False Advertising (5 page)

‘You didn't really expect to be able to waltz right back in to your old job, did you, Gem?'

She wouldn't have knocked it back.

‘No, of course I didn't, Lauren,' Gemma dismissed the idea. ‘I'm just putting the feelers out. I thought there might be something going, and you know what they say, better the devil you know.'

‘I don't know if that'll work both ways,' Lauren said dubiously. ‘You pissed off more than a few people, the way you upped and left like that.'

Gemma grimaced. She didn't have to be told she'd pissed people off; she was well aware of that. She had walked out of Bailey's on a Friday afternoon and not showed up for work on the Monday, or ever again – no call, no explanation. She and Luke had made a spontaneous decision over the weekend to take off. It was too exciting, too romantic, too wild. And it was the weekend – who was she going to call anyway?

That was why she didn't want to call anyone from her old team now, and certainly not Charlie, not till she knew the lie of the land. So she'd got in touch with Lauren instead, whom she could absolutely count on knowing the lie of the land. Lauren knew everything that went on within the halls and offices and boardrooms at Bailey + Partners, and Lauren told it like it was. She could be a right pain in the arse, her honesty bordering on plain rude sometimes. They had worked together when Gemma first started at Bailey's as an admin assistant, and Lauren was still in admin to this day – her comfort zone, as she liked to call it.

She had agreed to meet for a drink, though of course Gemma wasn't drinking. That was nearly the worst bloody part of this whole thing. She couldn't even get drunk that first night when she realised Luke had left her. The mere smell of alcohol made her queasy these days. Pregnancy was like an enforced good behaviour bond. Wasn't having a baby punishment enough? So Gemma insisted on buying their drinks, and Lauren had no idea that her friend's bourbon and dry had no bourbon in it. For as long as her body would oblige, Gemma intended to keep the pregnancy to herself. It would close too many doors, and she didn't have that many open to her in the first place.

She had worked at Bailey's for three years prior to her fateful meeting with Luke. It was the longest Gemma had ever stayed in one job, the first time she hadn't become bored. She'd never thought of advertising as a career option; truth be told, she'd never thought in terms of a career at all. She'd been doing waitressing and bar work on and off for years, and frankly she just got tired of working when her friends were partying. She wanted a day job. So she registered with a temp agency and went out on various typical admin gigs, answering phones, typing, filing, general dogsbody stuff. It was hardly stimulating, but Gemma didn't care. She didn't have to be on her feet all day, the carpet didn't smell of stale beer, and she could knock off work in time to meet her friends any night she pleased. And the weekends were totally, blissfully, to herself. It was a pity she seemed to spend them either inebriated or hungover.

Then she'd landed at Bailey's. It was a big, sexy advertising agency located smack in the centre of the city in vast modern offices of steel and glass, peopled by designer-label executives and uber-cool creative dudes. At first Gemma was immune to its particular charms, delighting in taking the piss out of the place when she was with her friends. But, despite herself, she began to become fascinated with the whole process. She found herself working harder than she had ever bothered before, staying late, showing initiative, offering ideas, being noticed. She became their temp of choice, her contract was renewed again and again as she was moved out of admin and around to virtually every team. Before long she was made permanent and became assistant
to one of the production coordinators. Gemma loved it. It was dynamic and fast and fun; she was using her brain in ways she never had before and discovering skills she hadn't known she possessed. She had never imagined work could be like this. She was pushing thirty and for the first time in her life she had a real job that she wanted to stick at.

And then she met Luke.

He was a friend of a friend of a friend in her old crowd. Gemma hadn't been out with them in ages, she protested she was too busy, but they all knew she was drifting away. She finally made one too many excuses and they were beginning to feel slighted. So she vowed absolutely to make it to their next soiree, and Luke was there. She spotted him immediately. He had that offhand, effortless charisma that was sexy as all get-out. Gemma found herself completely entranced, and she found herself in his bed that same night, which was fast going even for her. As they became entangled, work became mundane again. Luke made her think about what she was doing – selling people stuff they didn't need, helping to turn the cogs in the capitalist wheel, whoring herself at the altar of crass commercialism – for what? To work her guts out for someone else for the rest of her life?

Luke made her question, he made her doubt, he made her pack it all in and follow him up to Queensland.

And then he dumped her there.

