Having It All

by Maeve Haran

  With a flash of insight she realized how naive she’d been. Of course Conrad wouldn’t change that meeting. He was planning something. And he’d be far more likely to get away with it without her there. Conrad was the last person at Metro TV who would want to change it. Every instinct shouted at her that it was a set-up, that this meeting would be the most important in her career. And with chilling clarity she knew one thing for certain: that if she wanted to survive she had to be there.

  Liz took Jamie into the locker room and helped him change into his red shorts and T-shirt. She smiled to herself as she got out his brand-new Panther Silver Wizard running shoes. She’d taken him shopping for them herself and had been staggered by the Cult of the Trainer. With over three hundred pairs to choose from Jamie had known instantly which were ‘naff’ and which were ‘crucial’ and had refused to settle for anything else. She’d almost had a heart attack when she’d seen the price tag. They could have bought ten pairs for the same price down the road at Woolworth’s!

  She looked up at him as she tied the laces in a double knot. But he wouldn’t return her smile, wouldn’t even look at her. He just sat there listlessly, not even responding to her jokey comments about using a boiled egg for the egg-and-spoon race.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Ward, I’m so glad you’re here.’ Oh shit, thought Liz, not the Disapproving Head treatment. But for once the woman was all smiles. ‘I wanted to tell you how delighted we are with Jamie. He’s come on in leaps and bounds, haven’t you Jamie? You’ll be here later of course for his big moment?’

  Jamie looked down at his feet again.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t make this afternoon. I’ve got a very important meeting.’

  ‘I see.’ Her tone cut Liz to the quick. How could any meeting, it seemed to say, be more important than your son’s sack race?

  Guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt. GUILT! Why did she feel so mind-numbingly guilty when David had flown off for a meeting in Manchester with only the slightest twinge of regret and a promise that he’d take Jamie into the office with him next week? And Jamie had accepted it! He’d smiled and said, ‘Thanks, Dad.’ But she wasn’t to be let off the hook so lightly.

  ‘Goodbye, darling. Good luck later. Susie will be here and she’s going to take you to McDonald’s after. Would you like to take a friend?’

  But Jamie didn’t answer. He had undone his shoelace and was pretending to retie it. Liz ruffled his hair and turned to go.

  At the door she stopped and waved, hoping for a sign of forgiveness. But Jamie’s dark head was still down. For a split second he glanced up and she saw the tears running down his face. Then he looked away.

  ‘Liz, you haven’t touched your sandwiches.’

  Liz looked in surprise at the tiny quarters of smoked salmon and brown bread, already beginning to curl at the edges. For the last hour she’d sat here trying to rehearse the arguments that would defeat Conrad, save Cardboard People and prove to everyone at the meeting that she was the one who made the creative decisions at Metro TV. But all she could think of was Jamie’s tear-stained face.

  He was such a sensitive child. For a moment she thought of him washing his hands over and over again, sensing that there was trouble between Mummy and Daddy and thinking that it was his fault.

  And suddenly she knew that she couldn’t miss this moment which meant so much to him whatever the cost to her.

  For the first time in days everything seemed simple. Almost laughing at the relief, she shuffled the papers on her desk, stood up and buzzed her secretary. ‘Viv, could you call Conrad’s office and tell them I can’t make this afternoon.’

  Viv looked up in amazement. Then she understood. ‘What do you want me to tell them?’

  Liz knew she was being thrown a lifebelt. The loyal offer of a white lie. A death in the family. David and a mystery illness. But she also knew there wasn’t the remotest chance of Conrad believing it.

  ‘Tell them . . . Tell them I’ve gone to watch a sack race and that I’ll be back later.’

  ‘Can you hurry? Is there a short cut you could take?’

  The cab driver glanced back hearing the anxiety in her voice and shrugged. He was doing his best. He’d learned to take people’s desperation to get somewhere with a pinch of salt. Otherwise you had a heart attack as well as them.

  It was 3.04 and Liz was beginning to panic. The traffic had been terrible right across London and now that they were almost there they’d found estate cars and Range-Rovers blocking the road for miles.

