by Susan Lewis
He nodded. On the face of it he didn’t consider this to be a bad idea, though he’d envisaged Shelley surrounding herself with a younger team. ‘What would you bring to your producership?’ he asked, looking at her again.
‘A long-time knowledge of the programme, and the business,’ she answered, wishing her heart would stop thudding so loudly. ‘Many contacts from just about every walk of life …’
‘In terms of programme content.’
‘In terms of programme content,’ she echoed, ‘I’d like to produce a weekly round-up of how young people are getting involved in helping others. Whether it’s the sick, the elderly, or the homeless.’
He recalled Shelley telling him this was Allyson’s particular passion. He also recalled how Shelley hadn’t pushed it. She was right not to, it wouldn’t work. ‘It’s not the direction we’re going in,’ he told her.
Allyson’s eyes were suddenly stinging. She felt short of breath, and horribly thrown off course by the understated though definite veto, before she’d even had a chance to present her case.
‘In my opinion, people don’t want to hear about those who are worse off than themselves, at least not in this kind of programme,’ he said. ‘There are other programmes that deal extremely effectively with those kinds of subjects.’
‘Current affairs and news,’ she replied, in a voice that was shaking. ‘They don’t get the kind of ratings Soirée does. And if we’re going to aim for a younger audience …’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Social issues are not on the agenda for the new Soirée. It’s a light-entertainment programme …’
‘It’s always had style and sophistication,’ she protested. ‘What you’re aiming to do is bring it downmarket …’
‘My aim is to up the ratings and attract a broader cross section of the viewing public. Right now, it appeals primarily to your age group and older.’
‘And they don’t count? People my age and older don’t matter in this youth-oriented society? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘What I’m saying is they don’t make up the entire spectrum of the viewing public.’
‘OK, I accept that. I mean, obviously they don’t, but the entire spectrum does care about those worse off than themselves. I believe that a light-entertainment show, if it handles the subject correctly …’
‘I don’t want to argue about this,’ he interrupted.
Suddenly she was on her feet. ‘Then what do you want to do?’ she shouted. ‘Throw me out like I don’t matter? Cross out my life because it’s upsetting your balance sheets? You’re wrong about what people want, do you know that? You’re all about money, but the people out there, they’re about care and compassion. They’re about life and its hardships, something you know nothing about. They want to help, they want to make life better for themselves and for those worse off than they are. They need to know where they can go to get help, or give help. We can show them how to do that, in an informative, entertaining way. But you don’t want to, because you don’t think young people will watch it. You think all they want is gossip and music, light, inconsequential rubbish to escape into at the end of those long difficult days of being twenty something with the burden of a whole life ahead of them. And you’re right, they do want all that, but they need more, they’d be stimulated by more. But you don’t believe it’ll bring in the advertisers, which is all TV is about to you people from America! Well, I’m a shareholder of this company and I’m telling you this is what I want to do, regardless of how much money it makes. And it will make money. I’m telling you now, it will.’
Her cheeks were flushed with anger, her small body was vibrating with passion. He was surprised by the extent to which her attempt to make herself heard was affecting him, though it would do nothing to change his decisions. ‘Being a shareholder isn’t going to help you,’ he said, adding a hint of gentleness to his tone.
Her fists were clenched, she was struggling to hang onto her temper. ‘Don’t patronize me,’ she seethed.
‘I’m afraid it’s true.’
‘Why don’t you at least give it a try!’ she implored. ‘Test it out from now until the end of the season. If it doesn’t work we can drop it next year.’
He was shaking his head and suddenly she couldn’t stand any more. ‘Then fuck you!’ she yelled. ‘Fuck you to hell.’
‘Allyson, this isn’t personal …’
‘Who’s making it personal? I’m talking about a programme …’
‘I mean, I didn’t come to my decisions with the intention of hurting you.’
‘Then give me a chance! Don’t throw me on the scrap heap. Let me do this.’
