No Job for a Girl

by Meredith Appleyard

  ‘Breathing, but he’s out cold,’ the man opposite her said. Leah glanced briefly his way, recognising him as Vince Rossi, one of Tony’s senior riggers.

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Jock. Don’t think it’s his real name but it’s what everyone calls him.’

  ‘Okay. Jock,’ she said loudly and shook the man’s shoulder gently. No response. He was young, looked to be in his mid twenties, muscular, with acne scars on his lean, tanned face. His airway was clear and his chest was rising and falling. He looked to be asleep.

  ‘Tell me what happened, Vince,’ she said, unzipping pockets on the first-aid kit to locate the stethoscope, blood pressure cuff and a pencil torch. She pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and started checking his vital signs.

  ‘I’m not sure what happened,’ said Vince. ‘Mick and I were on the ground, barely. Jock said he had a couple bolts left and he’d be down for lunch. Ted heard something, like metal on metal, and when he looked up Jock was hangin’ in the breeze. Ted shouted out but the poor bugger didn’t answer. Mick and I grabbed the rope, hooked on and climbed up to him.’ He shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘Bloody good thing he wasn’t up that far, and he’s not a big bloke. We nearly busted our guts tying on the ropes and lowering him down.’

  ‘I found his shifting spanner on the ground over there,’ Ted said, jerking his thumb towards the base of the tower. ‘Could have knocked one of us out, the prick.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, Ted,’ Mick said, breaking his silence. ‘For all we know, he could have blacked out or something.’

  ‘Why don’t you both put a sock in it, let Leah do her job?’ Vince growled.

  Leah tuned out the bickering and concentrated on examining Jock. His blood pressure and heart rate were within normal limits but when she assessed his conscious state his score on the Glasgow Coma Scale was less than ten. That his pupils were equal and reacting and she couldn’t see any blood or clear fluid leaking from his nose or ears reassured her. When she ran her fingers over his scalp, she discovered a sticky, bloody mess on the back of his head.

  ‘Tony’s contacted the paramedics in Nickel Bluff. How long do you reckon they’ll take to get here?’ she said, rummaging in the kit for a stiff collar and a dressing.

  ‘Oh hell, I dunno,’ Vince said. ‘Ted radioed in while we were getting him down and then again when we realised he was un­conscious. Mick, get back on the radio, see if you can find anything out.’

  ‘Yeah, and I’ll talk to Tony in a minute,’ Leah said, showing Vince how to hold Jock’s head while she applied the neck collar. They covered him with a disposable space blanket – it was sunny but the breeze was cool.

  Leah took Jock’s blood pressure again and reassessed his conscious level before relaying the information over the UHF to Tony, back at Camp One. Tony would pass on the information via satellite phone to the Nickel Bluff paramedics who were already enroute; about thirty-five minutes away.

  ‘There’s nothing to be gained by moving Jock on to Camp One,’ she said to Vince. ‘Not now. In the time it’d take to get a stretcher out here, load him into the back of a vehicle and take him back to the camp, the paramedics would be here.’

  ‘And that’d be further for the paras to go to pick him up,’ Vince said, squinting at the sky.

  ‘Right, and the less we move him, the better. There’s nothing broken, as far as I can tell, unless there’s a skull fracture. The head wound isn’t bleeding, and I don’t think his harness has done anything more than give him a few bruises, but I can’t be sure.’

  The only other things she would have done if they were in the first-aid room was give Jock some oxygen and put in an IV access.

  Fifteen minutes ticked by and Leah checked Jock’s vitals again, swatting away flies as she did. The foil space blanket crackled as she peeled it back, and this time when she pressed one of Jock’s nail beds to assess his response to the painful stimuli, he half-heartedly pulled his hand away. But when she spoke to him he didn’t respond at all.

  ‘Come on, Jock, wake up,’ she muttered and replaced the b­lanket before jotting down her observations.

  Vince retrieved a tattered folding canvas stool from the back of the ute for her to sit on, and fetched her a bottle of water from the dual cab. Leah wished she’d thought to throw another muesli bar into her bag before leaving home.

