Behind Her Back

by Jane Lythell

  ‘Do you want some milk with that?’

  ‘No, ta. Mmm, they’re yummy.’

  She reached for a second piece.

  ‘Darling, I’ve arranged for Janis to sleep here on Saturday night because I’m going to be away at a special event in the country.’

  She looked incredulous.

  ‘You’re going away this weekend? But it’s my shoot.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart, and I’ll be back here by Sunday afternoon to hear all about it. You don’t want me anywhere near the shoot, do you?’ I said, already feeling a mountain of guilt that I had agreed to go away.

  ‘But where will you be?’

  ‘In West Sussex.’

  I told her about the date with Douglas.

  ‘He’s the one you’re always watching on the telly,’ she said in an accusing voice.

  ‘Yes, that’s Douglas.’

  ‘So you’re going to sleep with him then? If you’re staying in a hotel. That’s why people go to hotels, isn’t it?’

  She sounded amazingly resentful. I nodded. There was no point in denying that we were going to sleep together.

  ‘How long have you been seeing him?’

  ‘This will be our fourth date.’

  ‘Your fourth date? Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘It all happened while you were away in Portsmouth,’ I said.

  This wasn’t true.

  ‘And you didn’t say a thing! I think it’s really mean of you to go away this weekend of all weekends.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel like that but I’m entitled to have a life too.’ I said it more sharply than I intended because I felt guilty and she scraped her chair back from the table and stormed into her bedroom. I looked at her closed door and cursed her teenage selfishness and my stupid guilt.

  Fizzy called me at nine and she was furious.

  ‘Jonny says you’re in breach of contract.’

  ‘Look, it’s a glorified cooking spot. He’s going to cook for her in the kitchen,’ I said.

  ‘Are you kidding? With Bethany Burton! You know how hot she is at the moment.’

  ‘There’s nothing I can do about it. She’s got a bit of a thing about him, you see.’

  ‘Oh, how he’s going to love that! And he’ll adore making me look small. Why can’t we share the interview? He cooks for her in the kitchen and I talk to her on the sofa about her new series.’

  ‘That won’t work. She’ll talk to him about the series while he’s cooking for her.’

  ‘I won’t put up with it. It’s the thin end of the wedge.’

  ‘No, it’s a one-off, Fizz. You’ll have Gerry and we can find another good guest for you too.’

  I hoped we could. We had one day to find another class guest for her to interview and they weren’t easy to come by.

  ‘You know I’ve a mind to bow out of Friday’s show. I will not play second fiddle to that amateur. That vain pushy amateur! You can tell the viewers that Zac is teething and I’m needed at home.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sleep on it, Fizz, please,’ I said.

  After she’d hung up I pushed the French doors open and stood in my small garden. Gardens smell good at night. My neighbour has planted nicotiana and I recognised its heady scent. There was the faint sound of a car alarm but it was a street away and didn’t disturb the peace of my little plot. It was a clear night and I could make out the Plough in the sky. My father always called that constellation Jack and his Wagon, saying the three stars in a curve represented a horse’s head and the other four were the cart. He told me I should look for it wherever I went in the world. And I do.

  ‘The stars are always there, even when we can’t see them, and they put things in perspective,’ he had said.

  How I missed my dad and his calm good sense. I wondered what he would have made of my life now.

  22

  StoryWorld TV station, London Bridge

  Thankfully, Fizzy decided to come in on Friday and I went down to her dressing room to give her support. Yesterday, Harriet and I had called all our showbiz contacts and had managed to book in TV detective George Walter for her to interview before the main event. I think he fancies Fizzy because he had said yes at once. He was the guest on the day she revealed on camera that she was pregnant, and he said at the time how much he admired her courage. But he wasn’t in the same league as Bethany Burton and she was deeply mortified that Ledley was doing the major interview of the day. She was prickly with me.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Douglas Pitlochry?’

  She must have heard it from Julius and I felt caught out.

