by Melissa Hill
‘Oh no, just a couple of the newcomers from Dublin, dreadful mumzilla types, you know yourself.’
Nina smiled at the description, wondering if Trish would classify her in the future as one of those ‘dreadful mumzilla types’.
In the meantime, Ella had gone over to greet them. ‘Emer, Deirdre. How are you both? And all the lovely little ones?’
As the commotion grew ever louder, Trish turned to Nina and rolled her eyes, ‘I’d better get to work. See you tomorrow?’
Nina took this as a clear indication that her friend must not like kids very much, to not even want to be in the same room as them. As her friend stood to go, noisily clicking her high heels on the floor of the café, one of the women looked up and noticed her.
‘Hey, Trish, how are you?’ she said in a very warm tone for someone who’d been dismissed as ‘just a newcomer’.
‘Hi Emer, fine thanks, nice to see you,’ Trish replied in a way that was million miles away from her usual chatty self.
‘Have you time for a coffee? I’m not sure if you know Deirdre and –’
‘Sorry, can’t, I’m on a deadline,’ Trish tapped her watch. ‘But maybe Nina might like to?’ She motioned to Nina, who smiled at the women, even though she was mortified. Why had she put her in a position like that?
‘Yes, well, maybe next time,’ the woman said, turning her attention back to her baby.
‘Sure. Have a lovely breakfast. Anyway, better get going, bye!’ Like a flash Trish was gone.
The woman called Emer looked up and smiled kindly at Nina. ‘Join us for a coffee?’
‘Oh I don’t want to impose…’
‘Not at all, please do,’ she insisted and Nina reluctantly assented, not sure what to expect, given that Trish had given this woman a definite brush-off.
‘So are you new in town?’ Emer asked when introductions had been made.
‘Not exactly. My father lives here, and I’m staying with him for a while.’
‘Oh right. Who’s that? Maybe we know him; our families only moved here last year but it’s such a small place you sort of get to know everyone, don’t you Deirdre?’ she said and the other woman rolled her eyes.
‘The joys of small-town living!’ she joked.
‘Patrick Hughes,’ Nina told them and was she imagining it, or did the two women exchange a surreptitious look?
‘Oh yes, that’s the TV repair guy, isn’t it?’ Emer replied. ‘I’ve heard of him but don’t think we’ve ever met, and hope we don’t have to.’ Seeing Nina’s expression, she added hastily, ‘I mean that plasma that Dave bought cost a packet, so I sincerely hope it doesn’t need mending any time soon!’
The three of them laughed and Nina was immediately put at ease; for a second there, she’d worried that Patrick had done something to offend one of them, or that his ‘odd’ reputation had preceded him. But apparently not.
The kids were noisy and full of fun, and while the table quickly became messy and slightly chaotic, it was a nice atmosphere to be involved in. Emer and Deirdre seemed like nice women and their children were enjoyable to be around. She couldn’t understand her friend’s quick departure upon the women’s entrance. Some people just didn’t being around children of course, but wasn’t her friend’s reaction a little extreme? Oh well, she thought, not everyone was going to mesh, but she did worry what Trish would think if she learned about her own situation.
Thinking about this, in the other mums’ company, she felt for the first time ever a slight twinge of excitement and allowed herself to enjoy it. Although, listening to their conversation did worry her somewhat. Babies sounded very expensive, what with nappies, clothes and buggies, and she couldn’t believe some of the numbers they were throwing out. Maybe she should think about getting a job while she was here.
‘Well, goodness, look at the time, I’d better get Amy home for her nap,’ Emer said after a while. Her little girl Amy was indeed was rubbing her eyes and looking sleepy. ‘Nina, it really was lovely chatting with you, and no doubt we’ll see you around.’
‘Lovely talking to you too,’ Nina said, pleased she had made some new friends and soon after, Deirdre and Emer left the café pretty much the same way that they’d arrived, in a whirlwind of kids, toys and noise.
