Crossing Paths

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Crossing Paths Page 16

by Dianne Blacklock


  It all sounded quite reasonable coming from her, but Joe realised if Will had said the same he’d think he was making excuses. Maybe he was a little hard on his brother. He was beginning to feel as though he didn’t belong in his own place, but it wasn’t all Will’s fault. Truth was, Joe wasn’t sure where he belonged. Even Leura didn’t feel like a sanctuary any more, huddled under the dark cloud of his father’s illness. So he’d found his mind often wandering back to the elevator, circling around the person of Jo Liddell. Okay, she’d been a little spiky at first, maybe a lot spiky, but she had good reason to be, and once she’d calmed down, she was funny and feisty and, he had to admit, bloody attractive. And she smelled good. And he realised he wanted to get to know her, despite the fact that in their couple of encounters it seemed she was hoping the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Which provided something of a challenge.

  ‘You’re not saying much, Jo,’ said Angie.

  She stirred. ‘I don’t need to, Joe knows everything about me already.’

  ‘That isn’t true,’ he denied.

  ‘Well, I don’t know anything about you,’ said Angie to Joe. ‘She barely told me a thing, except that you were tall and manly and heroic.’

  Jo nearly choked on her wine. ‘Angie! I never said that. That was you! You said that!’

  ‘Oh, that’s right,’ she said wistfully. ‘My imagination got carried away with the whole Officer And A Gentleman bit, Joe, can you blame me?’

  He frowned. ‘I’m not following . . .’

  ‘Don’t even try,’ said Jo. ‘It won’t get you anywhere that’s worth going.’

  They smiled at each other then. A genuine, warm smile. Jo realised that it was possibly the first unguarded moment that had passed between them . . . at least one she could remember.

  ‘So how are you settling in at the Trib?’ asked Angie.

  ‘It’s early days yet.’ He didn’t want to be negative about it in front of Jo. ‘I was accosted by that woman today . . . God, I can never remember her name, she does the society pages.’

  ‘Carla Delacqua,’ Jo and Angie said in unison.

  Joe looked at Angie. ‘You know her too?’

  ‘Her reputation precedes her.’

  ‘Well, I wish someone had warned me,’ he muttered. ‘She’s a friggin’ man-eater. I’m telling you, I feared for my life for a minute there today.’

  Jo smiled. ‘Oh, come on, a big, strapping war correspondent like yourself, frightened by a flimsy little gossip columnist?’

  ‘You’re a war correspondent, Joe?’ Angie asked breathlessly.

  ‘Foreign correspondent,’ he corrected. ‘But I’ve spent a lot of time in Iraq, last few years almost exclusively.’

  Jo could see him growing in stature before Angie’s eyes.

  ‘Anyway, you know what she said to me today?’ Joe went on.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Carla. She said war was sexy and I should get out there and lap up all the attention.’ He shook his head. ‘The woman’s an idiot.’

  Jo couldn’t agree more. Before she could say anything, though, another knock sounded at the door.

  ‘This is getting ridiculous,’ said Jo, putting her glass down on the coffee table as she got to her feet. ‘This is supposed to be a security block.’

  As she crossed to the door Jo was wondering who it was going to be this time, but when she opened it, she should have known.

  ‘Lachlan.’

  ‘This is going to be awkward,’ Angie sang under her breath.

  Joe glanced at her, frowning. Did she mean Lachlan Barr from the Trib? Joe had already identified him as one of the prickly egos he was going to have to contend with. The open door blocked his view, so he couldn’t see who it was from where he was sitting.

  ‘How did you get up here?’ Jo asked.

  ‘What kind of a welcome is that?’

  ‘It’s just that this is supposed to be a security block.’

  ‘Someone was leaving when I arrived. They let me in,’ Lachlan explained. ‘I have a trustworthy face, what can I say?’

  He was smiling but Jo wasn’t.

  ‘Okay, I know you don’t like surprises,’ he went on, as though he was trying to console a child, ‘but I come bearing gifts.’ He handed her a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine, but as he leaned forward to kiss her, Jo stepped back, conscious of the onlookers on the sofa.

