Life Or Something Like It

by Annie Lyons

  The fallout had been immediate and severe. She hadn’t even gone into the office; Hemingway Media was under siege. There were members of the press at the front door trying to talk to anyone who entered and the phone was ringing off the hook. Every journalist loves a cock-up and this particular cock-up was gold dust because it contained the nation’s top-three scandal ingredients: an overpaid footballer, a prostitute and drugs.

  Of course, in the social media arena of damning judgement, someone had to be blamed and, naturally, it wasn’t going to be the superstar footballer. True, he had lost his sponsorship deal with Daily Grind but his agent, Will, had already hired another PR firm to deal with damage limitation. Alvarro was sorry – he apologised to the fans, his club; he was stupid and young and didn’t know what he was doing; he was photographed looking contrite next to his stern-faced mother; she became an immediate internet star and he was in the clear. He was still a brilliant footballer with a bright future ahead of him. He promised to go into rehab and sort out his problems.

  For Cat, the future was decidedly murky. Ironically, she had met with Jesse at the branch of Daily Grind round the corner from their office. He was grim-faced. Daily Grind were threatening to sue for loss of income and Alvarro’s agent, Will, had already put in a call to Hemingway Media’s American backers, demanding his pound of flesh. Cat had been in PR long enough to know how these things worked but she still nurtured a secret hope that Jesse might have a solution.

  ‘What did Donald say?’ asked Cat, trying to keep her voice calm. Donald Carter was the CEO of Greenwich Media who had a sixty per cent stake in Hemingway. Cat had only met him once and remembered his vice-like handshake and disturbingly hairy knuckles. He had a tough reputation and five ex-wives.

  ‘Well, he sort of bellowed and I sort of listened with the phone at quite a distance from my ear,’ admitted Jesse.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jesse,’ said Cat quietly. ‘This is all my fault.’

  Jesse noticed her worried face and reached out his hand. ‘No no, Kit Kat. I don’t think you could have changed anything even if you’d been there.’

  ‘I could have taken Alvarro back to his hotel and chained him to the bed,’ asserted Cat.

  ‘To be honest, I think he would have enjoyed that,’ observed Jesse, raising one eyebrow suggestively.

  Cat gave him a weak smile. ‘I’m guessing Donald wants a scalp,’ sighed Cat, staring at her hands. ‘I’ll step down.’

  ‘I can’t ask you to do that,’ said Jesse quietly.

  Cat shrugged. ‘I know Dan being fired won’t be enough for Donald or Will and I should have been there.’ She felt tears prick her eyes and brushed them away angrily. Cat Nightingale did not cry.

  ‘Hey,’ said Jesse taking hold of her hands. ‘It’s okay, Kit Kat. What do we always say? Shit happens and we turn up with a shovel and chuck it over next door’s fence. This will be old news soon.’

  She nodded and he took hold of her hands and looked into her eyes. ‘I’m going to tell Donald that you’ve stepped down but only temporarily. It will show him that we’re taking a stand but he knows how good you are. He’s no fool. He won’t want to lose someone with your reputation to the competition so we’ll call it a temporary suspension. On full pay, of course.’

  Suspended on full pay. Cat felt sick at the thought. ‘Do you think he’ll agree to it?’

  Jesse put a hand on his heart. ‘Trust me, I’ll make him agree.’ He was full of confidence. Cat had no choice but to believe him. He’d never let her down before.

  As they said goodbye, he kissed her on the cheek and hugged her. It wasn’t a PR affectation but an affectionate embrace. She held on to him for a moment, taking comfort from his warmth. After he left, she looked around at the busy, buzzing coffee shop – the people moving with purpose through their lives. She felt the panic rise up. Cat was never idle; she was always busy. She quickly gathered her things and hurried to the Tube; got to keep moving, don’t stop to think about it.

  For the rest of the day, she was glued to her iPad. Social media had underpinned her existence for so long, she didn’t know what else to do. Of course every newsfeed was taken over by Alvarro but only the PR insiders knew of her involvement in the debacle. She tried to skirt around it, to join in tweet-chats with her usual PR clique but it soon became clear that she had been frozen out as they either gave cursory replies or failed to respond. Only Ava sent her a Direct Message later that afternoon.

