by Di Morrissey
Nina’s enthusiasm cooled. ‘Ali, I don’t want to be pressured. And I don’t want my copy changed without discussion, and I want to know every detail of what you’re doing with publicity.’
Ali was soothing. ‘Sure, Nina. This is such an opportunity for us to cross-promote your story and achieve coverage everywhere. When are you leaving there? We can arrange for a film crew to interview you when you return to Paris, New York, wherever.’ She avoided mentioning Sydney.
‘I don’t think I want to do that, Ali. Wait until you read my story. I’m glad you sound so keen,’ added Nina wryly.
Ali changed tack. ‘Nina, if you can see your way clear to giving us the story so we can get it in the issue we’re compiling now, that would be so great. That is, if you can do it. I know you haven’t written for a long time . . .’
The dig hit home. ‘I’ll see what I can do, Ali. We’ve just had a wonderful couple of days on the Dalmatian coast. I’m leaving for Paris in the morning. How is everything there?’
‘No probs. Going gangbusters,’ said Ali cheerfully.
‘I’ll be in touch. Can you transfer me to Larissa please.’
Ali hesitated for a moment then said, ‘Nina, Larissa has just resigned.’
‘What! Why?’ The shock reverberated from Dubrovnik.
Ali was matter of fact. ‘No surprise, really. Couldn’t stand the separation from her guy. I think she’s going to marry him. From a career point of view, she’s been there and done that.’ Ali’s voice had a faintly disparaging tone as if Larissa had reached her use-by date and choosing marriage and kids was a last option. It would never be an option for Ali. She had decided many years ago never to have children. Marriage would only be when it suited her and would bring her what she wanted most – security, extreme wealth, position and power. Realising the effect her news must have had on Nina, she added insincerely, ‘Larissa’s been fantastic of course. But that old biological clock is ticking. It’s no big deal. I have a few very able people in mind as deputy.’
Nina bit her tongue. Losing Larissa was a very big deal. Certainly she was happy for her if marriage and babies was what she wanted, but she sensed there was more to Larissa’s decision. ‘Why now, though? While I’m away?’
‘Her man is moving to a new job interstate, so it’s a now-or-never kinda thing.’ Typical of Nina, thought Ali, to think Larissa would wait until Nina was back to ask permission. Too controlling. Who cared about other people’s personal lives? They were there to do a job. She had made it a rule never to become remotely involved in the private lives of her staff.
‘Any other news I should know about?’ asked Nina with a touch of irony.
‘Circulation is up. Thanks to one of the new writers I hired.’
‘That’s good to hear. Please transfer me to Larissa so I can give her my congratulations.’
‘I look forward to reading your story, Nina. Let me know about the pictures.’ Ali switched the call to Belinda. ‘Nina for Larissa.’
‘Nina! I’m so relieved you’re okay. I really want to talk to you. I have so much to tell you.’ Larissa was surprised at the surge of emotion she felt at hearing Nina’s voice. More than she’d felt when she’d broken the news to her family that she was coming back home and planning to marry Gerard. They had been happy for her, but terribly surprised. Nina and Miche had been closest to her turmoil over Gerard. They understood the choice was not easy for her. They knew the lure of the magazine world, the stimulation of creating an issue from scratch each month, the adrenaline hit of creative and pressured energy. The people, the travel, the inside news. It was a heady world to exchange for suburban life.
‘I know. Ali just told me. Are you sure, Larissa?’ she asked gently. ‘I know Gerard is wonderful, but it seems . . . well . . . sudden.’
‘I’m sorry to leave before my contract is up out here . . .’ began Larissa.
‘That’s not my concern. I just want you to be sure the trade-off is what you want.’
The brightness disappeared from Larissa’s voice. ‘You know me too well, Nina. No, I’m not totally sure that I want to be wife, mother, whatever and move to New Hampshire, give up my career. But I am sure about Gerry. It’s been coming for a while and I guess . . . a lot of other things helped me to decide. I don’t think I’m meant to be a top editor.’
‘Nonsense. You’re next in line when an opening comes up. But Larissa, I want you to be happy. Your career will always be there waiting for you.’