‘Personally, I could never understand what you saw in him,' said Lauren, after Gemma had recounted her sorry tale, albeit a tightly edited version. ‘He was a bit of a drop-kick if you ask me.'

Gemma sat glumly, sucking her dry ginger ale through a straw. Of course he was a drop-kick. She'd never had good taste in men. The light of her infatuation tended to blind her temporarily and it was only when it faded that she could see them for what they really were. Unfortunately, it had taken a little longer to fade than usual with Luke.

What had she been thinking? Leaving a good job to follow him and go back to being a waitress? It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe she had known on some level that it would be her last chance to be foolish and free and do something totally on a whim.

And so life decided to bite back and teach her a lesson in being responsible. And what a lesson. No wonder Luke had done a runner. She would have run given the chance. But of course she was left holding the baby; if she ran, it came right along with her.

‘So Lauren, do you know if there's an opening at Bailey's?' Gemma asked, returning to the reason she was here. If she thought too much about how she had got here, it was just depressing. ‘Anything at all that might be coming up?'

Lauren thought about it. ‘There might be something, but it's not on a team.'

‘Doesn't matter,' she dismissed. ‘I just need a job at the moment.'

‘Okay, well, the MD's assistant is about seven months' pregnant –'

‘Hold on,' Gemma said, frowning. ‘Liz is pregnant? I didn't even know she was seeing anyone. And since when did you start calling Jonesy the “MD”?'

Lauren blinked at her. ‘Oh, jeez, I forgot. You must have left just before it all happened.'

‘Before all what happened?'

‘Jonesy was dumped.'

‘What?' Gemma was shocked. Jonesy was the heart of Bailey's, the soul, the life of the party. His motto was that it wasn't worth doing if you weren't having fun. ‘When . . . how . . . why?'

‘Like I said, it must have been just after you left,' said Lauren. ‘He totally stuffed up this major account, didn't meet the deadline, the budget blew out. The clients went ballistic and wanted his head, so the board presented it to them on a platter.'

‘They made Jonesy the scapegoat?'

‘Nuh,' Lauren shook her head, ‘he deserved it. Turns out he'd been working over budget for ages. The business was in a mess and they were talking about cutting staff, even consolidating into one headquarters in Melbourne, which meant heaps of people would have lost their jobs. In the end they brought in this management whiz from the Melbourne office to clean up the mess. Now the reins have never been tighter, believe you me.'

Gemma was still taking it all in. ‘What happened to Liz?'

‘She didn't want to work for the new guy, so she left. Then he
interviewed about seven hundred girls to find a replacement, finally hired one, and a month later she tells him she's pregnant. She reckons she didn't know when she went for the job. Anyway, he was going to sack her on the spot, but she pleaded with him that she needed the money, so he gave her a stay of execution. That was a few months ago. Kelly was only telling me the other day he had asked HR to start advertising again.' Lauren paused, thinking. ‘You were friendly with Kel; why don't you give her a call? I reckon if she put in a good word for you, the MD would probably be glad not to have to go through all that rigmarole all over again.'

‘I don't know . . .' Gemma's head was spinning. Opportunity was right in front of her, there for the taking, she could almost touch it, but she would never get away with it. Would she? What was going to happen in a few months' time when she turned around and had to tell whatshisname she was also having a baby? What was this guy's name anyway?

‘Why do you keep calling him the MD?' Gemma asked. ‘Are things that formal now?'

‘Not really,' Lauren said. ‘His initials are MD as well, so that's what everyone started calling him, and it stuck.'

‘What does the MD stand for?'

‘
Something
Davenport,' Lauren was thinking. ‘Malcolm or Myles or Marcus, something poncy . . . sounds like the captain of the rowing team at a private school.'

Gemma's heart was sinking so low she suspected her toes would register a pulse. ‘So I take it he's not winning any popularity contests?'

Lauren shrugged. ‘There's not really anything wrong with him, I guess, but he's no Jonesy. The whole mood of the place has changed. Like I said, he runs a tight ship now, he keeps an eye on pretty much everything. But otherwise, socially and that, he seems to keep to himself. I suppose it can't be easy for him.' She considered Gemma's strained expression. ‘Seriously, give Kelly a call. Things are so tight, there'll be no new positions coming up for ages. You might as well go for this one. What have you got to lose?'

*

‘How are you going to afford to pay for the nursing home?' were almost Tony's first words on the phone from London. He'd swiftly dispensed with the ‘how are you' plus a mumbled apology about not being able to get back for the funeral, before cutting right to the chase.

