Radio Gaga

by Nell Dixon

  One table was already occupied by what looked like a couple of council workmen who were polishing off the remains of a fried breakfast. A grey-haired man in a flat cap stood at the counter and the remaining table was free.

  “What can I get you, love?” The woman behind the counter wiped her hands on her pinny and tilted her head enquiringly at me.

  “Um, just a tea please.” I didn’t really want anything but at least I’d be in the warm before I went to find out my fate.

  The elderly man squinted at me from under the peak of his cap. “’Ere you’re the girl from the radio in’t you? The one who was took bad at that charity thing?”

  Crap, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to discuss the abseil.

  “Yes, that was me.” I took my cup of tea and handed over my money hoping to escape from his scrutiny to the relative safety of the table.

  “We’ve met before.” He followed me across the small room.

  I took a seat at the empty table making sure it was the one nearest the door. The last thing I needed today was to be cornered by a nutter.

  “You interviewed me at the showground in the summer.” He nodded his head satisfied that he’d pinned me down. “Fred Hardcastle, I was the grower of the biggest leek.”

  I remembered last year’s agricultural show. I’d covered it every year for the last three years, ever since I’d been working for Live it Up. Apart from the annual fireworks and bonfire in November it was the biggest thing to happen in our small town’s annual calendar. Now he’d reminded me I thought I remembered Fred.

  There was fierce competition between the growers of the prize vegetables over who had the straightest carrot, the largest onion and the biggest leek. I’d interviewed all the winners of the various classes, from a sweet eight-year-old girl who had the best shoebox garden to the man who had the largest marrow.

  Personally I didn’t get the attraction, after all the prize money probably didn’t even cover the cost of the seed.

  “What happened at the castle then? Got chicken?” He grinned at me exposing areas of shiny pink gums between his few remaining teeth.

  “Get off with you, Fred, leave the girl alone. She was took off in an ambulance.” The woman behind the counter broke off from scrubbing the counter top to glare at my tormentor.

  “No, I collapsed. I had an allergic reaction to some medication.” I used both my hands to steady my tea cup so he couldn’t see he had me rattled. Thank heaven I could make my excuses and leave in a few minutes.

  “When you going to come down our allotments then and do an interview?” Fred asked.

  I vaguely remembered having made some half-hearted promise to Fred that I’d try and feature his allotments on Live it Up. Admittedly, he’d cornered me in the refreshments tent at the agricultural show right after some body had persuaded me to try their home-made elderflower wine.

  “I’ll mention it to my boss in a minute. I’m meeting him this morning.” I made a great show of looking at my watch.

  “I’ll give you my name so as you can ring me.” Fred delved inside the top inside pocket of his jacket.

  He produced a small blue pen which looked as if he’d liberated it from a bookmakers and a grubby bit of card. I tried not to show my impatience as he painstakingly wrote his name and telephone number in careful lettering before passing it across to me.

  “Thank you. I can’t promise anything. Mervyn makes all the decisions about where I get to go.”

  “That would be the bloke that had to go down the castle on a rope after you were took bad?” Fred asked.

  I stood, ready to make my escape from the café. “Yes, he’s the boss.”

  Fred nodded as if digesting this bit of information as I stowed his piece of card inside my coat pocket.

  “Hope we get to see you soon, then.” He fixed me with a shrewd gaze.

  “Fingers crossed.” I bolted for the door. Merv hated unpunctuality. I wasn’t an outdoors kind of girl and I didn’t much fancy trekking down some muddy field to interview a load of pensioners about the art of growing cabbages. Although if my interview with Merv went badly the only place I would be going would either be the job centre or off to the wilds of Scotland with my mother.

  Neither option filled me with joy.

  Chapter Seven

  Tracey, the receptionist stopped me to ask if I’d recovered as I shot through the doors of the radio station a few minutes later.

  “Yes, I’m much better now, thanks.” I signed myself in at the desk and hoped Merv wouldn’t notice I was five minutes late.

