by Lilly Mirren
“This was your responsibility, Summer. Don’t blame your fact checker, she only does what you tell her to do. You’re in charge, you’re responsible for the story. You’re the face of the piece. Everyone else does their part, but in the end, it comes down on your head.”
“But I did—”
“I don’t want excuses, Summer. You’ve left me no choice. Mark wants you fired, or he’s suing the station.” Tim’s nostrils flared and his gaze bored into her.
Bindi’s face flamed and her throat tightened. “Fired?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, Summer, but I have to let you go. I can’t risk the entire news team because of your blunder. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but it’s good you learn it now. You’ll land on your feet again somewhere.”
“No one will touch me after this, they won’t trust me. You know that.” Her head grew light, thoughts spun.
He shrugged, leaning back again. “You’ll figure it out. You’re a smart cookie.”
When Bindi woke the next morning, her head felt as though it might explode. She’d cried herself to sleep the night before. Her eyes ached, she was dehydrated, and something pounded under her scalp, like a little man wielding a hammer was trying to beat his way out. One ear was numb, as though she’d slept on it all night without moving. She knew she was tired but hadn’t realised just how exhausted she’d let herself become over the past few months.
With a groan, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and cradled her head in her hands. At least she didn’t have to go to work. She could spend the day in her pyjamas if she wanted to.
She still couldn’t quite believe it. All those years of working towards becoming a journalist, of striving for her dreams, and she’d had the position for just over a year before being fired. She sighed, shook her head, and stood to her feet.
What would she tell Nan? Her grandmother was so proud of her, told her every time they spoke. Now… Ugh.
She inhaled a sharp breath as she filled the kettle with water from the kitchen tap. She lived in a studio unit in the middle of Melbourne. It was small, cramped, and old, but she loved it. It was hers.
One wall had the bed pressed up against it, the opposite wall had a bench with a sink and a refrigerator at the end. Everything she needed was crammed into this single open space, with only the bathroom sectioned off for a little privacy. It had everything she needed and gave her a sense of pride in having rented and decorated it entirely on her own, with the money she’d earned working hard at the station.
And now she’d probably lose her home, as well as everything else she’d already lost in her life.
Her heart squeezed at that thought. She couldn’t sift through memories now, she’d end up curled in a foetal position on her bed, unable to move. So she straightened, pushed out her chin. Getting fired was not the most traumatic thing she’d experienced in the past decade. She’d survived worse, and she’d get through this too.
By the time she’d showered and tidied up the unit, it was almost lunchtime. She’d promised to meet Brendan for lunch, but that was before she’d been fired and had crawled home from work to fall into bed. With everything that’d been going on in her life, the stories she’d been covering, the meetings and research, she’d crammed her life full of activity. She hadn’t taken care of herself, hadn’t gotten enough rest. She’d barely seen Brendan in weeks.
She met him at a cafe down the street at noon, wearing large, black sunglasses to hide her reddened eyes. He offered her a kiss on the cheek, then sat across from her at a table outside, shaded by a round umbrella.
“Hey baby, how are you?”
She inhaled a slow breath, fingering the edge of the plastic menu. “I got fired yesterday.”
“What?” His eyes widened. “You got fired? What happened?”
Bindi fought to hold back the tears that tightened her throat and made her head throb all over again. “You remember that story I ran about the Premier’s office misusing public funds?”
He nodded, reached for her hand to hold in his own. “Yes, of course.”
“Apparently Debbie didn’t call the Premier’s office to confirm some of the quotes from our sources. The Premier’s calling it slander, and he’s threatening to sue.” She choked out the last words, still unable to believe she hadn’t followed up more thoroughly. She remembered asking Debbie about the quotes, whether they’d been confirmed, and Debbie had assured her. In hindsight, she should’ve pressed for more — who’d confirmed it, how, what did they say?
Her head dropped into her hands.
“So, it’s Debbie’s fault?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I’m her boss. I should’ve asked more questions…made sure she’d followed through…” She groaned.
Brendan sighed, releasing her hand. “Well, don’t worry about it. You’ll find another job, you’re a great journalist.”
“Not after this,” mumbled Bindi. “If it gets out that I’m the kind of journalist who produces slander, none of the other stations will want me. It’s a death knell for a journo, you know that.”
His lips pursed. She could tell from the way he was studying her that he understood exactly what she was saying whether he admitted it or not. Brendan was a journalist at the Melbourne Chronicle; he knew the business even better than she did, with at least five years more experience than her.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she demanded. “Would the Chronicle hire me?”
He stared at the menu, then offered her a smile. “Maybe, I could have a word with the editor…see what he says.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you to risk your own career for me. No, I’ll figure it out on my own.”
They ordered lunch then, and the conversation moved onto other topics. Bindi ordered a chicken cob salad, and Brendan had a hamburger with every possible topping known to mankind. She never understood how he stayed as trim and fit as he did, the way he ate. Nor could she see how he managed to open his jaw wide enough to take a bite of the burger — it was stacked so high with onions, cheese, tomato, bacon, pineapple, beetroot, and lettuce that she was certain she’d never have managed it.
