False Advertising

by Dianne Blacklock

  ‘No, no, I’m good,’ said Charlie, taking one of the armchairs opposite her. ‘So why do happy couples depress you, Gem?’

  ‘Why do you reckon? I’m never going to be part of one, Charlie. I have to get used to the idea I’ll be on my own for the rest of my life.’

  ‘That’s a little pessimistic, don’t you think?’

  ‘Not from where I’m sitting.’

  ‘Give yourself some time, Gem. After you’ve had the baby, and you’ve got your figure back . . .’

  Gemma looked across at Charlie, who was grinning widely.

  ‘Oh, thanks, kick me when I’m down.’

  ‘No,’ he denied, ‘I’m just trying to cheer you up.’

  ‘You’re doing a lousy job of it.’

  ‘Okay, tell me why you’re so down.’

  ‘Let me count the ways . . .’ Gemma shifted in the chair, wincing. ‘For one thing, I can’t get comfortable. Do you mind? I’m going to have to go and lie down.’

  ‘Do you want me to go?’

  ‘No, please, come in and sit with me?’ Gemma asked him, hauling herself up. ‘Unless you have somewhere you have to be?’

  ‘I don’t have to be anywhere.’

  ‘Why don’t you have to be at work?’ she asked over her shoulder as he followed her into her bedroom.

  ‘We finished a big job yesterday. I’ve been working day and night for a week, so I figure I can take an afternoon off.’

  Gemma climbed onto the bed, lying down on her side. ‘I suppose you’d rather be doing something else on an afternoon off than sitting around here with me, moping. Will Brittany mind?’

  ‘Brittany’s at work,’ he dismissed.

  She patted the bed beside her. ‘Come on, it’s safe, I won’t jump you.’

  Charlie considered her dubiously before planting himself at the end of the bed, facing her. ‘So what’s up?’

  Gemma let out a deep sigh. ‘Do you think I’m a total waste of space as a human being, Charlie?’

  He looked a little stunned. ‘What?’

  ‘Do you think I’m a –’

  ‘No, don’t repeat it,’ he said. ‘Why would you say something like that, Gem? That’s an awful way to talk about yourself.’

  She looked at him directly. ‘I’ve had a lot of time to think lately, Charlie, and I’ve had to ask myself, how many glaringly obvious signs do I need to hit me in the head and give me a wake-up call before I start facing a few home truths?’

  He frowned. ‘I think I just got lost in that metaphor maze.’

  ‘My life has been made up of one bad decision after another. And for my pièce de résistance I left a great job, screwing the only chance of a career I had in the process, to follow a total loser, a man destined to abandon his unborn child. The lowest of the low, you could even say.’ She paused for effect. ‘So what does that say about me, Charlie?’

  ‘That you’re a little blind, I guess.’

  ‘You’re letting me off too easily,’ said Gemma. ‘You know, when I do a stocktake of the men in my past, it amounts to the greatest bunch of losers and dickheads and straight-out bastards you’d ever come across. I’ve always said I’m a magnet for them. But maybe I only end up with guys like that because I’m just the same, tarred with the same brush. I’m one of their kind, so that’s why they’re attracted to me.’

  Charlie sighed. ‘You’re really determined to feel sorry for yourself, aren’t you, Gem?’

  ‘Well, do you blame me? Look at how I’ve ended up. I spend half the week in a job where the boss barely tolerates me and is obviously counting the days till I’m out of there. The other half of the week I sit around here on my own.’ Gemma paused. ‘Truth is, I’m lonely, Charlie. I used to think I had a lot of friends, but they were all losers too. I don’t want to hang around with people like that now that I’m going to have a baby.’

  ‘You’ve moved on, Gem,’ said Charlie. ‘And you’re in a transition stage right now. Wait till you have the baby – you can start going to mothers’ groups and stuff like that. You’ll meet people in the same boat.’

  ‘But what if they don’t like me, Charlie?’

  ‘Come on, why wouldn’t they like you?’

  ‘This is what I was getting at before, facing some home truths,’ said Gemma. ‘Maybe I’m just not very likeable.’