  “He’s in his office. He’s got out of bed the wrong side this morning too if you ask me, so I should watch your step if I were you.” Tracey warned as she took the signing in book back from me.

  “Great.”

  Tracey smiled sympathetically as I mentally prepared myself to be fired and pressed the security code on the door to go through into the station. Steph was still in the studio as I hurried by and I couldn’t resist giving her a carefree wave through the glass window. I knew it would wind her up as she would no doubt be rubbing her hands together with glee at the idea of my being in Merv’s bad books. I was pretty sure she’d probably been busy heaping fuel on that particular fire anyway as she was so cosy with him. She glowered back at me through the glass as her producer, Gail, gave me a conspiratorial wink.

  By the time I tapped on the smooth polished wood of Merv’s office door I wasn’t feeling quite so chirpy. My pulse pounded in my temples and my hands were sticky with sweat.

  “Come.” Even though I expected it, Merv’s barked command made me jump and I wished I hadn’t had that sip of tea at the café.

  Merv was seated behind his desk in his large black leather captain’s chair. His lips puckered up as if he’d taken a bite at a lemon as I stepped into his lair.

  “You’re late, Lark – as usual.”

  I slipped into the empty seat next to his desk even though Merv hadn’t invited me to sit down. There was no point in apologising for my tardiness, I might as well let him have his rant and get the ordeal over with as quickly as possible.

  “You do know the station policy on drug abuse, Lark?” Merv fidgeted in his chair swinging it slightly from left to right and back again while he waited for my response.

  I clasped my hands firmly together in my lap so he wouldn’t notice my fingers shaking. “Of course,” I agreed.

  “Then you’ll realise the serious nature of what happened at the abseil?” He couldn’t quite seem to meet my gaze. “And the possible consequences?”

  Anger began to bubble low in my gut. I wouldn’t be stuck here in his office right now facing the boot if he’d listened to me when I’d told him I was afraid of heights. I’d taken a few of Shelly’s anxiety pills that was all, I wasn’t a heroin addict or a coke sniffer. I didn’t grow skunk in my airing cupboard.

  “I had a bad reaction to a few prescription tablets.”

  Merv cleared his throat and began to fiddle with one of the pens from the pot next to his computer. “It’s a little more serious than that. Your friend told me they were her tablets that you’d taken. They hadn’t been prescribed for you.”

  Thank you, Shelly Big Mouth. Even as the thought whizzed through my head, I discounted it. It wasn’t her fault at all that I was in this mess. I was the one who’d ignored the instructions on the packet and taken too many pills.

  “And whose fault was that? I told you I was scared of heights. You placed me in an impossible position.” My words seemed to hang in the air between us.

  “The reputation of the station could have been irretrievably damaged if our listeners had found out the real reason for you being rushed to hospital. You could have been seriously injured if you’d been on the abseil at the time you blacked out. Only some quick thinking on my part and the co-operation of that guy, Ben from the Gazette saved the day.” Merv glared at me.

  From the angry glint in his eye it appeared my suggestion that he was partly to blame for the w
hole debacle had affronted him somewhat.

  “Well I didn’t and it wasn’t.” That hadn’t come out quite right but I was too cross to care. If he was going to sack me I had nothing to lose. “You placed me in an impossible position," I repeated. "I couldn’t not go through with the abseil thanks to all the publicity you’d put out so I took a couple of mild tranquilisers. That does not constitute drug abuse. IF it hadn’t been a weekend I would have gone to see my own doctor for a prescription. Ben didn’t put anything in the press and the listeners rallied round when you went over the edge of the wall. If anything it probably improved our figures.” I glared back at him.

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I care for your tone, Lark.”

  I clamped my lips hard together to stop myself from bursting into tears. My job might be lowly but it was still my job, and the one thing I’d ever been even passably good at.

