Striking a Balance

by Curtis, Norma

  Zelda glanced at her watch. ‘If Kensington Nannies rings, tell them I’ll get back to them, will you?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, her mind on Larry. Larry was giving the impression that he was quietly confident about Project Employment but his anxiety was showing through in ways she didn’t much like. She’d seen so much of his back in bed these past couple of weeks that she knew the exact position of every mole. Or mole-hill, as Bill called them. Zelda’s words finally sank in and she looked up at her. ‘I thought you already had a maternity nanny,’ she said.

  ‘I’m going to get someone else for Cyrill.’Zelda looked pained. ‘Mandy took Cyrill to Kidz Grub last week and gave her a burger.’

  Megan waited for the punchline. She realised after a moment that that was it. ‘A burger,’ she said. ‘Ooh, I think that’s terrible. No wonder you want to sack her.’

  ‘It’s not a laughing matter. Cyrill’s been brought up entirely on organic foods since she was weaned.’

  ‘Four years of age and she’s just had her first burger,’ Megan said. ‘Imagine all those chemicals pumping through her unsuspecting system.’

  ‘There’s no need to be malicious.’

  ‘Come on — it’s not that bad,’ she said, but Zelda was not ready to be reassured.

  ‘I’m sacking her,’ Zelda said. ‘She’s a stand-in for me and that means she does what I say.’ Her gaze had wandered to her computer screen but it snapped back to Megan. ‘I mean it,’ she said sharply.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then why are you sitting there with BUT hovering on your lips?’

  Megan shrugged and raised her hands in surrender. ‘No buts, I’m on your side entirely. I was just thinking that we ought to swap nannies. Mine’s become organic, big-time.’

  Zelda was shaking her head. ‘She shouldn’t have taken her. It’s sheer laziness. She knows how I want Cyrill brought up. And when I told her —’Zelda sat down heavily and reached for her cup ‘— do you know what she said? She told me to try doing it myself.’

  Megan leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head. There’s the rub, she thought. ‘It would soon wear off,’ she said. ‘You’d atrophy if you stayed at home all day. When I think of my mother being a career housewife all her life and working her way up the ladder to whiter whites, it makes work seem like a holiday.’

  Zelda patted the white streak in her hair. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’ She sighed heavily. ‘You know what I felt when they said they’d been to Kidz Grub? I felt angry because Cyrill had actually enjoyed it. Cyrill thinks I’m this stranger who doesn’t want her to do ordinary things.’

  ‘Hardly a stranger,’ Megan said quickly, because the feeling of being one to her child, actually, wasn’t unfamiliar.

  Zelda sounded tired. ‘The only way to have a child brought up the way you want is to do it yourself.’

  ‘Zelda, you only feel like this because you’re pregnant, trust me,’ Megan said, thinking of Bill and his Zoofie. Hand on heart, she was never jealous. Not often. ‘It’s the Invasion of the Body Snatchers.’

  Zelda laughed. ‘You’re right. Want a coffee?’

  ‘Please.’ Megan watched her walk away. From the back she didn’t look pregnant at all. Working mothers had to stick together...I’ll miss her when she goes, Megan thought.

  *

  Lisa Ashridge came into the office right on time.

  She was shown into the informal interview room, the one with the chat-show set.

  Megan had already looked up her file. She checked her face in her mirror and walked through. Lisa stood up as she entered the room. Her dark hair was gelled and pinned up at the back and her dark suit made her look disconcertingly androgynous.

  She gave the impression of being tall, but in fact was the same height as Megan. They shook hands and Megan sat on the adjacent sofa, allowing Lisa and Zelda to share the three-seater.

  Megan looked at Lisa’s outfit. She herself always wore bright colours — Ronit Zilkha, Escada, Jaeger; people remembered bright colours, whereas dark outfits always looked pretty much the same, so she’d thought.

  ‘Ghost,’ Lisa said, noticing the direction of her gaze. Megan looked away, discomfited. Good trick, she thought, instinctively compiling comments. Too self-assured. Inflexible. Doesn’t believe herself capable of making mistakes. Doesn’t fit the company profile.

  ‘What made you think of us?’ Zelda was asking.

