False Advertising

by Dianne Blacklock

  Helen did as she was told. She watched as Gemma filled the kettle and turned it on, before retrieving her ice pack from the freezer.

  ‘I really want to thank you, Gemma,’ she said sincerely. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without you.’

  Gemma glanced at her, smiling. ‘Don’t forget, I was the one that sent you there in shoes that didn’t fit you.’

  ‘It’s not just that,’ said Helen. ‘I know I seemed a bit oblivious yesterday, but I do realise how much you were doing, especially looking after Noah.’

  ‘Well,’ Gemma said, positioning the ice pack carefully on Helen’s ankle, ‘I am auditioning for a role.’

  Helen frowned. ‘What are you talking about? What role?’

  ‘Taking over your job while you take over mine,’ she reminded her.

  ‘Oh,’ Helen nodded.

  ‘How am I doing?’ she said, straightening up.

  ‘Great, really, you’re doing a great job,’ said Helen. ‘To be honest, I had my reservations –’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Not about you,’ Helen assured her, though if she was brutally honest, she had had reservations about Gemma being responsible for Noah. But Helen knew she would have reservations about anyone taking care of Noah.

  ‘I was worried about how I’d feel leaving Noah,’ Helen explained. ‘But watching you, I realise you know him, you know his routines, the way I do things. You understand. It’s a huge relief.’ She smiled. ‘But now that you’ve had a taste, how do you feel about it?’

  Gemma leaned back against the bench. ‘Oh, I was tired yesterday, I’ll admit. But it was a good day. I felt useful.’ Strangely enough, she really did. And responsible, and needed and trusted. It was a new experience, and not an unpleasant one. ‘Besides, Noah’s such a lovely kid, and I’m not just saying that,’ she added quickly. ‘I hope I get one just like him.’

  The phone started to ring. ‘I’ll get it,’ said Gemma, dashing from the room. She returned not half a minute later with the phone, passing it to Helen across the table. ‘It’s for you,’ she sang, then mouthed emphatically, ‘It’s the MD.’

  Helen frowned. She couldn’t understand her. ‘Hello, Helen speaking.’

  ‘Helen, how are you this morning?’

  ‘Myles, hi,’ she said, recognising the voice.

  Gemma frowned. She didn’t know how long it was going to take her to get used to ‘Myles’.

  ‘I just wanted to find out how your ankle’s doing,’ he was asking Helen.

  She glanced across the table. Gemma was waving her arms, mouthing, ‘What’s he saying?’

  Helen tried to shush her but she was persistent. So she mouthed the word ‘ankle’ but Gemma didn’t seem to understand her. She sighed. ‘Excuse me for a sec, please, Myles.’ She covered the mouthpiece and held it away from herself, under the table.

  ‘He’s just asking after my ankle,’ she whispered impatiently.

  ‘Oh.’

  Helen brought the phone back to her ear. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘Anyway, it feels much better this morning, but it’s still sore.’

  ‘Are you resting it?’

  He didn’t need to know she’d just got out of bed. ‘I’ve had it up all morning.’

  ‘That’s good. Keep icing it for another twenty-four hours, won’t you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Ten minutes on, ten minutes off, ten minutes on again. Then after an hour or so, repeat the procedure over again.’

  Helen was smiling. ‘I don’t know if you got around to reading my résumé, Myles, but I am a trained nurse.’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s right, then I’ll leave you to it.’ He paused. ‘But, um, while I have you on the phone, I wanted to ask if you’d given my offer any more thought?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Helen. ‘Well, um, yeah, sure, of course I’ve been thinking about it.’

  Gemma opened her mouth in shock. ‘He’s asking you about the job?’

  Helen pulled a face at her, dismissing her with a wave of the hand and turning her face away. But Gemma just ran around into her line of sight again.

  ‘You should so ask him for a parking space.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I didn’t say anything,’ said Myles.

  Helen sighed. ‘Sorry, Myles, would you mind holding on again? I’ll be quick.’

  ‘That’s okay, take your time.’

  She covered the phone again. ‘What are you talking about, Gemma?’

  ‘Ask him for a parking space.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s obviously keen to have you work there – the ball’s in your court, Helen.’