  Looking at the road ahead choked with cars Liz had a clear vision which almost buckled her legs beneath her and made her stomach heave. She had thrown up her entire career and let down all the people who worked for her to come to Jamie’s sack race and she was going to miss it. While he stumbled along, feeling neglected and longing for her to be there she would be in a traffic jam three hundred yards away. She had screwed up. She felt tears of defeat pricking at her eyes, she had failed her son, her marriage was disintegrating, she had let down everyone at Metro by not outwitting Conrad.

  ‘You’d better run for it, love. We could be here for days. Bleedin’ Volvos!’

  The taxi driver’s advice finally penetrated her mind. Scrabbling in her bag, she handed him a tenner as he glanced down at her narrow skirt and three-inch heels. ‘You’ll have to do a Princess Di!’

  What was he on about? And then she remembered. Princess Diana at her son’s Sports Day. She’d flung off her shoes and run barefoot. Grinning at the cabbie and throwing him a huge tip, Liz did the same. With her skirt clutched above her knees she raced barefoot along the last hundred yards of the filthy street and into the Sports Ground.

  ‘Where’s the sack race?’ she gasped at the only teacher she recognized.

  ‘Over in the far corner,’ replied the teacher. ‘But you’d better get a move on. It’s starting.’

  Liz stumbled breathlessly across the soggy field weaving frantically in and out of parents and children and pushchairs and dogs, her side splitting and her feet filthy. But she knew there was only one thing that mattered in life and that was to get there, to get to Jamie, and have him know that she was watching him.

  Finally, exhausted and panting, she made it. There were about ten children in the race and she could see that one boy was already nearly halfway there, his parents cheering him on wildly. Searching the faces of the other children, in her panic she couldn’t find Jamie. Oh God, maybe he’d cried off!

  Then she saw Susie shouting and jumping up and down with Daisy joining in from her pushchair. And there was Jamie. Third from the back between a fat boy and a girl with pebble-dash glasses.

  And at last he saw her. ‘Mum!’ he shouted joyfully, ‘There’s my Mum!’

  For a moment she thought he was going to drop his sack and run to her. Instead he put on a sudden spurt, frantically leaping like a Mexican jumping bean as though there were hot coals under his feet and a double banana split waiting just beyond the finishing line.

  ‘Come on, Jamie, you can do it!’ Liz bellowed so loudly that the genteel couple next to her jumped and gave her a withering God-these-pushy-mums look.

  Jamie was neck-and-neck with the leader now. With a superhuman lunge he jumped through the air and landed over the finishing line a millisecond before the stunned rival who’d thought the race was in the bag and was grinning smugly over his shoulder at his parents as they captured his victory on video.

  Liz lifted him up and swung him round, hugging him until he could hardly breathe as tears of pride and love and above all blessed relief that she hadn’t missed his moment of glory and thrown her career away for nothing ran down her face and made her eye make-up run.

  She had half expected a protest. The usual cry of ‘Yuk! Mum! Don’t!’ But for once he didn’t push her off. Instead she felt his arm creep round her neck and she realized he was holding her as tightly as she was him. And for a moment she wondered how she could possibly have taken so long to decide something so blindingly obvious: he needed her and she h
ad to be there. It was as simple – or as devastatingly complicated – as that.

  ‘Hello, Liz,’ Claudia purred as Liz swept out of the lift and headed for Conrad’s office, trying to disguise her filthy feet under her raincoat. Claudia sounded like the cat who’d not only got the cream but had just been handed the entire dairy. ‘You’ve missed all the fun. I’m afraid your series on homelessness has bitten the dust. Too dreary. Conrad’s replacing it with a brilliant new gameshow on personal problems.’

  For a moment Liz almost burst out laughing. So You Think You’ve Got Problems was one of the third-rate ideas Britt had submitted and which she’d passed on to Conrad simply out of politeness. If Conrad was prepared to drop Cardboard People for something so tacky, she didn’t give much for Metro’s chances as a decent network.

  As the last of the executives filtered out avoiding her glance she saw Conrad watching her. ‘Would you mind joining me in my office?’

