Everything is Fine: The funny, feel-good and uplifting page-turner you won't be able to put down!

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Everything is Fine: The funny, feel-good and uplifting page-turner you won't be able to put down! Page 15

by Gillian Harvey


  ‘Yes. I know it seems daft, but when I was talking to you about the book, I felt so, well, confident about it all. I just feel like if I’m going to do this thing, it’ll be better if I know you’re there.’

  It was flattering to find that someone she’d only just met had this much confidence in her. ‘Right. Well, let me see what I can do.’ It would be fun, she supposed, going to the studios. She’d been there a couple of times in the past, but not since the refurb.

  ‘Then, I’ll do it!’ he said.

  ‘Great. I’ll send the details over.’ She pressed red and watched the call disappear, before looking up at Anna. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, were you going to say something?’

  ‘No. No, it doesn’t matter.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  #SoExcited to be going to @Channel6 this morning with @DrRobHaydn for @WakeyWakey! #LoveMyJob

  ‘A text cancelling lunch? No surprises there, then.’ The message from Bea arrived when Jessica was putting on her shoes. Bea had obviously not been sleeping, it was practically the middle of the night. Perhaps Lewis was having one of his nightmare phases.

  ‘Sorry, something just came up. TV.’ She typed quickly. ‘Another time though?’

  ‘I’ll have to check my hectic schedule.’ No emoticon to tell her whether this was a friendly sarcastic comment rather than a snub.

  Great, now she’d upset her best friend. OK, Bea wanted to talk about something, but surely this was an understandable reason to cancel? Jessica thought back to the other two times she’d put the lunch off – once to go to the gym, the other time because she needed to have a spray tan before she took some new shots of herself in some freebie gym gear she’d been given. Both pretty flimsy reasons.

  She was the girl who cried wolf and her poor sheep were doomed.

  ‘Sorry, I’m a crap friend,’ she typed back. She added an emoticon of a little poo, crying yellow tears, for good measure.

  No response.

  GIF of a woman sobbing.

  Nothing.

  Jessica hadn’t banked on the car arriving at four in the morning. Although, of course, it made sense when she thought about it. It was the first time she’d left Anna in the house alone, but after ringing Jenny’s mum yesterday evening to arrange a lift to school, she had decided four hours wasn’t really very long. Anna would probably enjoy the peace and quiet!

  After getting dressed, Jessica softly slipped into her daughter’s room for a moment. Anna was completely surrendered to sleep, lying on her back with arms and legs flung wide. Her blue pyjamas were getting too small, Anna noticed, the legs and arms a few inches higher than they ought to have been.

  Her long hair was tangled on the pillow and, as Jessica watched, Anna gave a snort-like snore, which from Dave or Grahame would be absolutely disgusting, but in her daughter was almost overwhelmingly adorable.

  ‘Sorry,’ Jessica whispered to her suddenly. ‘Sorry I’m always making such a mess of things.’ She pulled the duvet back over her daughter, who snuggled gratefully into its warmth but didn’t wake.

  After leaving a note to say goodbye, Jessica stood on the front doorstep in the early morning chill. The road was empty, and most of the houses remained dark, save for a couple of upstairs lights at one of the cottages over the road.

  A car purred up the street – nothing flash, more of a people carrier, but shiny and sleek – and she stepped forward. The back door opened and she saw Robert, dressed in a blue suit, clean-shaven but looking as if he hadn’t slept. His hair was nicely styled, though; he’d used some sort of product in it and it was behaving itself.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, climbing in beside him. And ‘hi,’ again to the driver, who nodded in acknowledgement.

  ‘So,’ she continued, once the car had pulled away. ‘All ready for the big interview?’

  Robert was clutching two copies of Remembering Rainbows tightly to his chest; his jaw was set. ‘I think so,’ he said, his voice sounding far less confident than it had when they’d first met. ‘It’s s–such an important t–topic.’

  Had he had a stutter before?

  ‘Do you want to run anything past me, while we’ve got time?’

  ‘Maybe … w–what do you think they’re going to ask me?’

  ‘Well, about happiness and where you think it comes from,’ she said, suddenly drawn in by the intensity of his gaze. ‘And, how to, ah, find happiness.’

