“It’s just ... eh ... well, I didn’t think ... I mean, I was thinking of having a vasectomy,” Richard stammered.
“I see,” Helene said slowly. “And just thinking about a vasectomy is a reliable form of birth control now, is it? The scientific and medical world will be thrilled with that breakthrough.”
Richard’s eyelids flickered. “Look, I wasn’t going to tell you this until later because I wanted you to enjoy your party. But I think we need to break up for a bit. Until things have settled down ...”
Helene felt a peculiar buzzing sensation in her head. “I don’t understand.” She was genuinely puzzled. “How can we break up when I’m pregnant?”
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “There’re still a few weeks before everything at Atlantic is legally binding – before I get my money, essentially. But I suspect Jack knows about us. And I can’t risk confirming that for him. He could make things really, really difficult for me. This baby thing,” he said this as if he didn’t quite believe it was real, “well, it’s unfortunate timing, I’m afraid.”
“Unfortunate timing? Are you mad? It’s a baby!” Helene searched his face, and saw something unfathomable in his eyes. She felt panic grip her. “I thought you loved me?”
“I did. Do.” He gave a tiny sigh. “But things change, Helene. Circumstances change.”
His eyes were full of misery, but Helene caught the hint of steel in his voice. The buzzing sensation in her head was back. She gripped the edge of the sofa, her fingernails leaving indentations in the soft leather. How did Richard think he could just waltz away from everything, when the baby they were expecting was already affecting every aspect of her life? She opened her mouth to say as much, but Richard held up both his hands to stop her.
“I don’t want to do this.” His mouth tightened. “But I don’t see that I have any chance. If you say the baby is mine, I’ll deny it, Helene.”
Helene felt cold. Freezing.
“I think you’d better go.” The words came out of her mouth but they sounded as if someone else had spoken them. Richard, however, didn’t need to be told twice. He strode towards the hall door but Helene’s mood switched again, frightening her with its unpredictability.
“You can’t leave me, Richard,” she wailed after him. “Not tonight. It’s my birthday! People are about to arrive for the party!”
Richard half-turned to look back at her. “It’s not as if anyone ever knew about us,” he pointed out. “So they won’t think it’s odd that I’m not here.”
“They’ll think it’s odd when I have a huge bump in another couple of months and no father for my baby!”
He took a few steps back towards her. “Why don’t we think about this? I mean – you don’t have to have it, do you? I mean, it must be only a few weeks ...”
“It is a baby, Richard.” Helene’s voice was icy and this time actually felt like her own as another bewildering mood change came over her. “It’s a gift. I actually thought you might have been happy about it. But that was before I realised what a lily-livered wimp you are. So you want to check out as soon as the going gets tough? So go. Do it. Get out now if you’re going.”
She turned away. She wasn’t going to think any more about what he had just suggested. She would just block it out, pretend that he hadn’t. She put her face in her hands and bit hard on her top lip to stop it trembling. She heard the soft click of the hall door.
He’s gone, she thought dully. On the night she told him she was expecting their baby Richard had left her. On the night of her fortieth birthday when people were due to arrive any moment for the celebrations, Richard had come to tell her he wanted a break? The tears, which had been threatening all evening, finally started – great shuddering sobs that made her feel as if she might choke. This cannot be happening to me, she told herself. This weeping and babbling was not her! She was a strong person. She struggled to regain control of her emotions but it was useless. Big wails of fear and grief shook her body and she covered her face with her hands, trying to stem the tears. Hormones! It must be the hormones.
She stiffened at the creaking sound of her hall door opening again. She sat up straight, pure relief flooding through her. He was back! Of course he was back. She tried to compose herself, wiping her tears, patting her hair. She would find it difficult to forgive him for his initial reaction, of course she would. But, she rationalised, maybe it had been unfair to spring it on him out of the blue like that in the first place. After all, she’d had time to get used to the idea. They would get over this, she promised herself, and their relationship would be the stronger for it in the end. She lifted her tear-stained face to the door, ready to welcome him back into her life.
