Having It All Page 3

  Five minutes later the phone rang and she jumped on it eagerly, hoping Susie had just got in. If she hurried she could be home in half an hour.

  But it wasn’t Susie. It was Conrad asking her if she could come upstairs for five minutes and informing her that they’d come to a decision.

  CHAPTER 3

  When Liz got to Conrad’s office Andrew was already waiting outside but to her surprise there was no sign of Claudia. Conrad put his head round the door and asked Andrew to come in first.

  There was a pile of glossy magazines on the coffee table in front of her reinforcing the unpleasant atmosphere of the dentist’s waiting room. Liz had stopped reading magazines the day she found herself reaching for Good Housekeeping instead of Cosmopolitan in W. H. Smith’s, but to avoid getting too nervous she flicked through one all the same.

  Halfway through a riveting article about career women who make incisions in their arms as some unorthodox form of stress release, the full horror of her position struck Liz. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Andrew would get the job. It was Claudia’s. And while Andrew might be able to bring himself to stay on and work for Claudia, she couldn’t. The truth was, she was going to have to resign.

  In less than five minutes the door opened and Conrad appeared with his arm around Andrew’s slumped shoulders. She couldn’t help thinking of Fred Flintstone putting out the cat. Except that Andrew had none of the cat’s spunky deviousness. Once he’d been put out he’d stay out.

  Conrad looked round, surprised, clearly expecting to see Claudia. But Claudia obviously knew the results would be in reverse order and was playing it cool. He looked at his watch and shrugged.

  And now it was her turn. Liz stood up, took a deep breath and walked slowly into the room, looking straight ahead, and avoiding Mark Rowley’s eyes. She’d spent the last couple of minutes unscrambling her brain and by now her resignation speech was planned and ready in her head.

  ‘Please sit down, Liz.’ To her surprise Conrad indicated a place on the sofa next to him instead of the chair she’d sat in for the interview. She sat down, trying to keep her speech clear in her head and telling herself that after this she would rush home and see her children.

  Suddenly she felt furiously angry with the cosy, clubby manner of these five men who would give the job to Claudia, the boss’s girlfriend, because she conformed to the tough-bitch image which both scared and excited them, but would pass her over and dismiss her, who was far more talented, as a bullshitter.

  It might be another disastrous mistake which would brand her ‘hysterical’ or ‘aggressive’, the two usual words that dismissed any female signs of insubordination but she didn’t care. She wasn’t leaving the room before she had given as good as she’d got. She would enjoy telling them a thing or two about how male values were not the only, or even the best, way to run a business.

  ‘Conrad.’ She raised her chin combatively. ‘I know what you’re going to tell me. But there are one or two things I’d like to say first.’

  ‘By all means. We’ll all have to listen to you from now on.’

  ‘What I wanted to say was –’ She stopped, taking in the meaning of his words for the first time. ‘You mean . . .’

  ‘Certainly. Don’t look so surprised. I always knew you were a real talent at programme-making, that’s why I hired you, for Christ’s sake. But those figures you put together took us all by surprise. Especially Mark here.’ He grinned at Mark who smiled sheepishly back. ‘Congratulations. We’d like to offer you the job as Metro TV’s new Programme Controller.’

  When Conrad showed Liz out of the boardroom, Claudia had finally deigned to appear and she gave him a slow sexy smile which he didn’t return. The secretarial bush telegraph had been right, as it usually is. He was getting bored with Claudia’s demands. The first time she had disappeared under his desk and taken his prick into her mouth, he would have given her anything just not to stop that exquisite, dangerous excitement.

  But she was becoming too pushy. This bid for Programme Controller, for instance. She was a talented manager but her ideas were lousy. And he knew what would happen if she got the job. In five minutes she’d be shrugging off any suggestions he made as interference. Before long he’d have to fire her. Then she’d probably go to the press and cry rape. That was a joke. The most willing victim in the history of crime figures. Still, he wasn’t looking forward to telling her about the appointment they’d just made. He knew only too well that the news he had to give her was not what she was expecting. Trying to stifle an unexpected shiver of panic, he held the door open for her.