  It was nearing midday and the taciturn Mick jerry-rigged a shade out of a piece of canvas to keep the sun off Jock’s face. Eddies of breeze swirled dust and soughed in the steel construction above them. Ted wandered around wringing his hands, stopping every now and then to stare at Leah and her patient until Vince said, ‘For god’s sake, Ted, make yourself useful. Drive out and wait for the ambulance.’ Ted didn’t need to be told twice.

  Leah had time to do another two sets of observations before the ambulance turned off the main road, trailing the usual dust cloud.

  Twenty-five minutes later the ambulance bumped off down the track with its semi-conscious patient, Jeremy Bostock, aka Jock, firmly strapped in the back. He hadn’t much liked being moved and had groaned and pulled clumsily at the restraints when the paramedics had secured him onto the stretcher. Leah suspected the paramedic in the back with Jock might have his hands full by the time they arrived in Nickel Bluff.

  She packed up and finished off her notes while the incident was fresh in her mind, and while Vince, Mick and Ted were there to fill in any gaps about what happened. She took photos of the scene with the camera on her phone. The accident report would be first on her agenda when she arrived back at camp.

  Driving off, Leah glanced in the rear-view mirror at the stark, hulking tower. The riggers had returned to work and she’d noticed the care they’d taken with their harnesses, doggedly hooking on as they climbed the tower to continue where Jock had left off. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks. The outcome could have been a whole lot worse.

  Jeremy Bostock was one lucky rigger.

  ‘Ruby, how was your rest leave?’ Leah said, stepping up to the bain marie.

  ‘Hey, Blondie, welcome back! My leave was pretty good. Home to Coober Pedy. Caught up on my sleep and let someone else cook for me.’

  ‘Good on you.’

  ‘How about you? You don’t look rested.’

  ‘Gee, thanks. What’s for dinner?’

  It had been a long day. Back at camp after lunch there’d been the accident report to finalise, the first-aid kit to restock, and a load of emails to deal with. With dread she’d carefully scrolled through her inbox, not sure whether to be relieved or not when there was n­othing from Cameron Crawley.

  Alex had arrived back not long before the daily debrief and given her the third degree about the tower accident. He’d yawned continually throughout the meeting and let most of it go on around him. Briefly, she’d wondered if she’d imagined the night before. But then he was probably as exhausted as she was so she’d f­orgiven him his grumpiness, left him deep in conversation with Tony and gone to dinner.

  Ruby waved a pudgy hand across the spread in front of her. ‘Lasagne, salad and garlic bread, or fish patties and veg. Take your pick.’

  ‘Lasagne, thanks.’ Leah helped herself to a chunk of garlic bread while Ruby served up a man-sized portion of pasta.

  ‘You’re too skinny,’ she said, handing Leah the loaded dinner plate.

  ‘But not in the places that count, eh?’

  Leah recoiled when she heard Frank’s voice, and got a blast of his overpowering aftershave.

  ‘Go away, Frank,’ she said as coolly as she could.

  ‘What?’ He threw he hands wide in mock outrage. ‘A man’s not allowed to get his dinner?’

  Leah tipped her eyes heavenward.

  ‘Dining alone, then? Had a tiff with lover-boy?’

  Oh, she was so tempted to stab him in the eye with the fork. ‘That is getting so stale, Frank,’ she said. Barely back at camp and she was letting him get to her already.

  Ruby slapped three fis
h patties onto a plate and shoved the food at him. ‘You heard her, Frank, now piss off,’ she said.

  Frank screwed up his face. ‘Fish patties? I’m not eating that girly food.’ He shoved the plate back at Ruby. ‘Give me the lasagne.’

  ‘It’s all gone,’ she said, her hand planted firmly on the stainless steel lid covering the pasta.

  ‘Bullshit!’ He lunged for the lid. Ruby’s hand didn’t budge.

  Leah remained rooted to the spot, gobsmacked by the rancour in Ruby’s tone and the loathing on Frank’s face. She looked from one to the other. ‘What’s going on here?’

  Ruby scowled at Leah.

  ‘Frank can have my lasagne, I’ll have the fish,’ Leah said. ‘No big deal.’

  A sturdy hand descended on Frank’s shoulder. ‘You’re not at it again, are you, Frank? Harassing the ladies?’

  ‘Ladies? You call them ladies? Butt out, Vince.’

  Vince leaned in closer. ‘Pull your head in, mate. Take the food and go eat.’