  Ava Jackson @avamwah Just Now

  Hey sweetie, tough deal. Drinks soon? Ax

  This was typical Ava and Cat was grateful; it was a crumb of comfort in an otherwise shit day. Her phone rang continuously, mostly journalists wanting a comment. She ignored them, tiring quickly of its incessant buzzing. She knew she was in trouble when by eight o’clock that evening she had shut her phone in a drawer, was lying on her bed in her pyjamas, nursing her third glass of wine and watching reruns of America’s Next Top Model.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone knocking loudly on her front door. She considered pulling the duvet over her head and hiding under the covers but the sight of the empty wine bottle on the bedside cabinet gave her a much-needed reality check. Cat was not about to fall apart. She had to pull herself together. The events of yesterday were a mere blip and she would not wallow in self-pity or drink herself into a stupor. The knocking grew louder and more persistent, so she threw on her dressing gown, smoothed her hair and prayed that her breath smelt better than it tasted. She was surprised but not disappointed to find Andrew peering through the glass in the front door, a worried frown on his face. She opened the door.

  ‘Don’t say a word about my appearance,’ she warned as she stood back to let him in.

  ‘I’m a bloke. We don’t notice stuff like that. Mind you, you do look like shit,’ he joked.

  ‘Thank you. Blame Alvarro Diaz.’

  ‘Want me to go and kick him in the ankles?’ asked Andrew, his eyes twinkling. ‘Because no-one messes with my big sis.’

  Cat laughed in spite of herself. ‘Would it help?’

  ‘Probably not but the offer’s there and I do feel partly to blame.’

  ‘So you should,’ joked Cat. ‘Don’t worry about it. It was going to happen regardless. Anyway, where are your children? Have you sold them into slavery?’

  ‘Tempting but no. They’re at a friend’s.’

  ‘Oh well it’s nice that you came to check on your sister.’

  ‘Actually I have an ulterior motive,’ admitted Andrew.

  ‘Just as long as you don’t want me to look after your children during my “career break”,’ said Cat making air quotes.

  Andrew bit his lip and tried not to make eye contact with his sister. Cat stared at him in horror. ‘Was that the real reason you came to see me?’

  Andrew pretended to be offended. ‘No-o. I wanted to check you were okay but I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t occurred to me.’

  ‘Well you can banish that thought right now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Do I need to spell it out? Your children don’t like me and I don’t have the first clue how to look after kids. Do you really want to risk leaving them with me?’

  ‘Yes.’ Cat shook her head in exasperation as Andrew continued. ‘I think it would be good for all of you. It’s about time my children got to know their aunt and I think it would be good for you too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Andrew was silent for a moment as if choosing his words carefully. ‘Well it’s not as if you’ve got a lot on at the moment and it would really help me out.’

  ‘Oh no, don’t start that tugging at my heartstrings. You’ll be dragging Bear out and asking me to sing you to sleep next.’

  ‘I’ve got him in the car actually.’ Andrew grinned. ‘Seriously, Cat, where’s the harm? You’ll be helping me out and you might even enjoy it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that our sleepover was a resounding success.’

  ‘But t
hat was only one night and it was all very last-minute. You were stressed with work and the kids were wound-up and tired. This will be different.’

  Cat stared at the ceiling. He’d got her. She was at a loose end and her brother needed her; there was nothing she could do.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, getting up from her chair. ‘I’ll go and dig out my body armour now.’

  Andrew grinned. ‘Don’t forget your helmet and shield,’ he joked, receiving a punch on the arm as Cat walked past. ‘Ow and thank you,’ he added.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Cat, climbing the stairs. ‘On your head be it when it all goes pear-shaped.’

  ‘It won’t.’ Andrew smiled. ‘I have great faith in you.

  ‘I’m glad someone does,’ muttered Cat.

  Three hours later Cat was feeling more positive about the world. Her brother was cooking dinner and the children were occupied with various electronic devices whilst she remained glued to her iPad. Jesse had been right; the Alvarro story was starting to slide away and her phone hadn’t rung in the past hour. One of Cat’s strongest qualities was her resourcefulness and she could feel a plan emerging in her mind. She would look after the children until Melissa came back and use that time to maintain her contacts and ease her way back into the PR world. It was a very immediate world with a short memory and Cat had enough credibility to ride this storm. Everything would be fine; she just needed to be patient.