  The little group dispersed petulantly when it was clear the showdown was to be private.

  Conrad held the door open for her.

  For a moment Liz thought about the staff who needed her and the programmes she would never make. Without her Metro would produce nothing but dross. But what mattered most? Metro TV or her own family? The irony was, she’d thought she’d never have to choose. She’d been so convinced that women really could have it all. Career and Family. Boardroom and Babies. Until today. Today she’d finally had to choose after all.

  ‘How was Sports Day?’ She knew Conrad’s tone was supposed to be wounding but it just seemed pathetic.

  ‘Terrific,’ she smiled, ‘Jamie won.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Conrad smiled wolfishly. ‘Good for him. What a pity his mother lost.’

  Liz held his eyes with hers as she walked into his office, and when she spoke her voice was steady.

  ‘Now that, Conrad, depends on how you look at it.’

  To her surprise she saw that Mark Rowley was sitting on the sofa next to Conrad’s desk. She sat down, flushing slightly. It was ridiculous how hard she found it to treat him naturally just because of an incident when she was a student.

  ‘I asked Rowley to stay on and hear your explanation. I’m sure you’d like the Chairman to get it from the horse’s mouth.’

  ‘But I’ve already told you, Conrad. I had to go to my son’s Sports Day. He’s been very insecure lately and it mattered to him that I was there.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have asked Conrad to reschedule the meeting?’ Mark Rowley’s tone was surprisingly sympathetic.

  ‘It was impossible apparently,’ she answered scathingly.

  ‘So,’ Conrad’s voice was silky, ‘I’m prepared to overlook it this once, provided I get an official apology.’ He paused. ‘And of course assurances that it will never happen again.’

  Liz had known there would be a catch. ‘I can’t do that, Conrad. Children don’t respect working hours. You can forget the apology. I’m resigning as of now. Naturally I’ll work out my notice if you want me to.’

  ‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary. So embarrassing for one’s colleagues, don’t you think?’ He looked at his watch. ‘Five-thirty.’ The dismissiveness in his tone made Liz want to hit him. ‘If you hurry you’ll be home for bathtime.’

  As Liz walked for the last time towards the lift on the management floor she realized that Mark Rowley was following her. Looking round him nervously he caught up with her. ‘Liz! Liz!’ The urgency in his tone made her glance at him in surprise. ‘Don’t do it. Don’t give him the satisfaction. I’ve watched you working for the past three months and you’re outstanding. You know what’ll happen if you walk out. He’ll just give the job to Claudia Jones.’ In a rare burst of emotion he clutched her arm. ‘Stay, Liz! I’ll persuade the Board to support you.’

  Liz smiled, amazed and touched by his indiscretion.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mark, but I can’t. I meant it. I can’t promise that this won’t happen again.’

  ‘So what if it does? Anyone else but Conrad would have moved the meeting.’

  ‘Would they? I’m not so sure. Goodbye, Mark. These have been the most exciting few months of my life.’ She smiled. ‘But it’s time I went. I just don’t trust Conrad any more.’

  ‘Hello, Liz. We didn’t expect you home for hours.’ Susie was the first to notice Liz peep round the bathroom door.

  Daisy, still shiny and wet from the bath, crowed with delight and flung herself into Liz’s arms. Jamie, nude apart from his winner’s medal on a ribbon round his neck, followed suit. ‘Mum! Mum! I had a cheeseburger. And a big fries. And a chocolate milkshake. And an apple pie with ice-cream!’

  Susie looked faintly guilty at the revelation of this nutritional nightmare. Liz smiled. ‘Quite right too. You probably had lots of energy to replace.’

  ‘Wasn’t it your big meeting today?’ Susie asked shyly.

  ‘Yes. Well. I’m afraid I didn’t quite make it.’

  ‘You came to Jamie’s Sports Day instead?’ Susie looked up from drying Daisy. ‘Didn’t they mind?’

  Liz remembered Conrad’s look of cold fury. ‘A bit. Let’s say I’m going to be seeing a lot more of the children now.’

  Susie gave her a quick look of sympathy. ‘In that case, whatever happened I’m sure it’ll be worth it.’

