No Job for a Girl

by Meredith Appleyard

  At first she’d filled her days with shopping trips and lunches. The garden had been manicured, the house spring-cleaned, the pergola painted. But after a couple of months, the holiday feel had d­issipated, leaving her anxious and disconsolate. The holiday was over but Eve didn’t have a job to go back to and, although Paul knew she’d followed up with her contacts and networks and trawled the internet, there’d been no offers of employment.

  He was at a loss for what to say to her, what to do. He could see she wasn’t happy. But his wage kept them both comfortable, and – call him old fashioned – he liked that she was always there when he got home from work each evening. It had been far diff­erent when she’d had a job. Some evenings he wouldn’t see her until eight or nine.

  Paul had met Eve at a community event about six years ago, and he’d fallen for her sparkling brown eyes, wide smile and outgoing personality. Several months of ‘dating’ and he’d been ready to marry her. His friends told him that it was a huge risk to remarry in his mid-sixties after having been a widower for nearly ten years. Think carefully, they’d advised. It had even been suggested that any woman interested in marriage would probably be after his money.

  Paul hadn’t thought so. Eve had been the reticent one, reluctant to let go of her independence. She’d never married, and neither of them had had children, although Eve always considered Leah the next best thing. She’d been her guardian since the death of Leah’s mother when the girl was a teenager.

  Paul pressed his fingertips against his eyes, trying to relieve the tension that was building behind them. All it did was make him see spots when he took his fingers away.

  One look at the clock told him he’d better get a move on or he’d be late, and unprepared, for the next meeting. He sighed and got to work.

  Back at the camp, Leah found three men standing around the admin office drinking coffee. They were the new inductees patiently waiting for her. No one was allowed to work anywhere on the site until they’d been given the company’s workplace induction.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, fellas. I’m Leah Jackson, safety advisor and r­egistered nurse. I had a blowout.’

  Polystyrene cups in hand, they stood and gaped at her. One of the men, a youngish lanky blond with a sunburnt nose and an engaging grin, was the first to recover and he put his hand out to shake hers. ‘Never met a woman safety advisor before.’

  ‘Yeah, well, by all accounts there aren’t that many of us. You might want to grab a couple of chairs from one of the other offices,’ she said, heading into her office to pull up the induction slide show. They crowded around her computer screen and it took over an hour for her to talk her way through the presentation.

  ‘If you have any queries, ask me, but I’ve only been on this site a day so I might not be able to answer any site-specific questions.’

  ‘Is there any internet access?’ one of them asked.

  ‘The wet mess doubles as a community room. If you want to use the internet or phone home, you can do that there.’

  ‘Awesome.’

  ‘There’s satellite television in every room and in the wet mess.’

  That appeared to satisfy him and they filed out to find Ben and get their room keys.

  It was nearly lunchtime. Leah yawned and stretched. Her c­offee was cold. She made herself another and stood to drink it at the n­arrow window beside the reception counter while she contemplated the car park, deserted except for her vehicle.

  Beyond the car park, the ancient landscape was empty as far as she could see, and when Leah closed her eyes for a moment, the stark nothingness was imprinted on her eyelids. It was startlingly different to her home in the Adelaide Hills where verdant growth teemed with birds, brush-tailed possums and the occasional koala or grey kangaroo.

  The offices were empty and her booted footsteps echoed as she walked back to her desk. She threw the empty cup into the waste-paper bin, downloaded the photos from the digital camera and finished the accident-investigation report, emailing it to Alex and cc’ing it to the list of people on the bottom of the report. It then took about fifteen minutes to type up the notes from the previous day’s debrief.

  Out of curiosity Leah examined the photos she’d taken after the tyre blew out. The skid marks were evident on the gravel road. She could pinpoint where the tyre had blown – she’d been lucky.

  When she came to the last photo she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder, reconfirming there was no one else in the building. What had possessed her to take a picture of Alex while he’d been removing the wheel nuts?