  ‘I didn’t want to make too much of it. I mean, it’s only been a couple of dates.’

  ‘So how did you meet him?’

  ‘We were seated together at the People’s TV Awards.’

  She was doing a calculation.

  ‘That was in August.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re a dark horse, Liz Lyon.’

  She seemed annoyed that it was me, a producer, and not her, a presenter, who was dating a fellow TV anchor.

  ‘He hasn’t divorced his wife, you know, and I bet he won’t. They never do. I’d tread carefully there if I were you.’

  Ellen came in to do the finishing touches to her hair and make-up. Fizzy had made a special effort and was wearing a beautiful dusty pink velvet dress that suited her strawberry-blonde hair.

  ‘And watch out if he starts digging about this place. He’s the opposition, you know,’ she said.

  That irritated me. It was like something Julius would have said, suspecting that Douglas was only going out with me to get information, which was frankly insulting. I wondered if they had discussed it, which made me feel more uncomfortable. And now Ellen had picked up on it too. Yet I found myself trying to placate Fizzy, because I had the cheek to be dating Douglas Pitlochry!

  ‘That’s a gorgeous dress, Fizz, perfect with your colouring.’

  ‘Guy says velvet is the thing for autumn/winter and he picked it out for me,’ she said.

  I left them and hurried to the green room. George Walter was sitting in there and Ziggy was handing him a cup of coffee. He thanked her nicely.

  ‘Thanks so much for coming in at such short notice. Fizzy is delighted you could join us today,’ I said.

  ‘It’s my pleasure. She’s a favourite of mine. I had to fight my way through the fans outside. Not mine, alas, but Bethany’s,’ he said cheerfully.

  He was a nice man and I was glad we had him on the sofa. It would soften the blow for Fizzy, even if Ledley had the crown jewels today. Henry took George Walter off to make-up and I stood in reception awaiting the arrival of Bethany Burton. The show had begun but I missed the opening and started to get nervous as the minutes ticked away and she hadn’t appeared. She finally arrived and was sweet and un-starry, in spite of the large retinue with her. She apologised for being late. She has a pretty elfin face, wears her dark hair short and was dressed in a chiffon skirt with a leather jacket and Doc Martens. I took her straight to make-up and hurried to the gallery. Fizzy had finished her interview with George Walter and was talking to Gerry about star signs and their sense of humour. Gerry said Scorpio did a wicked line in banter.

  Ledley was stationed in the kitchen area in readiness for his cooking item with Bethany and you could see that Fizzy much preferred having the sofa to herself. We went to an ad break and came back to a two shot of Ledley and Bethany Burton in the kitchen.

  ‘You take your jacket off, girl, I’m going to make you work,’ Ledley said.

  Bethany laughed in delight and pulled off her leather jacket. Ledley gave her an apron and she put it on with a giggle. All the cameras were on them as Ledley got her to grate parmesan while she told him about her new series. It was natural and spontaneous and it made me think we should put Ledley back in the kitchen more. This was the relaxed, funny Ledley I liked best.

  ‘It’s working great,’ I said to the directo
r as we went to the next ad break.

  I glanced over at Fizzy. She was scribbling a note and she called Henry over and handed it to him. A moment later Henry’s voice came over the sound system, only to the director and me.

  ‘Fizzy says she’d like to join them in the kitchen at the tasting and can we deploy a camera on her.’

  ‘Shit! She wants to get in on the act,’ the director said.

  The ads were still running and we had two minutes to decide what to do. In the running order the instructions were clear that all cameras would be deployed in the kitchen for the entire duration of the Ledley and Bethany interaction.

  ‘She’s well out of order,’ he muttered.

  ‘I need instructions,’ Henry said.

  ‘Maybe we should let her walk over, at the end of the item, and join in the tasting. Is it such a big thing?’ I said.

  ‘Presenters mucking with our running order...’ he said.

  ‘The crew need instructions now,’ Henry said.

