by Stan Mason
Diana made a brief comment and took the money from the customer, placing it into the wooden cash register. She felt that she would find this work very pleasant especially as it was all for a good cause. She had intended to spend only a few hours in the shop but, within the wink of an eye, the whole day passed. This was work very much to her liking and she intended to go back to the shop to assist. In fact, she thought, tomorrow would be a good time to start again.
When the four women met to play bridge some months later, Dr. Martin asked her protégé how she was getting on in the Red Cross shop. Diana told her broadly how she enjoyed working there and meeting all the customers.
‘I’m pleased you suggested it,’ she replied with enthusiasm. ‘I go there six times a week. It’s taken over my life.’
‘I heard about some of the things you’ve done to improve the shop,’ returned the doctor seriously. Over the past month, you’ve rearranged the shop and increased the turnover by twenty per cent.’
‘I know. I’ve got lots of new idea on how to increase it even further. Next week I’m going to work on window displays. That’s should draw in more people. Why have the goods in the shop and nothing in the windows to attract them?’
‘You know I’m on the local board of the Red Cross,’ continued the doctor. ‘Well I’m so impressed by your efforts I want you to take over the running of the shop. Jennifer’s leaving....she’s moving to the Midlands....and I can’t think of a better person to step into her shoes. How about it?’
Diana rose to the occasion. ‘I’d love to do it!’ she said excitedly. ‘When do you think the transfer should take place?’
‘How about tomorrow?’ She knew instinctively that her protégé would jump at the chance.
Diana was over the moon and she rose to the task. She had managed the shop for the last few months putting into effect various new ideas which proved to be successful. Now she was top dog capable of doing anything she wanted within reason without having to ask permission all the time. The promotion went slightly to her head for when one customer bought a microphone with speakers, she tested it out, going outside the shop announcing all the goods available for sale. Anyone who failed to realise that a Red Cross charity shop existed in the area must have been deaf.
It was a year later when Dr. Martin made a surprised visit to the shop. Diana was arranging a display of dresses in the window and she stopped to greet the physician when she arrived.
‘Valerie!’ she greeted warmly. ‘To what do we owe this pleasure?’
The doctor came straight to the point. ‘You’ve done exceedingly well since you became the manageress here, Diana. I’m very impressed with you. The ideas keep flowing and I believe that other retailers are copying you to increase their sales.’
‘It’s no problem,’ returned Diana easily. She was concerned a the unsolicited arrival of her bridge partner. After all, a visit from a local board member of the Red Cross had to be serious. ‘Has someone complained?’
‘No one’s complained. I’ve been watching all our activities with regard to fund raising for the Red Cross. You arranged a local marathon which brought in a great deal of money from sponsors. There was also the sky imp and the garden visits, the sponsored walks, the many coffee mornings. I could go on. You made a real change in our progress and brought in a lot of funds.’
‘It’s something I like doing....for a worthy cause. But why are you here today?’
The doctor paused for a moment. ‘The Red Cross has been invited to provide a speaker for a television programme entitled ‘Say Your Piece’ It does a run-down on various organisations and institutions. After all the work you’ve done with your brilliant ideas, I’ve recommended you to represent us on the programme.’
‘Me?’ gasped Diana breathlessly. ‘But I’ve had no training to talk on television!’
‘You seem to have a very easy intelligent manner to me,’ came the reply. ‘You’ll easily promote our cause on television. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. I’ll provide all the necessary information for you.’
Diana felt her heart pounding as her head went into a spin. ‘When will this take place?’
‘In two months times....in the London studio of the television network. You’ll have more than enough information. Can I count on you to do it?’
The manageress nodded as if in a dream. It would appear that she had no choice. What could she say to millions of viewers watching the programme? All eyes would be on her, especially the people in the Red Cross. If she made a mistake, or stuttered, or paused for a long time, everyone would notice and point the finger at her for being inadequate. It was a daunting task to undertake and it took a while for it to sink into her head. Why had she agreed to do it? She was completely satisfied with her work as manageress of the Red Cross shop. Why do something to upset the apple cart. It was the stupidest thing she had down for a long time!
* * *
Some time later, Diana received another letter from Ahmed. Although the words were simple she felt the anger behind them. He was furious of her treatment of him and he made it quite plain in the letter.
Dear Diana,
I was very disappointed to learn that you visited Dr.
Mahmoud but you never came to see me. I thought that
w were friends, happy to be in each other’s company,
but clearly you don’t think so. You know how I feel
about you even though you don’t feel the same way
of me but to be snubbed when you could have come
to see me on your arrival at Agadir is very hurtful. I
beg you to please write or come and see me the next
time you come to Agadir. I do not wish to lose your
friendship.
Yours sincerely, Ahmed.
