The Cinderella Reflex (13 page)

Helene nodded and clamped the earphones over her ears, already fiddling with the dials on the radio, trying to tune in to Atlantic 1 FM. All she could find was a local station playing country songs. As she listened to some love-gone-wrong song, Helene’s eyelids grew heavy and she dozed off into a dream where Richard told her that he and Louisa had mended their relationship, and were going to travel the world together, and she was pleading with them to take her along too, that three wasn’t really a crowd, and Richard was telling her to answer the phone ... answer the phone ...

Helene awoke with a start, conscious of something vibrating against her thigh. Bleary-eyed, she groped around until her hand closed over her mobile. She pulled it out in a panic and squinted at the screen. Deeply upset by her nightmare, she hit reply straightaway.

“Hello ...” she began.

She saw the manager lurking behind a palm tree plant and hissed, “I’m in a
spa
, Richard. Supposed to be chilling. Why didn’t you call me before now?”

“You need to get her back!” Richard said urgently.

“I need to get back? Why?” Helene looked at her phone. Maybe she had misheard. The coverage in this place was terrible.

“No. Get
her
back,” Richard said.

“Who back?” Helene frowned as she tried to focus. She was still feeling quite drowsy.

“Tess Morgan! Andrea told me you
sacked
her?”

“Um ... it was a breakdown in communication, actually.” Helene chewed on her lip.

“Jack McCabe
likes
her, Helene!”

“Likes her?” Helene was mystified. “What was there to like? She was on-air for ten minutes and caused absolute chaos in that time!”

“Be that as it may,” Richard replied, “but Jack has been on to me raving about her. I think he’s definitely going to buy, Helene.” Richard couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “So it’s up to you to get Tess back – to keep Jack on side.”

Helene thought of her last meeting with Tess and swallowed.

“It might not be that easy,” she said cautiously.

“Offer her more money. Or her own programme. Whatever it takes,” Richard instructed as if Helene hadn’t spoken.

“Her own programme?” Helene was outraged. “The whole reason the agony aunt slot went so wrong in the first place is because Tess is not cut out to be on-air.”

Jesus. Didn’t Richard ever listen to a word she said?

“Well, persuade her, Helene,” Richard said flatly. And then, “Look, as soon as Jack signs on the dotted line, it won’t affect us whether Tess Morgan creates chaos or not.”

Helene’s heart skittered. He had said “us”.

“Because we’ll be leaving Atlantic?” She held her breath.

“It will be all to play for,” Richard confirmed. “But nothing can go wrong at this juncture, Helene. So I want you to leave whatever it is you’re doing there and go and find Tess Morgan.”

“Right this minute?” Helene thought of the paraffin pedicure she had lined up next.

“Yes.” A touch of impatience entered Richard’s voice. “There’ll be plenty of time for spas later.”

“It’s
work
,” Helene reminded him acidly. “Research for my Ten Years Younger series. Why can’t you just phone her yourself, anyway? Say it was all a mistake and that you’re going over my head.”

“Tried already, I’m afraid. Her mobile is switched off.”

Helene wrinkled her forehead. He’d already tried to go over her head without even informing her? That wasn’t good. But then everything was all mixed up since the takeover bid. As soon as Atlantic was sold, she and Richard could get back to normal. Hopefully.

“Andrea will know where she lives. Maybe
you
could call around?”

“Andrea is off work today. Apparently one of her kids is sick.”

Helene snorted. “Welcome to my world. Now you know what I have to deal with every day.”

“Look, Helene,” Richard confided, “I shouldn’t really be telling anyone this yet, but Jack is about to make his announcement about buying the station shortly.”

Helene recalled her conversation with Paulina, Jack’s right-hand woman. “Really? And have you heard anything about a search for a new star? One with the ... er ... X factor?”

“How do you know about that?” Richard asked sharply.

“Oh, there are lots of things you don’t know about me, Richard Armstrong,” Helene said flirtatiously. But Richard wasn’t in the mood.

“Can you get Tess Morgan back?” he asked sharply.

“Fine,” Helene snapped, deflated. “I’ll do it! But, Richard?”