  ‘I’m not going to ask him for a parking space. I’m just an assistant.’

  ‘How are you going to get to work?’ Gemma asked pointedly.

  Helen blinked at her.

  ‘I assume you’re not going to take the bus, so where are you going to park your car?’ Gemma persisted. ‘It’ll cost you a fortune to put it into a parking station.’

  Helen was frowning now, cradling the phone and biting her lip.

  ‘Just ask him. What have you got to lose?’ said Gemma.

  She slowly moved the phone back to her ear, taking her hand away from the mouthpiece. ‘Hi, sorry about that, Myles.’

  ‘No problem,’ he replied. ‘So what do you think?’

  Helen cleared her throat. ‘Look, I am interested,’ she began, Gemma nodding on the sidelines. ‘Definitely . . . very interested. It’s just, I have a bit of an issue actually getting to the office.’

  ‘I’m not following you.’

  ‘Well, you see, I think I’m going to have to drive . . .’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said weakly.

  Gemma was making motions with her hands to try to get her to spin it out.

  ‘You live in Balmain, don’t you?’ Myles was asking. ‘You can’t go by public transport?’

  ‘Aahmm . . .’ Helen didn’t want to be the widow whose husband had been hit by a bus. Not yet. ‘Oh, never mind, it’s nothing.’

  ‘No, please, Helen,’ he said kindly. ‘Tell me what the problem is. I’m sure we can work something out.’

  Gemma was still gesticulating wildly, so Helen turned towards the table, shielding her eyes so she couldn’t see her. She took a breath. ‘You see, Myles, the thing is, well, there is the ferry, but I’d have to catch a bus once I got to the other side, or else there’s buses direct to the city, and I . . . I, um, you see, the thing is, I can’t take the bus. It’s, um, it’s kind of like a . . . a phobia.’

  That was so lame, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. There was silence down the line for a moment. He probably thought she was a crazy person.

  ‘Well, then, I guess we’ll have to arrange a parking space for you,’ he said finally.

  Helen swallowed. ‘You will?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Just, ah, just keep it to yourself for now, okay?’

  Helen smiled. ‘Okay.’

  ‘There is one condition though,’ he added.

  ‘Oh, sure, what is it?’

  ‘You have to agree to take the job.’

  Helen was still smiling. ‘I suppose that’s only fair.’

  ‘Good.’ He sounded pleased. ‘Glad to have you aboard.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Helen. ‘Thanks for everything.’

  ‘Not a problem. Anyway, I’d better let you go. Look after that ankle.’

  Helen turned round after he hung up and Gemma was standing there almost bursting. ‘Well? What did he say?’

  ‘He’s going to give me a parking space.’

  ‘Wow,’ Gemma declared, in shock. Then she roused herself. ‘So that means you’re taking the job?’

  A smile formed slowly on Helen’s face. ‘It was a condition of the parking space,’ she said as the phone in her hand rang again, startling her. She pressed Talk and held it to her ear.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Helen? It’s Myles again.’
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br />   Her heart sank a little. Had he changed his mind? Come to his senses?

  ‘Listen, I was wondering if you could make it in to the office one day next week?’ he asked. ‘We might as well get the ball rolling.’

  ‘Oh, but I don’t think Gemma wants to finish up just yet.’

  Gemma’s eyes widened, staring at her.

  ‘No, no,’ he assured her. ‘I was only thinking you should have a little orientation first, seeing as you’re so unfamiliar with the industry and how it works.’

  ‘Orientation?’

  ‘Mm, you can meet people from all the departments, get a bit of an idea of what they do, how the place is run. You’ll be paid for your time,’ he added quickly. ‘I think it’s important, Helen. You haven’t worked much outside a hospital, have you? And by the time Gemma leaves I’ll really need you to be up to speed.’

  ‘Oh, well, sure,’ said Helen. ‘What day would you want me to come in?’

  ‘What works for you? I know you have your boy to consider.’

  Helen was thinking. ‘Is Thursday okay?’

  ‘Thursday’s good. See you then.’