  The director sighed and went on to open mic which all crew members and Fizzy and Ledley could hear.

  ‘Change of camera position. Will Camera One please move to Fizzy two minutes from the end of this item so that Fizzy can join Ledley and guest in the kitchen for the tasting,’ he said.

  As Ledley heard this I caught a glimpse of his face and he looked furious. He masked it super quick as we came out of the ad break to a shot of him and Bethany in the kitchen and he continued with his cooking and their chat as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The viewers would not have noticed but the final minutes of the show, with Fizzy trying Ledley’s dish and cooing over it with Bethany, had made uncomfortable watching for the director and me. As the credits rolled he looked over.

  ‘It’s open warfare now, isn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, and I wish I knew how to deal with it,’ I said.

  ‘That goes for all of us.’

  He and I headed for the morning meeting. Fizzy had broken a golden rule of broadcasting. You do not allow a presenter to tamper with a running order when a live show is in progress. Late changes can and do happen in a live show but it is always at the director’s discretion. I could feel how tense my body was and wondered how Julius was going to react. Would he rebuke Fizzy in front of everyone? Lori walked in with Ledley at her side, followed by Bob. Fizzy made a late entrance, getting there thirty seconds before Julius and looking flushed and defiant. Julius went to his seat at the top of the table and took his time sitting down. He was ominously calm as he asked the director for his technical report.

  ‘Nothing to note, sound and vision both fine,’ the director replied.

  ‘And the late change to the running order?’ Julius said.

  ‘We coped with it fine, thanks.’

  The director did not want to land Fizzy in it and I was grateful for that. We could tell her off but not in this public forum. Ledley was smouldering but it was Lori who pitched in.

  ‘I’m not a programme maker, but wasn’t the interview with Bethany Burton meant to be with Ledley alone?’

  ‘We made a late change to the end of the item. These things happen in a live show,’ the director said.

  ‘And that is acceptable?’ Lori addressed her question to Julius.

  He didn’t answer her but he looked at me.

  ‘What’s your view, Liz?’

  We needed to keep a lid on the venomous emotions that were pulsating in that room. I could tell Julius what I really thought later.

  ‘I think it worked. It was a nice inclusive way to end what had been an excellent interview, well done, Ledley,’ I said.

  Lori sat back in her seat and snorted.

  ‘Well, of course you would say that. You’re on Team Fizzy.’

  I had been tightly wound up and her taunt infuriated me. I smacked the table hard with my open palm.

  ‘No! That’s a very provocative thing to say. There is no Team Fizzy or Team Ledley. There is only Team StoryWorld and we have a programme to put out and we’ve got to make it work. Stop being so divisive, Lori.’

  ‘I haven’t noticed Fizzy sharing her interviews with Ledley,’ she snapped back.

  I saw Fizzy’s eyes flash dangerously at this.

  ‘That’s enough. You’re trying to stir things up. You’re making things worse. The only thing that will happen is that the show will suffer, the viewers will notice and our ratings will slip. This has to stop now,’ I said.

  There was a shocked silence in the room. I had never spoken out with such passion at a morning meeting before. I was the one who was diplomatic, who spent my time soothing egos and making the best of things. After a stretched out pause Julius got to his feet and looked at every one of us round the table, one after the other, and the tension in the room reached breaking point. No one dared say a word.

  ‘Liz is right. The show comes first. Put your petty differences aside. This pathetic squabbling is to stop now.’

  He marched out of the room and I hurried after him. I was sure that Fizzy would want to talk to me but I felt too worked up to see anyone so I walked out of the building, along the river walk and hid in the back of a café I sometimes went to. I was grateful that Julius had supported me but I was trembling as I ordered a pot of tea. No coffee today; I was already fired up enough. I hated my job at the moment; hated the constant conflict and the fact that our energy was being deflected from making a good programme to dealing with the civil war between Fizzy and Ledley.

  When I got back to the station Fizzy had left for the day. I went upstairs and asked Harriet if she would keep an eye on Flo at the fashion shoot as I wouldn’t be there.