Nina settled back in at the counter, happy thus far with her morning and in no real hurry to go home. ‘Would you like another cup of coffee, love?’ Ella offered, on her way in to the kitchen with another order.
‘I’d love one, but since I’m here propping up your counter all morning, I should probably get it myself.’ Nina laughed.
‘Well feel free,’ Ella said smiling. ‘The place is a bit mad at the moment.’ She paused as she watched Nina deftly negotiate the coffee-maker. ‘Actually, I was wondering…’
‘What?’
‘Well, I’m not sure how long you’re staying, but I could do with an extra pair of hands round here for the summer months. My usual baker, Colm – do you remember him? - is off on a career break for a few months, travelling around the world. This place gets crazy with the tourists and everything. I normally get one of the school-leavers but what do you think – only part-time mind, but would you fancy it?’
‘I’d love to,’ Nina said, liking the idea. A part-time job at the café would be a godsend. As well as giving her something to do and keeping her out of Patrick’s way, it would also give her a couple of quid towards some baby things, should she need them.
‘Fantastic. Well then, grab an apron and like that Donald Trump fella says, ‘you’re hired.’
Chapter 8
Later that same evening, Ruth paced the floors of her suite at the Four Seasons. While she’d tried her utmost to get some rest in order to get over the jetlag (and the hangover), proper sleep was impossible.
Which wasn’t good considering her big TV interview was coming up in a couple of hours and she wanted to look her absolute best.
Ruth kneaded her forehead and took another look at the newspapers she’d had sent up to her room; she couldn’t believe what the Irish press were saying about her, and still couldn’t quite comprehend how the news had travelled so fast. More to the point, how on earth had news of her and Troy reached the media at all, let alone so quickly?
After the debacle at Dublin airport in the early hours of the morning, she’d immediately got Chloe on the phone, whereupon her assistant had blearily explained that a security guard at the Beverly Hills Hotel had leaked the CCTV footage from the lobby. Then following press investigations, the remainder of the story had been backed up by an unnamed source at the Chateau Marmont.
‘An unnamed source? What kind of operation is the hotel running that they’re so willing to leak personal information about their guests?’ Ruth demanded.
‘Well, I kinda get the impression the source was a guest,’ Chloe said sheepishly. ‘Someone who was peeved about not getting any sleep?’
Ruth was mortified that her sex life was the subject of such public discussion and even more embarrassed that such discussions had followed her all the way across the Atlantic
‘Ruth Scream-more shows Tinseltown how to party!’ announced one of the more restrained headlines, and while it was bad enough for her to take, Ruth couldn’t even begin to imagine what her parents were making of all this.
The Seymours were travelling up from Lakeview this evening to catch a few minutes with Ruth at the hotel before the PR people whisked them all away to the TV studio. As was customary for guests of the show, the family were given complimentary audience tickets and would be in studio while she was being interviewed.
Ruth had been looking forward to the bit where the TV cameras turned to the delighted parents in the audience while the show’s host asked them just how proud they were of their offspring’s achievements. Now she wasn’t so sure if that was such a good idea.
Casting the papers aside, she decided to bite the bullet and call home to let them know that she’d arrived in Dublin safely and was up and about. It was a call
that she was especially nervous about now, given the circumstances.
For weeks she’d been looking forward to making the call announcing her arrival from the plush hotel, but now she was less than excited, especially if they’d read all those horrible headlines. So much for returning in a blaze of glory; now it seemed she’d be cowering beneath a cloud of shame.
Sadly, Ruth thought that she could somehow deal with other people saying bad things about her (she’d been doing it for years after all) but the one thing she’d find hard would be the idea that her parents were ashamed of her. As it was, it had been hard enough trying to prove to them for all these years that she wasn’t wasting her time.
Sitting back on the comfy bed, she turned the newspapers face down so she wouldn’t have to look at them and dialled her parents’ number. Typically, her mother answered on the first ring.
‘Mum? Hi, it’s me.’ Ruth’s mouth went dry as she waited for Breda Seymour’s reply.
