Gold Medal Hero

by Jena Petrie

  "Out of practice, I'd say."

  "And out of order."

  Jeff squinted at her, but didn't respond as he slid a block of wood behind one trailer wheel.

  "Well, they are, aren't they?" She blocked the wheel on her side and followed the coach's actions in throwing her life jacket onto a spare peg. "Here's Connor, the only one aiming for four more Olympic gold medals and used to being stroke, and you haven't got him in there. Instead, you've got one of the others, unused to that position, inexperienced in that role and without Connor's fierce determination to win."

  "Telling me how to do my job now?" Jeff growled, heading for the big roller door.

  "Just trying to let you know what I think. Nothing wrong with listening and taking it on board."

  "Okay. I've listened. It's up to me whether I take it on board or not, alright?" and he flicked the switch to close the door and walked outside, effectively dismissing her.

  ***

  "What did Jeff say?" Behind Connor, the front door slammed.

  "Hello to you, too." Bailey flipped the patty in the pan. "Said he might swap the crew around some more, that it's good for you, gives you a change that helps you concentrate and have a different view—"

  "Like that matters!" Connor yanked the fridge door open with such force the empty jars above it rattled.

  Leaning back against the sink she waited till he'd finished drinking. "Your rowing looked awesome today. I loved being there, watching you in action and with the lake so smooth. Wished I had my camera. Could have got some fantastic shots."

  "Really." A swivel on his trainers and he'd turned and marched from the room, leaving the smell of sweat behind as a reminder of his hard work.

  Something she must never forget.

  It wasn't till Connor had left for training later in the day that Bailey had the chance to hunt through her records. Soon newspaper cuttings, regatta reports and photos covered her desk and she began the laborious task of arranging them all in date order. Connor might not have said anything but having learned he had a problem, she'd remembered that his attitude after every training session indicated he wasn't impressed with being excluded from his favourite seat.

  Eventually she made her selections, including a photo of Connor in the single for the end. Determination showed clearly on his features. Concentration, too—all one hundred percent of it. Soon a line of records stretched along the wall, telling Connor's story in a mural. "So take that, Jeff Nicholls!" she growled as the last pin slid into place. "We'll show you!"

  ***

  "I have to go out. Supermarket and all that," Bailey told Connor next day. She'd spent a ridiculous amount of time choosing her clothes for this job-hunting expedition and ended up wearing a similar outfit as the ones she'd worn to work in Mosgiel. "Oh, and I might stop in and visit Michelle on the way home; unless you need the car?"

  "No. You're fine, just don't forget to buy bananas. I'll run to the lake." He waved her away. "See you after training sometime."

  On a side street in town Bailey parked the car, walked around the corner, and headed for the building she'd selected as her first stop.

  Inside, Sherdon's newspaper office looked like it had a totally different layout from the one in Mosgiel but the sounds and smells were exactly the same. Bailey waited on a hard-backed chair in Reception, her fingers fidgeting, her stomach in knots and her back heating from the sunshine pouring in through the windows behind her. She leaned forward, pulled her top away from her sticky back and looked around. No water cooler in sight, damn it.

  Finally someone called her name and she followed the young guy down the hall, waiting while he knocked on the door of an office labelled Editor-in-Chief. Inside, she blinked at the unusually young-looking boss.

  When he spoke, he sounded abrupt, as if he had the same request every day. No, they had no vacancies. No, there were none coming up. Fewer newspapers were being sold these days so fewer staff were required, but thank you for your enquiry. Good bye and good luck with your search.

  The whole thing took less than five minutes. Bailey stepped out the main door into the sticky heat of the afternoon. Well, so much for that. At least she'd tried.

  This muggy weather drained her energy. Or was it the depression from being turned down from the only work she'd trained for? Either way, she needed a drink. A cold one. No. A freezing one would be better. So she walked down the street until she reached a café. After ordering iced coffee she chose a corner seat near the back so she could watch the other customers, study their clothing, mannerisms, facial expressions and voices. Some of it might come in handy; if she got a job with a psychologist.

