by Sue Watson
“Oh, my love,” I went for a hug but changed my mind, she was too messy. “Look, it’s sad but it’s life Judith, we all get old, even me! And I know only too well that none of us are bulletproof. I’m going through personal hell right now but I am more worried about you. I don’t want you to worry about Georgina taking over. I’m going to get Donna to speak to Ray and we’ll sort it. I don’t want you to worry.”
“But you can’t really blame them, Georgina’s so bright and young and...”
“Yes I know, but Ray can’t just replace people because he’s found somebody younger and more attractive. He’s such a sexist old pig, I won’t allow it.”
“You might not be able to stop it, Tanya. I was in a meeting this morning and when the fourth floor decide you’re past it that’s it – kaput, you know how it is.”
“Well not on my watch. And if I can’t stop this travesty, then Donna will, so no more furrowed brow and itchy hair. OK?” I hugged her.
She nodded, seemingly comforted. “I haven’t slept worrying about it.”
“Well I can’t say I blame you but I don’t want you to give it another thought. Trust me, everything will be fine. We’ll both still be here twenty years from now, we might need walking sticks but we’ll still be doing our jobs,” I smiled.
“You will be two wrinkly old shit-bags in twenty years down the lines,” came Astrid’s dulcet tones from the sofa. She was awake.
“I would love for Astrid to meet lovely Tim, our floor manager,” I nodded to Judith. “Perhaps he could show her a front row seat in the studio where she can watch my performance?”
“No I need to help you, Tanya, I am bloody fantastic P-Angel.”
“I’m sure you are, Astrid, which is why I need you to take notes during my performance.”
“Ok Mrs. I take the notes but I tell you if I don’t like.” Judith gently ushered her out of the room towards the studio, where I sincerely hoped she would strap her to a bloody seat.
Later when we were on our own, I managed a few snatched minutes with Georgina who’d popped down from the gallery to make sure I was OK. “I’ve been so obsessed with my own life that I forgot the little people,” I told her. “Judith’s getting older and has the same issues and insecurities I do – just on a bigger scale, but I managed to console her.”
“In the middle of your own personal hell you made Judith feel better about hers,” she smiled. “That’s what being Tanya Travis is all about.”
I smiled, grateful at the compliment. “But on the subject of poor old Judith, I wanted to have a word with you. Along with being paranoid about her age she’s got it into her head that you might be in line for her job?”
“Tanya, nothing could be further from the truth,” she gasped. “I wouldn’t do it if they asked me. I’m really not interested in Judith’s job, honestly.”
“I’m glad to hear it but she’s got herself a bit worked up and I reckon Ray’s pushing her out at the behest of the dreaded fourth floor. It’s not easy for her, she’s a single parent and she’s getting on a bit... Well, you know how it is, she needs the job.”
“Of course Tanya and if it would be of any help I’ll speak with her and tell her as far as I’m concerned, she’s safe.”
“Thanks. I’d hate her to think I’d spoken to you about it though. I already reassured her and it might make her even more paranoid if she thinks I’ve been talking about her.”
“Of course Tanya but I hate to think she’s worrying needlessly.”
“She’ll be fine. Now, before you whizz off can I just ask... today’s Tanya blog? I was thinking... we need to address the ‘Nathan stuff,’ let’s not avoid talking about personal difficulties. After all Oprah never shied away from discussing life with Stedman.”
“Absolutely and I hope you don’t mind, but after you called me last night I started a short post about going out with someone in the public eye. I thought it would show that you, as always, are considerate of Nathan’s point of view and understand that it’s not easy for him, especially as the press insist on hounding him and writing these awful stories. So, I’ve gone for empathy and a little bit of humour in today’s post title, which is all about playing second fiddle to a famous person: ‘You’re a Celebrity, Get me out of Here!”
“Oh that is just perfect, spot on.”
“No problem, that’s what I’m here for. Oh and I’ve ordered extra Blue Mountain coffee – thought you might need it, given the current situation.”
