felt irritated but turned the sound down on the TV and picked up. It was Ben calling me from Dubai, which was a rare enough occurrence. There was no preamble, he launched straight in.
‘Please let Flo do this fashion thing,’ he said.
‘Did she ask you to ring me?’
‘What’s the harm? She’s been miserable because of the hair fiasco and it will give her a boost.’
‘I know it will. But I feel uncomfortable about it.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, you know, the producer pushing her own daughter forward.’
‘Flo said she’d be one of three models,’ he said.
‘Yes, that’s true, but...’
‘This is a one-off, for God’s sake, let her do it.’
‘I’ll have to clear it with Julius, but I guess it will be OK as long as she gets no financial benefit from it,’ I said.
‘It’s commendable that you’re so squeaky clean about your work but honestly, Liz, you need to lighten up,’ he said.
‘Goodnight, Ben.’ I clicked off the phone.
He had made me furious. Telling me to lighten up when I looked after Flo ninety-five per cent of the time, was there for all her crises and paid most of the bills. Of course he could be the relaxed, good-time dad on the rare occasions he saw her. I grabbed the remote and turned the sound up and went back to watching Douglas read the news but was still feeling angry when the bulletin ended. It was ten-thirty but I took all the mugs out of the cupboard and wiped down the shelf. Next I went through the spice jars and packets and threw out any that had passed their use-by date. I swept the kitchen floor and finally felt ready for bed.
14
Camden Town, 9.30 a.m.
Tonight I’ve got my second date with Douglas. I’ve been thinking about it all week and it’s kind of pushed my worries about Lori’s hostility and Ledley’s suspicions out of my mind. In fact, the date has loomed far too large in my consciousness. Earlier this week, Douglas emailed to say I needed to dress for sitting outside as he’d got us tickets to an outdoor concert at Kenwood Gardens in Hampstead. It was going to be light classical and he had chosen it because of the setting and he would bring a picnic. Yesterday he called saying would I bring a large umbrella if I had one as the weather forecast wasn’t brilliant. I thought a picnic and a concert was a romantic gesture and I wanted to look good, which meant getting my hair done.
So I asked Simon if he would sit in on the morning meeting for me today as I needed to do something near home. I walked down to the salon in Camden Town to get my hair washed and blow-dried. Most of the time I pay Ellen in make-up a small fee to cut my hair but I do like the stylist at the Camden salon, Mark. He’s been doing my hair for years when I have a special occasion and he has become a friend. He brought me a cappuccino and I told him about Flo’s bleaching disaster. He was horrified.
‘That’s actually quite dangerous, you know?’ he said.
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘There are strict guidelines about how much peroxide you can use. Poor love, what a horrible thing to happen.’
‘It was about two weeks ago and she’s desperate to get her hair dyed back to its natural colour. Can you do that?’
‘We can, Liz, but it won’t come cheap, I’m afraid.’
He told me the price and it was a heck of a lot of money. I booked her in though and I’ll ask Ben to pay for it.
StoryWorld TV station, London Bridge
At twelve noon I got a call from Martine who said I was needed at once in Julius’s office. She sounded flustered and when I reached her desk she said:
‘Sorry for no notice, it’s an unscheduled meeting.’
I knew something was up the minute I walked in because Saul Relph was sitting there, as was Lori Kerwell. Saul is rarely seen in the building as he delegates programming matters to Julius. I still felt resentful that Saul had spoken to Julius about me and seeing the three of them sitting there made me anxious. They looked like a cabal who were hatching some plot. The charged atmosphere was further heightened when Julius closed the blinds at his windows so that passing staff could not look in.
‘Good to see you, Liz,’ Saul Relph said. ‘We want to share our latest thinking with you.’
‘Which is speculative and confidential at the moment,’ Julius added quickly.
Julius indicated I should sit facing the large screen on his wall and Lori, who had her laptop open, flashed up a slide. I wondered if she ever did anything without first preparing a PowerPoint. She talked through her presentation. It was full of graphs of viewer reactions to specific features we had carried over the last two months since Fizzy had been on maternity leave. The response to Ledley had been enthusiastic, she said. She clicked up another graph. Her detailed study of viewer comments and of the demographic breakdown of the StoryWorld audience had led her to the conclusion that Ledley and Fizzy should be a double act on the sofa from September.
I was stunned. Fizzy had been the solo star of StoryWorld for years and I had thought her position was unassailable.
‘What do you think?’ Julius asked once Lori had clicked the last slide and shut her laptop.
‘My first thought is that it’s so conventional to go with a male–female pairing. One of the things that makes us stand out is that we have a solo woman fronting our show.’
‘Yes, but Ledley’s presence will open up new markets for us. His status as a chef will help us get food advertising on board. And there’s a wide range of male products, including fragrances, which we could tap into and the advertising spend on this area is substantial,’ Lori said.
‘My second thought is that this is a bear trap,’ I continued.
‘A bear trap? What
do you mean?’ Saul said.
‘A bear trap is when we do something which bites us back and harms our reputation. Fizzy returns from maternity leave to find that she has essentially been demoted for going off and having a baby. How do you think that will play in the media?’
I saw straight away that this angle had not occurred to Saul. His eyebrows drew together and he looked over at Julius.
‘It would need careful handling, of course. We are well aware of that,’ Julius said.
‘It’s not a demotion if Fizzy is on the same salary and she will be, won’t she?’ Lori added.
‘It really isn’t about her salary, Lori. Surely you can see that? This will be seen as a demotion by the industry. Up till now she got to do all the interviews. Now she’ll have to share them with a co-host,’ I said.
‘But my research shows overwhelmingly that Ledley will help us achieve more advertising,’ she said, as if this trumped any possible objections to her plan.
‘It will also help our diversity profile,’ Julius said.
I looked over at him. ‘If you do proceed, who is going to do this careful handling?’
‘I take it you’re not in favour?’ he said.
‘I’ve had ten minutes to absorb the idea, but my instinct is that this could backfire badly. What if Fizzy cuts up rough, which I think she’s bound to do?’
‘You know we all think the world of Fizzy. We were wondering that with a young baby to look after she might welcome the added support,’ Saul Relph said in a subdued voice.
I knew he had always been a big fan of Fizzy but I was amazed at how little he knew her. She is fiercely ambitious and driven. Julius knew her, though, and was well aware how she would react. This was a high-risk change and would be a nightmare to manage. The great irony was that this was exactly what Fizzy had feared when she went on maternity leave. She’d thought I was plotting to replace her with Ledley and we had fallen out over it. I had never wanted any such thing. But Ledley’s star had risen and it was the newcomer Lori Kerwell who was promoting him. This was Lori’s way of making her mark but she also appeared confident about her figures. She was a woman who did not suffer from self-doubt. Saul, who does not like to be thwarted, or even argued against, had moved into irritable MD mode.