  ‘Claudia, could you come in for a moment?’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, Conrad.’

  Claudia talked to him as though the other men present didn’t exist. She knew she’d been pushing her luck lately and that he’d been withdrawing in subtle ways, but she’d assumed that was because when she was Programme Controller an affair might be unwise. She’d guessed that he was distancing himself and that he might even end the relationship. But what did that matter once she’d got the job?

  Less than three hours ago they’d been in bed together. Now he was telling her he’d just given the job, her job, to Liz Ward. Here he was, distant and formal, with that prick she’d licked into submission a hundred times neatly tucked away inside a pinstripe suit, playing the sympathetic boss and calmly betraying her.

  For a mad moment she thought about blowing the whistle on him. That’s not what you said when I was sitting on your face last night, Conrad dear. She could see the apprehension in his face. He was trying to move the conversation on, get her out of there, get himself out of trouble, before she did anything he’d regret.

  Maybe he was hoping she’d go quietly, resign even, like dear Lizzie would have done. But Claudia had no intention of resigning. The woman always leaves. That was the warning a female colleague had given her the very first time she’d had an affair with someone in the office. But five years later she’d been the one who was still there. He was the one who’d left. His wife had discovered and chucked him out. When Claudia had shut the doors on him too he’d taken to hanging round in the bar and within six months he’d been fired.

  And next time it would be Liz who left. And she would stay on, as Programme Controller. She knew it. Her certainty made her feel dizzy with fury at the shortsightedness of these five stupid weak-willed men. Liz Ward was not intended to run Metro Television. She was.

  ‘All right, Conrad, if that’s your decision.’ Claudia smoothed her unrepentant red suit and stood up. ‘Congratulations on your choice, gentlemen. I hope she’ll live up to your expectations.’

  See you in bed, you shit, she wanted to say. I haven’t finished with you yet, Conrad. In fact I haven’t even started.

  Liz ran down three flights of stairs to her office, convinced there would be a phone call waiting for her telling her the whole thing was a mistake. But the cheer that rang out as she walked in could mean only one thing: the news had got out already. She really had got the job.

  She was deafened by cheers of ‘For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ and a plastic cup of warm champagne was pressed into her dazed and disbelieving hand.

  She’d done it! She’d actually pulled it off. She would be the first woman Programme Controller of any major TV company in the UK, maybe even in the world! And she was going to make a success of it. She was going to show those pinstriped piranhas that you didn’t have to be a bitch to run a business!

  She reached for the phone and called David, but he was in a meeting and she had to leave a message with his secretary.

  ‘Could you tell him that the new Programme Controller of Metro Television wants to take him out to dinner tonight?’

  She could hear the smile in the girl’s voice as she said she would give him the message.

  ‘And now, may I propose a toast? To the hottest couple in the media. David Ward, editor of the Daily News and one day, who knows, in charge of a little more than that .
. .’ Logan Greene, media mogul and one of the hundred richest men in the world, raised his glass to her and David ‘. . . and his lovely wife Elizabeth, just appointed Programme Controller of one of those nice little licences to print money – Metro Television!’

  Liz felt flattered that Logan was throwing this party at the Ritz to celebrate her appointment. She knew it meant the Logan Greene seal of approval and ensured David’s progress on and up the corporate ladder. Logan had barely spoken to her before tonight, now suddenly he was toasting her. It was called power.

  A waiter stopped and refilled her glass with vintage Krug. She looked up at the garlanded ceiling and the statuary and the gilded furnishings and smiled. Liz Ward had arrived. She only wished her three best friends were here to celebrate with her. They’d shared every promotion and, thank God, failure since they’d left university fourteen years ago. And they would have loved tonight.

