It's All About Him

by Colette Caddle

  Dee's eyes widened. 'Was that Lou as in Louise Mulvaney from Short Cut?'

  Lisa nodded. 'The very one, she's dating my cousin and the most obliging girl you've ever met.'

  'But isn't she busy?'

  'Don't worry, it's her day off,' Lisa explained.

  Dee laughed and hugged her friend. 'You are amazing!'

  Lisa looked at her watch. 'I doubt Martha would agree, I'd better get back downstairs.'

  'Oh, has she been on her own all of this time?'

  Lisa looked at her crossly. 'As if I'd leave her alone with eight children, what do you take me for? I asked Paula next door to come in and paint with the older children while I sorted you out.'

  'Sorry.'

  Lisa swatted her friend on the bum and headed for the door. 'Don't let it happen again.'

  'Lisa? Thanks.'

  Lisa blew her a kiss. 'Just remember me when you're rich and famous.'

  When she was alone, Dee turned again to look at the outfit on the bed. It was the most feminine outfit she'd worn in years and she just hoped she could carry it off.

  Louise, true to her word, turned up thirty minutes later and walked around and around Dee.

  'I know, it's in an awful state,' Dee apologized. 'I've been meaning to make an appointment but I'm just so busy.'

  Lou grinned. 'Don't worry, we'll have you looking like a star in no time.'

  'I'd settle for presentable,' Dee laughed nervously. The last thing she wanted was some ornate, complicated hairdo that would make her even more uncomfortable and nervous. She cringed as Louise picked up bits of her hair, gathered them together, stood back and looked at her, frowning in concentration. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

  'Right.' Louise smiled. 'I think I've got it.'

  Dee tried to smile. 'Do you?' she croaked.

  'Yes. I think you should wear your hair loose but we'll take about an inch off so it just rests on your shoulders. Also, it's too severe the way you pull it back off your face.'

  'I did have a fringe but it's grown out.'

  'Yes, well, we'll bring it back again, but not a heavy fringe or you'll look like Cher. I'll feather it to frame your face, how does that sound?'

  'Great!' Dee smiled, relieved that she wasn't going to end up with a beehive.

  Two hours later, she was on her way to the studio in a chauffeur-driven Mercedes with a soft leather interior. She clutched her notes on her lap but reading them had made her feel queasy and she was terrified she'd throw up all over her lovely outfit or, worse, Lisa's boots. The phone hadn't stopped ringing before she left with Ronan, Conor, Zoe and Vi all calling to wish her luck. She was on her way out the door when she realized she hadn't told Aunt Pauline and the woman would be infuriated if she heard about it after the event.

  'I'll call her,' Lisa said, propelling her out towards the car. 'What about Neil?'

  Dee looked at her blankly and Lisa smiled. 'Well, there's hope for you yet. You hadn't even thought of him, had you?'

  'No,' Dee admitted, 'I hadn't.'

  'Good.' Lisa hugged her tightly and only let go when Sam came hurtling down the path and threw himself at Dee.

  'Good luck, Mummy, good luck.'

  Dee sank to her knees, gathered him into her arms, and buried her face in his neck.

  'Thank you, sweetheart.'

  'We're going to record it so you can watch yourself later,' he told her importantly.

  Dee rolled her eyes. 'Great, I can't wait.'

  Now, as the car swung through the gates of the television studio, the butterflies in her stomach took flight. Stuffing her notes into her bag she waited until the car came to a halt in front of a doorway and mumbled an embarrassed thank-you when the driver rushed around to open the door for her.

  'Good luck, love,' he said with a kind smile.

  'Cheers,' Dee said gratefully and went inside to be met by an attractive middle-aged woman who smiled and held out her hand. 'Dee? I'm Carolyn Maher.'

  Dee shook it. 'Hi.'

  'You're not related to Bono, are you?'

  'Sorry, no.'

  Carolyn laughed. 'Never mind. I'm so glad you could make it, I think this is going to be a very interesting piece and we're sure to get lots of phone calls.'

  Dee nodded dumbly.

  'I'll take you down to make-up although' – she scanned Dee's clear complexion, large dark eyes and wide mouth – 'you don't really need it.'

