The O’Hara Affair. Kate Thompson
Читать онлайн книгу.
don’t you try and get a job in Lissamore, then?’
‘I’ve tried. There’s nothing going.’
‘You’re wrong. There are jobs going. Did you look for work on The O’Hara Affair?’
‘As an actress? Are you – serious? I wouldn’t have the nerve.’
‘Not as an actress, no. As an extra.’
‘I’d have loved that, but somebody told me there was no point. Apparently hundreds of wannabes like me applied. Oh – that’s an awful word, isn’t it! Wannabe.’
‘No. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something. Wanting something is proactive. Apathy is far, far worse. That’s why your classmates made jokes at your expense. They don’t have the courage to dream.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You said an interesting thing earlier. You said that people decided you’d got too big for your boots. That’s because you have a dream, Bethany, and maybe they don’t. And because they’re jealous of your dream, they want to destroy it. Seeing you fail will make them feel better about themselves. Think about it.’
Bethany thought about it, and as she did, she felt a creeping sense of relief that what she’d always suspected to be true had been put into words by someone so much older and wiser than her. Was that the reason she was confiding all her secrets in Madame Tiresia? ‘That’s horrible, isn’t it?’
‘It’s human nature. But a much easier way of feeling better about yourself is to have a positive mantra. You lost your phone recently, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. How did you – oh. The crystal, of course.’
‘Of course,’ echoed Madame. Was Bethany imagining it, or was there a smile in her voice? ‘And when you lost your phone, what did you say to yourself?’
‘I told myself that I was an idiot.’
‘You see? You told yourself.’ Madame shook her head. ‘If you are telling yourself that you’re an idiot, Bethany, you are simply giving other people a license to do the same. If your self-esteem is rock bottom, you can hardly expect other people to respect you. So next time you lose your phone, don’t tell yourself you’re an idiot. Say, instead: “Oh! I have lost my phone – but hey, that happens to everyone from time to time. Losing my phone doesn’t mean I am an idiot. In fact, I think I’m pretty damned special.”’
Bethany wrinkled her nose. ‘But isn’t that kind of arrogant?’
‘Not at all. I have never understood why people think it is an insult when someone makes the observation, “You think you’re so great.” Tell me – how would you respond if someone said that to you?’
‘I’d tell them no way – I don’t think I’m great.’
‘You see! How negative is that? The correct response is, “That’s because I am great!”’
‘I’d never dream of saying that!’ protested Bethany.
‘You don’t actually have to articulate it. Say it to yourself. Say it now, Bethany. Say, “I think I’m great”.’
‘No. I can’t.’
‘Say it!’
‘I think I’m…great,’ said Bethany, without conviction.
‘There you are! Say it to yourself every time you want to call yourself an idiot. Say it over and over. “I think I’m great, I think I’m great, I think I’m great!” Let it be your mantra. Picture that little girl who pretended she had a confirm ation dress with petticoats, the little girl who could only act a role in the privacy of her bedroom. She’s afraid – she needs reassurance. Get to know her, make her your friend. Give her the respect she deserves, and I can guarantee that people will start to respect you, too.’
Bethany’s mind’s eye saw herself as a child, standing in a circle of little girls all comparing notes on their confirmation dresses. They’d been insecure, too, of course, with their bragging about how much their dress had cost and where it had been purchased. As for those girls she’d seen earlier – the ones with the swingy hair and orthodontic smiles – maybe they too sought help from internet sites or cried hot tears while updating their blogs? Maybe even Daisy de Saint-Euverte suffered from the blues, or the mean reds, like Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
‘The crystal tells me you should try for work on the film.’ Madame Tiresia’s tone was authoritative.
‘What?’
‘The crystal is certain that if you try, you will succeed. Go home now, and send off an email application for work as an extra. You’ll find it on The O’Hara Affair website.’
‘You really think I should?’
‘I do. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’
Bethany smiled. ‘That’s what my mum always says.’
‘Mums can be pretty wise women.’ Madame Tiresia passed her hands over the crystal, setting her bangles jingling. ‘Alas, Bethany, your time is up. The crystal’s gone cloudy.’
‘Oh. Well – thank you for your advice, Madame. I’ll send off an application right away. I’ll send off two! One to the movie people, and one to the Gaiety School! My horoscope said I should heed the advice of a wise woman.’
‘Do you believe in horoscopes?’
‘No,’ she lied. ‘But I believe in you.’
‘That’s the spirit, beautiful girl. Shoo.’
Bethany rose to her feet. But before she lifted the flap of the booth she turned back to Madame. ‘D’you know something? I kinda feel more like I’ve been talking to a counsellor or a shrink or something rather than a fortune-teller. You should be an agony aunt – no offence!’ she added hastily. ‘You’re a really good fortune-teller as well.’
‘I know I am,’ said Madame Tiresia. ‘Give your cat Poppet a cuddle from me when you get home.’
‘Wow!’ said Bethany. ‘How did you—?’
‘How do you think?’
Utterly mystified, Bethany shook her head, gave a little smile, then left the booth. Outside, the gaggle of girls was sitting on the sea wall, swinging their legs.
‘I think I’m great,’ she murmured to herself as she plugged herself into her iPod. ‘I think I’m great. I think I’m great!’
She smiled as the Sugababes told her how sweet life could be, how it could change. Nothing ventured, nothing gained – that’s what Madame had told her, that’s what her mother told her, and really, the old clichés were the ones that always made the most sense. She could change her life around, and she was going to do it today because, after all, she was great – wasn’t she?
It was lucky for Bethany that the strains of the Sugababes drowned out the small arms fire of snide remarks that came her way from the sea wall as she headed for the narrow road that would take her home to Díseart.
As soon as Bethany left the booth, Fleur scribbled a ‘Back in five minutes’ sign and stuck it on the tent flap. Then she phoned Corban. ‘Lover?’ she said. ‘Can you do me a favour?’
‘That depends. Run it by me.’
‘There’s a girl who’d love to work as an extra on the film. Do you think you could organize it for her?’
‘That’s not my department, Fleur.’
‘I know. But I told her that it would happen.’
‘You mean, Madame Tiresia told her it would happen?’
‘Same difference. Surely you have some