  Disgusted with herself she drained her glass and left the café, walking until she reached a dress shop.

  Same story as before. No they didn't need staff. No they weren't likely to in the near future. Thank you very much and good luck.

  By the end of the afternoon her body sagged. "No I don't feel like visiting Michelle," she growled as she drove home. "No I don't feel like socializing. And no, Connor, I'm sorry. I must be useless because nobody will give me a bloody job."

  Connor rose from the sofa when she walked in, his eyebrows almost meeting his hairline and no wonder. She probably looked as wrecked as a ship after being caught in a tornado. "Got the bananas?" he asked.

  "Oh, no!" She collapsed onto the sofa. "I totally forgot."

  "Haven't even been to the supermarket, have you?" Suspicion showed clearly in his squinty eyes, and in his tone.

  "That's what I meant. Okay. I'll go, but first I need a coffee."

  "So where were you?" He looked like he'd screw her neck like a helpless chicken if she said she'd been with anyone and she sighed. "Job-hunting. Being rejected at the only thing I believe I've got any talent for. And several others as well. You'd be depressed too."

  "I'll make the drinks." He jumped up, patting her shoulder as he passed. "You stay there and relax. Unless, of course, you'd rather I did the shopping?"

  She laughed up at him. "It's alright, Connor. You stick to making the drinks. I'll handle the shopping, as long as we're not out of coffee or milk."

  "No," he called from the kitchen after she heard tins and the fridge being opened. A couple of minutes later he reappeared at the doorway, two cups in his hands. "Did you see my contribution of crosses on the shopping list?"

  "Crosses?"

  "Kisses," and with a wink, he turned away again, leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling inside her. This guy really might be a keeper.

  ***

  Bailey adjusted the angle on the Sherdon Club hat. Connor had handed it over before they left for the regatta and she'd initially thought it a considerate gesture, making sure she had protection from the sun. Instead, it marked her as a supporter.

  A supporter instead of a competitor.

  An outsider in a foreign place and surrounded by strangers.

  Walking from the boat park where she'd left Connor warming up for his first race, Bailey glanced up at the grandstand near the finish line. Filling up fast. Beyond that, a grassed area of ground sloped gently to the lake, giving a much larger viewing area for spectators and the place she'd arranged to meet the other girls.

  "Ah, there you are, Bailey."

  "Hi." Bailey dumped her bag on the grass beside Michelle who sat—like Suzy and Nat—on a folded chair. Both wore sunglasses and a cap displaying a rowing club's logo.

  "You haven't got a chair?" Suzy leaned forward from the end of the line so she could watch the newcomer. "Didn't Connor tell you—?"

  Bailey shook her head. "Probably didn't think of it. Neither did I. Not when I've competed at every regatta I've attended until this one." From her bag she unfolded her jacket, spread it on the ground beside Michelle and sat on top.

  "We usually have a yelling competition at these regattas," Nat told her, leaning forward like Suzy. "Whoever makes the most noise shouting for her man gets to shout ice-creams for the rest of us girls, after our guys have finished rowing on the Sunday." />
  "Sounds fair," Bailey chuckled. "A bit convoluted, but fair. Who usually wins?"

  "Well, not Michelle of course. Her voice is too quiet, although she does try."

  "You," Bailey guessed.

  Laughing, Nat tossed her head. "I'm happy to be beaten, as long as Ken isn't."

  "It's only the heats today," Bailey protested. "The main thing is that he goes through to the finals tomorrow, surely?"

  "The main thing, yes, but he still likes to win every race. Gives him an extra boost of confidence, you see; especially important in this regatta. Several guys in the boat are new crewmembers and there hasn’t been much time for training together."

  "That's what can happen with these regattas when everyone, including the national squad rowers, have to row for their clubs." Bailey tucked a strand of hair under her cap and pulled her ponytail tighter. "Still, it's really good for the less experienced crewmembers. Must be pretty inspiring when they have an elite rower in the boat with them. Jeez, even having those rowers here must be inspiring."

