Behind the Scenes

by Anita Notaro

  It was early morning on D-Day and she was mooching around the house, her stomach in a bit of a knot, when the phone rang.

  ‘Libby–’ the voice sounded odd. ‘I think I might be in trouble.’

  Libby’s stomach did a somersault. Her tone remained dead calm. ‘Annie, what’s wrong? Have you been in an accident?’ She knew her friend was taking driving lessons, she’d teased her often enough.

  ‘No. Nothing like that.’

  ‘What is it then?’ No reply. ‘Annie, please tell me.’

  ‘I think I may have found a lump.’

  Libby swallowed. Hard. She bit her lip. ‘When?’

  ‘This morning. In the shower. Oh Libby, I’m so scared.’

  ‘Don’t be. You’ve got to ring your doctor.’

  ‘I just have. They’re trying to get me a bed. It may take days, weeks even.’

  ‘Did they say that?’

  ‘No. But I’ve been through this before. The public health service is already bursting at the seams.’

  ‘Leave it to me. Stay where you are. Pack a bag. I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything.’

  Libby used every contact she had. Her number one was away on holiday. Number two was playing golf for the weekend. She cursed them both.

  On and on it went until she thought she’d go mad. She left messages on two mobile phones. No response. And she was dealing with the top brass.

  Half an hour later, she slammed down the phone. All of a sudden, heart hammering, she picked it up again, flicking through the phone book for the number she wanted.

  ‘I’d like to speak to Andrew Harrington, please.’

  ‘Just a moment.’

  Same request three more times.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Harrington’s secretary.’

  ‘Hello, I need to speak with Andrew. It’s urgent.’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s in a meeting.’

  ‘Can you interrupt him? Tell him it’s Libby Marlowe.’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘Please. I think he’d want to talk to me.’

  ‘Hold a moment, please.’ She did as she was told, for what felt like an hour.

  ‘Libby?’

  ‘Andrew?’

  ‘Libby, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Andrew, I know I’ve a cheek but I need a favour and I need it today.’ She explained about Annie in a panicky voice.

  ‘Give me a few minutes. I’ll call you back. Let me have your number. Has she private medical insurance, by the way?’

  ‘No, but that won’t be a problem.’ Brief silence.

  ‘I’ll call you right back.’

  He did, several endless minutes later.

  ‘Can you get her in here, to the clinic, in the next hour?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right, here are the details. They’re standing by to do some tests. I’m in surgery shortly but I’ll come and see you as soon as I can.’ He knew everything he needed to know from her voice. ‘Libby, try not to worry. It may be nothing.’

  ‘Andrew, I have no job, I’ve just lost my home, I’m about to go on national TV and spill my guts.’ She paused for breath. ‘And I don’t care a toss. But if anything happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Get her here as soon as you can.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Drive carefully.’

  But she’d already gone.

  ‘How did you manage this?’ Annie was pale and looked lost.

  Libby, trying to appear normal, grinned at her as they got into her car. ‘All my super-duper contacts failed. So, guess who came up trumps?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Andrew.’

  ‘Andrew who?’

  ‘My Andrew.’

  ‘Oh my God. We’re going to his clinic?’

  ‘Well, he doesn’t exactly own it, as far as I know.’ She was trying to be nonchalant. ‘But yes, you wanted to see him up close and personal. Now’s your chance.’

  ‘Libby, I can’t afford this. On second thoughts, I probably can. No point in worrying about an apartment I might never get to live in.’

  ‘Don’t think like that now.’

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘Look, Annie, we need to get a handle on this. If it’s serious, we can reassess the situation.’

  ‘That’s the worst thing about it. The waiting.’

  Libby stared straight ahead. It was her coping mechanism. ‘I realize that. At least this way we’ll find out quickly.’

  ‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’

  ‘Thank me by being my friend for a long time.’

  The waiting had only just begun. As soon as she checked in they took Annie for tests. Libby tried to read, paced, switched on the TV, paced some more, bought grapes and minerals, paced again. On and on it went and still no-one came. Eventually, she couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘Can you tell me anything about Annie Weller?’ she asked a passing nurse.

  ‘She’s still having some tests. Why don’t you go home and we can call you later? It might take a few hours.’

  ‘No, it’s OK.’ She smiled at the tired-looking woman. ‘I’ll wait.’

  Two hours later they wheeled Annie back, looking pale and sounding a bit groggy.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi, Libby. How come you’re still here?’

  ‘Nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Don’t you have a Late Late Show home to go to?’

  ‘Later.’

  Annie smiled and nodded off. Libby settled down. Nurses popped in, checked her, offered tea and coffee. No sign of a doctor and soon Libby would have to leave. Annie was still sleeping.

  ‘Will she be all right?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course.’ The nurse smiled brightly. ‘Will you call back in the morning?’

  ‘No. I’ll come back later tonight, if that’s all right?’

  ‘That’s fine, but we probably won’t have all the tests back until the morning.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Well, try not to worry. She’s in good hands.’

  Chapter Sixty

  ‘. . . LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, please welcome Libby Marlowe!’