  Charlie and Ellie had taken the news that Cat was to be their new nanny with relative indifference. Cat also had a plan in that regard. She would show the children the best summer, take them to the most fabulous places, let them experience a little of what her world had to offer. It would be educational and fun. She counted her blessings that she didn’t need to deal with nappies or toddler tantrums too. The children were bright and Cat would work on them and make them see what a good aunt she was. After all, she had dealt with some of the trickiest divas and most demanding celebrities in the past. She just needed to channel what she knew and apply it to the world of the child. How difficult could it be?

  At dinner time, her question was answered. Having been told to stop playing his game, Charlie sloped into the dining room, his face clouded with irritation. He frowned at his plate.

  ‘I don’t like salmon,’ he said.

  ‘Well it’s what we’re having,’ said Andrew cheerfully, ‘so you better eat up.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ repeated Charlie, scowling at his father.

  ‘Charlie, you eat salmon all the time.’

  ‘I like it,’ said Ellie brightly.

  ‘Shut up, squirt,’ snapped Charlie.

  ‘Charlie, stop this,’ warned Andrew. ‘You’ll scare Auntie Cat away.’ He was trying to keep his voice light but Cat detected a tightness to his tone.

  ‘Good,’ said Charlie. ‘I don’t want her here. Why can’t you take time off?’

  Andrew glanced at his sister, embarrassed. ‘I can’t and Cat doesn’t have to work at the moment so she’s offered to help.’

  ‘She lost her job because of that stupid footballer and you asked her. She didn’t offer.’

  Andrew shifted in his seat. ‘She is doing us all a favour and you are being very rude. I want you to apologise.’

  ‘No,’ said Charlie, staring defiantly at his father.

  ‘Charlie, I’m warning you. Apologise or you’ll go to bed.’

  Charlie jumped up from his seat and upended his plate, scattering fish, potato and sweetcorn all over the table and floor. ‘Fine!’ he shouted, storming from the room and stomping up the stairs before slamming his bedroom door with some force.

  ‘Awkward,’ said Ellie, forking sweetcorn into her mouth.

  Cat stared at her brother. ‘He’ll be fine. He’s just having a moment,’ reassured Andrew. They could hear Charlie shouting and screaming and throwing things around his room.

  ‘That’s quite a moment,’ murmured Cat.

  ‘When’s Mummy coming home?’ asked Ellie, jiggling backwards and forwards on her chair, seemingly oblivious to her brother’s outburst.

  Andrew, who was looking up towards the noise, glanced back at his daughter. ‘I don’t know, Ellie,’ he said.

  ‘I hope it’s soon,’ said Ellie, casting a meaningful look at Cat.

  Andrew sighed. ‘I better go and talk to Charlie. Excuse me.’ He disappeared upstairs leaving Cat and Ellie alone.

  ‘Charlie does that a lot,’ observed Ellie.

  ‘Does what?’ asked Cat.

  ‘Shouts and screams.’ She leant forwards and whispered to her aunt, ‘I think he’s got anger issues. That’s what I heard Mummy and Daddy say anyway.’

  ‘Oh. Right,’ said Cat, unnerved.

  ‘I don’t really like you,’ observed Ellie.

  Cat was almost impressed by her honesty. ‘Well I’m sorry to hear that. I suppose we’re stuck with each other at the moment though.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘I suppose we are but hopefully it won’t be for too long.’

  Wow, thought Cat, talk about telling it like it is.

  Andrew reappeared a moment later. ‘Everything all right down here? My, Ellie, you’ve done well. Would you like some pudding?’

  ‘Yes please, Daddy,’ replied Ellie angelically. ‘Is Charlie okay?’

  Cat could tell that Andrew was choosing his words carefully. ‘He’s very tired so he’s gone to bed. I’m sure he’ll be all right in the morning.’

  After Ellie had gone to bed, Andrew poured two glasses of wine and they carried them out into the garden. It was a warm evening, the sun casting a beautiful pale pink colour over the sky. Cat looked at her brother in the fading light. He still looked like her little brother, eyes bright like a puppy, but his youthful exuberance had been replaced by the stresses of life. He looked worn down.

