Authors: Jane Lythell
‘Of course I’ve changed. I’m a mother now.’
‘We used to have fun. You used to have time to do things with me.’
I could not believe that he was shunting the blame onto me. We hissed horrible, bitter, damaging things at each other because Flo was asleep down the hall. That was the time I should have sat down with him and said he needed help and that I would support him through it.
The last thing he said that night was that I had always held something back from him and that stung because I knew it was true. I did hold a bit of myself back from Ben. We are never so vulnerable as when we love. I felt I could never love a man totally, unconditionally and without holding something back after my dad died, because losing him had been so terrible. The only person I give unconditional love to is Flo.
*
I woke at two a.m. with a pounding heart. I sat up in bed in the darkness as the symptoms of panic built inside me. What had I been thinking of, letting Molly film Naomi Jessup? The sponsor had stressed he wanted inspiring upbeat stories. And Julius would never agree to us transmitting an interview with a dying woman. I recalled he’d had reservations about us broadcasting from a hospital, saying won’t it be all disease and death. I had reassured him it would not be depressing. Molly had been on a high about her interview with Naomi but StoryWorld was the home of cheerful stories. I could foresee a difficult conversation with Molly and cursed myself for letting my heart rule my head.
StoryWorld TV station, London Bridge
Sal came in to do her look back at the week’s news events and she was wearing a black top. She had draped a yellow and green scarf around her neck, as a concession, I suppose, to jazz it up. I was watching from the gallery and I saw Fizzy’s eyes get very round. The director, sitting next to me at the controls, said: ‘She’s definitely pushing it.’
We all know you don’t openly defy Julius. Sal launched into her script, which was as funny and irreverent as usual, but there was a manic quality to her delivery. One of her subjects was the furore which had been raging all week about women breastfeeding too publicly in cafés and restaurants. Sal was on the side of the breastfeeders and she poked fun at a commentator who had labelled these women ‘breastfeeding militants’. She did a funny riff on people who make unlikely militants: bird-feeders, pond-cleaners; watercress eaters. We went to the ad break and the floor manager walked over and unclipped Sal’s mic.
‘Bye, Fizz,’ Sal said with a wry smile at her.
Fizzy was shuffling on the sofa as Sal walked out of the studio waving to the camera crew as she went. I rushed out of the gallery and as I got to the studio door Julius was standing there. He would have been watching the programme from his office and had come straight downstairs to confront Sal. He didn’t look angry though, he looked calm. Sal emerged from the studio.
‘I’d like you both to come to my office,’ he said.
I think Sal had been expecting this. We walked behind him up the stairs and along to his room in silence. He opened the door for us and said to Martine: ‘No calls.’
He closed the door and strode behind his desk.
‘Please sit down.’
I sat down but Sal stayed standing next to me and Julius looked at her for a long moment. I would have quailed under that gaze.
‘It is clear that you are not happy appearing on our show,’ he said.
‘I’m not happy being told what colours I can wear. There was no mention of colours in my contract.’
He turned to me.
‘How long does Sal’s contract have left to run?’
‘Julius, can I say Sal brings something to the show that we don’t get from anyone else—’
‘How long does her contract have left to run?’
He had not raised his voice at all and his quietness was more menacing.
‘Five months. But can we take some time out here and not rush into any decision?’
Julius stood up and flashed me a look that was both icy and contemptuous. He hates to be challenged at any time and he had decided to sack Sal.
‘The station will pay you the five months you are owed. Now pack your things and go because you will never sit on the StoryWorld sofa again.’
Sal actually laughed at this.
‘The hallowed StoryWorld sofa; how will I live without it? Thanks for the great material, Julius. Sacking me because of the colour I wear. I can do a lot with that. Bye, Liz.’ And she turned and left his room.
I stood up to leave.
‘Don’t you dare go after her,’ he said quietly.
I watched Sal retreat from our view as Martine turned a worried glance in our direction.
‘Think about it. She may go to the papers and how does it make us look? Sacking her on these grounds?’ I said.
‘She’s a stroppy cow and I’m glad to see the back of her. And if the papers cover it, that’s fine by me.’