  ‘Why aren’t you at work, Mum?’ Jamie plonked himself down on her knee to be dried.

  ‘Because Mummy’s not going to work for a while.’

  ‘Not ever? Not tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the next day?’ Jamie was clearly gobsmacked at this announcement. ‘And will Dad still go to work?’

  Liz’s little bubble of elation burst at the reminder of David. How on earth was he going to react to her chucking in her job? But then wouldn’t she have understood if he’d been put in an impossible position by Logan Greene?

  Suddenly she felt angry. Why should she care what he thought when he was still having an affair? And now that she’d given up her job she realized it was time she did something about that. She’d taken it too calmly when she should have been fighting back. Well, now she would.

  So, how the hell was she going to get David to realize what he was risking by this stupid affair? She had to think of some way of showing him that wifey and kids might not always be waiting patiently for him when he finally chose to come home.

  Hugging Jamie to her, she smiled. She’d thought of something that might just do it.

  ‘Andy, I wonder if you can help me out.’ David liked the News’s Senior Ad Manager. He was helpful and straightforward and he owed David a favour. ‘I need an estimate of all the advertising revenue earned by the nationals over the last couple of months.’

  Andy grinned. ‘You too, eh? I’ve just done the same thing for Mick Norman.’ He looked at David curiously. ‘They’re true then, these rumours?’

  David was looking at the headline on today’s Daily World and wasn’t really listening. ‘What rumours are those, mate?’

  ‘That Logan’s launching a downmarket rival to the World.’

  David sat transfixed. Of course. It made sense. That was why Logan had brought in Norman. Not just to advise on beefing up the News but to start a completely new paper! And that was why Logan had let him off the hook so easily over those Johnson photographs. He wanted to save them for the new paper! Shit, and even Andy Warren knew about it before him. He, who was supposed to be Logan’s favoured son, and Logan hadn’t even bloody well told him.

  David felt a wave of disgust for Logan, and the News, and the whole sleazy fucking world of newspapers. This was what failure felt like. He felt an overpowering urge to go and get drunk.

  Then he remembered that this was Liz’s vital meeting today and he should get home to find out how it had gone. And Jamie’s Sports Day too.

  And then he remembered Britt and he realized that more than ever in his life he wanted to screw her until her cries of pleasure deafened him and told him that he was not a failure but a success. And reaching for his briefcase
he strode out of the building and hailed a taxi going east.

  The more Liz thought about it, the better her plan sounded. It was frighteningly simple. When David got home tonight they just wouldn’t be there. It would give him such a shock that he’d start to see sense again.

  The only problem was where to go. Of course she could go to Mel’s. Or even Britt’s. Ginny and her mother were too far away. But she didn’t really want to admit to any of her friends how bad things had got between her and David. And this way, if she was careful the children wouldn’t suspect anything either.

  ‘Come on Jamie, it’s your lucky day. We’re going off to celebrate again!’

  Bathtime was over, they’d watched Sesame Street on the video and played snap three times. Now it was time to go. Carefully she carried Daisy out to her car-seat. She strapped them both in and drove to the local pizza parlour. Fighting tiredness Jamie demolished a slice of Four Seasons and one of American. Then he fell asleep, tomato sauce still smearing his cheeks like bloodstains in a horror film. Gently Liz wiped him clean and took them back to the car.

  It was nine-forty-five and she reckoned for her plan to work she needed to drive around till one. The latest he’d ever got back in the past was midnight.

  First she drove out to Windsor and round Windsor Great Park, stopping for a moment to look at the Castle lit up in the darkness. She smiled to herself, wondering whether the Queen had done anything like this all those years ago, when Prince Philip had been rumoured to be having fun in the Mediterranean while she was stuck at home with her royal duties. It certainly added a new dimension to that motherly, dignified figure.

  Slowly she drove back through Richmond and Kew. Attracting curious glances she twice stopped at coffee stalls. In Fleet Street she bought an early copy of the Daily News, amazed at how busy the area still was despite the evacuation of so many of the papers to their smart new homes in Dockland. At last, exhausted, she realized it was one a.m. and she could go home.