I nodded, closing my eyes, thinking about Nathan and the fact he might already have left me for good – and even Blue Mountain coffee couldn’t make that better.
“Tanya, remember: what God takes away, he gives back... in spades.”
She had a twinkle in her eye and I looked at her enquiringly.
“You might be having a tough time but I have great news. Brace yourself: Dettol No-Touch Handwash have two new ... yes, you heard me, two new fragrances.”
“Shut up, girlfriend, you’re teasing,” I said with a wan smile.
“I don’t tease about something as serious as handwash systems. I’m talking Citrus Squeeze and Shea Butter with, wait for it, Rose essence.”
“Shea Butter and Rose?” I said, feeling my mood lift. “Please put an order in for industrial quantities of both the citrus and the rose please, Georgina. Now.”
“Already done, Tan,” she said with a flash of her perfect white teeth.
“Anything else I can do?”
“No, but thank you for making everything so… Well… normal. Everyone else is pussyfooting around pretending the pregnancy/sex-addict stuff never happened.”
“You are welcome, Tanya,” she said, perfect nail crescents touching perfect lips.
“Georgina, will you also get me some of whatever it is you put on your hair? It always looks... so... young.”
“Sure.”
“Oh and will you tweet that Nathan and I are still in love but our careers are getting in the way, hashtag sad or something like that.”
“Already tweeted Tanya, hashtag heartbroken.” She put on a mock sad face.
“Give it time and don’t beat yourself up,” she touched my arm. “I’m off to the gallery now, Ray thinks I should see the show from every angle,” she started to walk away.
“As long as he doesn’t want you to see him from every angle,” I joked.
She smiled, blew me a kiss and wafted off, leaving the scent of fresh cotton and sweet pear drops in her wake.
* * * * *
“You really don’t need to go through my script with me, Hermione,” I said firmly as she hung over my shoulder, her face far too close to mine, peering at the coffee-stained pages. I was in make-up and even Sally’s hands couldn’t calm me. “Look, Hermione, I’m best left on my own when I’m busy.”
“Oh, no Tanya babes, it’s my job to make sure you are happy and I will be with you all morning. I told you, I am your Siamese twin!” she said brightly.
I glanced in horror at Sally as she calmly applied lipstick and raised an eyebrow. Hermione was extremely annoying, like a twittering bird hopping around my face and my feet, making me anxious. For all her nervous energy and irritatingly whiney voice, she didn’t actually do anything useful; he’d even managed to get the coffee order wrong.
Sally continued to work on my make-up so I closed my eyes, hoping Hermione would get bored and disappear but when my Tanya Travis face was complete, she was still looming over me. “Ten minutes, Tanya honey!” she trilled. I rolled my eyes, thanked Sally and made for the door but Hermione jumped in front of me, opening the door and ushering me through it like I was an OAP.
“Thanks Hermione, I’m fine from here,” I hissed through gritted teeth as I headed for my throne on set. “Tim the floor manager always gives me 90 seconds to acclimatise,” I said and as she trotted off to annoy someone else relief washed over me. She’d just gone, completely disappeared. Perfect. However, after only seventeen blissful seconds she was back, commandeering two human bein
gs – our first guests for the show. She smiled proudly, holding them before me like they were specimens for my royal approval. They looked terrified, so I smiled warmly, straightened up and became ‘TV Tanya’.
“Good morning,” I smiled serenely.
“Now, this is Craig and Britney and they both have a BIG problem,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes and openly handing me a bottle of antibacterial gel. I took it quickly, hoping no-one had seen. Hermione then brandished an industrial-sized pack of handi-wipes from her shoulder bag, saying; “Ooh I heard you need these, apparently you get through hundreds of them.” I took the pack graciously, while longing to slap her face with it. I quickly secreted the pack behind me on the chair, keeping the ‘warm’ smile.
“Please sit down, Britney, Craig,” I said, motioning to the chairs. Craig heaved his large frame into the chair nearest me and purple-haired, pierced Britney perched on the chair next to him. I was about to start preparing them for what lay ahead when Hermione chipped in again.