  Lachlan frowned, taking another step towards her, which brought him out of cover and into the room, in plain sight of Joe and Angie. For a moment he resembled the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.

  ‘Hi Lachlan!’ Angie greeted him cheerfully. She was enjoying this.

  ‘Angie,’ he nodded, vaguely acknowledging her. ‘Bannister. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Lachlan!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That was a bit rude,’ said Jo in a low voice.

  ‘I’m just surprised,’ said Lachlan. ‘Didn’t you say the place was a mess and you didn’t want company?’

  Jo leaned back against the door to close it. ‘But you came anyway.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware you two knew each other so well.’ He arranged his face into a smile, but it was really more of a smirk.

  ‘We don’t . . .’

  ‘I don’t know anyone around here very well,’ Joe chimed in, getting to his feet. ‘Jo and I got trapped in an elevator the other day, and well, long story, but I owed her a drink,’ he added, reaching his hand out to Lachlan.

  He was still smirking as he shook Joe’s hand. ‘You didn’t mention,’ he said to Jo.

  ‘Yes I did, I told you I got stuck in an elevator.’

  ‘But you didn’t mention there was anyone with you.’

  ‘Didn’t I?’ she said vaguely. ‘So, will I open this?’ she added, holding up the bottle of bubbly he’d brought.

  ‘Ah, sure,’ Lachlan said, glancing at Joe. ‘We’ve worked together for years, old friends, Jo and I. I promised we’d have a drink to her new place after she moved in.’

  Joe nodded. He was sleeping with her, obviously.

  ‘I’ll get some champagne glasses,’ said Jo, ‘and put these in water,’ she added, backing away.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said Angie, jumping up from her seat.

  ‘Sit down, guys, make yourselves comfortable,’ said Jo, like that was at all possible. She turned around into the kitchen with Angie hot on her heels.

  ‘How are you going to explain this?’

  ‘There’s nothing to explain,’ Jo said coolly. At least she was trying to keep her cool. She was furious with Lachlan for showing up uninvited. Bannister hadn’t been invited either, but Lachlan had expressly not been invited. And he knew she didn’t like surprises, whereas Bannister wouldn’t know that. How could he be expected to know that? And now she was going to have to explain Lachlan to him. She’d never had to explain Lachlan to anyone before. That’s why she didn’t want to have to explain him to Bannister. That was the only reason. That was why she was feeling flustered.

  Angie was checking out the bottle. ‘Told you he was tight.’

  Jo turned around with the flutes. ‘Why, because he bought me flowers and champagne?’

  ‘I think you’ll find it’s sparkling wine.’

  ‘Don’t be such a snob, that’s all you and I ever drink.’

  ‘But I bet it’s not what Mrs Barr drinks,’ Angie retorted. ‘And he wouldn’t be giving her any daggy old carnations either.’

  Jo handed Angie the glasses. ‘Take these out, please,’ she said with feigned sweetness. ‘And try to keep your opinions to yourself.’

  Jo arranged the flowers in a vase – they were carnations, but they weren’t so daggy – and carried them out to the living room. She placed the vase on the dining table as Lachlan popped the bottle open. When he had filled their glasses, he raised his own. ‘To the mortgagee, congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Joe and Angie echoed the sentiment and raised their glasses as
well. They drank a toast, then after an awkward pause they all sat down again, just in time for another awkward pause.

  Someone needed to say something, get the conversation rolling. Jo should probably be the one to do it but she couldn’t think of a single thing, her mind had gone completely blank.

  ‘So Joe was just starting to tell us all about his time in Iraq,’ said Angie.

  Thank God for Angie.

  ‘I was?’ he said.

  ‘Well, I was hoping you would. I’d love to hear what’s really going on from someone who was actually there.’

  ‘Journalists don’t get that close to the action any more though, do they, Bannister?’

  Joe turned to look at Lachlan. It always amazed him when people who barely left their desks made grand generalisations like that. But he wasn’t in the mood to defend his position. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about war. That was part of the reason he’d left Iraq in the first place.

  ‘Close enough,’ he said finally.

  ‘You’re all holed up in the Green Zone living it pretty cushy, the way I hear it.’