“Yes?” The phone cackled again and she could barely hear him.

“
Afterwards
,” she let the word hang meaningfully in the air, “you had better make this up to me!”

The phone went dead and Helene tossed it into her bag. She looked at the tropical fish in their aquarium and envied them their simple life. Then she belted up her robe, shoved her feet into her slippers and went up to her bedroom to pack. She’d only had one night here but she checked out with little regret. Spas were not really her thing, she realised, as she threw her weekend case into the boot of her car. She was far too dynamic for all that sitting around.

By the time she arrived home, however, Helene was feeling far from dynamic. Her stomach felt sick and her right ear was itching like mad – probably from that Hopi ear candle therapy she’d had earlier. She threw her bags in the hall, and went in to her bedroom to lie down, pulling her patchwork quilt around her shoulders. Far from being revitalised, as the spa had promised, she felt utterly exhausted.

A wave of nausea overcame her and she got up reluctantly, padding into the kitchen searching for something to eat. The hotel’s meals had been sparse, tiny portions of health food all designed, allegedly, to help the body to detox. Maybe that’s why she felt so ill now?

But she didn’t have time to detox, she thought as she picked up the phone and dialled in an order to the local Chinese takeaway. She still had to figure out how to get Tess back to work. She didn’t want to go kow-towing to her, like Richard had suggested. She would just get too big for her boots. No, Helene would prefer if Tess made the request herself. She just had to figure out how to make that happen.

When the food arrived, the sight of the rice and chicken in their silver aluminium boxes lined up on her kitchen table brought on a fresh wave of nausea and she had to rush for the bathroom. As she dry-retched into the sink, Helene felt irked all over again that Richard had summoned her back from the spa. Getting Tess back could have waited.

In fact, she thought, with a flash of defiance, it could still wait. Helene would go and find Tess when she was good and ready. Not a moment before. She dumped the food into the bin, made herself a pot of tea, put on her favourite box set and, for once, forgot about work completely.

It was the day Jack McCabe was due to make his big announcement about taking over Atlantic 1 FM. Rachel Joy, a reporter with the
Killty Times
, was standing at the entrance to the hotel conference room, scanning the room. She was accompanied by a photographer, a young guy with dirty fair hair and a trench coat folded over his arm. Helene shifted in her chair and watched them closely. She knew Rachel’s unabashed ambition was to work for
The Sun
and with her instinct for trouble there was no reason why she wouldn’t achieve it.

Today Rachel had her sights firmly trained on Ollie Andrews. There was no question but that he was already heavily under the influence. Helene had spoken to him when she had arrived. He was mad as hell at the rumour that Jack McCabe was to announce a competition for a new star today and that he intended to do it in public, so it would be a fait accompli and there wouldn’t be anything Ollie could do about it. He didn’t even bother to suck a mint to camouflage the smell of whiskey on his breath. Glancing back at him now, slumped on a chair in the row behind her, Helene reflected that Jack had yet to realise that Ollie was a law onto himself, and didn’t operate by the same social dogma as the rest of the world. After all, Richard wasn’t going to tell him how unstable Ollie was, not when he was so desperate for Jack to buy the station.

Richard was sitting at the top table, facing the audience. He was fidgeting, tapping his biro on the white tablecloth and throwing anxious glances at the two empty chairs on either side of him. Helene was delighted to see him so evidently uncomfortable. He had called unexpectedly into her office earlier, asking whether she’d managed to persuade Tess to come back to work yet. She had tried to explain how nauseous and lightheaded she’d been feeling over the last few days – how she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything else – but Richard hadn’t even been listening to her.

“Anyhow, what’s with Jack McCabe’s sudden obsession with Tess Morgan?” Helene had asked finally. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Richard had snapped and banged out of the office.

A movement nearby caught Helene’s attention and she turned to see that Jack had finally arrived. Helene’s stomach lurched unexpectedly and she folded her arms protectively around her stomach. Everyone was nervous here today. It was only natural, with so much uncertainty about.

Jack cut an arresting figure as he strode towards the podium to join Richard. He was dressed in a well-cut black suit, white shirt and scarlet tie. Paulina followed him. Her pale blonde hair was caught back in a chignon and her make-up was impeccable. She wore a cherry red dress and jacket and managed to look both sexy and business-like.