“So, I’ve got to fly to Sydney tonight,” explained Brendan, after a lengthy discussion about a story he was covering. “And I’ll be back in about a week. Okay?”
She nodded, her thoughts straying to their relationship and the few times they’d seen each other lately. In the past, Brendan had assured her that if they moved in together, they’d see more of each other, but she’d countered with the idea that if she moved in with him, he’d never get around to marrying her. At which he’d snorted.
“I’m not the marrying type, love,” he’d said.
She couldn’t count the number of times he’d said something similar to that over the six years of their relationship. She’d met him at university, they’d both studied journalism together, and had shared their first kiss at a party in her dorm. They’d been together ever since. She loved him, but sometimes wondered if he was perhaps a little too comfortable with the arrangement. She’d always dreamed of getting married, having children, rebuilding the family she’d lost when her parents were killed in a car accident during her teen years. She was twenty-six years old, and her boyfriend didn’t seem any closer to popping the question than he had been in the early days of passionate make-out sessions while they listened to Crowded House tapes in her shared dorm room.
“Do you think we’ll ever get married?” she asked.
Brendan’s eyebrows shot skyward. “What?” he asked around a mouthful of burger.
She sighed. “I know, you hate it when I bring it up, but I really want to understand. Where is this relationship going?”
He swallowed and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. When he smiled at her, she noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re only saying that because you lost your job. You’re feeling a little insecure, that’s no reason to start worrying about us, honey.”
“No, it’s not because of my job…or maybe it is,
I don’t know. But every time we talk about marriage, you tell me you’re not the marrying type, or that marriage is an old-fashioned institution we don’t need because we love each other so much…or something like that.”
He reached for her hand. “That’s right. We don’t need it. We have each other. Who wants a bit of paper?”
She did. She wanted a bit of paper. Something that affirmed his commitment to her, his love for her. She wanted to stand up in front of her friends and family and declare that she would love him forever, that they’d be a family and raise their children together. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“I want that, Brendan. I’m sorry… I know you don’t get it, but that’s something I want. I want us to be a family, to share our lives together, to have children.”
“Whoa!” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Where is all this coming from? I’ve hardly seen you lately, and now you want to have kids?”
She sighed. “That’s the problem, we don’t see each other, and when we do, we’re both tired and irritable… I want more than that.”
He wiped his mouth with the napkin, pushed his chair back and stood up. Then he pulled money from his wallet and threw it on the table. “I’ve got to go, Bindi. I can’t talk about this right now. I’m in the middle of a huge story, I’ve got so much going on…you have no idea.”
Her brow furrowed. Yes, she did, she knew exactly what that was like. He always did that. Always minimised her career, as though it couldn’t possibly measure up to his.
“I have responsibilities Bindi, and I’ve got a lot to get done today. We’ll have to pick up this subject another time.”
She slouched in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Okay.”
He bent to kiss her cheek. “See you later, baby. Love ya.”
“Love you too.”
She watched him stride away, his dark hair slicked down on his head, his unbuttoned suit coat flapping around his torso as he walked.
Sometimes she hardly recognised him anymore as the boy she’d fallen in love with all those years ago.
5
October 1996
Cabarita Beach
The morning had been so busy Bindi had barely had time to think, let alone eat anything. When the scent of something baking in the kitchen wafted into the office, she turned her head away from the computer screen and in the direction of the delicious aroma.
She didn’t waste any time making her way out to the kitchen, and found Kate there, pulling trays of scones out of the oven with a pair of beach-themed oven mitts.
“That smells divine,” groaned Bindi, hurrying to sit at the bench.
Kate smiled. “Would you like one?”
“Yes, please, or maybe three…no, four…”
“Okay, coming right up. Jam and cream?” Kate held a pot of strawberry jam in the air.
“Absolutely,” replied Bindi, sitting straight on the stool. “I didn’t have lunch…and only some fruit salad for breakfast. The sudden awareness of hunger pangs drove me out here, even though I have a million things to do.”
“I hope you’re taking care of yourself.” Kate’s brow furrowed as she peered at Bindi, pausing in her work for a moment.
“Of course,” responded Bindi, swallowing hard. She hated lying to Kate, but in truth she was relieved to feel hungry. She’d lost her appetite lately and was afraid the weight loss was beginning to show. How long would she be able to keep her illness from her sisters?
Maybe she should tell them. After all, they were family. But they were happy, and she didn’t want to take that away from them. Not yet anyway.
Kate filled a plate with scones, sliced them open and steam drifted towards the ceiling. She slathered them with thick, homemade strawberry jam, and cream from a local dairy that she’d whipped until it formed stiff peaks.
When Bindi bit into the first scone, she almost groaned with delight. It was soft, warm, and delicious.
She swallowed. “That is amazing. You’ve definitely got Nan’s recipe mastered.”
Kate’s lips pursed. “I’ve been trying for a while, but I think I’ve managed to get the measurements just right.”
“I’m happy to keep testing for you, if you want more practice,” mumbled Bindi around a mouthful of the dessert.
