It’s the school secretary. ‘Mrs Palmer, sorry, Mrs Grant, I’m afraid that something has happened to Mia and we need you to come to school straight away.’
‘What do you mean something has happened? Is she ok?’
‘Yes, she’s fine.’
‘Has there been an accident?’
The make-up artist sighs and looks up at the clock. I have five minutes until I’m meant to be on air.
‘No, nothing like that. But we need you to come as soon as possible. There has been an incident.’
‘I can’t!’ I say, a ring of panic in my voice. ‘I’m in London, about to go on television.’
‘Please arrange for one of Mia’s other guardians to come, then. This really can’t wait until the end of the day.’
Andrew pops his head around the door to my dressing room.
‘All ok, darling?’
I grimace at him. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ I say before ending the call to the school secretary. ‘Got an emergency with my daughter,’ I tell Andrew. He rolls his eyes. Proud to be childless and gay, he is thoroughly disinterested in children.
‘Four minutes,’ he says, pointing to his watch and letting the door close.
My fingers are shaking as I dial Patrick’s phone. He answers after the sixth ring.
‘Patrick, please can you go to the kids’ school for me? There’s been a problem and I’m stuck up here in London.’
‘Sorry, Lydia. No can do. I’ve just arrived in Southampton and am about to go into a meeting.’
‘Oh.’
‘Must go. Speak later.’ He hangs up on me.
I call Cassie, and whilst I’m holding the phone up to my ear, the make-up artist comes towards me, brandishing the mascara wand. Cassie’s phone goes to voicemail. Hardly surprising that she has her phone off during the day whilst she’s teaching.
One of the runners opens the door. ‘You’re on in sixty seconds, Mrs Palmer.’
I don’t correct her. Instead, I jump up, tug my skirt down and follow her out of the room. And in this moment, I’m missing Adam. I know it’s crazy and hypocritical, but at least if Adam were still alive, he would have dealt with the school. But now I’m alone. I can’t rely on Patrick to help out with the kids, and why should he? They’re just an appendage to me. It’s not fair to expect any more from my new husband.
And Mia. What has happened to her? Is the school secretary holding something back from me? If she was hurt or ill, the woman would have told me, wouldn’t she? I want to scream. How am I going to concentrate when I’m worried about my girl?
I take a very deep breath, pull my shoulders back and walk onto the set. The lights are glaring and warm, and Andrew is already there looking at the knitting machine. The runner pushes an earphone into my ear.
‘Long face, Lydia,’ Andrew says, pulling the corners of his mouth up. But I can’t look at Andrew; my eyes are drawn to the machine on the presenting table.
‘What the hell?’ I exclaim. This isn’t a Knit It Qwik. This machine is bright pink and has the wording NitNakNok emblazoned on it.
‘This is the wrong product!’ I turn to Andrew and wave at the producer. ‘This is a screw-up!’
‘You’re on air in five. Four. Three. Two. One. On air.’
‘Good morning, everyone! Welcome, Lydia! What crafting wonder have you got for us today?’
My heart is thumping so hard I can hear it pounding in my ears. I wonder if I can even speak. How the hell am I going to get this machine to work? I’ve never seen it before, and it looks nothing like the Knit It Qwik, which I’ve swotted up on.
‘Good morning, Andrew. Good morning, everyone,’ I say, amazed that my voice sounds relatively normal. ‘I’m thrilled to be here.’
‘What is this unusual-looking machine, Lydia?’ Andrew asks, running his hands over the top of it.
‘We have here a knitting machine. It lets you knit things up super quickly, but unlike earlier versions on the market, this isn’t cheap and plasticky, and it won’t fall to pieces nor is it super expensive or very complicated.’ It is extremely plasticky looking to me and a lurid pink.
‘Exactly. And at £185 it is discounted by twenty percent off its normal retail value. But you won’t find this just anywhere, will you, Lydia?’
‘Um, no. We have exclusivity here on BUYIT TV.’ A little voice bellows inside my head. Do we? I don’t know anything about this damn machine.
‘So, Lydia, what are you going to make us today?’
‘I thought I’d knit up a quick cushion to show you how easy it is.’
I lift up a ball of lurid yellow yarn that is lying next to the machine and attempt to thread it. All the while Andrew is gushing how these machines are selling out fast and what amazing homemade presents you’ll be able to make if you purchase one.
But I can’t thread it. The mechanism is totally different to the Knit It Qwik. I turn the crank and there’s a loud crunching sound.
‘What the fuck!’ the producer yells in my ear. I can feel blood rushing to my face and pray that the heavy coat of foundation will block it out.
I cannot afford to screw this up, but if I don’t know how to use the machine, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I think of Ajay. I think of our staff and everyone who is relying on me to do a good sales job. And then I think of Mia, and I want to run off the set right now.
‘Lydia?’ Andrew says.
‘So last night, I made some fabulous cushion covers. And it would be super easy to make a jumper, knitting flat panels up in a couple of hours. This really is the easiest and quickest way to make fantastic garments that look as if they’ve been handknit, but can be made in a fraction of the time.’
‘Can you show us how it works, Lydia?’ Andrew asks.
‘Well, I’m not as familiar with this machine as I should be, so…’
‘Cut!’ the producer screams in my ear. ‘Andrew, onto the next item.’
‘Next up, we have a fabulous embroidery kit. You can sew up your own cushions in these incredible and unique designs. And look how divine this is.’
‘Lydia, get off the set,’ the producer says. ‘Away from camera three.’
I bite my bottom lip as I slip away off the set. The runner grabs my earpiece. Everyone else is ignoring me. That was an unmitigated disaster. I doubt if we made a single sale, and if we don’t sell our products, then BUYIT TV will delist us and we’ll lose a lucrative sales channel. Why was the wrong machine on set?
Back in the dressing room, I call Lucinda, my sales contact, who is a couple of floors down in this building.
‘What the hell just happened? I came onto set and there was another brand of knitting machine. All the paperwork said that I would be presenting a Knit It Qwik! And I know, because I completed the forms myself.’
‘Calm down, Lydia. Let me look through the file.’ With her strong estuary accent, she’s not like most of the other girls in the office, and she doesn’t sound like a Lucinda. I pace the room, fuming.
A moment later she comes back on the line. ‘I got a phone call from Ajay Arya last week confirming that you would be presenting the NitNakNok instead. The product was sent through three days ago. There must have been a communication breakdown at your end.’