  ‘And exactly where did you hear that, Lachlan?’ Joe asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the brittle edge out of his voice. ‘The coalition press office is inside the Green Zone, and they hold briefings there, but journalists don’t live there as a rule.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Lachlan dismissed. ‘Isn’t it true that it’s just too dangerous now to go out on the street in Baghdad? That all the news services are relying on Iraqi stringers, and there’s very little on-the-ground reporting going on?’

  ‘What’s a stringer?’ Angie frowned.

  ‘A freelance journalist,’ said Joe. ‘Usually a local, they have the language obviously, and they know the place.’

  ‘But they can’t always be trusted,’ Lachlan chimed in. ‘They’re often just doing it for the money, and they don’t always double-check their facts.’

  ‘I’ve worked with some fantastic stringers,’ Joe countered. ‘Maybe some of them started off doing it for the money, but it’s incredibly dangerous for them as well. If the insurgents find out what they’re doing, they kill them. Most of them have to hide it from even their closest family.’

  ‘Then why do they do it?’ asked Angie.

  ‘Because in the end they want the stories to be told,’ said Joe. ‘They want the world to know what’s going on, at least the guys I knew. I had complete faith in them.’

  ‘So you did have to rely on stringers?’ Jo asked him.

  ‘Sure, the streets do get too dangerous at times, though it has settled down a lot since the US troop surge,’ he said. ‘Some reporters can still get out there because of their background, their appearance, they can pass for Arabic. Even so, if they take out a notepad or a recorder, they can end up with a bullet in the back of their head. But I don’t look Arabic, and I had only limited language, so I couldn’t risk it during the worst times.’

  ‘You were embedded, weren’t you?’ Jo had read that when she Googled him. It was the series of articles he wrote while he was an embed that had won him the Walkley.

  Joe nodded. ‘A few times.’

  Angie was biting her lip. ‘Okay, at the risk of exposing my ignorance, what happens when you’re embedded?’

  ‘It’s when they “plant” journalists within a battalion of soldiers.’ Lachlan had decided to answer the question. ‘It’s basically a PR exercise so journalists will write positive stuff about the war effort.’

  Joe threw back half a glass of wine. Lachlan was just pissing him off now.

  ‘But travelling around with soldiers in a war zone would be pretty dangerous, wouldn’t it?’ Angie asked Joe.

  ‘Not really,’ Lachlan continued. ‘I would imagine it’s one of the safest places you could be. The last thing the military want is to have the blood of a journalist on their hands, isn’t that right, Bannister?’

  Joe clenched his jaw. If he didn’t shut up soon . . .

  ‘And of course you’re seeing everything from their perspective, to their schedule, it’s pretty one-eyed,’ Lachlan finished.

  ‘You have to look at things from both sides if you want to do justice to any story,’ Joe said plainly. ‘An urban war is tough on soldiers, they come in all gung-ho, then reality hits. They see civilians killed in front of them, sometimes from their own fire. A lot of these guys are really screwed up by the time they go home.’

  ‘That’s why we should all get the hell out of there,’ said Lachlan. ‘The sooner the better.’

  Joe didn’t say anything as he refilled his glass and skolled half of it down.

  ‘You have a problem with that, Bannister?’ Lachlan was watching him. ‘I wouldn’t have had you down as pro-war, the embedding obviously worked on you.’

  Joe hadn’t wanted to talk about this, but the alternative was to listen to more of Lachlan’s bullshit. ‘Look, I didn’t agree with the war in the first place. But it’s not that simple now. The country’s shattered, you can’t just abandon the people.’

  ‘But doesn’t the very presence of the US troops fuel the fire of the insurgents?’ said Lachlan.

  ‘Absolutely, but a lot of those insurgents are backed by Iran militia or even al-Qaeda. If the US withdraws too quickly they’ll create a vacuum of power and leave the Iraqis extremely vulnerable.’

  ‘Isn’t that why we’ve sent special teams of soldiers and police to train up Iraqi nationals?’ Jo asked. ‘So they can build their own security forces, right?’

  ‘Yeah, but the problem with that is that individuals still remain loyal to their Sunni or Shiite roots,’ Joe explained.