‘Will it, Nina? You and I both know it’s changing. Even Ali had better watch her back. You never think it’s going to happen to you. That one day you’re not ahead of the race, but trying to catch up with new young sprinters.’
‘Larissa, you sound tired. I bet you’ve been doing more than your share of work. Has Ali been difficult?’ asked Nina bluntly.
‘Not so much with me. But I’m tired of being a buffer all the time. She is a hard taskmaster. Clever, I admit. But too clever sometimes.’
‘Meaning something I should know about?’
Larissa hesitated. She didn’t want to dump on Ali and worry Nina, and there was nothing reprehensible, immoral or illegal that Ali had done. ‘She always has Blaze – and therefore her own – best interests at heart. It’s her style, I guess. And there is a constant war between her and Reg. Look, don’t worry about it, Nina. Are you happy? Tell me your news. Where are you? We were so worried when you dropped out of sight for so long, what happened?’
‘You’ll read all about it in Blaze,’ said Nina dryly. ‘But I am blissfully happy with Lucien. Hard to believe we’ve come together after all these years. I don’t know how we’re going to juggle our lives together. He has a rather mobile career too. I confess the more I’m away from Blaze, travelling and just being with him, I find I’m enjoying this totally new experience. But I’m not taking my hand off the tiller by any means. I’m about to leave for Paris with Lucien then I’m going to New York for a Triton board meeting. Lucien will meet me there.’
‘And then back here?’
‘Not necessarily. Unless you think I should?’
‘I think you should.’ The words were out before Larissa thought. It was an instinctive reaction, so she didn’t try to diminish what she’d said.
Nina was thoughtful. ‘In that case, I think the sooner I return to Sydney and see for myself what’s going on the better.’ The news of Larissa’s abrupt departure had shaken Nina and she realised she had taken her hands off the wheel for too long. While she didn’t resent Larissa suddenly choosing to put her personal life first she knew that, for Larissa to leave while still under contract, things must have been very difficult. ‘It sounds like Ali’s ambitions have gone to her head. At least the circulation figures have stayed high.’
‘I’m sorry, Nina, I feel I’ve let you down. Maybe I should have tried to contact you sooner, but Ali wasn’t about to listen to me . . . and I assume you know she’s been in contact with Baron Triton.’ Larissa didn’t want to repeat the gossip that Ali had bedded the Baron.
‘That’s an editor’s job. When the editor-in-chief and publisher is out of the picture, the editor should talk to the proprietor over important, substantive issues,’ said Nina calmly. Larissa couldn’t help thinking she slightly stressed the words, ‘important and substantive’. ‘Larissa, I know you did as much as you could. If anything seriously dangerous had been undertaken I know I would have heard from you. Did you share any of your concerns with Jacques?’
‘He is very much aware of Ali’s machinations. I’m frankly surprised they went head-to-head over some things. I figured Ali would use her feminine wiles with the handsome proprietor’s son. Jacques has divided the camp somewhat, but Ali, to her credit, has fought for her position and views. She cares about the magazine because it’s helping her power base. Jacques dabbles at being an executive but he’s more into being a serious playboy.’
‘Yes, it must be hard to be taken as credible and responsible with the stigma of nepotism hanging over you
r head,’ said Nina, who knew very well of the concerns Baron Triton had about his son and heir. ‘I’ll make plans. I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention I’m coming. When are you leaving?’
‘As soon as I can – if that’s okay with you? Perhaps we can overlap in New York? I’d love to see everyone. And there is one small detail to finalise.’
‘If you have any problems with your contract . . .’
‘No, it’s not that. It’s Gerry. He doesn’t know I’m coming back to marry him. He gave me an ultimatum and sort of dropped out. I rang his mother and he’s shuttling between New York and finding a place in New Hampshire. I figured I’d better grab him before he changes his mind.’
‘Just walk in the door and surprise him?’ laughed Nina.
‘Yes. I hope he’ll think it a nice surprise,’ said Larissa, her heart twisting as frightening images of walking in and finding him in bed with another woman sprang to mind.