  'Thanks.' Dee followed her down the narrow corridors and wished she could come up with something witty or intelligent to say but she couldn't. It didn't bode well for the show.

  They came to a tiny room with a large mirror and three chairs in front of it. A plump, blonde girl was setting out palettes of colours on a side table and she looked up and smiled when Carolyn and Dee walked in. 'Hi.'

  'Pat, this is Dee Hewson.'

  'You can sit here.' The girl indicated the chair in the centre and Dee sat down.

  'You can watch the show on that,' Carolyn pointed to the monitor, 'and we'll come and get you in about ten minutes. Can I get you some water?'

  Dee shook her head dumbly. She could do with a drink but then she was afraid she might need to use the loo when they were going on air. No, she'd do without a drink. She licked her lips nervously and watched in amazement as Pat transformed her into a sophisticated and, if she did say so herself, rather pretty woman.

  Pat chattered on about make-up, the show, the weather and holidays and Dee knew she replied but she couldn't remember afterwards what she actually said. Pat was just applying lip gloss when Carolyn returned.

  'Don't you look gorgeous? That eye-shadow is fabulous, Pat.'

  'It's nice, isn't it? I've been meaning to try it out for a while but it only really works well on wide-set eyes.' She appraised her handiwork critically. 'I think it will look good on camera.'

  Dee thought she looked a bit like a panda but she thanked the girl anyway and followed Carolyn down more corridors and into another small, dark room.

  'They're just going to an ad break and then you can go in. I'll introduce you to Marge Preston, our presenter, and the three other guests and then you'll be on in three.'

  Dee nodded but said nothing.

  'Are you going to be okay?' Carolyn asked, giving her an anxious look.

  Dee nodded again and then mumbled an affirmative.

  'Just remember what you've come to talk about,' Carolyn advised kindly. 'From what I've read about you, it's something you feel strongly about.'

  'Yes — yes, it is.'

  'And this is your opportunity to talk to thousands of parents out there and persuade them that they can feed their children healthier options. It's only a twenty-minute slot, Dee, and there are four other people in that studio. If you want to get your message across you're going to have to speak up loudly and clearly and not be intimidated by the other guests.'

  For the first time, Dee looked through the window at the people already seated on each side of the presenter and gulped. There was a well-known male journalist who was always on the TV slamming one thing or another; a TV chef – surely she would be on Dee's side? – and another woman whom Dee didn't recognize. She was about to ask Carolyn who she was when the 'on air' light went off and Carolyn was ushering her into the studio.

  'Marge, this is Dee Hewson.'

  'Oh, any relation to Bono?'

  'No, I—'

  'Dee, if you sit over there next to John.'

  Dee took her place beside the journalist and smiled nervously at him. 'Hi.'

  He gave her a brief nod and went back to looking at his notes.

  'And this is Polly Underwood.'

  The chef waved and smiled at Dee. 'Hi.'

  Dee smiled back.

  'And this is Ann Baker, junior minister for agriculture and food.'

  Dee's ears pricked up. 'Hello.' She nodded politely at the older woman. Ann inclined her head regally.

  'Okay, folks, back on air in thirty seconds,' someone called and Dee swallowed
hard.

  'Right, people,' Marge said, 'I'll introduce this piece by reading a quote from the article in the Daily Journal where Dee slams the standard of food labelling in Ireland. Then, Dee, I will come to you and after that I will invite comments from the rest of the panel. If we have time, we'll take some viewers' questions.' She stared into the monitor. 'And that, as they say, will be that. Are we all ready?'

  'Five seconds,' yelled the disembodied voice.

  Marge smiled into the camera. 'Welcome back. Joining me now is a lady who doesn't believe in chicken nuggets or cola, who won't give her child sweets and who has some very strong views on the labelling of food; particularly food which is aimed at children.' Marge read an excerpt from the newspaper article and then turned to smile at Dee. 'Welcome, Dee Hewson.'

  'Thank you.' Dee managed a small smile.

  'Dee, tell me, what made you decide to ban processed food from your home?'