‘For the record, I think you’re making a mistake. She brought a unique voice to the show.’
‘Most weeks it was a feminist rant. I doubt she’s as popular with our viewers as she thinks she is,’ he said.
‘Her viewer ratings are good.’
‘You know, you’re a talented woman, Liz, but you’ll never get to the top if you’re not prepared to stand up to egos like her.’
‘After all these years of working here I’m world class at dealing with egos,’ I said, and I left his office.
Back in my room I was shaking with a mixture of nerves and pride that I’d stood up to him. I was craving a cigarette, which happens when I’m very wound up. I wondered about calling Henry, the floor manager, who is one of the few people left in the station who still smokes. I walked downstairs to find him and I knew that it wouldn’t take long for this story to get out. Sal was our first casualty to the Great Pastel Colour Edict. How ridiculous it all was and no wonder people despised television.
Henry joined me in a cigarette break at the back of the station. He lit my cigarette and I inhaled deeply.
‘Why did Sal do that?’ he asked.
I felt the smoke going down into my lungs and calming my head.
‘She thinks he’s an arse and wanted to stand up to him.’
‘We’ve all wanted to do that at times.’
‘But why couldn’t she see the whole stupid thing is about his need to be in control? It’s actually quite childish,’ I said.
‘It’s a shame. I like Sal and I’m sorry to see her go.’
‘Me too. Thanks for the cig.’
The cigarette had soothed me. I walked back upstairs thinking that the way Julius had sacked Sal, almost Nero-like in his sense of absolute power, reminded me yet again of the need to be vigilant. Childish it may be on one level but I have seen a lot of sackings at StoryWorld over the years and often for standing up to Julius. It is why few of us feel safe working here. I saw Molly at her desk and asked her to join me in my room.
‘Do you want to look at the rushes now? I’ve started a rough edit,’ she said.
‘This afternoon would be better, but I have to tell you there may be a problem.’
‘A problem – what do you mean?’
‘It came to me last night that Julius will object to this interview.’
‘But you haven’t even seen it yet!’ Molly said, her flat cheeks flushing a deep red.
‘I’m at fault here, Moll. I got a clear steer from Julius and the sponsor that they want upbeat stories. Julius said no disease and death. I’m
so
sorry. I should have thought this through more. I don’t know why I didn’t.’
‘No disease and death, but we’re filming in a hospital!’
‘I know. They want manageable disease, picturesque disease, pastel disease,’ I said, my voice rising in my distress. I put my hands to my head. ‘You know what a plastic world we create here.’
‘Please watch it. Please. I think it’s a special interview.’
‘I will, this afternoon, but I had to be straight with you about this. It’s unlikely we can transmit it.’
The phone rang on my desk. I picked up and it was Fizzy.
‘Can we have a private word, Liz?’
‘Give me ten minutes. Do you want to come here?’
‘Will you come to my dressing room? I’m resting up.’
‘Of course. Can I get you a coffee?’
‘No thanks. I’m off coffee.’
‘I’ll be down in ten.’
‘I’ll book us a viewing room,’ Molly said.
She left my room and I felt ashamed of myself. I walked downstairs to the café, bought myself a coffee and wondered what Fizzy wanted to talk to me about. I reached her dressing room, by far the nicest one in the suite of rooms. It had just been redecorated and Fizzy had chosen fiendishly expensive wallpaper with sepia flowers all over it which is too chintzy for my taste, but what Fizzy wants, Fizzy gets. I tapped and went in. I was thinking about my conversation with Molly and how I had let her down. Fizzy was stretched out on her chaise longue; yes, she does have this rather beautiful antique chaise longue upholstered in rose-coloured taffeta. She was wearing a cream silk kimono and sipping at a glass of water with a slice of lemon floating in it.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked.
‘I was tired after the show.’
I pulled up a seat and sat at her feet. She was paler than usual.
‘Is something wrong?’
Fizzy put her glass down, wriggled into a more upright position and shot me an irritated look.
‘I told you to watch that girl.’
‘Harriet?’
‘Martine tells me she’s in hot pursuit of Julius. She skips down to his office all the time and she’s invited him to a film premiere tonight.’