‘I’m thrilled for you. Things will work out for you, I just know it,’ said Nina firmly. ‘Let’s meet in New York. Belinda has the schedule. Is Miche staying on in Paddington? Is Miche okay . . . is she selling stories?’ Nina had decided to tackle Ali’s refusal to hire Miche later when she got to Sydney. As long as her goddaughter was happy, it could wait.
‘I’ve offered her the house. She’s fine. She’s met a nice young man she’s keen on, so she’s travelling up to see him for a bit. He works for a vineyard, she met him in France.’
‘That’s wonderful news. Well, what do you know? See how the dominoes fall? Now we all have a love in our lives. It changes how you see the world, doesn’t it?’
‘Sure does,’ said Larissa, and a feeling of calmness settled on her. Nina always seemed to have that effect. ‘See you soon.’
Miche watched Larissa as a small group from Blaze, including Tiki, took Larissa to a farewell lunch. Larissa looked happy on the one hand, if nervously excited, yet genuinely sad to be leaving beautiful Sydney and her friends. Belinda’s husband Laurie was there along with Kevin and Dan. Kevin had been gracious and warmly hugged Larissa as he arrived with a huge bouquet of roses and a small opal pendant.
‘Can’t leave without a keepsake – the national gem of Australia,’ he said putting the jewellery box in her hands.
‘Kevin, this is so sweet of you.’ Larissa was captivated by the blue and green stone which shone with fiery-red lights.
‘Are you sure, Riss? ’Cause if you change your mind, I’m here, you know. And I’ll always be your friend.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Drinks all round. I’ve ordered champagne. Here’s to you Larissa – much happiness and come back and see us soon.’
It was a long and jovial lunch. Larissa was leaving in two days. One more editorial meeting and she would be on her way back to New York. Miche would stay on in the Paddington house.
‘You going to be all right on your own in that place?’ asked Dan. ‘I know people looking to share.’
‘I’m fine. It belongs to Blaze – I’m just sitting out Larissa’s lease. But honestly I think I’ll be spending a lot of time up in the Hunter. You must come up and see where Jeremy works. It’s a great place.’
‘Any excuse will do to go to wine-tasting country. I’ll bring some pals up for a weekend. How’s work going? Onto any more hot stories?’
Miche grimaced and put down her wine. ‘I’d better go easy. I have a meeting with Ali. Putting up a series of articles to her.’ She excused herself and Larissa gave her a thumbs-up.
‘Don’t be intimidated, Miche. They’re good stories you’re doing. I’ll see you at home.’
Miche again felt like she had been called to the principal’s office as she sat opposite Ali. She waited as Ali finished making notes and fiddling with papers on her desk before she looked up and gave Miche a cursory smile.
‘So, you wanted to see me?’
‘Yes, Ali. As you know I’ve been researching a story on children of violence, how innocent victims of childhood trauma cope with their lives . . .’
‘Yes, yes. How’s that going?’ Ali frowned.
‘Slowly, to be frank. Not that I’m giving up on it. I have some great material so far. But it will be a while before it’s ready. And as I’m living on what I sell,’ Miche gave a rueful smile which Ali ignored, ‘I thought I’d put it to one side and follow up a story I’ve just come across.’
Ali brightened immediately. ‘Like what?’
Miche had rehearsed her spiel and rattled on about the Hunter Valley, the comparison between it and France and the Napa Valley, the tourism opportunities, its history, the statistics Jeremy and John Sandgate had given her.
‘What do you know about wine?’ asked Ali.
‘Not much. And that’s the idea. Rather than write for the elite connoisseur, I tell the story from my perspective. My peers have become major wine consumers.’
Ali spun her chair and stared out the window. Miche found her expression hard to read. In fact she was surprised at Ali’s furrowed brow.
Finally Ali spoke. ‘Dump the trauma piece. Don’t go too heavily into the Hunter region, instead look into the wine side of it. Make it something people in their twenties and thirties can relate to. How you do that is your problem. I don’t want a snooty wine piece, you don’t know enough anyway, nor do I want a grand tour of the vineyards. Make it personal, quirky. Lots of fab pictures, sexy stuff, funny stuff.’