‘You’ve still got the Night Cap slot,’ he reminded her.
‘That’s like offering a mother a part of her child!’ she cried. ‘And don’t you think I’ve got my pride? Don’t you read the things they write about me in the press? Everyone knows what’s happened to me, so just how do you think I’m going to feel, sitting at Tessa Dukes’s feet four nights a week, down there in the Night Cap slot while she stands tall with the rest of what’s always been my programme?’
‘Three,’ he corrected. ‘I’m reducing the transmissions to three a week. Which is another reason we can’t pursue your proposal. There won’t be enough airtime.’
Allyson looked at him. Her taut, tired face was ashen, defeat was crawling through her limbs like lead. She was getting nowhere, she was wasting her time. Turning round, she picked up her bag and started towards the door.
She looked so small and vulnerable, so weighted by loss, that it could only be pride that was holding her erect. He spoke her name without really knowing why. ‘Allyson.’
She turned back. She looked so fragile she might break.
Though not sure what he wanted to say, he didn’t want her to leave like this.
In the end she was the one to speak. ‘The next time you look in the mirror,’ she said, ‘I want you to ask yourself, are you really always right, or are you just in a position that makes it that way, regardless of truth.’
An hour later Allyson was sitting alone in her dressing room when Shelley knocked on the door. It had been a horrible drive back from Central London and she was still badly shaken from a horrific near-miss she’d had when she’d driven through a red light at the junction of Brompton Road and Sloane Street. She hadn’t even seen the other car coming. Nor had she been able to respond when the other driver had yelled at her so abusively that a passer-by told him to clean up his act.
‘Can I come in?’ Shelley asked.
Allyson nodded.
Closing the door behind her Shelley said, ‘I’m not sure if we’re friends … The last time we spoke …’
‘Let’s forget it,’ Allyson said dully. ‘We’ve fallen out before and survived.’
Shelley sat down on one of the armchairs. ‘How are you feeling?’
Allyson’s eyes dropped, then, sighing, she said, ‘OK.’ She didn’t have the energy to tell her about the disastrous meeting she’d just come from with Mark Reiner. Or maybe he’d already told her and that was why she was here. Either way, what did it matter?
‘I was wondering,’ Shelley said, ‘if you’d given any more thought to staying with the Night Cap slot. I don’t mean to pressure you, but Mark wants the new format to start right after Christmas.’
Allyson’s insides twisted. So it was all going to happen that soon. She felt as though she was on the nightmare float of a happy family carnival, where only she could see the looming menace of madness. But that was because only she was facing it. She raised her eyes to Shelley’s. ‘So how did it go between you two last night?’ she asked.
Shelley couldn’t disguise her pleasure, though her expression was self-mocking, and a touch smug. ‘Just about the best,’ she said.
‘You mean …?’
Shelley nodded. ‘All night. It was incredible.’
Allyson thought about the cold and forbidding man she’d just met with. Or was it only because he didn’t want to do things her wa
y that she saw him like that? ‘So do you think it’ll develop into something?’ she said.
‘Between you and me I think it already has,’ Shelley answered. There was real warmth in her tone and colour in her cheeks. Then, remembering she was talking about the man who was devastating Allyson’s career, she sobered up. For a moment she even considered apologizing, but that would only get them into territory that was just too sensitive to chart right now.
‘When are you seeing him again?’ Allyson asked.
‘We didn’t make any plans. I guess one of us will call.’
Allyson looked down at her hands. Christmas was coming and everyone had someone but her. Bob would be spending it with Tessa. Oh God! How much worse could it get? ‘I don’t have an answer yet about the Night Cap,’ she said. ‘But you’ll need to start prepping Tessa, so don’t let my indecision hold you up. If I decide not to do it she can just take over the whole thing.’
‘I wish you’d do it,’ Shelley said.
Allyson looked at her and wondered if that was true. ‘Tell me, does my salary drop, now I’m not going to be featuring so large?’ she said.