  ‘Okay, Gem, you’re bordering on pathetic now,’ said Charlie.

  ‘It’s the truth,’ she insisted. ‘You don’t even like me enough to introduce me to your girlfriend,’ she reminded him.

  ‘That’s not because I don’t like you –’

  ‘No, it’s because I’m not “sweet”, because I’d chew her up and spit her out. I don’t think I’m a very nice person.’ Tears were filling her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to turn out like this, Charlie.’

  ‘Gem . . .’ Charlie swivelled around to lie back on the bed beside her. He drew his arm around her as Gemma shifted, resting her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Why can’t I find someone like you, Charlie?’ she sniffed. ‘Someone who’s decent, and kind, and good.’

  ‘You don’t go for decent guys, Gem. You go for the bad boys, the dangerous ones.’

  ‘Not any more,’ she declared. ‘I can’t risk it. I have to think about the baby now. Do you know the statistics of men abusing the children of their partners? It’s horrifying. No, the kind of guy I attract is not someone I want around my child.’

  ‘Gem, did you ever think you attract that kind of guy because you don’t think you deserve any better?’

  Gemma looked up at him. ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Charlie shrugged. ‘I’m just a computer nerd – what do I know? Touchy-feely is not really my area. But it can’t be good for you to be so down on yourself, Gem, especially with a baby on the way.’

  ‘You know what worries me the most, Charlie?’ Gemma said quietly, patting her stomach. ‘What if she doesn’t like me?’

  ‘Of course she’ll like you,’ he chided. ‘You’re her mum: she’ll love you.’

  ‘That’s not guaranteed,’ said Gemma. ‘What about when she grows into a teenager, and we fight, which we will? I won’t have a partner to stick up for me. You know, to say, “Don’t talk to your mother like that,”’ said Gemma, affecting a deep voice. ‘I’ve always thought it would be nice to have someone defend you like that.’

  ‘You could always try to find Luke.’

  Gemma turned her head to frown at him. ‘Why would I want to do that?’

  He shrugged. ‘He is the father.’

  ‘He’s the sperm donor. The best thing he ever did for me was to clear off and stay out of my life.’

  ‘What if the baby wants to find him when she grows up?’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ said Gemma. ‘She’ll have to look under a lot of rocks.’

  They lay there in silence for a while, staring up at the ceiling.

  ‘I’ve got a better idea: I’ll just send her round to you when she plays up,’ said Gemma. ‘You’ll defend me, won’t you, Charlie?’

  ‘Oh, she’ll just say, “You can’t tell me what to do,”’ he said in a high-pitched voice, ‘“you’re not my father.”’

  Gemma laughed lazily. She realised the black cloud had begun to lift a little. ‘Thanks for coming over, Charlie,’ she said. ‘Leaving work and everything.’

  ‘Not a problem.’ He glanced over at her. ‘Actually, I was going to tell you, I might be leaving for good.’

  ‘Leaving Bailey’s?’ Gemma propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. ‘Why, what happened?’

  ‘I’ve been headhunted.’

  ‘Really?’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘Another agency?’

  ‘No, a film production company.’

  ‘Feature films?’

  He nodded, unable to keep a chuffed smile off his face. ‘The MD put a good word in for me, actually. He has contacts in the industry.’

  ‘Really?’ Gemma was a little surprised. ‘How does you le
aving serve Bailey’s interests?’

  ‘It doesn’t. But me staying when I’m unhappy doesn’t do anyone any good.’

  ‘Oh, sure, of course, you’re right.’ She had just been momentarily thrown by the MD’s random act of kindness. ‘Wow, it’s so great, Charlie. Are you going to take it?’

  ‘I’m thinking about it. You know I haven’t been all that happy in advertising for a while now . . .’

  ‘I know that, so what’s stopping you?’

  ‘Well,’ he said, clasping his hands behind his head, ‘after they made the offer, I started looking into it, and I think I might prefer to work for myself. Then I’d really get to do what I want to do. Besides, if it works out, I know this really great production assistant who might come on board down the track. You know, maybe when her baby’s a little older . . .’

  Gemma took a moment to twig, then her jaw dropped all the way to the mattress. ‘Do you really mean it, Charlie?’