Miche blinked at her. ‘That’s a tall order. Though it’s what I was kind of thinking . . .’
‘I’ll talk with Reg. We have a Blaze wine club deal, maybe it can tie in with that.’ She glanced down at her desk as if Miche was dismissed, then asked, ‘Oh, by the way, weren’t you doing a personal bit with the trauma piece? Something about your father?’ Ali lifted an eyebrow as if she were asking Miche about the sore throat she had last week.
Miche shifted in her seat. ‘I mentioned that to Bob. He wanted a personal angle to the trauma story. He thought a section about looking for my father was a good . . . hook.’
‘Forget it. Dump the whole thing. Too dark. Go with the wine and food gig. Who wants to know about other people’s problems? Just don’t make it sound like a foodie or travel mag piece.’ She paused. ‘A piece of personal advice – forget about looking for your father. Move on with your life.’
Miche left Ali’s office feeling confused – half pleased, but also a little daunted. Maybe the trauma piece on children of violence, would work for another publication. She’d write it up after this next project. In a way she was relieved as it gave her a reason to put the issue about her father on the backburner again. She was surprised at her eagerness to do the Hunter Valley story. Of course, one reason was that it would give her the chance to spend time with Jeremy and to find out about his world. But there was another reason Miche was drawn to the idea. The tenacity and richness of the sturdy vines that clung to the hillsides were like the people who worked the vineyards. The old vines bursting into delicate greenness from the soil and the sun, producing the luscious full-bodied grapes that ended up in bottles that travelled the country and the world. The mystique and mythology, the blends, the guesswork and sheer art that combine to create the wines. It fascinated her. If she could marry it all together, this harvest of dreams, she’d have something that was more than just a standard article. She’d have to do a lot of research. It seemed to her it was like the goldfields – this area drew men and women who hoped to find and create something wonderful, something they could draw from the land, water with their sweat and market with élan. The Australian wine industry was like a glorious hot-air balloon soaring aloft in a clear, sunny dawn, silently stealing across the sky so that everyone would soon notice it and want a ride.
Fanciful? Maybe. Miche was surprised Ali had pushed her other idea to one side. Bob had been so keen. Well, if this was the one Ali wanted her to do, that was fine by her. Ali’s cautionary remark rang in her mind, ‘Just make sure it’s not fuddy-duddy or elitist. Make it the kind of article I’d stop and read.’ Now tha
t was a challenge.
Miche couldn’t wait to ring Jem. First off, she planned to dig through the old newspapers in the State Library. Her mother had always told her to go backwards into a story. ‘You never know what you’ll dig up that could apply to the current story.’
Eddie was surprised to find that Heather’s apartment in Wollstonecraft was so suburban. It was a large apartment with leafy views over the northern suburb, but it was in an extremely ordinary block of red-brick units. Eddie lived in Bondi in a small, trendy apartment with glimpses of the famed surfing beach. It was smartly furnished and he lived far beyond his means – another reason for wanting to increase his profile. The higher the public profile, the more opportunities he could muster to make money. He already had a bunch of ideas for a radio show, and a website and he had enough worldwide contacts to do segments about the Australian show biz and celebrity scene. His creative mind had devised a stunning promotional campaign that would skyrocket him to prominence once he started his TV appearances.
He hoped this meeting with Heather would bring him what he wanted.
Heather opened a bottle of wine.
‘So, we’re celebrating?’ he asked.
‘Looks like it. I’ve cut a deal, now it’s up to you to produce the goods.’ She handed him a glass and poured the wine.
‘So I go on trust? What happens if I tell you what I know and then Morris Brown or whoever at the network says they don’t know a thing about hiring me?’
‘And how do I know that what you’re going to tell me is of any value as far as discrediting the Showers bitch?’ countered Heather.
‘Okay, let’s bite the bullet.’ Eddie took a sip of his wine. ‘April Showers is a man. Well, half a man shall we say.’
‘What!’ Heather burst out laughing, then looked sceptical. ‘Bullshit. How do you know? If I may ask.’