  ‘So we should leave them to it,’ Lachlan shrugged, reaching for the bottle. ‘It’s their own civil war brought about by centuries of pointless ethnic and religious conflict. Isn’t it better just to let them split into their various factions and be done with it?’

  ‘Then you end up with a Darfur, or a Rwanda.’

  Lachlan refilled his glass and looked at Joe directly. ‘So what’s the solution, Bannister?’

  Joe considered what he was about to say. ‘The situation is so complex and so fraught that I wouldn’t have the arrogance to suggest I had a solution.’

  Everyone was silent. Even Lachlan had nothing to say to that.

  Joe drained his glass and put it back on the coffee table. ‘I better get going,’ he said, standing up.

  Jo jumped to her feet. ‘Do you have to?’

  ‘Yeah, I do.’

  ‘Then I might head off too,’ said Angie, getting up. ‘You can escort me to the bus stop, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Sure.’ He nodded towards Lachlan. ‘See you at the office.’

  ‘No doubt.’ Lachlan clasped his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs. He wasn’t going anywhere soon by the looks of it.

  Jo walked them out to the elevator. Angie pressed the button and the doors opened almost immediately. ‘Ha, serendipity,’ she said. She gave Jo a quick hug. ‘Call me, okay?’

  Jo looked up at Bannister; his expression was distant now. Honestly, she could kick Lachlan for showing up tonight, spoiling everything.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said with a lame smile, ‘and for the wine.’

  He nodded, stepping into the elevator. ‘See you.’

  The doors glided to a close and Angie looked at Joe. ‘That was really fascinating tonight, at least when you could get a word in over Lachlan. God, he’s an arrogant arse.’

  Joe smiled then. ‘I take it you don’t get on with him?’

  ‘What do you reckon?’ she said, glancing sideways at him.

  ‘Doesn’t that make things awkward?’

  She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, between you and Jo. You’re good friends, aren’t you?’

  ‘Absolutely, but I don’t have to have much to do with him,’ Angie said simply as the doors opened and they stepped out of the lift. They crossed the foyer and walked out onto the street.

  ‘Which way are you hea
ded?’ she asked.

  ‘Towards your bus stop, aren’t we?’

  She smiled. ‘You don’t have to. I just said that to get out of there. I didn’t want to hang around once you were gone.’

  ‘Yeah, it was a little strained,’ he agreed as they started up the street. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Why the charade? Why do they act like they’re not together?’

  Angie gave him a rueful smile. ‘Habit, I guess.’

  Joe frowned down at her, not understanding.

  ‘You know he’s married, right?’ said Angie.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Whoopsy, maybe I wasn’t supposed to say,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘Oh well, too late now. Yep, Lachlan’s got a wife, two kids, even a dog, I think. The whole shebang.’

  Joe was silent as he processed the information. He’d felt a keen sense of disappointment, he couldn’t deny it, when Lachlan showed up and he realised there was something between them. But now . . . well, now he felt like he’d dodged a bullet. She was not the girl he thought she was.

  ‘He’s a complete tosser,’ said Angie. ‘I suppose I don’t have to tell you that. Any guy who cheats on his wife . . .’

  ‘It takes two,’ Joe muttered grimly.

  ‘This is my stop,’ said Angie as they came to a bus shelter. She turned to look at him. ‘She’s not a bad person, Joe, just a wounded one. And it’s made her very, very wary. She’s too scared to have a normal relationship, not that she’d ever admit to that.’

  Joe shrugged, like it had nothing to do with him. And it didn’t. ‘Well, it was nice meeting you, Angie,’ he said, starting to back away up the street.

  ‘You too, Joe. See you again sometime, I hope,’ she said sincerely.

  He doubted that was likely. But all he said was ‘Bye’ as he turned and walked away.

  ‘You lied to me, Jo!’

  ‘I didn’t lie, I told you I got stuck in an elevator.’

  ‘You also told me that you’d only met Bannister “briefly” was the word I think you used, at the staff meeting.’

  Damn, so she did. Lachlan had pounced on her the moment she’d walked back into the apartment, and he was working himself into a lather.

 

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