  ‘Would you like me to pick her up from your flat? I’m getting a taxi to the shoot and I can get Flo on the way.’

  ‘That would be great. I’m feeling guilty about being away but she’s been firm that I wasn’t to come along. What time will it be finished?’

  ‘By four, we hope, five at the latest,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll make sure I’m home by four. Have you seen the outfits Guy has chosen?’

  ‘No, but he says he’s come up with three themes that are on trend and he thinks Flo will look great in the gothic, twisted beauty look.’

  ‘Really?’

  This was not how I saw my girl at all.

  ‘Oh yes, she’s the tallest of the three girls and the most dramatic-looking.’

  I couldn’t stop myself from feeling like a proud mum.

  Chalk Farm community centre, 7 p.m.

  Tonight was a taster session for a Boxercise course at our local community centre. Flo had spotted the class and said why didn’t we try it out? My reckoning was it would be a good way for her to release some teenage angst. As for me, my usual way of coping with stress is to cook dishes with half a pound of melted cheese in them. Boxercise had to be worth a go.

  I met Flo in the reception area and she was already kitted out. I changed into tracksuit bottoms and trainers and stuffed my work clothes into the changing room locker. The exercise room was high-ceilinged and echoey and the male trainer, well-toned and with a shaved head, ticked us off his list. There were ten of us in the class, all women.

  ‘Now, you are to stop if anything starts to hurt. We’ll start slow and build it up,’ he said.

  He launched us into a vigorous warm-up session. We had to run across the room, squat and then make punching motions with each arm.

  ‘So run, squat and punch, run, squat and punch,’ he shouted.

  The room rang with his voice and our running feet. He kept the tempo up for ten minutes. So that was his idea of starting slow. He clapped his hands.

  ‘Now please get into pairs.’

  Flo and I paired up and collected one pair of boxing gloves and one strap-on pad, like a kind of shield which you put your arm through.

  ‘You’re going to take it in turns to punch at the pad, like this.’

  He picked a fit-looking woman in the front row and demonstrated the moves with her. He took up a defen
sive posture with the pad as she punched at him.

  ‘So, ten minutes with your partner and then we’ll change over,’ he said.

  Flo wanted to be the first to punch so I got into position and she laid into my pad with great gusto. Being the defensive partner was harder work than I expected. The trainer was walking around the room watching our moves.

  ‘Good work,’ he said to Flo.

  We changed positions. I caught a glimpse of myself, all flushed and shiny. I put on the gloves.

  ‘Punch harder, Mum,’ Flo said.

  Sweat had started to trickle between my breasts.

  ‘Imagine I’m someone you really don’t like and you want to knock me out.’

  I brought Lori Kerwell’s face to mind and I started to find a rhythm. It was cathartic and I was using muscles that had seen little action in a long time. The trainer clapped his hands again and made us form a line in front of him.

  ‘Now for the group exercise,’ he said.

  Flo and I stood at the back of the line. The woman at the front put on gloves and the rest of us had the pads on. She had to move all the way down the line doing ten punches on each pad, then the next person would take her place. I hated the idea that everyone would be watching me.

  ‘I don’t want to do that, not in front of everyone,’ I whispered to Flo.

  ‘You have to,’ she said.

  We were moving up the line and Flo had reached the front. She punched down the line looking vigorous and in control. I was the last to go and it nearly finished me off. My arms and shoulders were shrieking their protest and my hair was plastered to my forehead. The trainer clapped his hands.

  ‘Time for warm down,’ he shouted.

  I was elated to have got through it. We were both on an endorphin high and linked arms as we headed home.

  ‘I loved it,’ Flo said.

  ‘You were good at it. I’m Mrs Beetroot Face. That’s a class for you and Rosie, I think.’

  The day had ended better than it had begun and I had my weekend with Douglas to look forward to.

  23

  Chalk Farm flat, Saturday