  ‘Gerry said you were looking for someone. I met him at Madame Jojo’s. Clive’s leaving do?’ She raised her eyebrow and gave a small smile.

  Deduct a point, Megan thought. She’d seen Zelda’s lips tighten. Gerry obviously hadn’t mentioned Madame Jojo’s to Zelda.

  ‘Truth is, I want out of the terrestrial channel umbrella,’ Lisa said. ‘All this She-Man stuff...’She shook her head. ‘Crunch time came when Howard Styles described me as a man with everything but bollocks.’

  And score one to her, Megan thought. Here it was; truth time. She was saying aloud everything that was said about her. And the woman’s body language was amazing — she had mirroring down to a fine art. Hopefully Zelda would start stroking her abdomen so they could see how far Lisa would take it.

  ‘Truth is,’ Lisa added, looking at Megan with pale green eyes, ‘I’ve got more balls than most.’

  Their eyes locked. Megan forced herself not to look away. ‘What’s your notice period? We need somebody ASAP.’

  ‘A week.’

  Megan raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s unusual for someone in your position.’

  ‘I negotiated it. I only ever do anything by choice. I don’t like being bound by other people.’

  ‘You know the job is temporary,’ Megan said. ‘What do you intend to do when it finishes?’

  ‘I’m attracted to the idea of taking time out. I’m thirty-six and I have no ties, no dependants. Nothing.’

  Megan looked at her curiously. What had she heard in the ‘nothing’? It had been said a little too harshly, as though it wasn’t a word Lisa Ashridge was comfortable with. Well, well. ‘Let us tell you about the company —’

  ‘That’s not necessary. I’ve done my research,’ Lisa said, turning to Zelda. ‘You’ve got a database with over five thousand names, including graduates; Gerry’s a sleeping partner; you’ve got an impressive list of clients including two television companies that pay you a retainer. Megan’s been here for seven years having previously worked for Green Thompson. Your record speaks for itself. You don’t have to sell yourself to me. Now, do you have any more questions for me?’

  ‘We’ve done our research, too,’ Zelda said coolly.

  Lisa glanced at her watch and got to her feet. ‘Then I won’t keep you any longer. I’m not here to talk you into anything, I’m here so that you can have a look at me.’ She smiled a small smile. ‘What you see is what you get. I’ll wait for your call.’

  Megan stood up.

  A handshake was the customary ending; that swift exchange of warmth — or coldness and stickiness, as the case may be, but Lisa didn’t make the gesture and Megan didn’t precipitate it.

  Megan walked with her to the lift, faintly amused at the way the interview had gone. Who had been interviewing whom? Lisa Ashridge had been in control from start to finish, and was leaving them with the impression that she had done them a favour by managing to fit them into her schedule. She couldn’t wait to hear what Zelda thought.

  They waited in silence for the lift to arrive. When it did, Lisa stepped in and jabbed the button. No farewells for this woman. Megan felt herself held by that pale green gaze for a moment, and then the doors closed.

  Zelda was standing by the window when she walked back into the office. She was looking at the fire-escape.

  ‘Lovely view,’ Megan commented.

  Zelda turned. ‘Well? What’s your gut-feeling?’

  ‘A definite no. Yours?’

  ‘A definite no.’

  ‘Cocky.’

  ‘Unladylike.’
/>   ‘Bloody self-assured.’

  ‘Thorough.’ Zelda looked out at the fire-escape again. ‘The question is,’ she said softly, ‘could you work with her?’

  Megan sat down and stretched out her legs. She and Zelda had much in common. Not least, husbands and offspring. Sure, when they were working, and often when they were not, work came first, but there was always time for a phonecall home, or a chance to nip out to get something for supper. That was the She part of She-Man. Their relationship was like a comfortable marriage; a bit of bickering, a few disagreements, some highs, the usual stuff. It wouldn’t be that way with Lisa.

  Why did that seem rather exciting?

  She smiled at Zelda. ‘Yes. I could work with her,’ she said.

  12

  On Saturday morning they woke late, with Bill sandwiched between them in bed, holding a blue Power Ranger in his hand.

  Since Ruth had gone to her parents’ for the weekend they had the house to themselves, and they were always more aim-less when Ruth wasn’t there.