  She could vaguely hear the applause. It sounded subdued. She walked out into the light and prepared to face the firing squad. Suddenly, it didn’t seem important.

  The interview started routinely enough – some general questions about her style of programming.

  ‘Well, moving on to your current series, just finished its run on Channel 1, I think it’s fair to say that the critics have been less than kind?’

  ‘That’s true.’ Libby ploughed straight in. ‘I think what we tried to do was very ambitious and looking back I feel we underestimated the audience. I’ve spoken to some women and what they really want is to go behind the scenes in a restaurant. They lead busy lives. They don’t always have time to source specialist ingredients. But they know what they like. That’s why we’ve decided to try a completely different approach this time.’ She took a deep breath and, on the spur of the moment, put Leo Morgan on the spot.

  ‘We’re about to go into production on a new series where we give people inside information, teach them the best-kept secrets and show them what every good home cook needs to have as a basis for everyday living.’

  ‘But that’s not a new idea, surely?’

  ‘No, but our approach will be entirely different from anything that’s been done before, I can assure you.’

  They chatted about it for a while. The audience asked questions and appeared keen.

  Eventually, it came down to her personal life, which was why she was here.

  ‘On a more serious note, you lost your husband earlier this year. That must have had a devastating effect on your life?’

  ‘It was the worst thing that ever happened to me.’ Talking about it made it seem like two weeks ago. ‘I loved him very much. When he died, a part of me died too. I found it hard to
cope.’

  ‘So that must make the rumours that have been circulating in some of the tabloids hard to bear?’

  ‘I suppose I’ve grown used to speculation about my personal life over the years. But it has been hard on my family: my mother, for instance, and David’s mum and dad.’

  ‘What about the stories about his business acumen?’

  Libby was ready for this and she handled it with ease, confronting the innuendo head on.

  ‘So there’s no truth in the speculation that his business was in trouble?’

  ‘David’s business went through a difficult time after his death. I think that was to be expected. He was a financial genius. Without him it was always going to be tough.’ She looked the audience straight in the eye. ‘But the business was healthy and solvent when I made the decision to close it recently. It was a tough decision but I’m not David and I don’t have his brains for finance. I am the only other partner and I want to pursue other interests. I have my own company to run.’

  He left it there and came to the other point that had been the subject of speculation.

  ‘So selling the family home was not a decision that was forced on you?’ Fair play, Libby thought, this is great television. I just wish I was at home watching.

  ‘The decision to sell was entirely mine. I think it’s fair to say that those around me, both personally and professionally, advised against it. But it was too big for me and, more importantly, I needed to make a fresh start. There were too many memories already.’

  ‘So you’ve bought a new house, I believe.’

  ‘Yes, much smaller. The whole of my little cottage would fit into the hall of my old home.’ She smiled at the memory of Annie’s face as she stepped inside for the first time. ‘But it has lots of character and I love it. It’s perfect for me. Apart from one thing . . .’ It was her first genuine smile of the evening.

  ‘Oh. What’s that?’

  ‘No-one told me it came complete with a dog. He wasn’t in the deeds.’ She told the story. ‘Last night, he hid under a tree in the front garden, directly in front of the window. It was pelting rain and he was soaked. Now, I make no apologies. I’m not a dog lover. I got up and callously closed the curtains.’ The audience groaned. ‘When I went to make a cup of cocoa he was outside the french doors.’ The audience clapped. ‘I pretended I didn’t see him and drew the blind.’ Another groan. ‘When I went to bed he had managed to manoeuvre himself directly into my line of vision again, except by this time he looked as if he’d been put through a wringer.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I turned up the electric blanket.’ The men mostly clapped and laughed. A few pet lovers took her seriously and gasped in indignation.

  ‘You know he’s going to win, don’t you?’ It was asked in a fashion that suggested he had ‘dog lover’ tattooed across his chest, underneath his immaculate shirt.

  ‘He already has. When I left home today he was stretched out on my Persian rug, chewing my slipper.’ The audience roared their approval.

  ‘Sounds like a clever dog. What’s his name, by the way?’

  ‘I believe he’s known as Cookie Monster.’ It was at least ten seconds before the laughter and applause died. But they were laughing with her. It was a side of Libby Marlowe they’d never seen before.

  * * *

  As the interview drew to a close and just as Libby was beginning to breathe normally, a question caught her unawares. ‘So, what are your plans for the future?’

  She thought for a second.

  ‘I’ve no great ambitions any more, really. I don’t pray often, but when I do it’s for good health. I want to live peacefully. I hope to continue working. Most of all I intend to spend time with the people who are important in my life, my mother’ – she wouldn’t have thought of that as a priority before – ‘and my best friend, Annie.’

  ‘And has there been anyone special in your life, since . . . since your husband died?’ It was a natural conclusion to what, from his point of view, had been one of the most successful interviews of the season.

  Libby started to laugh it off and then decided, what the hell. She owed it to Andrew to tell him on national TV what she couldn’t admit to his face. ‘There was someone, actually. I met him a couple of months ago.’ It all came flooding back. ‘He was warm and funny and kind –’ she smiled – ‘and gorgeous.’