‘Oh hello, love, you’ve arrived safely then?’ Thank goodness, Ruth thought to herself, realising that her mother’s tone seemed normal so perhaps they hadn’t seen the papers.
‘Yes, the flight got in about five this morning, and I’ve just been catching up on some sleep. How are you all? I can’t wait to see you. You and Dad still OK to come up for the show tonight?’
‘Of course, looking forward to it. Will we be able to see you beforehand?’
‘Yes, absolutely. I’ll be here at Four Seasons until five; I think they’re sending a car to bring us to the studio so we should have plenty of time for a chat.’
‘Great, we’re really looking forward to seeing you, love.’
Ruth felt elated; they were looking forward to seeing her, which must mean that they hadn’t seen the headlines.
‘Um love, just so you’re prepared… I tried as long as I could to keep the papers away from your father, and I thought I might be able to until this whole mess passed over, but well, he turned on the television and they were talking about the TV appearance and how you’d be putting the record straight on the scandal. Needless to say, he fished out the papers I’d put in the bin.’
The blood drained from her face, and she shook her head, trying to shake away the thought of her father reading those lurid headlines…seeing that awful picture …everything. She should have guessed that her mother would have tried to cover for her and equally guessed that her father would have found out in the end. Ollie was wonderful, but he’d always been very strict, always demanding Ruth behave like a lady. When she was a teenager he used to waiting up for her to get home every time she went out, and always interrogated at length any of the guys she went out with. Well almost all of them, she thought sadly.
Then as a teenager, when she was offered the part in the TV soap, he’d taken it upon himself to ensure that filming didn’t interfere with her schooling, or that she never went out to parties with the older cast members.
Ollie had believed, perhaps even more than Ruth herself that she was destined to be a star and he wasn’t going to let anything ruin that for her.
Ironic then Ruth thought, that after taking so many years to finally achieve her dream, she’d gone ahead and ruined it herself.
‘Our next guest has been on the radar since her first appearance as a lovesick teenager on The Local. And now after a long hard slog, Hollywood have finally recognised her talent and she stars in one of the biggest TV hits States-wise. Tonight, she’s back in Dublin to talk about her new hit show Glamazons, and we’re delighted to welcome the very talented Ms. Ruth Seymour!’
Ruth waved at the audience as she walked onto the set of the Late Tonight studio. Her smile was dazzling and thanks to the professional make-up artist the station had arranged back at the hotel, she knew she looked every inch the Hollywood star.
She walked gracefully across the set and extended her hand to the show’s host, former DJ Eamonn Kennedy, who much to her disappointment was standing in for the show’s regular host who apparently had broken his leg earlier that week. While the older interviewer was famous for his soft-touch questioning and sycophantic approach, the same couldn’t be said of Kennedy who, from what little Ruth knew of him, was a man who had made a name for himself by being controversial. Tonight though, he seemed just warm and welcoming as he took Ruth’s hand, and kissed her on both cheeks before offering her a seat.
Smoothing down her Catherine Malandrino jade-coloured satin dress, which she knew set off her bouncy bright blonde locks, Ruth crossed her long legs in such a way so as to show off the telltale crimson soles of her elegant (and self-bought) Christian Louboutins.
‘So, Ruth, welcome back. It’s wonderful to have you home. Although after all this time in LA, do you even still consider the ‘oul sod your home?’
‘Of course I do, Eamonn,’ she smiled. ‘Ireland will always be my home. I’m delighted to be back and over the moon to be here.’
‘Tell us about Glamazons. As you know the series hasn’t appeared on Irish screens just yet, but they’re really raving about it in the States.’
Ruth beamed. Yes, this was exactly how it was supposed to be, lots of praise and talk about the show, her amazing achievements, the triumphant return of one of Ireland’s success stories.
‘Well, I’m very fortunate to be involved with the project. Glamazons is a great show, the US ratings have been just amazing, and we’re all really looking forward to filming the next season.’
‘Yes, and such a great cast too.’