  “You need to try harder. Have you seen our latest stats?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t worry too much about the listening figures. Not having my own show meant I didn’t have that burden to worry about.

  “They make worrying reading. I need fresh new ideas to liven things up. Your reports add the pep into the shows, people tune in to hear themselves on air.”

  Fred from the café and Mr Hassan from the shop were proof that Merv was right about that. Although I still wasn’t clear how the fall in the number of listeners could possibly be directly attributed to me. With the age group we attracted, any fall off in listeners was probably down to natural causes.

  “I get good feedback from listeners. I should have my own show.” Fred’s note in my pocket was proof of the feedback but Merv’s frown deepened at the mention of my own show. I could guess Steph’s reaction if he ever agreed to that.

  “The charity abseil broke the mould, Lark. It got people excited and talking again. We need more pieces like that. Pieces that will have them on the edge of their seats.” He leaned back in his chair and, rather scarily, I saw the cogs whirring in his brain as he looked at me.

  “Challenge Chloe! That’s it! We’ll get the listeners to come up with different challenges for you each week! Woman in jeopardy. Hint of danger!” His face lit up with enthusiasm. I felt sick.

  “Merv, I don’t think I can, I can’t do anything else with heights. No jumping out of planes or shinning up mountains.” He’d gone mad. I had visions of being made to wing-walk on an aeroplane or hang glide from the peak of a Welsh mountain.

  “This is your last chance, Lark. I run a tight ship here, I can’t be seen to be favouring people.” He threw his pen down on to the desk, his expression turning dark.

  My jaw dropped open. Bloody cheek! If his sleeping with Steph and giving her the star prize of the prime time morning show wasn’t showing favouritism then what the hell was?

  He continued to glower at me. “This is it, Chloe. Consider yourself on a final warning. One more screw up and you’re out, so get cracking and come up with some ideas to put to the listeners yourself or we’ll throw the thing open for them to decide.”

  I think he expected me to thank him for his munificence in not handing me my cards and presenting me with this golden opportunity to get myself killed in a new variety of ways. Instead I gave him a curt nod of my head. I couldn’t have spoken, my emotions were running too high for coherent speech and the skin on my face grew fiery hot with anger and embarrassment. The only thing stopping me from telling him to go screw himself and his lousy job was the thought that my mother was due to arrive at my flat in less than two hours.

  “Well, you’d better get back to work.” He flapped his hand dismissively in the direction of the door.

  I forced myself out of the chair.

  “And remember Lark, no bollocking this up. I want you to think big, exciting, maximum listener appeal.”

  I managed – barely – to resist slamming the door on his smug face on my way out. Since I wasn’t ready to face my colleagues yet I stood for a moment in the corridor to gather my thoughts and send a text to Shelly.

  ‘Still employed. Tell U more l8tr’

  I waited a few more minutes until some of the heat had died down from my face. After checking my appearance in the tiny mirror that I carried in my handbag, I touched up my lip-gloss and sashayed towards the studios.

  Steph was lying in wait.

  She blocked the corridor as I drew near. “You’d better get a move on, Chloe, I’ve heard the job centre closes at one.”

  “Your concern is touching, but premature. And if you’ll excuse me, I’ve other more important things to get on with today.” I faked a carefree smile.

  Her eyes immediately narrowed into glittering, angry slits. “What do you mean? Merv was going to sack you.”

  “Really? I think you must be mistaken. Instead I’ve been given a fabulous new opportunity.” I gave her a wide-eyed and innocent look knowing it would rankle.

  Breath escaped her in a furious hiss. “What do you mean, a new opportunity? I’m the one who gets the opportunities around here.” She pushed her face closer to mine and I had to fight the urge to pull back.

  “Oh, didn’t Merv discuss it with you? Maybe you two aren’t that close after all.”

  While she was still thinking of a reply I managed to dodge past her and make good my escape.