‘Sorry to put it so bluntly,' he went on, ‘but you have lost a wage.'

Was it possible for him to be more insensitive?

‘Tony,' Helen replied levelly, ‘I've lost a husband.'

‘I know that, Hel, I'm just looking at the big picture, because I doubt that you are. I'm worried about you.'

No, he wasn't. Once upon a time maybe. But Helen didn't know what his agenda was any more.

‘How will you cope?' he went on. ‘Those fees aren't cheap, and you're a single mother now.'

‘I'm a widow, Tony.'

‘Which is worse: you won't be getting any child support.'

Christ.

‘How are you going to get by?'

‘If you're so concerned,' said Helen, ‘you could always contribute to Mum's fees for a while, till I get on my feet again.'

There was a significant pause. ‘Hel, if you need anything, you only have to ask,' he said carefully. ‘But you have to be realistic about your situation.'

Helen could feel a tightening in her chest. ‘What are you suggesting, Tony?'

‘I'm only thinking, do you and Noah even need such a big place? The two of you must be rattling around there these days.'

‘Are you saying you want to kick your only sister and your only nephew out on the street?'

‘Of course I'm not saying that,' he denied. ‘Helen, I realise this is an emotional time for you, but I don't know how you can even suggest that I'd see you out on the street. I was only thinking you might be much more comfortable in a nice little townhouse, without all the maintenance –'

‘It's not the time to sell,' said Helen flatly.

‘On the contrary, I've been looking on the internet and the market's quite strong at the moment.'

‘Not everything comes down to economics, Tony! Mum is still alive. If we sold the house, that money would have to sit in a trust for her. You couldn't get your hands on it anyway.'

Her words seemed to echo down the line, all the way to London.

‘That's not fair, Hel. I wasn't thinking of myself. I'm thinking of you and Noah.'

He sounded genuinely hurt, but then again it was hard to tell. He worked in the theatre, after all.

‘Well, it wouldn't make any difference to my situation,' Helen said after a while. ‘I either live here rent-free and support Mum, or I pay rent somewhere else. I'd be struggling to do either right now.'

There was silence for a moment.

‘It sounds like you've found yourself in that most unenviable of places, little sister,' said Tony finally.

‘Oh, where's that?'

‘Smack bang between a rock and somewhere just as hard.'

Helen felt the lump rising rapidly in her chest, and a sob escaped before she could do anything to stop it.

‘Oh, don't,' said Tony, but not unkindly. ‘That's how you always got around me when we were kids. And Dad. Mum never fell for it though.'

Helen sniffed, collecting herself. ‘That's because you were her favourite.'

‘Mum didn't play favourites.'

‘She still asks for you,' said Helen, ‘every single time. She doesn't even know me most days.'

‘There's nothing I can do about that, Hel,' Tony said quietly. ‘It isn't my fault, I wish you wouldn't always think the worst of me.'

‘I don't.'

‘I'm really not the selfish bastard you think I am.'

‘I don't think that –'

‘I know it's been hard on you, with me living over here. And I'd send you money if I had it, but London is so expensive, you
have no idea . . .' His voice trailed off, and then he cleared his throat. ‘You know I'm sharing this place with three other people, and one bloke's just moved out. We're all struggling to cover his share of the rent while we find someone to take his place.' He paused. ‘Hey, why don't you do that?'

‘What?' Hadn't he just said ‘find someone to take his place'? What was he suggesting . . .?

‘Get someone in to share the expenses,' said Tony.

Helen felt queasy. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘A boarder.'

‘What, a total stranger?'

‘Well, not once they start living with you –'

‘I don't think I could do that, Tony.'

‘Look, I'm just saying it's an option, Hel,' he said. ‘And you don't seem to have a whole lot of those.'

‘Thanks for reminding me,' she said glumly.

‘Are you getting any counselling, Hel?' asked Tony after another pause.

‘Why do you ask?'

‘I just think it would be good to talk to someone about all this.'

Helen didn't say anything.

‘Look, I have to go,' said Tony. ‘But, listen, call me, Hel, any time, even if you just want to talk. You should call me more often.' He paused. ‘We've gotten out of the habit the last few years, and I miss talking to you. You know we've only got each other now, Hel.'

She breathed out. ‘I know.'