  ‘Tell me the truth about Charlie,’ she said.

  He looked up at the sky and sighed. ‘The truth is I don’t know. We had a few problems with some boys at school but that was ages ago and it all got sorted.’

  ‘Have you tried talking to him?’ asked Cat.

  ‘Of course but have you tried talking to a ten-year-old? They’re not exactly chatty, nor are they in the habit of telling you what they’re feeling.’

  Cat took a sip of her wine. ‘Ellie told me that she didn’t like me.’

  Andrew gave a snorting laugh. ‘She tells it like it is, that one. Reminds me of someone else I know,’ he said, glancing at his sister.

  Cat pulled a face. ‘It’s not funny. Basically you’re leaving me with two small people who hate me, one of whom has anger issues.’

  ‘I thought Cat Nightingale liked a challenge.’

  Cat raised her eyebrows. ‘A challenge yes, not an impossible task.’

  Andrew looked incredulous. ‘Surely my big sister isn’t giving up?’ he teased.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

  He raised his glass. ‘Well I would like to propose a toast to my sister’s inevitable success in the quest to get my children to like her.’

  Cat shook her head and tapped her glass against his. ‘As I said, this was your idea and if it all goes pear-shaped, it’s down to you.’

  Andrew looked satisfied. ‘It won’t,’ he declared. ‘In fact, I’d go as far as to say that it will be the making of you.’

  Cat looked at him askance. ‘Who says I need to be “made”?’

  Andrew shrugged. ‘Just that spending time with kids opens up your world a bit.’

  ‘Are you saying that my world is closed?’ She was irritated but doing her best not to betray it.

  He nudged her playfully. ‘Oi, don’t get mardy. I’m merely pointing out that when everything is work, work, work, you can get a bit blinkered.’

  ‘And I suppose you’re a man of the world just because you have children?’

  He laughed. ‘Hey, Lady PR, get down off your high horse. If I’m a man of the world then I’m a very tired one. All I’m saying is that kids make you re-evaluate you
r life. They force you to see things differently by dint of the fact that they need you.’

  Cat sniffed. ‘So I am to be educated about the world by some small needy people.’

  ‘If you like,’ said Andrew with a grin. ‘We’ll see, won’t we?’

  Cat frowned. She had forgotten how infuriating Andrew could be. He thought he knew better than her because he’d managed to reproduce smaller versions of himself. Like so many people with children, he thought he’d found the key to life but Cat knew which world suited her. This was a temporary arrangement – a mere blip in her life before she went back to what she loved best. ‘Yes,’ she said, taking another sip of her wine. ‘We will see.’

  Chapter Four

  Cat woke early the next morning with a renewed sense of purpose. She had a plan and the arrangement with her brother was only temporary. She could handle it. She was Cat Nightingale. She could handle anything. She showered and dressed in her favourite Malene Birger chinos and navy lace-detail T-shirt top from Zara. It was smart without being showy and she felt good in it; it was the perfect look for a wannabe fun auntie. She went downstairs. Ellie was watching cartoons and Charlie was playing on his iPad. So far so calm.

  ‘Morning!’ she said in a sing-song voice. ‘How are we today?’

  ‘Daddy’s gone,’ said Ellie sadly, without looking up. Charlie said nothing.

  ‘Well who’s for breakfast?’ she asked. ‘I’m starving and we’ve got a big day ahead.’ She sensed that she needed to keep them moving. Sitting still and moping was not an option. Fresh air and activity surely had to be the best idea.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ said Charlie sullenly.

  ‘Me neither,’ declared Ellie, bouncing up and down on the sofa.

  ‘Oh that’s a shame because I think I spied some pancakes and bacon so I’ll just eat them all myself.’

  ‘Ooh I want pancakes,’ said Ellie. Charlie scowled at his sister with a look that said, ‘Traitor’.

  Satisfied that she had one of them onside, Cat made her way to the kitchen. Ellie followed her, spouting a stream of questions. ‘Can I have maple syrup with mine, is there any juice, where are we going today, can I have a biscuit while I’m waiting, will it take long to get there, will there be toilets at the place we’re going to?’