He was clearly very annoyed with her. The last letter had ended ‘Yours affectionately and sincerely’. This time it was far less amorous. She was angry with herself for not seeing him on her last visit and she wondered how he had discovered that she had seen Dr. Mahmoud. He knew that she came to Morocco every six months and he had probably gone to the scientist to find out why she hadn’t come. He was obviously very dismayed when he learned that she had been there and had left ignoring him completely. It was not a thing friends did to each other! He told her that he had fallen in love with her and she treated him very badly even though the feeling was not reciprocated. She would have to be sure to visit him the next time she flew to Agadir otherwise he would give up on her. Although she told herself that she didn’t love him, her heart told her that he was a friend and she still wanted him to be there for her. She could not expunge from her mind that he was so much younger in years than her. However, if the experiment with Dr. Mahmoud proved to be successful, he would eventually become older while she remained young. After all, she still looked to be twenty-eight years old and very youthful and he was thirty-three. The difference in their ages in the concept of time had diminish. He had technically overtaken her. Certainly she would need to think positively about age because everyone around her would progress in years while she remained the same.
Chapter Seventeen
Diana and Simon Younger sat side by side in comfortable chairs in the television network’s make-up room. She closed her eyes remaining silent as she realised what she was about to do. The make-up artist attending her began a sonorous monologue relating to contentious issues in the previous programme, his voice being the only one to echo throughout the room. Eventually he stopped and stood back to admire his work before putting down his make-up materials on the basin in front of her with complete satisfaction showing in his face.
‘There you are,’ he told her frankly in an affected voice. Remember they take no prisoners in this programme. You’ve got to be forthright and say your piece. That’s what the programme’s called....that’s what you’ve got to do!
What do you think?’
Diana stared at her face in the mirror. ‘I think there’s too much lipstick,’ she criticised tentatively.
‘No, no, no!’ he countered vehemently. ‘Your face will look fuller in the camera. Too little would mean your lips will appear dull. It’s essential to over-compensate. Don’t worry...you’ll look fine with a pretty face like yours.’ He pulled the cloth from around her neck prompting her to stand up.
At that moment, Shaun O’Brien entered the room. He glanced at Diana and smiled. ‘Good!’ he said sharply. ‘You’re ready.’ He turned to the television presenter in the next chair. ‘Nearly ten minutes to go, Simon,’ he warned with a degree of urgency. ‘You’d better get your skates on!’
Younger opened his eyes momentarily and then closed them again as if nothing seemed to matter and he had all the time in the world. O’Brien stared at Diana more closely before leaving.
‘You look a real stunner,’ he flattered sincerely. ‘You’re gonna knock ‘em dead on that screen.’ He turned to Younger who had just stood up and was staring at himself in the mirror. ‘Less than ten minute to go, Simon!’
‘Take it easy,’ challenged the television presenter. ‘There’s no need to panic. We’ve got plenty of time.’
Diana, O’Brien and Younger moved into the corridor. Technicians raced to and fro as though their lives depended on it, cables littered the pathway, while voices could be heard at all levels barking orders and relating terms of confirmation accompanied by whirrs, bleeps and other noised emanating from the technical equipment. The studio buzzed like a beehive although the staff who, despite their total dedication, performed their duties with an unmitigated air of complacency. Diana could feel the surge of adrenalin surge through her veins as they prepared the programme before it went live to the public.
‘Come on!’ urged O’Brien, guiding them through the labyrinth of corridors until they reached the main studio.
They waited in limbo temporarily as Simon Younger explained the situation to her more fully. ‘There are three seats on the stage,’ he informed her flatly. ‘You take the one on the far side. I’ll be in the middle. The journalist will be on the near side. Don’t come on until I announce you...then you sit down. There’ll be an audience of about a hundred-and-twenty people......just ignore them. Never forget that the programme’s being broadcast to millions of viewers. They’re the ones who count. Keep your eyes on me all the time....don’t look directly at the camera. Pretend it isn’t there. Concentrate on what you have to say and keep looking at me at all times. Have you got that?’
She nodded dumbly hoping to be able to remember all that he told her. Suddenly she felt very vulnerable at having to walk onto the stage in front of millions of viewers. However before she could dwell on the matter, the lights began to dim. Younger walked on to the stage holding a sheaf of notes in his hand and he sat down in the middle chair. Within seconds a red light started to glow on one of the cameras and he faced it breaking into his opening dialogue.
‘Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to another edition of Say Your Piece...the show which brings you inside information on organisations, associations and institutes of repute. This evening we have Diana Templeton of the British Red Cross who has come to tell us of the great work undertaken by them’ He turned slightly and put out his arm in a welcoming attitude. ‘Diana Templeton!’
Diana hesitated in a moment of panic only to be pushed in the back by O’Brien so that she almost fell on to the stage. She retained her poise and walked across to the chair on the far side and sat down. One of the cameras moved closer which unnerved her a little and there seemed to be a frog lodging in her throat preventing her from speaking. Although she had read the notes given to her by Dr. Martin through and through her mind seemed to have become completely blank.
‘Also here today,’ continued Younger easily, ‘we have an eminent journalist form the Daily Record newspaper....Elvis Jones!’
Jones emerged on to the stage and took his seat on the near side of the presenter.
‘We’ll start with Diana,’ Younger began shuffling the notes in front of him. ‘Tell us a little about the British Red Cross and what it does.’
There was a long pause as Diana fought ti retain some poise and then looked up as she found the courage to speak. One of the cameras moved in very much closer but suddenly everything she had studied in the notes came to light in her mind.