It was a good question, though not one Shelley wanted to answer right now. ‘We can discuss fees when you’ve decided what you want to do,’ she said.
Chapter 9
TESSA HAD NEVER been comfortable around Shelley. Shelley was one of the few people who’d seemed to dislike her from the start, and had so far proved impossible to win over. In fact, it was amazing to Tessa that Shelley hadn’t found a way to sack her when Bob had left Allyson, especially considering how close she was to Allyson. Instead, weirdly, she was making all Tessa’s wildest dreams come true. First the researcher’s job with some occasional reporting, and now this giant leap to hosting the first half of the show starting in January. None of it made much sense, but who cared about sense when she was going to be on TV three nights a week, chatting up rock stars and showbiz celebs, as well as getting the low-down on all the gossip and becoming as famous as Allyson.
‘Under the new format one report a week will come from somewhere else in the country,’ Shelley was saying, as she looked at Tessa across the elegant satin-wood desk that was so Shelley it couldn’t belong to anyone else, ‘and once a month we’ll transmit from a location in Europe. How up are you on the rest of the world?’
‘I read the papers every day,’ Tessa answered.
‘Do you have views?’
‘Usually.’
Shelley wasn’t interested in what they might be. The girl was intelligent, she knew that, an extremely fast learner, a quick thinker and an unusual personality. She also had the right measure of naivety to strike a note in her interviewing that Shelley had already observed made a refreshing contrast to those who’d been at it for years. Nevertheless this wasn’t the kind of job that could be stepped into overnight without some kind of help. ‘You’ll need to undergo some intense training between now and January,’ she said. ‘I’m hiring a number of experts in all fields to get you ready. You’ll also get an image enhancer and a personal publicist.’
Tessa was grinning widely. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘What about my own dressing room?’
‘Let’s concentrate on the important issues first, shall we?’ Shelley responded coldly.
Tessa flushed. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, immediately retreating into the persona of a shy, anxious-to-please beginner.
Shelley fixed her with a harsh, relentless stare that, after a while, made Tessa squirm. ‘Is it true you’re pregnant?’ Shelley suddenly demanded.
Tessa’s face drained.
‘Don’t lie,’ Shelley warned. ‘I need to know.’
‘Yes, it’s true. But if it’s going to get in the way of this job, I’ll have an abortion.’
Just like that. Not even a second thought. Shelley couldn’t say she was surprised, but she was disgusted. ‘It’ll get in the way,’ she informed her.
The meeting was suddenly over and Tessa was back at her desk. She looked around for Allyson, but there was no sign of her. Did Allyson know about this? She must. Was that why she wasn’t here? She had to be livid. But it was hardly Tessa’s fault that she was getting all these breaks, was it? And really Allyson should be proud, since it was Allyson who had set Tessa on this road, and Tessa certainly hadn’t lost anything of her desire to please her, despite all that had happened.
Anyway, right now, even before she called Bob to tell him her news she must get herself booked into a clinic. She’d always thought it a shame her mother hadn’t done that when she was pregnant with her, but the way her life was going now she was glad she hadn’t. It was all turning out OK at last.
It was nine o’clock and Bob was still waiting for Tessa to come home. She’d left a message on the machine to say she had some great news but wanted to wait till she saw him to tell him. But she wasn’t back yet and when he called they said she’d left the office around six.
He hated being alone, for unless he was drunk he became easy prey to his conscience, and found it almost impossible to blot Allyson from his mind. But he had to do that or he’d go off his head thinking about her, worrying about her, wanting her to understand why he’d done what he had, and why he couldn’t come back. She wouldn’t speak to him any more, so he couldn’t explain the way he was feeling, which was a shame, because he was sure it would help her to know how sorry he was. But if she wouldn’t listen, he couldn’t tell her, and there was no point getting himself into a state about it, when that wasn’t going to help anyone. So he tried only to think about Tessa, and how much she loved him, and cared for him, and did everything she could to help him through this hellish time in his life. She was exceptional really, for she never baulked when she had to give him money, even when she knew it was for booze, nor did she ever deprive him of sex, or the comfort and understanding he craved when things got so bad that he drank himself to the point of throwing up all over her. She was always so patient and tender with him, soothing him gently with her hands and her voice, never judging him, only ever wanting to please him. OK, her moods could be a bit odd from time to time, but show him someone’s who weren’t? And why shouldn’t she assert herself once in a while, she had every right to, and it only surprised him, and sometimes irritated him, because it was so rare that she ever did.