  Thursday

  It was all arranged for Helen to drive on in as soon as she’d dropped Noah at preschool. The guard would direct her to where she could park from now on, and this time the man at reception would give her her own security pass. They might as well get all that out of the way, Myles had suggested.

  ‘I’m not ready to leave work yet, you know,’ said Gemma, a little curtly, when she had delivered what seemed like the umpteenth message to Helen from the MD that week.

  ‘I know,’ said Helen. ‘Actually, we should probably talk about that so we can make some plans. When did you want to start cutting your days down?’

  ‘Well, to be perfectly frank, before all this, I was prepared to keep going as long as I possibly could.’

  ‘Okay, if that’s what you want,’ said Helen. ‘It’s all the same to me.’

  But it wasn’t all the same to Gemma. Her feet were swelling up more lately, and sometimes it felt almost impossible to get out of bed on a Friday morning. An extra day off would be ideal right now. It would give her time to start work on the baby’s room, as well as get some rest over the weekend. She could start from next week if she wanted. So what was stopping her?

  Gemma was well aware she was cutting off her nose to spite her face, but she couldn’t help it. She was annoyed that the MD was fussing over Helen like she was something special. She hadn’t even done anything yet, except trip over her own feet. Was that it? Did he like helpless women he could step in and look after? Seemed an odd requirement in an assistant.

  ‘Maybe they just click,’ said Charlie when she had complained to him over lunch. ‘Some people just click better than others, you ought to know that, Gem.’

  ‘I didn’t think the MD was capable of clicking with anyone,’ she grumbled.

  ‘Well, looks like Helen’s shot a hole in that theory,’ said Charlie. ‘And it doesn’t surprise me – she’s such a sweet person.’

  ‘And I’m not?’

  Charlie paused, considering what he was about to say. ‘Gemma, there are a lot of words I would use to describe you, a lot of good words, but “sweet” wouldn’t be one of them.’

  Gemma was scowling at him.

  ‘The words “green-eyed” and “monster” do come to mind, however.’

  ‘What?’ she shrilled. ‘You think I’m jealous? Jealous of Helen? I’m not jealous of Helen, I love Helen, Helen is adorable. This is not about Helen. Oh you’re not suggesting . . . ? Oh God, Charlie, I thought you knew me. Nothing could be further from the truth. I don’t find him the slightest bit attractive –’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ he said with a sly grin. ‘Though I’ll resist the temptation to suggest you’re protesting too much.’ She opened her mouth to speak, but Charlie got in first. ‘You’re jealous because you’ve been bending over backwards to make an impression and Helen walked in –’

  ‘Stumbled in, more like it.’

  Charlie ignored her. ‘– and now she’s made a huge impression without even trying. I can understand how that would make you feel.’

  ‘You can?’

  ‘Of course, but you have to look on the bright side.’

  ‘There’s a bright side?’

  ‘Yes, you’re not going to lose your job,’ he said, slowly and deliberately.

  Gemma was suitably chastened.

  ‘Jeez, Gem, you ought to feel lucky. Or at least relieved. This has worked out far better than you could have hoped, and a lot better than you planned.’

  He was right of course. So Gemma tried not to feel too annoyed when she had to move heaven and earth to postpone, reschedule or otherwise juggle the MD’s appointments for Thursday. Eddie was cued to call up when Helen arrived at reception, and Gemma was to buzz the MD as soon as she heard. He strode out of his office not a minute later, slipping on his jacket.

  ‘Okay, you can get me on my mobile if you need me,’ he said as he sailed past Gemma, barely looking at her. She sighed, pushing her chair back and lifting her feet up onto the desk as soon as he was out of sight.

  When Helen stepped out of the lift on the fifteenth floor, Myles was waiting for her this time. ‘Oh, hello,’ she said, her cheeks turning pink. ‘I didn’t expect –’

  ‘Well, I figured you’ve already seen my office, and your workstation, so I thought we’d get on with the rest of the tour.’

  ‘Sure,’ she nodded.

  ‘How’s the ankle?’ he asked, glancing down at her foot.

  ‘Still a little sore,’ she admitted.

  ‘I bet it is,’ said Myles. ‘So you tell me if you need to rest today, okay, any time?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I wore sensible shoes today. I hope I’m dressed appropriately.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, gazing down at her. ‘You look quite, um . . . you look, well, you look very . . . appropriate.’