“Wait until you hear what these two rascals have been up to,” she flapped her hand in their direction and bit her bottom lip in anticipation, all clear lip-gloss and wide eyes like she was reading a really funny story on toddlers’ TV. “It all started one wet Thursday afternoon when this lovely little lady was on her computer...” she said, smiling incredulously and gesturing to Britney. Britney glared at her, looking quite scary under all the heavy eye make-up and black lipstick. I would not have described Britney as a ‘little lady’, either and I was sure she thought Hermione was taking the piss.
“Thanks Hermione, I’ll take it from here.” I said firmly, with a fixed smile on my face. But Hermione was on a roll. Perhaps it was because her daddy would be watching on the monitor – or perhaps she just didn’t know when to shut up.
“Their story is like, sooo amazing, Tan. These two lovely people actually met online and then began a full, sexual relationship. They have three kiddies now...”
“Three whole kiddies?” I heard myself gasp back, before I could stop myself, mocking her girlish tone.
“Yes, but guess what?” She paused for dramatic effect. “They have just discovered that they might be brother and sister! Omigod! Can you believe it?”
“No, I can’t believe it.”
“They met online you see and then started sleeping together, never thinking for one minute that they might be related...”
“Yes, I can see how that might occur. Thank you, Hermione. We’re about to do a rehearsal so would you please...”
“Tanya babes, it’s my job today to brief you on all...”
“No, Hermione.” I said, a little too loudly then tried to recover.
“Gosh, you have done your research – well done. But I now need to chat to our guests,” I smiled, “so they can tell me all about it themselves. On my own.” I took a deep breath and gave her my best smile, trying not to lose it in front of the crew, her father and the studio audience, who were chatting quietly whilst they waited for the show to start.
“I like to get to know our guests by chatting to them myself – that’s how it works,” I said, resisting the urge to add ‘you stupid dick’s head.’ Glancing round, I could see Astrid sitting in the front row, brandishing her notebook. She gave me a thumbs-up. Funny, but I was actually glad she was there, someone on my side, a friendly face in the audience on what was proving to be an awful day.
I liked to start rehearsals at exactly 20 minutes to the hour because that gave me exactly 50 minutes before we went on air. Hermione had now ruined my timings and I was all over the place. I hadn’t adhered to my usual routine, I wasn’t prepared and she’d stuck to me like glue and driven me insane. As if all that wasn’t bad enough, she was now talking me through the rehearsal process, like I’d never done it before. It was one humiliation too far.
After I had chatted to Britney and Craig and been introduced to the other guests on the morning’s show, I stood up and excused myself, heading quickly to the nearest bathroom. I turned the taps on full, plunging my hands under the searing-hot water. The relief was temporary though, because within seconds Hermione was banging on the toilet door.
‘You’ve only got two minutes, Tanya,” she said, like I didn’t know, like I’d never done this before. “It’s not long until the show starts and you shouldn’t really have left the floor. ’ I clung to the basin, taking long, deep breaths.
“Channelling Oprah, channelling Oprah” I whispered to myself, looking at my heavily made-up TV face in the mirror and trying not to crack.
I walked silently back to the set with nine seconds to spare. Feeling completely disorientated, the events of yesterday and this morning whirling round in my head, I sat down with a thump, as Judith counted us in.
“OK Tan. Three, two, one and live, we are live.” I turned towards my audience, giving them my best, most sincere smile. “Good morning”, I said, “and welcome to The Tanya Travis Show.”
Once I was actually on air, adrenalin kicked in which exacerbated my feelings of mild panic to the mental equivalent of a high-pitched scream.
“Today, Britney and Craig are waiting for an important announcement,” I said dramatically, gesturing towards my first guests. “They are very much in love and they have three children. The only problem is – there’s a chance they could be related.”
The audience collectively gasped as I tried to compose myself, not helped by the loud ‘shitting hell!’ comment from my Swedish guest on the front row.
“So, Craig, Britney, let’s hear your story,” I said, turning to them. When I knew the camera was off me, I discreetly took out a wipe and rubbed it over my hands, between every finger. Usually, once I was on air, Tanya Travis took over, but today it wasn’t working. Today, inside I was screaming.