  "Good for everyone all round, I'd say." Suzy craned her neck as the crowd surged towards the lake. "This must be Aaron. He's in the first heat." She ran ahead, followed by the others.

  Once that race finished with Aaron's crew the clear winner, the commentator began reporting on the next race and again, Bailey moved to the lake edge. As Connor's crew fought for first place she ran along the bank towards the finish line, pausing at intervals to snap photos. "Second," she reported to the others a few minutes later when she rejoined them. "Pretty close though, wasn't it?"

  "They could have gone faster." Suzy collapsed into her chair. "Looked like they were just out on another training row."

  Bailey smoothed out the wrinkles of her coat and found a more comfortable position. "I never thought to ask what Connor's race strategies were so either they knew they just needed to be second, or his crewmates couldn't row any faster."

  "The first, I'd say," Nat replied. "But that's enough of Connor. Ken's next and you all have to watch and cheer him on."

  "How do we do that when Pete's in the same race?" Michelle demanded with a wink at Bailey as they both stood and joined Nat walking to the lake.

  Bailey listened in silence as the taller girl tried to drown out Michelle's yelling. Won hands down, too. Ice creams coming up? Really, they should buy Nat one, rather than the other way around.

  On the way back to their places a woman's voice asked, "Are you Bailey Stoddart?"

  "Yes," but who was she?

  "Loved your article in the paper on Connor. A really awesome account and so timely too, after the rubbish in that gossip magazine."

  "Oh, thanks. Glad you liked it." Even after the woman had disappeared into the crowd, Bailey remained there, her head still spinning in shock. The woman was a stranger, yet she'd spoken up. Wow.

  Back in her seat Bailey had to check on the result of the last race. Predictably, Ken's and Pete's crews had taken the first two places and Bailey tried to join in the discussion of the crews' tactics with the other girls but it was no good. "I need a coffee. Any of you coming with me?"

  A chorus of negatives followed so she amended her query. "Anything you want brought back?"

  All of them, it seemed, would wait so she wandered off alone. Crowds of people filled the interior of the tiny canteen, moving only slowly towards the counter. Soon she found herself completely surrounded by people so tall, all she could see were T-shirts and singlets.

  Finally her turn came and she ordered an iced coffee, then moved to one side to join others waiting for their orders. Viewing the customers from the front gave a totally different impression as all wore bored faces as they shuffled forward or reluctantly moved aside to create escape routes for those leaving.

  Amongst the crowd a face caught her attention and she focused on it more intently. No! It couldn't be! The familiar sight turned her body cold.

  So cold, even her scalp prickled. How could Sleazy Renton be here? How could he have tracked her down?

  Well, that would be easy. The real question was, why? Surely there'd be no point coming all this way to see her.

  Jeez, and she thought she'd left him, and his accusations, behind in Mosgiel. Like Connor had suggested. And convinced her to believe.

  Even her scalp had cooled now and she shivered in spite of the heat from so many bodies in this confined space. Surely Renton had done his damage.

  Or had he come to suss out more dirt on her?

  Or on Connor.

  Ten minutes later she emerged from the melee, holding a cold drink she no longer wanted but she could hardly have changed her order at that stage. Now as she squeezed her way between waiting customers she searched the faces and greying heads for her nemesis. Even though she didn't see him, forgetting the arsehole during the rest of the regatta would be impossible now, and she'd likely be lousy company for the rest of the day. The depression remained, even after hearing several more positive comments from strangers about her article.

  An hour later she still hadn't moved from her chosen position at the top of the grandstand as another group of boats powered towards the finish line below. Connor's singles race! The one he wouldn't win but still expected her to watch. Still expected her to cheer him on.

  Down the steps she ran, along the path, dodging other spectators and trying to watch the race at the same time.

  Impossible, of course. Should have stayed up top where she'd see the boats cross the line.

  Now she'd have to devise a way to avoid a confession without letting on she'd seen Sleazeball Renton.