  ‘Right.’ He reached and grabbed her hand and she nearly pulled it away. Until she realised that it was more of a childish need for reassurance than a come-on. She squeezed his fingers slightly.

  ‘So,’ she said, trying to mimic the tone of the interviewer. ‘Dr Haydn, may I call you, Robert?’

  ‘Yes of course! You always have!’

  ‘I’m being,’ she said, ‘the interviewer on the TV.’

  ‘Oh right. Right. Yes of course you may.’

  ‘Robert, what are your thoughts on happiness? Is it realistic to try to be happy all of the time?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  She rolled her spare hand at him, encouraging him to say more.

  ‘I don’t know. I mean, yes, I do. Perhaps not all the time, b–but most of the time,’ he said, hurriedly.

  ‘And how do you advise viewers go about this?’

  ‘Erm, well, just being like a child.’

  The hand roll again.

  ‘You know … trying to, er, be like a child because, you know. Children …’ he trailed off, his cheeks bright red. ‘Children are happy, well, not all children, obviously, but naturally they’re quite happy. Sometimes. I mean, kids, you know?’

  Oh God. He was going to have to do better than this.

  ‘See,’ she lied. ‘You’re a natural.’ This time she was confident that the truth wouldn’t help either of them.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘you know, I get pretty nervous at things like this.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘Yes … I mean, not when I’m supporting a client. But if I have to speak in public, I’m a wreck inside. I used to be shy – and it’s kind of still there, deep inside – the lack of confidence I suppose.’

  ‘Honestly, you’d never know.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She blushed, not quite knowing why she’d admitted her inner angst to a man she’d only just met. It wouldn’t exactly fill him with confidence about her PR skills.

  There were still holding hands, she realised. She gently extricated herself and they grinned at each other briefly.

  When the car pulled up outside the studio, Jessica felt a strange sense of familiarity, the feeling you get when you drive past a house you’ve once lived in, or walk into your old school. She quickly took a selfie outside the building and tweeted her whereabouts.

  #funtimes #soexcited #RememberingRainbows @Channel6 @WakeyWakey! #EarlyStart

  On entry they were whisked past the reception and into the green room they were to share with the other WakeyWakey! guests: a comedian called Steve who’d won a TV talent contest last year; a rather severe-looking psychologist called Meredith, whose eyes flicked briefly from her book when they walked in, then returned to the page; and a singer called Poppy whose recent hit ‘Selfie Stream’ had reached no. 2 in the download charts last week.

  A screen in the corner of the room revealed that the programme hasn’t started yet, but the presenting duo were in situ, having the last shine dusted from their skin with big brushes and having microphones adjusted while reading through their notes.

  ‘Jess,’ Rob whispered, ‘I’m not sure I can do this!’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she hissed, feeling a rising panic.

  ‘But—’

  Aw, is that Catching a Rainbow? asked Poppy, leaning towards Robert with a smile and touching the dust jacket of one of his books.

 
‘Yes.’ Robert flushed and showed her the cover so she could see it properly. ‘Well, Remembering Rainbows, actually. I can’t believe you’ve heard of the book!’ he said.

  ‘Are you kidding? I read about it online the other day. Might just be what I need after breaking up with Shane.’ She grinned and shuffled closer to Rob. ‘Did you write it?’

  ‘Well, yeah.’

  There was a snort from Meredith’s direction, but she kept her eyes firmly on her book and continued to read.

  ‘That’s amazing,’ Poppy said, looking genuinely impressed. ‘I can’t believe I get to meet you. Can I take a picture?’ she asked, lifting up her phone.

  Jessica hurriedly retrieved her own phone from the bottom of her bag too and took a snap of the pair of them in conversation. This ought to do well on Instagram. @DrRobHaydn and @PoppyT at @WakeyWakey, with @StarPR.

  A runner turned up, all acne and clipboard. ‘Robert?’ he asked and Robert leapt to his feet as if he was in a court of law.

  ‘Here.’

  ‘Meredith?’

  ‘Yes?’ Meredith closed her book and slipped it into her bag.

  ‘OK, if you’d like to come with me.’