In the end, unable to stay in the flat any longer, he finished the gin in his glass, tucked the rest of the bottle into his pocket, and went out to look for her. But she wasn’t in the pub and he didn’t know where else to try. As far as he knew she didn’t have any friends, except Julian, but Julian was in the pub so she wasn’t with him.
‘I haven’t seen her today,’ Julian said. ‘There’s no programme on Fridays so I don’t go in.’
Bob nodded. Now he was here he might as well have a couple of drinks. He ordered himself a large gin and a pint of Guinness for Julian.
By the time Tessa found them at half past ten they were both roaring drunk, and attempting, loudly, to discuss Chelsea’s latest performance as though it were the most important issue on the planet, if only they could get the words out right. She watched them from the door, slamming their fists on the table, shaking their fingers, Bob dominating the scene, both physically and vocally. Not that Julian seemed to have a problem with that, in fact they appeared to be doing some serious male bonding over there. A bit like father and son. That might have been funny had she not just come from a session with Laura, but she didn’t want to think about that now, it raised too many issues that really ought to be forgotten, and she was already wishing she hadn’t gone.
‘There you are,’ Bob said, when he saw her. ‘I was getting worried.’
‘Really?’ she said, not without irony, after all it had taken him long enough to realize she was there.
He pulled her mouth down to his and kissed her. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
She nodded, and sat down next to him. ‘Hi Jules,’ she said.
‘Hi.’
She was tired, and strangely, considering what
a great day she’d had, a bit depressed. ‘You seem in a good mood,’ she said to Bob.
He shrugged, as if to ask why he shouldn’t be. She could think of plenty of reasons, but she wasn’t going to remind him. He knew, without her pointing it out, what a dreadful mess his life was in, so she only looked at him and smiled.
‘You sure you’re OK?’ he insisted.
‘Sure,’ she said, trying not to recoil from the smell of the gin.
‘Then could you lend me some cash? It’s my round.’
Tessa got out her purse and handed over a ten-pound note. Then, realizing he wasn’t in much of a state to stand up, she took the money back and went to get the drinks herself.
‘So where’ve you been?’ he said, when she came back.
She looked from his pale, shiny face to Julian’s earnest attempt to look sober, then, knowing that neither of them would remember in the morning, she said, ‘There’s this shrink I see sometimes. I was with her, then I walked around for a bit.’
‘Oh.’ Bob blinked, then turned to Julian. Julian didn’t seem to know what to say either.
‘So, do you want to hear my good news?’ she said, brightening her smile. ‘As of January I’m going to be presenting the Cocktail section of the programme, which they’re going to call Happy Hour.’
Julian’s eyes grew wide.
Tessa was still grinning. ‘Shelley told me today. And my agent’s going to ask her for a great big fat fee, which means, Bob, that we might be able to buy Allyson out of the flat and go and live there after all. Wouldn’t that be great? Us, in Cheyne Walk, overlooking the river.’
Bob’s brain wasn’t working as fast as it should.
Tessa moved over to sit on his lap. ‘Aren’t you proud?’ she said, snuggling into him.
‘Yes.’ He was looking at his empty glass. He needed another drink, badly.
‘You can come to visit,’ she told Julian. ‘As often as you like.’
‘You’re not serious about the flat,’ Bob said.
‘Why not?’ she said, sounding surprised. ‘You were all for it a few weeks ago.’