“I’m a bit early, I’m afraid. The hall door was ajar.” Matt from the Travel Cafe was standing awkwardly in the hallway, almost invisible behind the giant bouquet of sunflowers he was carrying. The flowers, with their yellow and black faces reminded Helene of sunshine and hope and optimism and she couldn’t bear it. She burst into a fresh, uncontrollable flood of tears.
To his credit, Matt didn’t waste time asking awkward questions. He took one look at her red-eyed face, her make-up destroyed with tears, and marched into the kitchen where he put his flowers in the sink. “I’ve obviously come at a bad time. But tell me what I can do to help?”
For a few tempting minutes Helene flirted with the idea of asking him to stick a note on the door announcing that, due to unforeseen circumstances, the party had been cancelled. But then she realised how difficult it would be to explain that away in the morning.
Besides, some part of her recognised already that if she was going to have to survive as a single mother, then hosting a birthday party was going to be the least of the challenges ahead of her. So the party went ahead. Everyone came from work. Even Ollie turned up for an hour. Helene watched the celebrations as if she were behind a glass screen. A deep sense of shock enveloped her in a protective shield so she was able to get through the evening with a curious sense of detachment.
Matt took on his self-appointed role of host for the evening with panache, filling people’s glasses, dealing with the caterers when they arrived, even arranging an impromptu karaoke competition when everyone had a few drinks on them. Helene watched on vaguely as Sara and Andrea sang completely out of tune, and wondered how the hell her life had arrived at this point with so little warning?
The one concession she allowed herself was that the party should finish early. Again, Matt rose to the occasion and managed to get the last person out of the apartment just after midnight.
“Will you be okay?” he asked when there were just the two of them left.
“Absolutely,” Helene reassured him. He seemed reluctant to leave but Helene closed the door resolutely behind him. She then walked into her bedroom and stuffed a change of clothes into her overnight bag. Earlier in the evening, she had slipped away from the celebrations and quietly booked herself into a nearby hotel. She couldn’t bear to be in the apartment on her own tonight.
She noticed a bulky white envelope lying on the hall table, wrapped up with a thin silver ribbon tied in a bow. She picked it up and looked at Richard’s familiar handwriting. To Helene, Happy Birthday. It was the gift she’d felt through his jacket pocket earlier this evening. Another lifetime ago, before her world had tilted on its axis. She slid it unopened into her bag.
She looked back at the debris of the party – the empty bottles and uneaten cake and the fortieth birthday balloon already deflating in the corner. She stood there for a few seconds, trying to fix the image of her guests enjoying themselves in her head. But all she could see was the earlier ugly scene between her and Richard.
She gave a tiny sigh and opened the hall door. The party planners were coming in the morning to clear up. By the time she arrived home from work tomorrow, all evidence of tonight would be erased from her home. Which was now exactly the way Helene wanted it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I have
hired my own, independent counsellor on this matter. One with a law degree,” Ollie Andrews was muttering darkly from behind his computer screen.
“You’re right, Ollie,” Sara said. “And here, what do think about this coaching thing that Paulina Fox is setting up? Like, can you coach someone into having the X factor?”
“No, you can’t,” Ollie said. “You either have it or you don’t. And I have, so what is the point?”
Tess sighed. It was the morning after Helene’s fortieth birthday party, which had been pretty tense for a celebration. She had gone because she wanted to make an effort to get on with everyone at work better this time around. But Helene had acted strangely out of character – she had hardly spoken to anyone all evening. Tess had been unable to look Andrea in the eye because she still hadn’t worked out whether to tell her about seeing Joe in the restaurant. Consequently, she had drunk too much wine, had slept in late this morning and was now nursing a giant hangover. And all this talk about the contest was getting on her nerves. “It’s just another stunt dreamed up by Paulina. They probably already have their winner picked if you ask me,” she muttered.