  Megan went to make the coffee, bringing it upstairs with the papers, and put Larry’s cup on his bedside cabinet. ‘Xylus are looking for a group head,’ she said. ‘I thought you ought to know.’

  Larry peered at her from under the duvet. ‘What was that?’ he asked, but she could tell by the sharpness of his voice that he’d heard her, got it in one.

  Bill had woken up and gone down the end of the bed, driving cars down the hills of his knees.

  Larry pushed himself up the bed. ‘Are you saying they gave me the push?’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘No wonder Burgess looked shifty.’ Larry looked at her. ‘Are Xylus your clients?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  Larry slumped back and pulled a pillow over his face.

  ‘If it comes up in interviews, it’s better that you know. The official line is that you went because of the takeover, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ A muffled reply.

  ‘Do you think Burgess will give you a decent reference?’

  He took the pillow away. ‘Yes, I think he will. I don’t know. Maybe he won’t. I just don’t know. I thought I was doing okay. Not just okay — I thought I was doing well.’

  Megan reached for her coffee and tried to read her paper. ‘Have you remembered we’ve got people coming round tonight?’

  Larry made a muffled response, then lifted half of the pillow up. ‘Cancel it,’ he said, and hid again.

  ‘Why? We’ve got plenty of time to get food in before then. I’ll do something simple, and you can make your date, banana and cream thing for pud.’

  Larry lifted the pillow up again. ‘Who’ve you asked?’

  ‘Rob and Sonia, Verity and Josh.’

  ‘Cancel it,’ he said again, and retreated.

  Megan carried on looking at the paper for a moment. ‘I can’t cancel it,’ she said suddenly, ‘they’ll have arranged baby-sitters by now. Anyway, you like Rob.’

  Larry put the pillow behind him and sat up in bed. His morse code eyebrow was ruffled. He looked at her very seriously and the creases around his eyes showed white in his tanned face. ‘Meg, I don’t want to sit around the table in my own house listening to two men talking non-stop about their jobs. For that matter, I don’t want to hear their wives talk non-stop about schools. And I don’t want them looking at me sympathetically while they do it.’

  Megan glanced at Bill, who was now poised with a car in his hand at the foot of the bed. He was watching them with his blue eyes huge.

  ‘You’re being silly,’ she said lightly, for Bill’s sake. ‘The world doesn’t stop just because you’ve lost your job.’

  ‘Lost it?’ He gave a short, contemptuous laugh. ‘I was booted out.’

  Megan watched Bill balance a red Ferrari on the lumps that were Larry’s feet. Larry moved his feet irritably and the red car fell on the floor.

  ‘You kicked my car,’ Bill said.

  ‘Well leave my bloody feet alone,’ Larry replied sharply.

  ‘Larry —’Megan began, objecting.

  ‘I’m not in the mood, Meg.’ He shut his eyes. His thick, dark eyelashes gleamed, but even with his eyes shut he was frowning. ‘Why didn’t you mention it last night?’

  Megan made a mountain out of her knees and felt the car slide down her shins. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve any specific idea why you weren’t kept on?’

  Larry continued to frown. Then he opened his eyes and stared for a while at the wall opposite. ‘John King,’ he said slowly. ‘That Monday, in Burgess’s office, he acted as though he couldn’t wait to see the back of me.’

  ‘Any idea why?’

  Larry shook his head. ‘Nah,’ he said shortly.

  It wasn’t much help, Megan thought. Maybe John King had come to the same conclusion as she once had, that Larry lacked drive.

  ‘Anyway, it’s irrelevant. You can’t go into hiding,’ she said. ‘It’s Bill’s birthday in a couple of weeks. Your parents, and mine, will be assuming it’s business as usual. Are you going to cancel that, too?’

  ‘I’ll be four,’ Bill said helpfully.

  ‘Yes, I know. Big boy.’

  Larry looked at Megan and put his hand on hers. ‘I don’t care what happens in a couple of weeks, I just don’t want anyone here in my house, not tonight.’ He pulled the sheet and rolled over.

  Megan looked at him. He brought to mind a curled up hedgehog using its prickles as its defence. He shouldn’t be curling up, she thought, he should be attacking. Lacks drive, she thought, and this weakness suddenly annoyed her. ‘All right, we’ll cancel, but you’ve got to ring them,’ she said shortly, and got out of bed. ‘I’m not doing it. I’m not lying for you.’ She’d bet she had to in the end, though. ‘Come on, Bill.’