‘The work of the British Red Cross is wide and varied,’ she began, ignoring Younger’s earlier instructions to stare directly into the camera. She stopped in her flow for a moment and turned to the cameraman. ‘Can you come closer. I want you to read my lips. What I have to tell you is unknown to the general public who simply take the Red Cross for granted. I want them to be able to understand all the good work we do. ‘ She paused as the camera moved closer still.
Younger fumed at her command. No one on his programme had ever done anything like this before. Despite his anger, he put on a weak smile for the viewers.
‘We work closely with a large number of organisation from Social Services to homeless charities,’ reported Diana picking up momentum as she went on. There was fire in her voice and sincerity in her heart. ‘One scheme, for example, supports people over a twelve-week period after they come out of hospital. At that time they’re extremely vulnerable and their families live far away or they’re at work. We provide help by shopping for their food, obtaining their prescriptions, looking after them and keeping them company at a time when they would be left in difficulty if no one helped them. Can you imagine how vulnerable people are when they leave hospital to fend for themselves? They wounded in body and mind and only the Red Cross will help them. We have many volunteers who cope with this operation. They help people in crisis throughout the United Kingdom every day, every week, every year.’
She was amazed at the words which poured from her mouth so effectively. She was in her element. At the same time she managed to ignore the weight of responsibility which rested on her shoulders as a representative of the Red Cross in their single opportunity of appearing on television before a very wide viewing public. As she spoke, she wondered why she had been chosen for the task.
‘Let me give you a few more examples of the good work carried out by the Red Cross,’ she went on fervently. ‘We make ourselves available in all road accidents and train crashes. You may think we’re not there but we’re always on hand. We’re there for people isolated at home or those who become separated from their family by way of war or disaster. There’s a scheme for the homeless or someone who has nowhere to go after a hospital stay as well as helping refugees who have HIV but are too afraid to talk to anyone for fear of deportation. After all, these people in need are human-beings.’
At this point, Younger tried to interrupt her but she brushed him aside callously. ‘You asked me a question, Mr. Younger so kindly allow me to finish.’ There was no doubt which person was in control of the programme and Diana was beginning to enjoy herself. All the fears and blankness she had suffered had gone. She was suddenly a woman in her own right.
‘We help people in crisis with a host of volunteers who give up their free time to assist those in need,’ she went on staring directly into the lens of the camera. There’s a transport and escort service to and from hospital as well as escorts for patients to and from London hospitals for people living in the Midlands and the north. We provide first aid classes with the distribution of free kits and CDs to every secondary school in the country and we’ll play a vital role in the event of a flu epidemic sweeping the United Kingdom.’
Younger tried to interrupt her again but Diana rode over him as though he wasn’t there.
‘Although we undertake a number of schemes at home there are some we carry out abroad. We’re tackling tuberculosis across the world in partnership with a major pharmaceutical company. In addition, the British Red Cros
s has built homes for almost three hundred people in Indonesia following the tragedy of the tsunami there with planes to build over two thousand more. At the same time supplies are being sent to thousands of people in camps in Uganda. There’s also a cash distribution to Niger in West Africa where millions of people are starving to death. although all the news items have ignored their plight.’ She paused for breath at that moment before going on. ‘You realise I’m only skimming the surface of the actions being taken by the Red Cross. We work wonders in helping thousands of people at no cost to them at all for work not available from any other source.’
The presenter finally managed to stop her in her tracks. He turned to the journalist quickly. ‘Mr. Jones....there’s not doubt that the British Red Cross is a great institution. What do you have to say to that?’
Jones looked down his nose and stared briefly at Diana. ‘It does do some very good work,’ he said begrudgingly, ‘but it definitely lacks transparency. There are too few cogent details...so few details offered to my liking. For example, they never explain how many people have help with their home from hospital scheme. They say it lasts for weeks but does it? No one knows. How many road accidents or train crashed do they attend? Not very many I would suggest. And how many people become isolated from their families by war or disaster? Very very few. And what are they going to do if a flu epidemic becomes widespread? Furthermore, why should they help refugees with HIV before they’re deported? It doesn’t really make sense. The Red Cross needs to produce information in much greater depth.’
Diana fumed at the way the journalist denigrated all that she had said and she burst into action fiercely like a virago. ‘Really!’ she snarled angrily. ‘Is that your opinion in your ignorance! Thousands of volunteers dedicate their live to our cause. Do you expect us to name all of them and record every single thing they do. We would need an army of clerical staff to cope with that useless information. You tell me who would provide the assistance to people. Would you be willing to help out. No...I didn’t think so. You sit in your chair criticising. That’s all you’re capable of doing! I suggest you come along to the Red Cross headquarters and spend one day....only one day....to see exactly what good we do before you attack us with a campaign of criticism. We’re a well-known highly respected institution which raises funds of its own accord. We have shops and sponsorships to help with our finances and I challenge you to go into any school and ask the students about first aid. The first thing they will tell you is that they get it all from the Red Cross. We work from the roots upwards to save lives and produce a unique service to those in need, preventing a great deal of suffering. Who else does that?’