  The cool air outside the building came as a welcome relief against the heated skin of my face as I scurried away from the station back to my car. It probably hadn’t been a very sensible idea to wind Steph up. Then again, she hated me anyway so it was unlikely to make matters any worse; after all, she and I were never going to be bosom buddies.

  No doubt Steph would be dropping poison into Merv’s ear about me before I’d even driven to the end of the street but in a way this ‘Challenge Chloe’ idea could be a big opportunity for me. I could use it to do some of the things I’d always wanted to do and maybe it would make me famous and I could get a better job, like on Blue Peter or Radio One.

  I started my car with my head full of dreams of swimming with dolphins or interviewing Richard Armitage. Think Big and Exciting, Merv had said, it didn’t have to be horrible or nasty. And, if I presented it in the right light to my mother it should reassure her enough that she’d clear off back to Scotland without trying to drag me along with her.

  I barely noticed the traffic as I drove back to the flat, my mind racing with all the lovely things I could do. My positivity bubble was slightly pricked when I unlocked my front door to find a leaflet and a note lying on my door mat.

  The leaflet was one of those put out by the local Primary Health Trust.

  ‘Do you have a drug problem? Or worried about someone you know? Call our free, confidential helpline for support and advice.’

  I scrunched it up into a ball and read the accompanying note.

  ‘Dear Chloe, I hope you won’t be offended by this and the information is useful to you. Sincerely, Ben.’

  Fabulous, my new neighbour had me pegged as a fame-hungry druggie. The idea hurt and I couldn’t help feeling aggrieved that the only nice man I’d met in ages had entirely the wrong impression of me. I ripped the note to bits and stuffed the pieces and the leaflet into the waste bin in the kitchen. I’d have to talk to Ben and explain the mishap with Shelly’s pills but right now I had a more pressing concern.

  In T minus one hour my mother would be arriving and I needed to get the flat ready and create a positive, reassuring impression that I was in charge of my life. Otherwise I would be heading for the Scottish border before you could say, Live it Up Radio.

  Chapter Eight

  I heard my mother’s voice outside remonstrating with the taxi driver a good five minutes before she rang my door bell. To my dismay she seemed to have quite a lot of luggage with her for just an overnight stay.

  “Well, Chloe, aren’t you going to let me in? It’s quite chilly out here.” She planted a perfunctory kiss in the direction of my left ear and wafted past me on a cloud of Chanel.

  �
��I see you’ve finally had a bit of a tidy up.” She drew off her gloves, and after examining the wooden surface, placed them on my hall shelf.

  “Hello Mum, it’s nice to see you.” I collected her suitcase from my doorstep and followed her into the flat.

  I staggered into the lounge behind her carrying what felt like a case load of cement as she continued her tour of inspection. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at my aged sofa before turning to cast her critical gaze over me.

  “Hmm, you don’t look too well, which is to be expected I suppose if I’m to believe the garbled story Michelle gave me over the phone yesterday.” She raised an eyebrow and waited for me to respond.

  “Oh, I’m fine Mum. You know Shelly; she gets panicky sometimes. I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?” I edged towards the kitchen.

  “A drug overdose is something worth panicking over! Of course, when you told me Neil had left you then all the pieces fell into place.” A slight frown puckered her forehead. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t turn to me. I am your mother. You know I’m always there for you. You must have been devastated.”

  Oh hell, she had decided Neil’s departure had driven me to a suicide attempt.

  “I accidently took a couple too many of Shelly’s pills. I was only as ill as I was because I’m quite sensitive to medication. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Neil.” I walked into the kitchen to fill the kettle and calm down.

  “Oh my poor brave girl, you can be honest with me. I know losing Neil must have been terrible.” She followed me into the kitchen.

  “Mum, he’s not dead! He went off to shag the floozie who runs the dry cleaners. It was good riddance to bad rubbish.” I banged the switch down on the kettle and reached my one and only china cup and saucer from the cupboard.

  My mother winced at the crassness of my remark. “Darling, really.”