Kate shook her head. “Good, you look like you could use a bit of fattening up. Are we working you too hard?” Concern darkened Kate’s eyes as she watched Bindi eat.
Bindi chewed, biding her time to come up with a response. Just as she was about to speak, the inn’s front door swung open behind her.
“Hello!” called a voice.
“Reeda!” replied Kate, wiping her hands on her apron, and hurrying to greet the eldest of the three sisters.
Bindi set down her scone with a wistful look at its creamy topping, then went to greet Reeda and her husband Duncan.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried, throwing her arms around Reeda, and hugging her tight. “I’m so excited you’re moving north. We’ll be able to see you all the time.”
Reeda grinned. “You might rethink that the next time I order you around.”
Bindi huffed. “You’re probably right about that, but for now, I’m thrilled!”
Everyone laughed. Duncan embraced her as well, and they all headed into the kitchen for more scones, with a cup of hot tea. When she’d eaten enough, Bindi leaned back in her chair to watch her sisters buzzing with conversation, her stomach full, her heart content.
“Where’s all your luggage?” she asked. “Aren’t you staying at the inn for a few days?”
Reeda shrugged. “We already found a place to rent. We dropped our things there before we came over.”
“What? Already?” exclaimed Kate.
“Yeah, the real estate agent we were working with found us a fully furnished unit in Kingscliff. It’s small, but it has everything we need,” replied Duncan.
“Until we can buy our dream home,” countered Reeda, with a wink.
“Yeah, until then…” Duncan leaned over to kiss Reeda on the mouth.
Bindi hid a smile. It was a relief to see Reeda and Duncan getting along so well after everything they’d been through together as a couple. There was a time she hadn't believed they’d make it, but they seemed to be doing better than ever thanks to Reeda’s trip around Italy. Perhaps that was what she needed, a similar trip.
Her brow furrowed. She didn’t need a trip to Italy; she needed to get well. Sometimes she forgot she was sick, and then a reminder would sound off in her head, making her stomach turn.
She spent a couple of hours with her sisters and Duncan, laughing and talking together, while guests helped themselves to the freshly made scones in the dining room. Finally, Bindi excused herself. She had paperwork to complete, along with the accounts for the previous month. There was always plenty to keep her occupied at the Waratah.
Reeda and Duncan stood to leave as well. They still had to get their things unpacked and buy a few groceries to stock their refrigerator. They’d placed most of their belongings in storage in Sydney until they were ready to buy a home, although a few of their things were arriving by truck at the end of the week.
“Do you know what you’re going to do with yourselves, yet?” asked Kate, carrying the empty teacups to the sink,
Reeda sighed. “I’m going to see if I can find some design work in the area and help out here at the inn of course.”
Bindi grinned. “Thank goodness, we could use the help.”
“I’ve got an interview at Tweed Hospital on Thursday,” added Duncan. “And I’ve been accepted into Médecins Sans Frontières.”
“Doctor’s Without Borders? That’s wonderful!” declared Bindi. “Congrats.”
“Well done,” added Kate with a grin.
“Thanks, I’m really looking forward to it. I plan on alternating between paid work and volunteer hours. It’s been a while since I was so excited about medicine. I got into it because I wanted to help people, and this
will give me a chance to do even more of that. At least, I hope it will.”
Bindi shook her head. “You’re both amazing. Meanwhile, I have to get back into the office and crunch numbers. No rest for the weary." She headed back to the office, still marvelling at her high-achieving sister and brother-in-law. Sometimes she missed the excitement of working in journalism. But the inn was her home now, and being with her sisters, and close to Mima and Jack made it all worthwhile.
She logged onto the computer and got to work. Before she knew it, another hour had passed, and the sounds of dinner preparations echoed through the closed door from the kitchen.
Bindi’s stomach complained. She should grab an apple Since her appetite had been almost non-existent for months now, if she felt a pang of hunger, she knew she should take the opportunity to eat. But she wanted to finish the invoices first, then she’d go in search of something to eat. She blinked hard a few times, her eyes aching from staring at the computer screen for too long, then flicked through the pile of invoices on the desk in front of her.
Just as she was typing up a new payment to their laundry service, she heard a bang in the kitchen, quickly followed by a shout and a loud clatter, as though a pan had been flung across the kitchen floor.
Her heart skipped a beat and she rushed from the office to find out what’d happened.
“Kate, are you okay?”
Kate leaned on the bench, her brow furrowed and one hand held high in front of her face. Staff scurried in every direction, working hard to prepare the meal. A few had stopped to watch Kate with sympathetic expressions, seeming unsure what to do to help. Bindi hid a smile; her sister could be intimidating to the younger members of staff. She couldn’t blame their reluctance to step forward. Kate was quite the force of nature when she chose to be.
“I burned myself,” she said through gritted teeth, her face twisted in pain. “Ugh. It hurts.”
One of the staff moved to help Kate, but Bindi waved them off. “I’ll take care of her, thanks.” She hurried to Kate’s side, to study the burn more closely. “Let me see.”