  She felt David’s arm slip round her waist, proud and happy at her success. ‘I knew you could do it! Conrad’s got better judgement than I thought,’ and gently he nuzzled her neck. Liz took his hand, held it to her cheek. She knew everyone in the room was looking at them, but what the hell. This was their moment and, God knew, they’d worked hard enough to get it. She looked around at the admiring faces and felt an unexpected thrill. So this was what success felt like. And for the first time in her life she realized how heady it was. She looked up at David, stroking his hand silently. But David wasn’t looking at her any more. His eyes were fixed on a cocky young man talking to Logan the other side of the room.

  David swung round and, rather rudely Liz thought, cut in on a conversation next to them. ‘Bert, what’s the Deputy Editor of the World doing here, for Christ’s sake? He’s the enemy.’

  The News Editor looked embarrassed. ‘Not any more he’s not. Logan’s just taken him on as Special Adviser. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘Leave me alone, Jamie, please!’ Liz heard the irritation in her voice and felt a familiar pang of guilt. It was Saturday afternoon and she knew this was his time, not hers. ‘Mummy must finish this before teatime. Go and find Daddy, darling.’

  Jamie sloped off in search of David, clutching the aeroplane he’d just made out of Sticklebricks dejectedly in his small hand. It was only two months until they were on air, and Liz had started breaking the golden rule she’d always tried to stick to – don’t bring home work at weekends.

  It’ll be over soon, she told herself, hoping she meant it. She jumped out of her chair and ran after him. ‘Sorry, darling. Show Mummy. Is it a bird, is it a plane, is it . . . Jamieeeee!’ She swooped on him and lifted him up, pretending he was Superman, offering the consolation prize of guilt when she knew what he wanted was love and attention. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Until they were on air and life became easier again.

  ‘What time will you be back tonight?’ Liz tried to ignore the nanny’s sullen tone as she removed a half-eaten apple thoughtfully placed in her briefcase by Daisy. Monday mornings were always dreadful and she knew Susie was getting irritated at having to babysit night after night. If only David could get home occasionally, but he kept insisting that it was out of the question. He had to be there to put the paper to bed. If anything it seemed to be getting worse at the moment. He was staying even longer at the paper and when he got home he was too tired to do anything except fall into bed. And every time she tried to talk about it, he brushed her off.

  ‘By eight, Susie, I promise!’

  Susie looked at her sceptically.

  Liz knew she hadn’t been back till ten or eleven for weeks now. But there was so much to do. She wasn’t used to dealing with huge budgets, drawing up schedules for whole weeks of viewing, planning the press launch, overseeing the presentations to the major advertisers. She was exhausted. And she was missing Jamie and Daisy more than she dared admit. But she knew how much was at stake, how she had to show not simply that a woman could do it, but that a woman could do it brilliantly.

  ‘It’ll be easier after we’re on air,’ she soothed. ‘Things will calm down then and I can start coming home earlier.’

  ‘Yes.’ She could hear the disapproval in Susie’s tone. ‘But that’s not for another two months! And anyway won’t you still have to work incredibly hard?’

  ‘It’ll be all right, Susie. Just get on with the job, will you?’

  Liz knew she shouldn’t have been rude, that her life and her children’s revolved round this one girl, but Susie had just lit the blue touchpaper of one of her deepest fears. Would things really improve when they were on air or was she just fooling herself?

  Oh, what the hell. She had enough to keep her awake without having to worry about offending the wretched nanny! ‘Of course it’ll be easier.’ Liz tried to convince herself as she spoke. ‘I’ll be my own boss and I can manage my time better.’

  Susie raised her eyebrows fractionally and said nothing. She liked Liz and she didn’t want to get fired. The Ward household was happy and interesting and she knew both David and Liz loved each other and their children. And she’d been in enough homes to know how rare that was. But she loved Jamie and Daisy too. That was the trouble. And she could see something Liz’s new obsession with work blinded her to: that with both she and David working so hard Jamie and Daisy were being neglected.

  She had put them to bed almost every night for weeks now and though the extra money she was making was great, she couldn’t bear having to tell them every night that no, Mummy wouldn’t be back and watch their little faces fall. It had been time to speak out.