  ‘Well, I can’t promise anything,’ he said. ‘But you’d be the first person I’d ask, if it came to that.’

  ‘Really?’ she said, inordinately touched by his faith in her. ‘You’d want me?’

  ‘Absolutely. We work great together, Gem. I’ve never worked so well with anyone else. I’d definitely want you on board, that’s if you’re interested.’

  ‘Interested?’ Gemma’s head started buzzing. She’d have a career again, an amazing career, working alongside Charlie. It was like winning Lotto and the Melbourne Cup on the same day. ‘I want to know everything, you have to tell me everything,’ she exclaimed. ‘I know, stay for dinner! Phoebe will be over later – we can celebrate.’

  ‘Nothing’s definite, Gemma,’ Charlie reminded her.

  ‘I realise that,’ she said. ‘But it’s so exciting, can’t we just be excited for a while? Why don’t you call Brittany and ask her to join us? I’d really like to meet her, Charlie, and I promise I’ll behave myself.’

  He didn’t respond, and he was avoiding eye contact, staring up at the ceiling.

  ‘Charlie?’ Gemma prompted, giving him a nudge.

  He finally looked at her. ‘We’re on a break.’

  Gemma blinked. ‘For how long?’

  ‘It’s kind of . . . permanent, I guess you could say.’

  ‘Charlie!’ she exclaimed, propping herself right up to sitting. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I am telling you.’

  ‘But when did it happen? Are you all right? What’s wrong with her? How could she dump you?’

  ‘What makes you think she dumped me?’ Charlie asked, looking steadily into her eyes.

  Gemma blinked. ‘You mean you did it?’

  ‘Why is that so hard to believe?’

  She thought about it. ‘I just can’t imagine you dumping anyone, Charlie. You’re too nice.’

  ‘I was nice about it.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Gemma, dropping onto her back again. ‘So what was the problem?’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘It just wasn’t going anywhere.’

  ‘And you wanted it to?’

  ‘Well, no, or I wouldn’t have broken up with her.’

  Gemma frowned. ‘I’m confused.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Let’s just say it wasn’t meant to be.’

  She turned her head on her pillow, watching him.

  ‘What?’ he said after a while, glancing at her.

  ‘So are you going to stay for dinner?’

  ‘I suppose that means I’m cooking it?’

  ‘No,’ she defended. ‘I’ll cook.’

  ‘Not if I’m staying, you won’t.’

  Gemma grinned, staring back up at the ceiling. ‘So, what do you think of my hippo?’ she asked after a while.

  There was a moment’s pause before he answered her. ‘You mean the one with the bird on its nose?’

  For some reason that made her heart jump, and the baby started tumble-turning in response. She reached across and took Charlie’s hand.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked nervously.

  She placed his hand on her belly and he looked over at her as the baby jigged around under his touch. He smiled, then he looked back up at the ceiling. And so did Gemma, feeling unusually contented. At least she had one good friend; maybe that was all anyone needed.

  *

  Spring

  Helen walked in the door just on seven. She didn’t like coming home this late, but work had been frantic, and she still wasn’t finished for the day. She was going to have to write up some schedules later, but they could wait until after Noah was in bed. And preferably when Gemma wasn’t around. It seemed to annoy her whenever Helen did any work from home, or if Myles rang. She’d snoop around, wanting to know what it was about. And if Helen mentioned anything about a meeting, that would really set her off. So Helen had made her own personal policy not to talk shop with Gemma, no matter how much she goaded. She did not want to upset her this far along in her pregnancy.

  They must be out in the kitchen because Noah didn’t come running as he usually did. Helen kicked her shoes off into her bedroom and dropped her bag. She slipped her jacket off on her way through the front room and tossed it on an armchair, too tired to care about hanging it up for the moment. When she appeared in the kitchen doorway, Noah’s face lit up and he jumped out of his seat and scurried around to give her a hug.

  Helen hugged him back, ruffling his hair. ‘Hi,’ she said to Gemma as she pulled a chair out and sat down, scooping Noah onto her lap. ‘You shouldn’t be doing dinner tonight,’ she added.