  CHAPTER 15

  "Hey, there's another reporter here, did you know?" Nat looked up at Bailey as she arrived in time to join the other girls for Pete's next race.

  Sleazeball. "Did he give his name?"

  "Joe Lindon. Heard of him?"

  Not Sleazy? Really? "No. What paper or magazine does he work for?"

  "Freelance, he said." Nat opened her bag and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

  "You spoke to him." Terror made goose bumps stand out on Bailey's arms. "Did he ask you questions?"

  As if ignoring the query, Nat lifted the binoculars and used them to check the current race. "Yeah, things like who were we supporting."

  "How they're getting on." Head down, Suzy flicked through her programme.

  "And how training's going." Michelle adjusted her chair's position on the sloping ground.

  Bailey's fingers tightened around her camera's shoulder strap. "None of you checked out his credentials? Just answered all his questions without thinking, I suppose."

  "Of course," Michelle assured her, looking Bailey straight in the eye. "Why wouldn't we? We've got nothing to hide."

  Maybe not, but a reporter with no scruples like Sleazy could make something out of nothing.

  Nat leaned back in her chair, long legs stretched out in front of her in a casual pose. As if completely unaware of the potential danger in the answers she and her mates had given. "Told him to bugger off. He wasn't wanted around here. We had our own reporter."

  Tension erupted from Bailey like water from a shower and she laughed. And laughed. "God, you guys are good. You must have understood exactly what he was up to. Thanks a heap but I'll tell you one thing—I don't believe his name was Joe anything. I think it was Lee Renton, the reporter—"

  "Who wrote that hideous article on you and Connor?" Michelle's feet thumped onto the ground as she sat upright in her chair, her mouth hanging open; a clear indication of her support.

  "The same. He's definitely here so don't go near him. Especially you, Michelle, since you look like you'd hit him in the balls if you got near enough again."

  "Good idea. Let's do it, girls." Michelle started to stand.

  "No need at this stage." Bailey's smile turned into a laugh as Michelle sank back into her chair. "But as far as I'm concerned you can let those feelings build up for next time he approaches with his nosy questions and insinuations."

  "Right on."<
br />
  "Sure thing."

  "With pleasure."

  The three messages of support sent a warm, tingly zing of pleasure through Bailey as she turned her attention back to the racing.

  ***

  Late morning, Connor dropped down beside her. "Did you see my singles race?"

  "Yes." Not a complete lie. "You didn't look too bad, in spite of insisting you hate rowing singles. In fact, I thought you looked pretty good. And second's a good outcome."

  "Oh, well. It's all relative, see. Thought senior grade would be enough of a challenge for starters." He pulled her bag towards him and rummaged inside. "Where's the food?"

  "Sandwiches in the plastic wrap. And there's a banana for whenever you want." She offered both but had to wait while he used his empty palms to replicate the action of scales weighing an object.

  That done, he grabbed the pack of sandwiches, peeled off the wrapper and started eating. "Hey, this is good. Are you going to join me?"

  "I would have said it was too early, but watching you just makes me hungry." She lifted the other pack and started the unwrapping. "There's juice in the chilly bag as well."

  "Na. Water's better while I'm rowing."

  "And a fruit slice as well."

  "You do know how to look after me, don't you, hon?" Bending over, he kissed her mouth.

  "Hey, enough of that. People will be watching and anyway, you're supposed to be concentrating on rowing." She nudged his arm to push him away.

  "No, I'm supposed to be eating. Refuelling." He winked, and bit into the next sandwich. "Which I'm doing, see?"

  "While I've been doing very little, except for watching the racing and yelling encouragement. You've heard us, of course."

  "Oh, we hear alright so don't stop. As long as you make sure you yell just for me when a mate's in the same race."

  "Of course." She blinked when he screwed up his empty sandwich wrap. "Finished already?"

  With a wink he grabbed his water bottle from the bag and downed the lot. "Told you I needed food. I'll have the slice after my doubles race. Don't forget to watch," and with another quick kiss he was off, swallowed up by the crowd.