  By this time everyone in the mess was watching. You could have heard a pin drop. Leah caught Ruby’s eye, and glared at her beseechingly. The debrief was over and Alex could stroll through the door any moment. Leah didn’t need him to walk in on this, whatever it was.

  Frank’s lip curled and his attention shifted from Ruby to Vince. He hitched his shoulder. ‘Take your hands off of me, mate,’ he ground out through his teeth.

  What remained of Leah’s appetite vanished. She opened her mouth to speak but was drowned out by the sound of a metal tray cover. Then Ruby said, at the top of her voice, ‘Oh, look here, there is some lasagne left after all.’

  Vince’s hand dropped to his side. Frank smirked, and Leah sagged with relief. The sound of voices and cutlery scraping cranked up again: the show was over. Frank snatched his plate of pasta and extended his cocky smirk to Leah before swaggering off to an empty table.

  ‘Thanks for that, Vince,’ Leah said.

  ‘Not a problem. Anytime you need a white knight.’ Vince winked and went back to his unfinished meal.

  ‘What was that all about, Ruby?’ Leah whispered when Vince was out of earshot.

  ‘That Frank . . . He thinks no woman can resist him. He’s a pig. The way he looks at you, speaks to you,’ Ruby said, viciously s­craping the patties off the plate and returning them to the tray in the food warmer.

  Leah massaged her temple, closing her eyes. When she opened them Ruby was watching her.

  ‘Thanks,’ Leah said. ‘I appreciate your support, Ruby. I really do.’

  ‘You look dead on your feet, Blondie. Why don’t I get you some foil? Cover that dinner and you take it back to your room. Put your feet up.’

  Foolish tears sprang into Leah’s eyes. She blinked them back.‘I might do that, Ruby. Thanks.’

  The following morning Leah woke with a headache and a scratchy throat. An extra twenty minutes in bed appealed far more than a greasy, cooked breakfast in the noisy mess. She lay in bed and l­istened, but there were no sounds coming from next door. Alex had either slept in or had left already. She’d put her money on the latter.

  It felt strange, being so close and yet so far from each other. Last night she hadn’t heard the slam of his door or the gurgle of his shower before she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. How was he managing? She knew how much sleep he’d had Sunday night – or rather, how l­ittle.

  When she finally forced herself out from under the doona, the congealing remains of last night’s dinner sat on the cupboard, and the grim memory of the evening’s altercation with Frank had her groaning out loud.

  It would be a miracle if the tale hadn’t reached Alex’s ears by now. Much embellished of course, in the way of all camp gossip.

  Cleaning her teeth, Leah stared in the mirror. ‘God, I look awful,’ she said out loud. Her eyelids were puffy, her eyes bl­oodshot, and the bags underneath . . . She looked like she’d been on a massive bender. She pressed a cool washer to her face, dropped in some anti-allergy eyedrops and smeared on a layer of tinted sunscreen and some lipgloss. The improvement was unremarkable.

  The lights were on in the admin block and the urn bubbled away in the corner, but the offices were empty. Leah made a cup of tea and settled at her surprisingly dust-free desk.

  Steve Simons had left a note, In case I forgot to tell you these things at handover, on top of the work permits for that day. She smiled and scanned Steve’s dot points. While she waited for the computer to boot up, the back door opened. By the sound of the tread she knew it was Alex.

  ‘I didn’t see you at dinner, or breakfast,’ he said in lieu of a g­reeting.

  His gruff tone had Leah tensing her shoulders, her hands h­overing above the keyboard. He peeled off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. He flexed his fingers, and she imagined him running them up her arms, massaging out the tension in her shoulders. He’d press his lips to that spot at the back of her neck . . . She couldn’t believe it had been only twelve hours since she’d seen him, talked to him; it felt like it had been days.

  ‘It was a busy, never-ending day. I was tired so I took my meal back to my room.’ She went back to typing. ‘This morning I wasn’t hungry.’

  She felt the pull of his gaze, and willed herself not to look at him. Oh Leah, you’ve got it bad.

  ‘By the way, I rang the Port Augusta Hospital but couldn’t find out anything more about Jeremy Bostock. I’ll try again this afternoon,’ she said.

  ‘Were you going to tell me what happened in the mess last night?’