I said little as the sorry tale spilled out over the next few minutes, culminating with a video clip of them both taking a swab for a DNA test, filmed the day before.
“So, er... Britney,” I said, trying to compose myself, turning to her and looking serious. “Is the daddy of... erm, your children also an uncle? Are you the mother and the auntie of his?” she looked at me in horror and burst into tears. I wanted to join her in her sobs, but kept going: “Before we find out whether Britney and Craig’s children are also cousins, let’s ...take a break.”
I breathed a sigh of relief as runners came on and handed out water, then cleared cups away. Britney and Craig sat quietly, holding hands, whilst the frantic activity that always happens in ad breaks went on around them. They just wanted to know if they were related or not. I already knew the results of the DNA test that we were spinning out for maximum effect and after the endless ads for fish fingers, cheap loans and lingerie-clad models licking luxury ice-cream lids they would find out that yes – they were brother and sister. I looked at them, sitting silently waiting, hoping against hope that love could triumph over science and I felt a stab of pity. I had to stop myself from grabbing them both and shouting in their faces ‘don’t wait around until after the ice cream has been licked. In sleeping together, you have been committing an unlawful act for the past five years, so run like the wind before someone calls the cops.’ I also wanted to tell them that as ‘caring’ as us telly people might seem, once the credits went up no-one would give a damn because we had another show tomorrow and I would be busy washing my hands a hundred times and barking at the moon. They had bared their souls and their secrets to millions before being handed the DNA bomb, blowing their lives apart. But it was ok, because in the aftermath they would get a ‘Sex with a Sibling’ ‘Aftercare Fact Sheet’ and a train ticket home. Back in their semi, they would be alone with the Pandora’s Box we’d ripped open so publicly and carelessly. Trying desperately to rise above my own inner turmoil, I focussed on them – I was the ringmaster of this dark circus and had to milk it for all it was worth.
I checked my timings: one minute 47 seconds before we were due back on air for the results. Hermione was on set again and once more was glued to me. I was
sticky with her presence and desperate to lose her.
“Tanya, you OK?” she said, with a patronising little pat. “Tanya?” Again, like I’d never done a show before. Like I couldn’t function without her. Like I was losing it.
“You need to spin this one out,” she whispered, well within earshot of the couple who were both shaking with fear.
“One minute before we go on air, Tan.” I ignored her. I could feel the heat of rage rising up through my neck, my heart was pounding but I continued to look straight ahead. “Show you really care about this. Real emotion please, if you can cry, that would be great.” she said, making her way off the set and sitting just out of camera shot,
“Aaaagh,” I spat. On the one to ten scale of anxiousness I was now at twelve and we were due back on air in 32 seconds. I could feel angry red blotches rising up beneath my blouse, all over my neck. Disgusting red, nervy blotches that someone like Judith would get, not Tanya Travis. Oh God, I’d be less than perfect live on air. How dare Hermione tell me to ‘spin this one out’ and order me to use ‘real emotion.’ How dare she ruin my one minute and 47 seconds of timed peace while the ice-cream lid was being licked and before the red light went on.
“Tanya we need to...”
Itchy, dirty hands, red blotches. Hermione’s whining, irritating voice, blood pounding in my head again and then the room lost its focus.
“I can’t... no...” I whispered to myself.
Filthy palms, cables squirming along the floor like snakes...the studio audience smiling to reveal fangs.
“No. No. No!” I heard myself explode.
“Tanya. Tanya.” Judith’s voice in my ear, filling my head.
Hermione’s eyes were turning scarlet, her tongue pointy like a lizard’s, slipping out quickly, lashing me with her words. “Tanya...” she started in the voice of an old hag.
“She wants to know if she’s shagging her brother and yes, I’m going to make her wait for it” I shouted at her, rising from my chair. “…like I’ve done every other morning for the past fifteen years. You’ve only been here five minutes, don’t you dare tell me how to do my fucking job!”