“If we asked you!” Ollie glowered.
Sara looked at her curiously. “I didn’t even know you were going in for the contest, Tess.”
“Oh, I’d say there’s a lot we don’t know about Ms Morgan, Sara. Like her ‘speciality’ in giving elevator speeches! Hah hah hah!”
“What’s this about elevator speeches?” Andrea strolled by, looking at Ollie curiously.
“It’s nothing, I’ll tell you about it later,” Tess said quickly. Thankfully, Andrea had been out of the office when Helene had announced to all and sundry that Tess had been stalking Jack McCabe. She wanted to explain what had happened without the nasty spin Helene had put on it.
“Tell her now, why don’t you, Tess?” Ollie challenged. “Why keep your best friend in the dark? Let me save you the bother, actually.” He turned to Andrea. “What do you think of this? Tess has been stalking Jack McCabe. She trapped him in a lift so she could pitch her ideas to him in private.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “Hence the term ‘elevator speech’.”
Andrea stared at Tess. “So when did you decide to enter the contest?”
Tess sighed. “I wasn’t talking to Jack about the contest – I was trying to get the agony aunt slot back!”
“Yeah ... because that was such a success the first time around!” Ollie chortled, snapping the lid of his coffee container open and taking a long slug.
“So that explains how Joe saw you having dinner with Jack,” Andrea said slowly. “He said you pretended not to see him, but he was pretty sure you had.”
“She was having dinner with Jack?” Ollie almost choked on his coffee.
“But that’s so cool!” Sara was full of curiosity. “So tell us, Tess, what’s he really like? Is he ruthless? Is he going to sack everyone over thirty? Is he as hot as he looks?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Tess muttered, her mind was racing in another direction altogether. If Joe had told Andrea he saw Tess at the restaurant, there must be an innocent explanation for him being with that woman! Thank God. She turned to her now.
“Listen Andrea, I’ve loads to tell you. How about lunch?”
“I’ve a pretty busy day. Sorry.” Andrea switched on her computer and stared at the screen.
Tess bit her lip, wondering how to get back their old, easy friendship.
The phone rang.
“Hello, Atlantic 1 FM. Oh! Okay, I’ll tell her. Tess!” Sara covered the receiver with one hand. “It’s Paulina.” She made a jabbing gesture with her finger towards the telephone. “She’d like you to pop along to see her. She’s starting the coaching sessions immediately.”
Tess was still trying to figure out how to approach Andrea. “I’m a bit busy at the moment,” she said absent-mindedly. “Why don’t you go along for the first session yourself?”
Sara spoke into the phone again before replacing the receiver and raising her eyebrows at Tess. “The coaching schedule is non-negotiable apparently. She wants you for the first session.”
“For heaven’s sake!” Tess snatched up her notebook and marched up the corridor to the small office Paulina had commandeered for the day. It just wasn’t good enough that she could order people to her at a moment’s notice, she thought crossly. She had absolutely no preparation done for this meeting. In fact, she wasn’t even sure what a coaching session was. She knocked on the door sharply.
“Come!” Paulina commanded.
Tess pushed open the door, not bothering to hide her displeasure at being summoned so abruptly.
“Tough start to the day?” Paulina smiled, showing tiny, even white teeth.
“It’s been fine so far,” Tess said shortly.
“It must be difficult having to deal with Ollie again, though?” Paulina pressed.
Tess shrugged. “I can handle him.”
“Well, I can’t get him to listen to my ideas, at all,” Paulina said plaintively. “He seems to be on the defensive all the time.”
Tess hid a smile. It was gratifying to see how the ultra-capable Paulina Fox felt flummoxed by Ollie – it made Tess feel less inadequate. But she wasn’t here to exchange stories about Ollie. She looked at Paulina levelly. “So. This coaching – can we get on with it?”
“Ah yes – the coaching,” Paulina scribbled something on the A4 pad in front of her before looking up. “What do you need to know to help you to win the contest?”