  She remembered looking at the top of his head, how the breeze had ruffled his hair – and her curious urge to reach out and touch it, to run her fingers through it, to see if it felt as soft and silky as it looked.

  She rolled her lips together and debated for a second whether to keep the picture or not, then hit delete. Don’t be ridiculous, she thought. It was a company camera and computer after all.

  Taking a deep breath, she reviewed Steve’s daily task list. Bugger. She hadn’t dipped the tank and changed over the fuel-usage sheet. Grabbing what she needed, she raced through the camp and f­umbled her way through the task, then climbed the ladder leaning up against the water tanks to check the water level.

  On impulse, and while it was quiet, Leah took ten minutes on the way back to check her personal emails on one of the com­munal computers. When she’d bought the phone card the night before she’d noticed both computers were in use, and other blokes had been hanging around in a vague sort of queue.

  The only things of interest in her inbox were the electricity bill, a reminder from the dentist, and a brief hello from her friend Belinda. They’d been at uni together and completed their first nursing placements at the same hospital. And they’d remained firm friends ever since. Belinda worked as a practice nurse at a large GP clinic in the southern suburbs. She’d been there for years and wasn’t ashamed to admit she lived vicariously through Leah’s more-exciting jobs.

  Belinda was curious how the new adventure was panning out, writing, Leah, we must get together when you’re home again, I want to hear all about it! I’m dying to know if you’ve found any eligible, hunky construction workers for us . . .

  Leah typed a quick reply: I’ve only been here two days, girl! I’ll need more time. So far so good with the job. Love to catch up when I’m home again – I’ll call you. Leah hit send and then logged off.

  Lunch was a lonely affair. The mess was empty, the sandwich makings limp and unappetising. Leah buttered two slices of bread and picked through the lettuce.

  ‘You come late, all you get is leftovers.’ Ruby appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a once-white apron. ‘You want something fresh, Blondie? You want me to make you an omelette?’

  ‘No thanks, Ruby. This’ll do me,’ she said, slapping slices of cheese and beetroot on top of the lettuce. ‘I’ll come earlier tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t get beetroot on your clothes.’

  Leah laughed. ‘No, Mum, I’ll try not to.’

  She’d finished eating the sandwich and was peeling an orange when Ruby came bustling out of the kitchen again, clutching a foil-covered package.

  ‘You give this to Mr McKinley. That man misses too many meals.’

  Leah eyed the package, popping a segment of orange into her mouth. She looked up at Ruby and shrugged. ‘I guess I could leave it on his desk, or put it in the fridge.’

  ‘Give it to him. I saw his LandCruiser pull into the car park a minute ago.’

  Leah shot to her feet and snatched the package and the remaining orange. ‘Did you? Crap. I’d better get going. He’s going to show me around. He strikes me as a man who doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’

  Ruby sniggered, poking recalcitrant strands of straight black hair back under her cap. ‘Don’t worry, Blondie. He’s all right. His bark is worse than his bite, you know.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Leah muttered as the door slammed shut behind her. His bark could very easily get
her the sack.

  Alex looked up from the papers on the desk when Leah burst in through the office door, bringing sunshine and something decidedly citrus with her.

  ‘You’re back.’ She dropped a foil-wrapped package onto his desk. ‘Ruby said to give you this.’ She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘I ate an orange. I need to wash my hands. I’ll be back in a sec.’ She disappeared.

  She was gone but in her wake the room felt brighter. He gave himself a mental shake, sat down and unwrapped the package. ‘Mmm,’ he murmured. Two slices of bread filled with a thick slab of corned beef slathered with pickles, and a wedge of sultana cake. Ruby knew what his favourites were. Although he hadn’t been h­ungry a moment ago, he was now.

  He pushed back the report he’d been reading and bit into the sandwich, staring sightlessly at his computer screen as he chewed. Ruby was right, he hadn’t been eating enough. He’d pulled his belt in an extra notch that morning, and had still skipped breakfast.