  'I wouldn't say that I banned it, exactly, but when my son started to get sick I realized that food had a large part to play in both the cause and the prevention.'

  Marge nodded. 'Explain that to me.'

  'Well, my son was diagnosed with both eczema and asthma just before he turned three. I did a lot of research into both conditions and I discovered that a healthy diet and an elimination of processed foods would help him.'

  'Are we just talking about sweets and fizzy drinks, Dee?'

  'No, not at all. I'm talking about any processed food and yes, that includes fish fingers.'

  Madge's eyes widened. 'But fish fingers are the staple food of most of the kids in the country.'

  Dee nodded. 'And for most kids that's okay, in moderation, but I would still suggest that parents read the labels carefully before they buy if they want to be confident their kids are getting a reasonably healthy meal.'

  'Why, what kind of things should they be looking for? Give me an example.'

  'In the case of fish fingers, buy ones that state there are no added colourants or preservatives, that are low in fat and low in salt,' Dee ticked the items off on her fingers, 'and if they don't mention any of these things on the front of the packet, don't buy them.'

  'That seems a bit over the top, if you don't mind me saying so.' Marge smirked at her other guests.

  Dee bristled. 'Not really. It's a very competitive market and if the producer has something to brag about you can bet it will be on the front of the packet. By the same token, I would always suggest that you read the full list of ingredients. If the writing is tiny, it's usually not a good sign.'

  'What other things get your back up, Dee?' Marge asked.

  Dee put her head on one side. 'Salt is a real problem in our diet and I think it's ridiculous that some labels talk about sodium and some talk about salt when it's not the same thing and their recommended daily allowances are different.'

  Marge looked confused. 'I don't understand.'

  'Not many people do, that's the problem. To get the salt content of food you need to multiply the sodium figure by 2.5. Our RDA—'

  'Sorry?'

  'Recommended daily allowance, that's basically what we should be having per day and the RDA of salt is 6 grams. It's a lot less than that for small children. Now some labels show salt content and some show sodium content and it's very confusing.'

  'I have to interrupt here,' the politician said, with a patronizing smile. 'We've run a major advertising campaign telling people about the dangers of salt and it's been hugely successful.'

  'But Marge still didn't know what the RDA was,' Dee shot back.

  Marge grinned. 'She's got you there.'

  'Also, did you know that if you added no salt at all to your food you would probably still exceed your recommended daily allowance?'

  Marge looked shocked. 'That's if you eat processed food, right?'

  Dee smiled sadly. 'You see, Marge, this is part of the problem. People think that processed food is chicken nuggets and fish fingers but it also includes sliced bread, cereal, sliced meats, packet soups, sausages. Ordinary foods that are in all our kitchens.'

  'And it would be totally unfeasible to cut it all out,' John, the journalist pointed out.

  'Yes, but we can make informed choices,' the politician said piously, 'and that's what our campaign is all about; giving people information.'

  'But that's just the problem,' Dee said. 'The information is confusing and conflicting and as a result most people will end up buying the product with the largest advertising budget and the cleverest branding and packaging.'

  'I have to agree,' Polly chipped in. 'I think there is huge ignorance in general about what is and isn't good for us and the Government is doing nothing about it.'

  'Well, I'm not one to stand up for the Government,' the journalist said dryly, 'but I think you're underestimating and patronizing the general public. Everyone knows these days what foods affect their cholesterol and their blood pressure. We are a nation that never stops talking about health and diet. Ms Hewson is completely overreacting. Our kids are still kids and they deserve some treats. For heaven's sake, we all grew up eating gobstoppers and crisps and it didn't do us any harm.'

  'It's a different world,' Dee replied calmly, 'and when you were growing up there was a lot less processed food; there was no such thing as TV dinners and the microwave hadn't been invented.'

  'That's true,' Polly chimed in. 'Our lives have got busier and busier and the choice of easy options in our supermarkets has increased dramatically.'

  Marge grinned delightedly, 'Well, let's see what our viewers have to say on the subject. Joe in Santry, what do you think? Is Dee patronizing you?'