“Well, we’ve already put in our submissions so is all of this not a bit late?”
“The submissions were only one part of the process.” Paulina leaned forward in her chair. “We shall be carefully monitoring people between now and the relaunch day next week.”
Tess wracked her brain. “So what is it exactly you’re looking for in the winner?”
Paulina sighed heavily as if she’d just been asked for the third secret of Fatima.
“Everybody is asking that,” she said. “But it’s sort of intangible, you know?”
“Right,” Tess said uncertainly.
“What I can tell you,” Paulina said, “is that we want the winner to portray a certain image. For instance, if we choose a female presenter then we’ll be looking for a woman who is sexy, but with a girl next-door approachability at the same time. Do you know what I mean?”
Tess very much doubted if even Paulina knew what she meant. “Not really,” she admitted.
Paulina narrowed her eyes. “Look, each contestant will need something different to get them up to the standard we’re looking for. You for instance,” she looked Tess up and down appraisingly, “you should consult a stylist.”
“Really?” Tess looked down with surprise at her outfit. She had given up dressing down for work since she’d met Chris again and had chosen today’s outfit with care – dark suede jacket, tailored grey dress, much higher heels than she was accustomed to.
“I’m not saying there is anything particularly wrong with your image,” Paulina clarified. “But I have worked with the stylist Mai Mooney extensively in the past and she will know instinctively know what we’re looking for. I know Andrea McAdams has already been to see her twice. I can give you Mai’s address if you like,” Paulina began to rummage through a brown leather wallet for a business card.
Tess watched her with rising indignation, remembering Mr Cheung and his astronomical haircare prices. How many more bloody makeovers was she going to have to endure for this job? Then her heart skipped a beat as her mind played catch-up on what Paulina had just said.
Andrea had seen Mai Mooney twice already? So how come she hadn’t told her? She and Andrea told each other everything. Or used to, Tess thought uncomfortably, as the image of Joe and his female companion flashed into her mind.
Of course, she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion about that night. Maybe that’s what she was doing again now. Andrea probably hadn’t had a chance to tell her. Tess had been busy avoiding her a
fter all. And she had a lot going on with the children and the pressures at work. Seeing a stylist was probably just another task on her to-do list.
“Tess?”
Tess snapped back to the present. Paulina had evidently asked her a question and was expecting an answer. She forced herself to focus and for the next twenty minutes tried to concentrate on the conversation. But Paulina remained as irritatingly vague as ever and at the end of her allotted time Tess felt the whole thing had been a waste of time.
She needed to find some way of establishing herself as a serious candidate, she thought, as she left the office. She needed to prove to Jack McCabe that she was more than the flitter head who had walked out of studio during her debut on-air slot and then trapped him in a lift to persuade him to give it back to her again.
She had heard nothing from him since the night in the restaurant. Not even an email to welcome her back. But then what had she expected? Jack had been upfront about his interest in her from the start – she was a temporary solution to an annoying problem, namely to keep Ollie Andrews sweet while Jack and Paulina got on with the task of relaunching Atlantic 1 FM. Any spark of attraction had clearly been in Tess’s own imagination, even if it felt at the time that there was enough electricity between them to power up a small city.
“Tess!” She turned to see Jack coming down the corridor. “I was just coming to see you, to welcome you back. So,” he stopped, pushed one hand through his hair, “how have you been getting on?”
Tess thought of the useless coaching session she had just sat through with Paulina, of Ollie and his constant hectoring of everything she said and did, and of her on-going misery because of the misunderstanding between herself and Andrea.
“Fine.” Her voice came out in a high-pitched squeak.
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” He sounded amused and Tess flushed with annoyance.
“It’s not funny,” she said shortly. To her horror, she felt her eyes filling with tears. “It’s hard trying to fit back in,” she confessed. “And I’m not at all sure that I’ve done the right thing in coming back.”
The Cinderella Reflex Page 20