  The audience all went ‘woo’.

  ‘And are you still seeing him?’ This was more than the presenter could ever have hoped for.

  ‘Ah,’ Libby gave a small smile. ‘That’s where it all unravels, I’m afraid. You see, I mucked it up. I was stupid and very short-sighted and I made one of my biggest mistakes yet. I underestimated him.’ She tried to look philosophical. ‘And he left. And when I tried – very badly – to explain, he said thanks, but no. Very nicely, it must be said.’

  ‘And you had great hopes for this relationship?’

  ‘No, I don’t think either of us had got that far. But now, looking back, I think it had great potential.’ You could hear a pin drop as people strained forward in their seats. This was dynamite.

  ‘And what does he do? Is he in the media business?’

  ‘No actually, he’s a gardener.’

  Chapter Sixty-One

  LIBBY PULLED UP in the private car park with the applause still ringing in her ears. It had that eerie, late-night hospital feel, where time always seems suspended, as if there are much more important things.

  Inside, all was quiet, the Friday night peace contrasting sharply with the world she’d left behind, the stillness belying the turmoil she knew existed in many rooms in the building.

  When she entered Annie’s room, the electric atmosphere hit her like a brick, and that was before she noticed Andrew sitting beside her friend.

  ‘You were brill.’

  ‘Was I? Thanks.’ She looked at the quiet, gorgeous man she’d lost and was able to smile, because she knew that compared with what her friend was facing, it didn’t really matter. It calmed her.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘How are you?’ She included him. ‘Both?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Annie sat up in bed. ‘It’s not back.’

  It took a second to sink in. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s not the cancer back.’

  ‘But I thought . . . they said it would be morning before . . .’

  ‘Andrew pulled some strings.’

  She wasn’t prepared to buy it so easily. ‘So what is it, then?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I didn’t hear anything after the words “not” and “cancerous”. They’re just waiting on the results of one more test in the morning. But I’m in the clear.’ She looked at Libby with shining eyes. ‘It was probably just a piece of gristle from all those fancy steaks you’ve been making me eat lately in an effort to keep me healthy.’

  The three of them burst out laughing. It was warm and easy. ‘Anyone for coffee?’ Andrew stood up, as if aware that they needed to be alone.

  ‘I’d murder a cup.’ Libby looked tired.

  ‘Black for me, thanks, no sugar. I’m on a diet. Got to look super for the rest of my life.’ Annie looked like a brazen child. Andrew touched her hair, hinting at a closeness that made Libby feel like the odd one out. She didn’t mind.

  ‘You were fantastic. I’m in awe of you,’ Annie told her as soon as he’d left.

  ‘Did I do OK?’

  ‘You were amazing. I was so proud of you.’

  ‘Today I learned another lesson.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Do you know if he saw any of it?’

  ‘He saw it all. He was right here beside me.’

  It didn’t surprise, or upset her. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What do you mean “no”? That’s it?’

  ‘Yeah, ’fraid so. But I think he was pleased.’

  ‘How d
o you know?’

  ‘I’m a cancer victim, I know these things.’

  ‘I meant every word.’

  ‘I know you did. You handled it all fantastically well. It was a very difficult interview.’ She looked happy. ‘Thanks for the mention, by the way. Made me feel all warm and runny inside. Just like that fantastic fruit crumble you made the other night.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Libby was trying not to laugh. ‘Just don’t go scaring me like that again.’

  ‘I’ll try not to,’ Annie grinned. ‘He’s yummy, you know. You’d better get him quick, otherwise I might be in there,’ she warned.

  ‘Over my dead body.’

  ‘Well, definitely not over mine.’ Annie made a face and Libby slapped her.

  ‘By the way, I forgot to tell you, I had sex with Gary the other night.’ She laughed at the look on her friend’s face.

  ‘That’s brilliant, I told you it would happen. Was it good? How could you keep this from me?’

  ‘I didn’t want to tell you over the phone and then today, other things sort of took over. And yes, it was good.’

  ‘Great or just good?’

  ‘I’ll tell you after I’ve done it a couple more times.’

  They were still teasing when Andrew returned with plastic coffee and cellophane biscuits. They pounced on him as if he was carrying Cristal and caviar.

  The three of them talked for hours. All around them the clinks of hospital life reassured them that they weren’t entirely in a vacuum.

  It was after three when Andrew returned for the second time, having taken advantage of being in the clinic to check on some of his patients. Another injection of caffeine followed.

  ‘Don’t you have anything stronger?’ Annie complained.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be ill?’ Libby demanded.

  ‘Haven’t you two mucked up my Friday night enough already?’ Andrew enquired.

  The sun was almost rising on a near-perfect, warm still autumn Saturday when Libby and Andrew left the hospital.

  ‘Are you OK?’ It was still his favourite question where she was concerned.

  ‘Yeah. I’m fine.’ She stopped and turned to face him. ‘Thanks for what you did today.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘I didn’t know who to turn to.’ He strolled over to that same park bench. Libby followed and sat down. She let out a deep breath. ‘I guess I panicked a bit. She’s become very important to me.’