  ‘Can …’ Robert said, a flush rapidly rising on his face. ‘Would it be OK if my … if Jessica …’ he indicated Jessica weakly.

  ‘If you could wait here, ma’am,’ the runner said, looking at Jessica.

  Great. She’d been ma’am-zoned.

  ‘I think he wants …’ she said.

  ‘Could she possibly come with?’ asked Robert. ‘It’s just …’ he looked at the teenager pleadingly.

  ‘Sorry, mate. But don’t worry, we’ll look after your wife,’ said the runner.

  ‘She’s not—’

  The runner glanced briefly at Jessica. ‘Sorry, we’ll take care of your … mum,’ he said.

  He led a defeated Robert from the room to meet his fate. Meredith followed them.

  ‘That man is gorgeous,’ Poppy whispered, the minute they’d left the room. ‘How do you keep your hands to yourself?’

  ‘He’s …’ Was Robert gorgeous? Sweet, perhaps. But nothing like Dave.

  Before Jessica could come up with a suitable answer, the screen in the corner flared into life and the familiar credits of one of her favourite morning shows began to run.

  Ten minutes later, it was time for Robert to make his appearance.

  ‘Now all week, we’ve been looking at happiness. Is it something we can learn, or are some of us just born happy?’ the male presenter, Paul, began. ‘We’ll be speaking to Robert Haydn, author of Remembering Rainbows, who believes that happiness lies in embracing our inner child, as well as psychologist Meredith Hornchurch who believes that rather than seeking happiness, we ought to aim for contentment at best.’

  The camera panned out to show Robert sitting next to Meredith, who looked even more severe on screen than she had in the flesh. She glared at the camera, her mouth set in a straight line.

  ‘So,’ said Hannah, the female presenter, ‘Should we aim to be happy, or is the quest for happiness itself making us miserable?’

  In the green room, Poppy was looking at the camera transfixed. Steve was picking his nose, ostentatiously, and rolling the result between his fingers.

  ‘Dr Haydn, Robert – can I start with you? What do you believe to be the secret of happiness?’ asked Hannah, flashing her trademark smile.

  ‘Well, Hannah,’ Robert smiled. ‘As I say in my book, Remembering Rainbows, it’s all about letting go of the inhibitions that we have as adults. Children are much freer; they live from moment to moment without worrying about the consequences or getting bogged down in what other people think.’

  Next to him, Meredith snorted contemptuously. Robert flushed.

  ‘I see, so how would you suggest viewers go about revisiting their childhood?’

  ‘Well, I–I’d … I mean, what did you like doing when you were a kid. Say when you were five years old?’

  ‘Um. Well, I suppose I liked skipping.’

  Robert nodded, as if he had expected this answer all along. ‘And do you skip now?’

  ‘Er, no.’

  ‘Because, what I’ve found is that when we engage with the things we were naturally drawn to as a child – when we were unencumbered by adult concerns, it can really help us to feel happy again,’ Robert explained.

  ‘Wow, that sounds amazing!’ Hannah smiled. ‘So all I have to do is skip, and I’ll feel like I did when I was five?’

  Robert smiled. ‘Well, not quite. But it’s a step in the right direction.’

  Meredith shifted forward on the sofa. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I can’t see how skipping,’ she uttered the word as if it was somehow dirty, ‘can make a grown woman happy.’

  ‘Well, OK. What did you like to do when you were a child, Meredith?’ Hannah smiled.

  The question seemed to throw her. ‘A child?’ she asked, as if she’d never been one. Jessica had a sudden vision of her being born as a fully-fledged and utterly joyless adult. ‘Well, I suppose I had a few toys …’ Meredith looked wistful for a moment. ‘But I fail to see how—’

  ‘Well, we’ve got a selection of kids’ favourite activities in the studio today,’ said Paul, finger to earpiece, ‘so perhaps we could see this theory in action?’

  Meredith tutted loudly and Robert squirmed.

  The camera panned out again to reveal a small area in front of the sofa. Two floor mats were laid out with a selection of children’s toys, a small plastic slide and a football.

  ‘Go on, Hannah,’ coaxed Paul. ‘Let’s see some skipping.’