  She stilled, then swivelled the chair around to face him. ‘Nothing to tell, Alex. Frank was being his usual charming self. I’m sure Ruby gave you all the details.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t Ruby. She was remarkably tight-lipped when I asked her.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘All you women sticking together, eh?’

  ‘Something like that,’ she said, with a flat voice. She turned away, snatching up the day’s work permits. ‘I’ll see you at the pre start.’ She stood, tripping on the leg of the desk, and cursed her steelcapped boots. Almost out of the door, she stopped in her tracks when he called her name.

  ‘Please look at me,’ he implored. ‘Can we just start over, not be angry with each other?’

  She hesitated before turning around slowly to face him. ‘I’m not angry with you,’ she said. ‘After Sunday night —’ She cleared her throat and then looked straight at him. ‘This is new territory for me, Alex. I’ve never slept with my boss before.’

  They stared at each other across the expanse of his desk. The silence echoed.

  ‘It’s new ground for me, too. But I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ he said quietly.

  Leah didn’t respond. What was there to say? He took a step towards her; her heart stuttered. Then he stopped when the back door opened and they heard Dee’s voice.

  Leah glanced at the clock. ‘I’ll see you at the pre start,’ she said.

  Alex raised his hand, and then dropped it in frustration.

  Leah didn’t see Alex again until the debrief that evening. ‘I have a cold,’ she said in disgust, blowing her nose loudly.

  ‘Ew,’ said Dee. ‘Don’t come near me, I don’t want to catch it.’

  ‘Here, have a beer,’ Phil said, pushing a cold can across the desk. ‘That’ll cure it for sure. Although a few medicinal brandies would be better.’

  Leah sniffed. ‘Thanks, Phil, but I’ll stick with hot lemon and honey. Where’s everyone else?’

  ‘Ben’s on his way, Tony went to the Bluff, and Frank is down the line and won’t be in until later. Maybe you should go, get an early night?’ Alex said.

  ‘Yeah, good idea, keep your germs to yourself,’ Dee said. ‘Sorry,’ she added, but rolled her chair as far from Leah as the confined office would allow. ‘I have cold and flu caps if you want them.’

  Leah sneezed. ‘I have some, thanks, Dee,’ she said into a handful of tissues. ‘I can make it through the meeting.’

  When Ben finall
y shuffled in, Alex moved them rapidly through the agenda. Leah felt herself wilting by the minute. When it came time for her to update everyone on her activities she gave a succinct report on Jeremy Bostock’s accident.

  ‘He’s in Port Augusta hospital, has regained consciousness, and there’s no skull fracture. He told them that his heart started to race like it wanted to burst out of his chest. He must have blacked out and slipped, hitting his head. They’re doing more tests.’

  ‘Will he come back to work?’

  ‘I don’t know, Dee. It’ll depend on what caused the cardiac arrhythmia, and what they can do about it,’ Leah said. ‘Most things can be controlled with the correct medications. But, worst-case scenario, Jock mightn’t be able to work at heights again.’

  ‘It means, for the time being, Tony’s down a crew member until he finds a replacement,’ Alex said and everyone nodded.

  ‘The accident report is finished and I’ll do another audit of rigging and construction’s safety harnesses and PPE in a week or so.’

  Ben went through camp occupancy and reported that one of the public toilets had been blocked, but Trev had managed to fix it.

  ‘If people only flushed the crap that was meant to be flushed,’ Ben said, grinning through his beard. ‘Pun intended. I won’t tell you what Trev said he pulled out.’

  Phil sniggered and Dee screwed up her face and gagged. ‘Please, don’t!’

  ‘Well now, speaking of blocked toilets, a plumber mate of mine tells this story —’ Ben started, settling back into his chair in the way of the seasoned storyteller, only to be cut off mid-sentence by Leah.

  ‘Water’s low but there’s a truck coming in tomorrow. Diesel’s due on Thursday.’

  Ben looked indignant, but much to Leah’s relief the big man folded his arms and closed his mouth and the meeting was back on track.

  When everyone had said their piece, Alex informed them he’d be travelling to the Camp Two site the following day to check on p­rogress there. It wouldn’t be too many weeks before they’d need to use the accommodation.

  ‘If that’s all, we’ll wind up. Same time, same place tomorrow evening, folks,’ he said and closed the meeting.