  Gemma turned around from the kitchen bench. ‘I didn’t. This is one of yours. I just thought I’d better heat it up when it started to get late.’

  ‘Sorry . . .’ Helen said lamely, reluctant to offer any excuse. She had taken to cooking meals on her days off and freezing them, partly due to Gemma’s lack of culinary prowess, but also because she was too tired to cook most evenings, and she wanted to spend the little time she had then with Noah.

  ‘Someone from Brookhaven called today,’ Gemma said as she served up dinner.

  ‘Oh, was it urgent?’ Helen said, guilt and anxiety joining forces to mount a coordinated assault on her.

  ‘No, they didn’t say it was,’ said Gemma offhand. ‘They just left a message for you to call back.’

  Helen hoped there wasn’t a problem. She hadn’t been to visit her mother for a few weeks. She’d been working too late to fit in a visit on her way home, and she always seemed to run out of time in the mornings to pop in before work. She had taken Noah a couple of times on her days off, but he had been uneasy, and Helen was loath to push it. She mustn’t forget to phone before heading out on location tomorrow.

  They had been shooting footage in a supermarket in Edgecliff but they hadn’t felt they were getting a good cross-section of the population. They needed to hear from middle Australia: they needed to venture further into the suburbs. They had settled on the Sutherland Shire and Helen had located two stores in the same chain and had made all the necessary arrangements with the management. The test case they had selected was an established brand of washing powder, part of an extensive line of household cleaning products. It was being relaunched with new packaging, and Myles felt that if they made a presentation to the client on just this one product, they might get him to seriously consider doing an entire ‘I buy it because . . .’ campaign.

  They were working with the team responsible for the account, thankfully not Justin’s. They had brainstormed the best way to get to the ‘man on the street’ and decided, after initial trial runs, to go direct to the supermarket, to the very site of the purchase. They needed to find out what was going through the mind of the consumer as they reached for the item on the shelf. So they were going to ask them.

  At first the interviews were straightforward and upfront: an interviewer sporting clipboard and ID with the camera operator in plain view. There had been some interesting responses. People either brushed by, shaking their heads and muttering, ‘Not
today, thanks.’ Or they were tongue-tied and star-struck, and just plain useless. Or there were the show-offs, who thought their opinions were worthy of ten or more minutes of film, or who thought they were hilarious and decided this was an opportunity to try out their best material. Whatever, they were hardly getting the inner motivations of people as they reached for their soap powder. So they had decided to try a hidden camera, involving a whole new set of logistics, revised permission from the supermarket management, and release forms for the unsuspecting shoppers to sign after the filming to allow them to use the footage. Most wouldn’t sign, some even expecting a ludicrous upfront payment for their newfound celebrity. It was difficult to explain that this was only preliminary shooting which was unlikely to be used in any finished advertisements.

  The most successful strategy had come when they had decided to use actors striking up conversations with real shoppers, caught on hidden cameras. The team had devised a number of scenarios: the hapless bloke who’d lost his shopping list and couldn’t remember what brand they usually bought; the young woman who’d just moved out of home; the harried housewife dissatisfied with brands she’d tried lately. They still had the issue of obtaining releases, but by and large the team felt they were beginning to get some worthwhile material. And so they were off to conquer the suburbs tomorrow.

  Helen’s role throughout all this had been as a kind of executive producer, as Myles described it. She didn’t have to actually do the thing; she just had to help get it done. So she had been responsible for liaising with the supermarkets, and then with their own legal department, to arrange the appropriate permissions and releases, and, of course, constantly with Myles. He only attended the occasional progress meeting; the rest of the time he relied on Helen to keep him briefed. Her nursing training was actually standing her in good stead: she was used to documenting absolutely everything, which meant if she couldn’t answer Myles’s questions off the top of her head, she could quickly put her hand on the information. He was impressed. And he told her so, frequently.

  Helen couldn’t deny she was enjoying the challenge, being treated with respect, having authority – the whole thing was quite a buzz. Apart from the feeling that David was at times tut-tutting over her shoulder, on the whole Helen felt comfortable with the straightforward approach of this campaign.