  With feigned reluctance, Hannah stood and picked up the skipping rope. She held the wooden handles and began to skip, tripping slightly over the rope after five turns and starting again. Gradually a grin spread over her face. ‘Do you know what?’ she said. ‘I actually do feel better.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Meredith. ‘But we all know that exercise makes us feel better – momentarily, at least. I can’t see that this is an example of Hannah embracing her inner child. Simply releasing a few endorphins!’

  ‘Fair point,’ said Paul. ‘But let’s give Dr Haydn’s idea a go before we talk about your theories. Is there anything you used to enjoy doing as a child?’

  ‘Reading, I suppose. And Mummy used to let me polish her jewellery sometimes.’

  ‘It needs to be something more authentically child-like,’ interrupted Robert, finding his voice again. ‘Rather than an activity that can be equally enjoyed by an adult or child.’

  ‘OK.’ Meredith appeared to be thinking hard. ‘Well, I suppose I did have a dolly – I mean, what girl didn’t? My mother took it from me when I was about five years old, I think. And quite right too. Utter nonsense.’

  ‘Your mother took your doll away when you were five?’ asked Hannah, her expression disproportionately horrified.

  ‘Yes, and of course I was upset. But the strength it gave me—’

  Hannah picked up a doll from one of the boxes. ‘So, according to Robert, re-engaging with that inner child, the one who liked the dolly, should help you to feel happy,’ she said. ‘May I?’ She offered the doll to Meredith with a sympathetic smile; Meredith snatched at it rather impatiently.

  ‘Yes, but I really don’t see,’ she began. Then something in her demeanour changed. ‘I suppose she is rather a pretty little doll,’ she said, cradling the tiny plastic baby in her arms. ‘Rather sweet.’

  ‘And do you feel anything? Any reconnection with your past?’ Paul prompted.

  ‘No, of course not.’ Meredith replied with a curt nod. ‘Of course I can appreciate the dolly, but … Actually, I remember my doll’s name now. Rosie. Rosie Pie.’ She studied the doll closely and raised it to her shoulder, like a mother holding a baby. ‘Rather similar to this little dear.’

&nb
sp; ‘So you are engaging a little with your inner child?’ Robert prompted. ‘Embracing that part of yourself can lead to—’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ Meredith snapped. ‘I provoked a memory, obviously, but that’s all.’ Her hand continued to pat the doll’s padded back.

  ‘OK, well we’ve looked at Robert’s theory, and I think there is some truth in it. But tell us about your theory, Meredith,’ Hannah smiled, taking a seat and reaching out for the doll. ‘Contentment at best. Is that really all we have to hope for?’

  Meredith snatched the doll from Hannah’s outstretched fingers.

  ‘Sorry, I’ll just take this so you can introduce your book,’ Hannah smiled, reaching again.

  ‘No, she’s mine!’ Meredith snapped.

  Hannah laughed. ‘Ha. Well, it looks like you’ve engaged a little with your childhood, Meredith! But tell me about your book, Who Needs Happiness?’ She held out a copy of a book and smiled anxiously.

  ‘No! Rosie mine!’ Meredith continued, wild-eyed. ‘She my dolly NOT YOURS!’ she clutched the plastic infant to her chest desperately. ‘Stop it, Mummy! Stop it!’ she stood up and stumbled towards Hannah, brandishing the newly reincarnated ‘Rosie Pie’.

  ‘Well, it’s time for a break now,’ said Paul, the camera zooming close to his face to avoid the fight that was starting in the studio. ‘But we’ll be back, talking about bladder weakness and whether a new device could signal the end of problems for thousands.’

  The credits cut in.

  In the green room, all three of them sat in stunned silence.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Had a great time @WakeyWakey! #RememberingRainbows was a real hit. @DrRobHaydn @StarPR #PRLife #GoodTImes

  ‘So, you think it went well?’ Robert grimaced at her in the back of the car, and she wondered whether he was joking.

  ‘Well, you certainly outlined your points very well,’ Jessica replied. ‘It’s a shame obviously about the other expert …’

  ‘Do you think she’ll be OK?’

  ‘I’m sure she will.’ She leant over slightly and patted his arm, thinking of the moment when Meredith had been led sobbing from the studio, still clutching ‘Rosie Pie’.

 

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