Helene looked around the room to see how other people were reacting to the first sighting of Jack McCabe. Andrea was sitting a few seats down from her, pale-faced and white-knuckled, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. Sara was craning her neck, trying to get a better look at Jack. She was wearing a new outfit, a black fitted short skirt and matching jacket, which, she’d announced earlier, she’d bought especially for today.

“Jack McCabe is like, a gazillionaire,” she’d pointed out seriously, “and still unattached as far as I can make out.”

Up on the podium, Jack and Richard exchanged brief nods. Paulina nodded down at Helene and, thrilled with the public recognition, Helene gave her a little wave. She and Paulina had been in touch several times since they’d met at Matt’s cafe. She had been surprised to find Paulina had been every bit as helpful as she was at that first meeting – open about her success and generous with tips about how Helene could take her career forward to the next level. And if Paulina liked her, surely that was a sign that she would survive the changes that were coming?

Jack got to his feet and tapped the microphone in front of him and a hush came over the crowd.

“Hello there!” He smiled into the audience, commanding the attention of the room instantly. “Firstly, I must apologise for being late. As I’m sure Richard has already explained to you I was unavoidably delayed with other business but I appreciate that you’re all still here. And since you’ve all waited long enough already I think we should just get on with things, shall we?”

A murmur of assent swept through the room and Jack consulted his notes. “Secondly, I want to officially confirm that I have bought Atlantic 1 FM ...”

Helene let out an audible sigh of relief. Richard was free! She could hardly believe it. After that, she only half listened to the rest of the speech – how Jack was confident he could transform the station into a dynamic new entity, blah blah blah.

“The wheels are in motion for us to get a national broadcasting license ...” and then she was jolted out of her reverie by Ollie shouting, “Yeah!” very loudly and drumming his heels on the ground in a little victory dance.

“Yes, Ollie – it is good news,” Jack looked directly at the presenter. “But as I think we’ve all guessed by now, it will mean changes. And change always brings challenges.”

Here it comes, Helene thought, folding her arms tighter. This is where Jack was going to declare he wanted to bring in his own people – young people. People under thirty, with the X factor. She twisted around to see Ollie’s reaction.

“Change is good,” Ollie asserted, nodding his head agreeably. His eyes were bloodshot and Helene noticed a warning vein pulsing in his temple.

“So yes, we will be expanding,” Jack continued. “And yes, we will be improving. But it’s going to take an awful lot of effort from everyone. The station needs to build up its listenership dramatically and we’ll need lots of innovative ideas to do that. We also need to re-brand and re-position ourselves in the market, and while I intend to be very hands-on in this project, I have to confess that marketing is not my forte so I am going to hand you over now to Paulina Fox.”

A polite round of applause broke out as Paulina got to her feet.

“Thank you.” Paulina fingered the pile of papers in front of her and gave a dazzling smile before she began her speech. “As Jack has just said, we have challenging times ahead of us. But sometimes change brings opportunity as well. And for one person – maybe even someone who is here with us today – this could be a very special opportunity to play a very big part in the new, improved Atlantic 1 FM!”

Helene leaned forward in her chair. Paulina cleared her throat and consulted her notes before continuing. “I have been working on the new brand over the past few weeks and Jack and I have agreed that we need to create a new personality to be the face of the revamped station.”

Helene glanced back at Ollie. A deathly pallor had replaced his usual high colour and she could see a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“What do you think that will mean for you, Ollie?” Sara whispered, her eyes wide with alarm.

“What do I think? What do I think? Who the hell cares what I think?” Colour flooded back into Ollie’s pale cheeks as his rage rose. Immediately the press photographer turned his camera away from the podium and trained it on the fuming presenter. Then he twisted it back to Paulina, who was looking at Ollie with open fascination, as if he were an exhibit from a zoo.

“Yes, well there will be plenty of time to hear what people think later,” she said tightly. “But we’re here today to launch a competition for the new face of Atlantic 1 FM. The person we are looking for must have the X factor and ...”