  Helen had spent a large part of the past week sorting through all of her mother’s clothes. The wardrobe was the last thing left in the old darkroom, mostly because of Helen’s ambivalence. Gemma would not let her even consider putting its contents in the charity bin, and in truth Helen didn’t really want to. But neither did she want to sell the lot on eBay, as Gemma had suggested. Now she was glad she’d dithered; she had salvaged some excellent day dresses and fully lined skirts that were perfect for the office. The blouses were mostly not worth keeping, their more delicate fabrics having deteriorated with age; and Helen would not have been able to wear the number of evening frocks and formal outfits if she went to a ball every week for a year, and that was obviously not on the cards. Still, she couldn’t resist keeping a couple of dresses that she remembered fondly, including the green sheath. Helen insisted Gemma and Phoebe both have whatever took their fancy as well, before she packed up what was remaining and presented the lot at an upmarket vintage shop, where she received the gushing gratitude of the proprietor and a surprisingly generous cheque for her trouble. Helen figured it was appropriate to use the proceeds to buy whatever else she needed for work, and so a couple of neutral business shirts later, along with a pair of near-flat court shoes and a classic leather handbag to replace her saggy Oxfam shoulder bag, Helen felt ready for the office. And oddly excited.

  ‘So if you’ll just come this way,’ said Myles, taking her elbow and leading her out of the lift bay, ‘this is the area where we hold most of our client meetings, certainly when it comes to the pitch.’

  They went around a corner into a vast open space dominated by the biggest flat-screen television Helen had ever seen in her life. Three long leather sofas, similar to the one in Myles’s office, only white, formed a U facing the screen. There was another oversized steel and glass coffee table in the centre of the U, but apart from that, the room was sparse, save for a glass shelf unit displaying what looked like various trophies and plaques.

  Helen was dumbfounded. ‘It’s very . . .’

/>   ‘It has to be,’ said Myles. ‘This is where the teams pitch their ideas to clients, where they make their presentations.’ He walked over to a brushed steel panel on the wall. ‘The controls for the blinds, lighting and so on are all located here,’ he said as the lights flickered on and off and sleek white blinds shimmied halfway down the window and back up again. Myles pressed another button and part of what Helen had thought was merely a wall slid away silently to reveal a thoroughly stocked bar. ‘It’s all to impress the clients, to put them in the right frame of mind to accept the pitch.’

  ‘Does it work?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Hard to say,’ he shrugged, ‘but it’s come to be expected.’

  Myles continued the tour, floor by floor, through all the various sections. Helen was glad to have a guide. Every floor looked the same to her: lots of white and lots of glass. Myles took her around to meet the account teams, while he gave her an overview of the structure of the company. He had a couple of the teams show her what they were currently working on, before taking her up to the creative section, where Helen was pleased and relieved to see a familiar face.

  ‘Hi Charlie!’ she said, smiling widely.

  ‘Hey Helen, how’s it going?’

  ‘You two know each other?’ asked Myles.

  Helen nodded. ‘Charlie’s a friend of Gemma’s.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise that,’ said Myles.

  ‘So, Helen, what do you think of the place so far?’ Charlie asked her.

  ‘It’s a little overwhelming,’ she admitted.

  ‘Is it?’ said Myles, frowning. ‘Have I been going too fast? Do you want to take a break? How’s your ankle?’

  Charlie was giving him an odd look.

  ‘My ankle’s fine,’ Helen assured him.

  ‘Maybe we should stop for lunch?’

  ‘It’s only eleven o’clock, Myles,’ Helen said. ‘You know, I think I’d be overwhelmed no matter what. It’s okay, let’s push on.’

  As the morning ticked over into the middle of the day, Helen grew increasingly apprehensive. Myles had consistently introduced her as his new personal assistant, which prompted more than a few surprised looks. Helen would have liked to explain that it was only part-time, and temporary, but Myles didn’t really give her the chance. He barrelled along, showing her what seemed to be every minute aspect of the business, inside and out. Why did she need to know all of this to keep his schedule up to date and answer mail?