  He’d finished the sandwich when Leah breezed back in.

  ‘I can get you a coffee, or tea if you prefer, to have with the cake.’

  She’d combed her hair, refixed it into a clip, and had s­omething glossy on her lips. He swallowed. ‘You don’t have to make me drinks, Leah.’

  ‘I know I don’t, but I’m offering to. You can make me one tomorrow.’

  He scratched his head. ‘Okay. Black tea, no sugar. Thanks. And then we’d better get going.’

  She disappeared again briefly, then put the tea on his desk, s­ipping her own. ‘I’ve finished the plant inspection.’ She pointed to his in-tray. ‘I put a copy in there and emailed it to you.’

  ‘Summarise,’ he said and looked at her over the rim of his polystyrene cup.

  ‘The excavator’s log was complete, filled in the morning Ryan had his accident. Ryan reported a leaking hydraulic two weeks ago, and again a week ago, noting it’d worsened. The service log . . . well, on my calculations it should have been serviced about thirty op­erating hours ago.’ She sat down and spun her chair around so she was facing him. ‘I checked Ryan’s licence and operating ticket and that was all up to speed.’

  Alex’s chair squeaked as he leaned back. ‘We’re already behind on that job. I’ll talk to Frank.’

  They needed to avoid tagging the machine because it would slow Frank’s workmen down by another day at least. He looked at Leah but she was busy making patterns on the side of her cup with her f­ingernail. He sat forward, his eyes narrowing. ‘You’ve already tagged it, haven’t you?’

  She nodded, didn’t look at him. ‘Danger: out of service. I passed the low loader going to pick it up on my way back.’

  He stood up, tea spilling onto the desk as he put the cup down. ‘Leah, why the hell didn’t you talk to me first?’

  She stood up and finally met his eye. ‘Because I didn’t know I had to. The machine was defective, so I tagged it. That’s what I’m meant to do. What did I need to talk to you about? It’s already cost one man a lot of pain and inconvenience. He’ll be off work for weeks.’

  ‘I wished you’d discussed it with me first.’

  ‘I still don’t get what there was there to discuss. I’ve acted and documented how I see it, how the department of labour would see it. If you see it differently – well, that’s your call, Alex.’

  ‘They’re already behind. Frank won’t be a happy camper.’

  ‘My job isn’t to make Frank Ballard happy.’

  ‘Frank’ll be disappointed.’

  He watched her hackles rise but before she could utter a word he held up his hand. ‘Sorry, that was totally uncalled for.’

  ‘You’re damned right it was.’

  Alex’s temples throbbed. He didn’t know what had come over him, but the last thing he needed was an overzealous safety a­dvisor. ‘Watch your back, Leah,’ he said, not surprised when her eyes w­idened.

  ‘Are you kidding? Tagging it was the right thing to do. You can’t argue with that. I’ll have your support, won’t I?’

  He saw the way she squared her shoulders but fidgeted with the cuffs on her shirt. She wasn’t sure if he was on her side or not.

  How could he explain the need to bend the rules without breaking them to ensure the job wasn’t compromised? Sure, safety came first, but then so did a lot of other things, like cost containment. No single issue was black and white.

  ‘O-kay,’ she said, drawing out the two syllables. He felt a jolt of frustration when hurt flashed in her eyes. ‘You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. At least now I know where I stand.’

  ‘Leah, out here, miles from anywhere, things are not always as cut and dried as you might like them to be.’

  ‘Try telling Ryan Greene that.’ She spun around, snatched her high-vis vest from the back of her chair. ‘He’d reported the fault twice. There was a wad of rags under the seat, obviously used to wipe up the worst of the leak —’

  Without thinking, Alex reached out and grabbed her arm. ‘Will you step down from your moral high ground for a minute and l­isten to me?’

  She looked down at the fingers encircling her arm and then up at him. Her grey eyes were cold and stormy. He dropped his hand.

