‘You’re there for so many people, including me. Your presence in my life is enough. You don’t have todoanything.’
‘But you’re fighting—’
‘Do you know, I’ve come to really dislike thecancer-fightingmotif,’ said Mim suddenly. ‘That, if and when you die, you haven’t fought enough, the implication being that youlostthe battle. People aren’t expected to fight tsunamis or volcanic eruptions or famines. They just kill everyone in their path. So why do we have to “fight cancer”. We have no control. When cancer has broken your body, you die.’
Mim had died two years before. It felt like years and moments simultaneously.
Lou still fretted and worried about the same things.
Now Lou sipped her tea and let the sights of the garden fill her senses.
Mim had sent her a card, delivered when she was dead, and it had been full of Mim’s straightforward advice.
Take care of yourself. If you can keep resetting the day the way we used to, it would be wonderful. Could you do that?
Lou did her best to live up to her friend’s request.
‘I’m going to make fifty fabulous in honour of you, Mim,’ she said into the sky.
Toni and Morag, her second-in-command in Women in Business, had arrived at Epsilon Radio at nine and had been drinking indifferent coffee in reception for the past thirty-five minutes.
‘Is this normal?’ said Morag, looking at her watch again.
Toni shrugged. Toni’s day job was broadcasting in the prestigious AJH Television and Radio studios. Their guests often had to wait to go on-air but were offered decent coffee and an explanation of why they were waiting – but nobody had come to explain why their allotted slot was delayed. Toni was at Epsilon to appear on a panel discussion about a new report on the startlingly low figures of women in managerial positions in businesses. And she had a message to get across. She’d brought Morag because she needed to work on her media skills, but her deputy had to be in the WIB office for a mentoring session at half ten. And Toni had to be in her own studio for work by eleven.
Another nine minutes had passed, and Toni was about to stand up to leave when a harassed producer came out to bring Toni into the studio.
‘What was the delay about?’ she asked as she followed the producer into the studio, but before she got any further, a loud male voice was heard proclaiming: ‘The traffic was dreadful. I hope you didn’t mind waiting.’
There was a split-second while Toni tried to decide whether to be honest. Her fellow guest would have the interview to himself if she bailed.
There was nothing to be gained by appearing irate. Nothing at all. She was in the studio to discuss the report on women’s lack of representation in senior roles in companies. Professionalism was the order of the day and there was no point in making an issue about the other guest, a businessman who ran a big company, making her late with his timekeeping. Sitting down, she fought hard not to shiver. The air conditioning in Epsilon’s studio was on full blast but no one else seemed to notice. The latecomer was heavily insulated with the muscular bulk that came from schoolboy sports and probably plenty of hours in the gym where men were men and anybody who ran from the communal showers was considered a wuss. Now was not the time to explain that women felt the cold more than men because men’s core body temperature was higher.
‘So you’re saying that despite everything, reports still show women in industry – in all jobs, you’d argue, Toni – aren’t in the top jobs?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ Toni said.
They’d got precisely one minute into the ten-minute segment before Gerry Lanigan, her fellow guest with the poor timekeeping skills, got fully into his stride.
Ignoring the report on women in management entirely, he happily interrupted Toni.
‘Ah now, you see,’ he said cosily to the show host, ‘I know it’s an uncomfortable truth, but I have to say it: Toni and her ladies show that the world has gone crazy about being “woke”. There are women in business in every company in the world, but feminists keep pretending it’s not the case. They want all the management people to be women, which makes no sense. We need equality on both sides, not just for women’s rights. It’s all women’s rights in my home.’ He smiled as if at some great joke. ‘My wife tells me what to do and my home is very female-oriented. Herself makes sure of it.’
There was laughter from the host.
‘Gerry, I bet it’s a full-time job keeping you in line.’
Toni, freezing cold and late for her next meeting because of this idiot, did not smile. She knew more about Gerry Lanigan than he thought. At Women in Business, they were quite well aware of companies where the corporate policy and public relations spouted one thing and the real-world experience was something else. In her role in WIB, part of Toni’s job had been to rattle the cages of people like him. She was very good at it.
‘Gerry, tell us about your team, your top team,’ she said silkily. ‘I presume because you’re here this morning that there are many wonderful women on it?’
She watched with interest as Gerry’s chest puffed up and his chin edged forward as if he was planning on banging it on the desk to show how hard he was.
‘My team are wonderful,’ he declared proudly. ‘They’d follow me anywhere. On our recent team building weekend in Donegal, we were out all night on an exercise where we were all frozen but in high spirits. Orienteering is tough but, I have to say, it’s a very bonding experience. We modelled the exercise on an army Ranger programme—’
Not male-oriented at all,Toni thought sarcastically, looking at Gerry’s face. He honestly thought he was winning this one. Poor lamb.
‘That Donegal trip sounds excellent,’ the host said, ‘and I’m sure your team would follow you anywhere,’ he added.