  Liz sat and pretended to read a file. Was Jamie really unhappy? She knew she was short-changing her children at the moment. But it wouldn’t be for long. Things were bound to improve. It was the biggest challenge of her life and it had to work out. Everything would be all right again soon. Wouldn’t it?

  Liz looked round at the room packed with journalists all eager to know if Metro TV would be coming up with anything different from the diet of mediocre entertainment and cheap soap operas that had lost their predecessor Capital TV its licence.

  So far things were going well. Metro’s package of new stars and fresh programme ideas was being treated with politeness, which could of course mean they intended to slag it off in their respective papers. With the press you never knew.

  Liz took a deep breath and banged her wineglass with a fork to get their attention. She’d been rehearsing her speech all day but it was one thing working in television, she’d discovered, quite another having to perform.

  ‘Brilliant! You were bloody brilliant!’

  Liz smiled weakly. It had taken every ounce of energy in her body to get ready to unveil Metro’s new programmes to the press and now it was over she wanted to sleep for a week, a month even. Conrad had grabbed her arm and was propelling her towards his office for a celebratory drink. Yet the only thing in the world she wanted to do was rush back to Jamie and Daisy.

  It was six p.m. and if she dashed she would get there just in time to catch them before bedtime. Ignoring Conrad’s look of disapproval she ran down the eight flights of stairs to the company car park.

  It was rush hour and every light in London seemed to be against her. Why hadn’t she phoned and asked Susie to keep them up? Feeling a coward, she realized it was because she’d be making some kind of admission to the girl. Besides, she wanted it to be a surprise. Squealing round corners and jumping every light on amber she realized how excited she felt. In five minutes she’d be holding them.

  It was seven-ten when the car finally screeched to a halt outside their house and she rushed upstairs, heart pounding, imagining their shrieks of delight when they saw her.

  Instead there was an almost eerie silence as Susie came out of the bathroom carrying one of Daisy’s baby-gros. ‘Liz!’ She smiled in embarrassment, aware of her parting words. ‘I wasn’t expecting you tonight of all nights. How did the launch go?’

  Liz knew Susie was trying to make amends but the last thing she wanted was to get int
o a discussion about work with her nanny. Especially when all she wanted to do was hug Daisy and Jamie and read them a story.

  ‘Fine. Where are they?’

  Susie looked faintly guilty. ‘In bed, I’m afraid. They were dog-tired so I put them down early.’

  It was like a kick in the ribs. She’d longed to see them so much. She walked towards Jamie’s door and opened it a couple of inches. He was lying on his back on top of the duvet, arms thrown out, his shock of dark hair standing up like a tiny punk, his face peaceful, in the deep abandoned sleep of childhood.

  For a moment she thought about waking him and then realized how selfish it would be. So she contented herself with tucking him in just a shade too vigorously, hoping he might wake up anyway, or at least give her a sleepy smile. But he didn’t.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stroked his hair. He seemed happy enough. But was she just fooling herself? Quietly she padded out of the room to get herself a large drink. She needed it. Thank God tomorrow was the weekend and for once both she and David would be home.

  For a few moments Liz lay, half-awake in their big bed, watching the sun stream in through the gaps at the side of the blind, and stretched. They had the whole day together. Swimming pool, adventure playground, puppet show, pizza in the park. Bliss! What on earth had they done with their days before children? It seemed impossible that they could ever have filled them. And then she remembered. Lovemaking. A leisurely lie in with the newspapers. A brief foray to the deli for home-made pasta and pesto sauce for their supper. Lunch at Julie’s. Browsing in Portobello Road for antiques.

  Though she knew she had not a hope in hell of explaining it to their childfree friends, the funny thing was it all sounded rather dull to her now! After all there are only so many wonderful meals you can eat, only so many glorious places to go on holiday, before they start to feel the same. Children at least made life unpredictable!

  As if on cue Jamie burst into the room, bare-bottomed, wearing his pyjama top and a pair of her high heels. Daisy, joining in the spirit of the thing, had a Thomas the Tank Engine wastepaper basket on her head and had drawn with felt-tip pen all over her pyjamas.