OK, this was potentially tricky, she thought, but trying her utmost to remain professional, she made sure to keep her winning smile in place. ‘Absolutely, we have a very talented cast and everyone is a pleasure to work with.’
Eamonn’s eyes sparkled in such a way that too late; Ruth knew she’d walked right into a trap. ‘Hmm, I’d imagine some of your co-stars are more pleasurable to work with than others,’ he joked and the audience laughed.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ruth saw on the monitor that the cameras had moved in for a close-up of her face, and she tried her utmost not to betray her reaction.
‘Well, of course everyone has their own individual strengths, but what we all have to remember is that we act as a team and everyone plays an equal part in our success.’
Eamonn smiled. ‘Yes, that’s all important, but I think what I’m referring to here is your “teaming up” with Troy Valentine, who plays your husband on the show. You two looked em …awfully comfortable at a party in Hollywood the other night. Is this a case of true life imitating art?’ he joked and the audience clapped, as if in agreement.
Ruth’s smile was plastered on.
‘Yes Troy and I have worked together for a while and are of course good friends– ’
‘Good friends? I wish I had more “good friends” like you, Ruth,’ he said boorishly and Ruth wanted to die. So the shock-jock hadn’t changed his stripes after all, despite the fact that this was supposed to be a family show.
‘Now really, you should know better than to believe the rubbish that the tabloids are printing, we all know how ridiculous –’
‘Are you telling us that nothing happened?’ Eamonn interrupted. ‘After all, what about this?’ To Ruth’s horror, that horrible security still flashed up on the monitor and onward to the TV screens of the nation. ‘This doesn’t look like tabloid rubbish to me.’
Damn that photo! Ruth’s heart was in her stomach and despite herself she felt her top lip start to tremble.
‘Now Eamonn, I’m really not going to dignify any of that with an answer.’ High level, Ruth reminded herself, keep it high level.
Eamonn was like a cat ready to pounce. ‘Hmm, sounds like somebody has a secret.’ The audience cheered loudly and Ruth could feel her face flush. Despite going over the questions pre-show he clearly wasn’t going to stick to the script.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m here to talk about the show not my personal life.’ The smile was starting to slip from her face and she felt as if she’d been sabotag
ed. ‘I’m here to talk about my show and to spend the summer with my family.’ She was hoping to remind him that her family were in fact in the audience in the hope he’d have the decency to lay off.
But incredibly this seemed to make him even more determined.
‘Yes, yes, of course you are. And speaking of which what does your family think about this, about your fame? Or perhaps I should say your infamy? Are your parents proud of your success?’ Every word was laced with acid and Eamonn looked like he was really enjoying this ‘interview’. ‘Mr & Mrs Seymour, can you tell us how you feel about your daughter stepping out with one of Hollywood’s most notorious playboys?’
The cameras duly panned to the audience, and to her parents’ anxious faces, and it was nothing, nothing like Ruth had imagined. And whatever about trying to humiliate her on live TV, he had no right to do this to her parents.
A calm faced Breda spoke to the camera. ‘We’ve always been proud of Ruth in everything she does.’
Ruth’s bottom lip started to throb at the sight of her kind, ordinary mother standing up for her and trying to defend the indefensible, while Ollie sat stony-faced alongside her.
She looked off set, to where the production team stood, scrambling to find a sympathetic face, to find someone, anyone who could help her. Once again she missed Chloe; her assistant would have swept her from this situation in a heartbeat, promising legal action in their wake.
However Chloe wasn’t there and Ruth had to do something before this horrible talk show host did something worse, like ask what positions they did it in or if Troy was well endowed.
‘You know Eamonn, I’ve been a fan of this show since I was a little girl and I’ve always admired its presenters,’ Ruth spat as she stood up. To try to save face she added, ‘But you’ve gone too far dragging my parents into this and you really should be ashamed of yourself.’ She felt her pulse racing as she ran off camera.
Embarrassed and close to tears, she rushed off the set, past all the cameras, producers and handlers. And as she raced to the bathroom for some privacy, she realised how ironic it was, her telling Eamonn he should be ashamed of himself.