  ‘Leah, I hear what you’re saying, I really do, but Frank Ballard can’t just get another excavator in to do the job while that one’s being fixed. It would cost his company thousands. If he doesn’t have his plant operating, he’s paying blokes to sit around and do n­othing. If he defaults on his contractual obligations to us, he gets fined. Worst case, their contract is withdrawn and the company goes bankrupt and we have to find another contractor. The job gets further and further behind, and then we’re defaulting on our c­ontractual obligations and we get penalised.’

  She tapped her foot and pursed her lips. He couldn’t stop his gaze flicking across her glossy mouth, barely stopped himself from licking his own lips.

  ‘Surely they have a contingency plan for breakdowns,’ she said.

  Alex gave a dry, humourless laugh.

  ‘What’s so funny? The excavator isn’t safe. If you read my report, you’ll see leaking hydraulics isn’t all that’s wrong. The reversing siren only works intermittently, for a start.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Frank. The three of us will sit down together and work this out.’

  ‘The only way to work this out is for them to repair the machine,’ Leah said, slipping her arms into the vest and fastening it.

  The flat look in her eyes told him her opinion of him had plummeted, that she didn’t trust him to do what she considered the right thing. Frustration had him gritting his teeth and his head pounded.

  He told himself he did not want, or need, her good opinion. He was here to do a job and the buck stopped with him. She could think what she liked. It’s not as if he were about to break the law; they just needed to be more creative in finding solutions.

  Steve Simons would have known exactly what to do. He would have ended up with the right outcome, without pissing off Frank and putting them further behind. Cameron Crawley’s comments about getting rid of Leah echoed in his head. He took a deep breath.

  ‘As much as I admire the sentiment, there’s no place for idealists out here, Leah. You’ll need to loosen up if you want to do your job and survive.’ He grabbed the LandCruiser keys off the desk. ‘If you still want me to explain things to you, follow me in your vehicle. I won’t be coming back here for the rest of the day.’

  Leah’s heart hammered. She could have thrown down her trump card but hadn’t. From what she’d learned about him so far she s­uspected Alex McKinley was not the kind of man who’d take kindly to a threat. And he would know she was required by law to report him to the government authority if she could show workplace safety had been compromised.

  If she did report her concern, the government authority had the power to shut down the site. Leah pocketed the digital camera and checked she had the ute keys. She didn’t fancy the chances of keeping her job if she did that, probation or not. Si
ck to the stomach that something like this had happened on her second day, she followed Alex outside.

  He was waiting beside his vehicle. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘It’s not that far out and it’s stupid taking two vehicles. I can drop you back here later.’

  She collected her hard hat and safety glasses out of the dual cab and climbed in beside him.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked when they were on the move.

  ‘We’ll go to the closest transmission tower they’re working on. The pad has already been prepared and Phil’s boys have bored the four holes. This afternoon they’re installing the mesh reinforcing frames and the angle iron into each of the holes. Then the concrete contractors will pour in the cement.’

  ‘What’s the angle iron for?’

  ‘They leave a length jutting out of the cement. Each leg of the tower is bolted to the angle iron when the tower is erected. You’ll see the bolt holes in the angle iron.’

  The UHF radio crackled and a disembodied voice said, ‘Heavy vehicle entering Charlie, travelling south.’

  Alex reached for the handset. ‘Light vehicle travelling north into Charlie.’ By the set of his mouth Leah predicted there’d be no f­urther explanations, or conversation. Fine.

  She shifted in her seat and stared at nothing as the desert sped by. Each time she mulled over her inspection of the excavator and the reasons she’d tagged it she came up with the same answer – she’d done the right thing.

  The senior safety advisor who’d mentored her on the wind-farm project had been a stickler for process and doing things by the book. He hadn’t given a toss if anyone liked him or not; he’d done his job to the best of his abilities and always put safety first. Leah believed that was what she’d done in this instance, no matter what anyone else might think.