  It was too soon for him to be discouraged, she told herself as she followed Bill downstairs, and the thought depressed her.

  *

  On Sunday morning Megan was sitting at the kitchen table in a bright orange t-shirt with Bill, watching him draw Thomas the Tank Engine in a corner of a blank sheet of A4. Funny how he only used a small part of the sheet, she thought.

  She was still irritable with Larry. She had had to cancel the dinner, pleading gastroenteritis, which was enough to put anyone off. And she wasn’t forgiving him for it, either.

  ‘Are you listening?’ Larry said, walking around the kitchen. Megan, startled, lifted her head. No, she hadn’t been. ‘Of course I am,’ she said.

  Bill raised his head and looked at them both, his small face troubled, radar alert. His hair was sticking up on one side of his head, fanning out from being slept on. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, still clutching his crayon tightly.

  ‘What’s the matter? I haven’t got a job, that’s what’s the matter.’

  Bill looked at him with interest and put his crayon down. It rolled across the table. ‘If you don’t get one, won’t you ever have to work again?’

  ‘No.’

  Bill looked pleased. Will Mummy?’ he asked hopefully, turning to look at Megan.

  Megan nodded. ‘Yes, I still have to go,’ she said.

  Bill stood up and reached for his crayon and began to colour the paper vigorously. Then he stopped and looked up at her. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? Because working’s my job,’ she said in a bad American accent.

  ‘And who would keep us if Mummy didn’t work?’ Larry asked, rubbing his jaw, looking at her slyly, getting it in first.

  I wasn’t going to say that, she thought resentfully. She hated it when he tried to read her mind.

  She snatched a look at him and he was staring at her intently.

  Bill went back to his drawing and although she was looking at Bill with feigned interest she knew Larry was still watching her over his head.

  ‘It could be any day, now, couldn’t it,’ he said.

  She felt for the gold chain around her neck and pulled at the crucifix on it, sawing it slowly back and forth. ‘Yes.’ Sounding bore
d. ‘It could be any day. You’ll be the right man in the right place, and whoosh...a job.’ She didn’t much feel like playing this game right now: reassure the Larry. A variation on an old theme. The same conversation that they’d already had at least once a day since he’d got the news. Once more with feeling, she thought.

  ‘What if I don’t get a job for three months? How long can we carry on on one income, Megan?’

  ‘We’ll see when — if — the time comes. You can claim for benefits, then.’

  ‘And just be unemployed?’ He was as indignant as though she was forcing him into it.

  ‘Well what do you suggest? You’re the one with the doomsday predictions.’

  Bill got down from the table and gave his picture to Larry. Larry took the drawing and looked at it, puzzled, turning it first one way and then the other. He gave it back to Bill and put his hand on Bill’s shoulder. Bill ducked from under this fatherly pat and put the picture by his face again, too close for Larry ever to be able to focus on it. ‘Look, Daddy.’

  But Daddy was not to be stopped. ‘Great, son,’ he said, returning his intense gaze to his wife. ‘What do we pay Ruth to look after Bill? Ten grand?’

  He said it so seriously, so thoughtfully, that Megan suddenly laughed. ‘You’re not thinking of becoming a nanny, are you Larry?’

  ‘It’s that funny, is it? I’d do it for nothing.’

  Ah; the implication hit her. The build-up, the hopelessness. ‘Larry —’and she reached out for his hand across the table and was surprised to find it was like ice.

  He gripped her tightly, squeezing the blood out of her fingers. ‘There’s one boy I know who could do with seeing more of his parents,’ he said.

  Megan had never approved of emotional blackmail, especially when it was applied against her. ‘But you might get another job next week.’

  ‘Do you think it’s likely?’

  Megan didn’t answer and looked down. A stray piece of cotton stuck out from her orange t-shirt, and she pulled it with her free hand. It puckered up the fabric of the hem. The thought of Larry getting a job next week wasn’t half as unlikely as the thought of him looking after Bill full-time.

  It wasn’t that he was a bad father...it was just that he wasn’t the sort.