  'Not at all; I'm gobsmacked at what she's been saying. I didn't know any of this stuff about the salt and I feel like a terrible parent because I've just been looking at the food in our freezer and it's all full of the stuff.'

  'Thank you, Joe. Now I want to go to Ann-Marie in Newry. Ann-Marie, what did you want to say to our panel?'

  'Hi. I just want to say that Dee is right. I try really hard to feed my children healthily but I'm a working mother and I don't always have time to cook everything from scratch. Also, I find fresh food is often more expensive than buying processed.'

  'Minister, what do you say to that?'

  'I would completely refute that,' Ann said haughtily. 'If you shop carefully, it's just as cheap to buy fresh ingredients.'

  'But they're not as easy to prepare,' Dee said, 'and many children are no longer being taught the basic nutritional facts, let alone how to cook.'

  'We have only time for one more call,' Marge cut across them. 'Nicola from Limerick. Nicola, what do you want to say?'

  'I want to say that I'm fed up being told how I'm screwing up my children's lives. There's always some know-it-all on telly telling us what we're doing wrong but they should try raising six kids on one income. Half the things that girl said are processed and bad for us are what my kids live on. I can't afford to buy them steak and fish. They get sausages or fish fingers if they're lucky and stew once a week if I get a chance to make it. I don't have time to make fancy food, never mind read labels.'

  'You're right, Nicola,' Dee said immediately, 'and that's why I'm saying labelling is so important. There need to be simple standards, clear labelling and stringent penalties for companies who don't keep to those standards. Then if you are buying processed food, you can pick the best of the bunch.'

  'I have to agree,' the journalist said gruffly, 'and if such guidelines were properly enforced then the food manufacturers would be forced to produce better quality foods.'

  'And finally, Dee, can I ask you, how is your son now?'

  Dee smiled. 'He's doing very well. He hasn't had an asthmatic attack in two years and his skin is much better.'

  Marge turned back to the camera. 'And I think you'll agree, that says it all. That's it for today. Thank you to my guests . . .'

  Chapter 14

  When Dee stepped out of the car it was to be met by Lisa, Martha, Sam and all the childr
en cheering and clapping.

  'You were fantastic,' Lisa said, hugging her, her eyes shining and her face flushed, 'we were so proud of you. We had to pin Sam down to stop him hugging the telly.'

  Sam flung himself at Dee's legs and she swung him up into her arms. 'You were great, Mum,' he said shyly.

  'Thanks, sweetheart.'

  'I didn't like that nasty lady who was fighting with you.'

  'She was just doing her job,' Dee explained.

  'Why?'

  'That's what the show is all about, people who feel differently about things discuss them and then the audience can decide who makes the most sense.'

  Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. 'But you were just trying to tell them about eating good food.'

  Dee smiled. 'Yes, I was.'

  'You made mincemeat of that minister, if you'll pardon the pun,' Martha grinned, 'and that stuffy journalist came over on to your side at the end.'

  Dee nodded. 'Yes, I was chatting to him briefly afterwards and he seemed quite nice.'

  'I liked that chef, Polly Underwood, she seems lovely.'

  'Yes,' Dee agreed, 'and she really knows her stuff. She took my email address and she's going to send me some recipes.'

  'Come on, let's go inside,' Lisa said. 'The phone hasn't stopped ringing since the programme finished. You listen to your messages and I'll get you a cup of tea.'

  'Come on children,' Martha said, 'snack time.'

  Dee carefully took off Lisa's boots, flopped on to the sofa in the kitchen and, tucking her feet under her, listened to the messages on her answering machine.

  'Dee, Ronan here. You were fantastic! We had the TV on in the café and everyone was cheering you on. Well done, darling, but please don't run off to become a TV star; we'd never manage without you.'

  The next message was from Sheila. 'Dee, tried to get you on your mobile but maybe stars don't answer their own phones. Seriously, you were wonderful and you really lit a fire under that old witch Ann Baker. Well done you, and don't forget your friends when you're rich and famous!'

  Next there was a stilted message from her aunt.

  'Hello, hello, Dee? It's Aunt Pauline here. I saw you on television this afternoon; I can't remember the name of the programme—'