‘Tonight? Are you sure?’
Harriet had told me she had to leave early, at four o’clock, to visit her grandmother in hospital.
‘Yes, at Leicester Square. Her father got her the tickets and an invite to the champagne reception beforehand. Martine thinks she’s angling to get a screen test!’
Martine would know. She is Julius’s gatekeeper. She and Fizzy are close because Fizzy started work at StoryWorld as a PA and all credit to her that she didn’t drop Martine when she became famous. Martine is older than her, has no desire to be a TV star and idolises Fizzy. My relationship with Martine is, unfortunately, more fraught. She is such a Julius loyalist and from time to time, after I’ve stood up to him, she will give me the cold shoulder, sometimes for months at a time.
‘I wouldn’t worry about that. Julius will see right through it and anyway, Harriet hasn’t got what it takes,’ I said.
Fizzy’s insecurities get on my nerves. She is self-obsessed and we all pander to her all the time. But had Harriet lied to me? Had she asked to leave early so she could get to the premiere?
‘What time is this premiere?’
‘The reception starts at five. Why?’
‘And is Julius going?’
‘Martine said it’s unlikely. The point is she’s hanging around him at every opportunity and making a nuisance of herself. She’s young and she’s very ambitious,’ Fizzy said.
‘But with little personality, or if she has she’s shown little evidence of it so far.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘She doesn’t come up with any ideas and she seems a bit bored by it all,’ I said.
‘She’s not interested in being a researcher. Her sight is set on being in front of the camera. Surely you can see that?’
I sighed. It had already been a difficult morning and it wasn’t even eleven.
‘I think you’re right about her being interested in Julius,’ I said.
‘It’s what she did at her father’s paper; went after the features editor; had an affair with him.’
‘We can’t stop people having affairs, Fizzy.’
I wondered why I had said those words and suddenly was embarrassed. I stood up and put my coffee cup down by her washbasin. There was an awkward silence as I rinsed the cup and saucer under the tap, then dried my hands.
‘Did you hear that Sal was sacked this morning?’ I said.
Fizzy drew her kimono more closely around her.
‘She had it coming; thought she was more important than the station.’
‘That’s what Julius thinks, but I’m sorry she’s gone. Look, don’t worry about Harriet. She’s a silly star-struck girl who is batting her eyelashes and behaving in a foolish way. She’s no threat to anyone.’
‘I don’t think she’s a threat for a moment,’ Fizzy said crossly with a toss of her head.
‘Well then.’
‘But I want her out of here.’
I had almost decided that once the three months were up I would ask Harriet to leave. She did not deserve to be made a permanent member of my team. But Fizzy demanding it like that annoyed me.
‘That’s above my pay grade. As I told you before she’s here because the MD wants it. By all means have a word with Saul.’
‘Maybe I will,’ she said.
The current MD, Saul Relph, is a remote figure, unlike the man who was in charge when I arrived at StoryWorld. Saul Relph has been here for five years but he has always kept his distance from the staff. He looks after the shareholders and lets Julius run the station. Which is why it was unusual for him to intervene as he did to get Harriet placed in my team.
Harriet left at four sharp. I thought about challenging her about where she was going, but in the end I left it. I went down to the viewing room and Molly played me the rough edit of her interview with Naomi Jessup. It ran nine minutes, far longer than would ever be transmitted; our stories run three to four minutes long. Naomi Jessup looked older than her thirty-three years and she was so thin. She was sitting in a chair by a window in the hospital room and the light from behind her lit up the papery almost translucent skin of her face. She had no hair or eyebrows and had tied a jaunty scarf around her head. She said in a surprisingly strong voice that she knew she was dying and it was almost a relief because she had battled for so long. ‘You battle because you have hope,’ she said, ‘but hope is an extension of suffering. Hope puts you on the rack.’ She knew she was beaten now and it was less frightening than she thought it would be. We all have to die sometime. She talked about the wonderful people she had met on the oncology ward, other patients who were facing death like her. It helped to talk to them. She talked about her family briefly. Her reticence here spoke volumes. She said every day mattered now. We sat in silence at the end of the item.