‘Oh, I almost forgot, I have your Christmas present,’ said Jo, jumping up. ‘I know it’s late but I didn’t know what to get you until the other night.’
‘What is it?’
Jo dashed over to her computer desk, and came back, presenting Angie with a piece of paper. ‘Sorry it’s not wrapped,’ she said. ‘It’s a review of the play. I went over Leo’s head, or under it, or around it, whatever, I went straight to our theatre critic. And he was very interested; he said if I gave it a bit of a rewrite, he’d run it to tie in with the fringe festival.’
Angie was scanning the page. ‘Why did he want a rewrite?’
‘He said I should make it a tad less gushing.’
Angie smiled. ‘I can see why.’ She looked up at Jo. ‘I can’t believe you did this for me.’
‘Oh, that was easy, the hard part’s up to you now.’
Angie nodded vaguely, staring back at the paper in her hand. ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’
‘My pleasure. I’ll go get that bottle,’ Jo declared, turning towards the kitchen. ‘Because now we really do have something to drink to.’ She came back a moment later and refilled their glasses, before settling back on the floor opposite Angie. ‘So, let’s drink to your brilliant career,’ she said, holding her glass up. ‘You’ll still be my friend when you’re famous, won’t you? Swanning around in limousines and partying with Brad and Angelina –’
‘– and George,’ Angie swooned. ‘And Matt and Johnny, sigh, and James and Rob . . .’
‘I’m not sure who all those people are,’ said Jo, ‘but I’ll drink to them anyway.’
They clinked glasses and drank.
So now it’s your turn,’ Angie said.
‘For what?’
‘To make your new year’s resolution.’
Jo shook her head, taking another gulp from her glass. ‘Don’t believe in them,’ she said.
‘All right then, what are your “plans” for the new year?’
‘To finish this bottle,’ she said, topping up their glasses. ‘And get through the next.’
‘Jo,’ Angie chided, ‘stop avoiding the issue. How are you going to move on?’
She met her eyes. ‘By putting one foot in front of the other.’
‘Jo!’ she groaned. ‘Be serious!’
‘I am being serious,’ she replied calmly. ‘Putting one foot in front of the other is my strategy.’
‘And that’s how you’re going to get over Joe?’
She looked straight at Angie. ‘I’m not going to get over Joe.’
Angie frowned. ‘You have to try. If I’m going to try to lose weight, you have to try to move on.’
‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t move on, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to get over him. You’re the big expert on soul mates. How can you get over your soul mate?’
‘You don’t even believe in them.’
‘I suppose you don’t believe in them until one comes along. Like ghosts, and extraterrestrials.’
‘Jo Liddell,’ said Angie, shaking her head, ‘I never thought I’d hear you talk like this.’
‘What can I say? I didn’t believe in them and then I met mine, and now I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I can’t imagine even kissing another man,’ she shuddered. ‘I’m not being hopeless, or helpless, or defeatist, Ange, it’s just the way things are. Joe might end up having a dozen babies with Sarah, and live happily ever after, and I hope he does, but I can’t see how I can get over him.’
Angie considered her thoughtfully. ‘So what are you going to do? Putting one foot in front of the other is all very well, but do you know where you’re going?’
‘Away from here, I think,’ said Jo, hugging her knees. ‘I can’t hang around and risk bumping into him all the time. With her, with the baby. I certainly can’t keep working with him. So I’m going to have to get a long way away from him.’
‘Where will you go?’ Angie frowned. ‘Do you actually have a plan?’
Jo thought about it. ‘Not really, I’m making it up as I go along.’
The Tribune
‘This is a fine piece of investigative journalism, Jo. It’s rigorous, meticulous, compelling. Everything connects, it’s as tight as a drum . . . and I can’t print it.’
‘Pardon?’
‘At least not until our lawyers are finished with it,’ Leo explained. ‘And first impressions are that it may have to be handed over to the authorities first.’
‘But that’s not fair, it’s our exclusive,’ said Jo. ‘My exclusive.’
‘In cases like this we usually get the go-ahead to run it on the same day they make their move. Obviously they can’t let the story get out beforehand, a lot of incriminating material can be shredded or “lost” that way.’
‘And there’s a lot of incriminating material.’
‘How on earth did you get all this?’ Leo asked, indicating for her to take a seat.
‘Sometimes being cute and blonde is not such a disadvantage, you know.’
He grimaced. ‘So I don’t want to know?’
‘I didn’t do anything untoward, Leo,’ she assured him, sitting down opposite. ‘I just started at the bottom, which is familiar territory for me, after all,’ she said wryly. ‘You can get a lot more information than you think from the assistant to the assistant’s assistant, and they’re a lot less careful about what they tell you, especially around the Christmas party season. Most of the time they don’t even realise the significance of the information they’re giving you, because they’re not aware of the bigger picture.’
‘Still, you had to uncover the trail.’
Jo shrugged. ‘It was buried in a whole lot of bureaucratic red tape, but anyone who had the patience to sift through it would have found what I did.’
‘Now you’re just being modest,’ said Leo. ‘You know Leighton reckons this’ll be in the running for a Walkley.’
Jo blinked. ‘Mike Leighton? You showed it to the editor-in-chief?’
‘Of course. I would have been hung out to dry if I tried to run it under his radar, but once it was going to the lawyers, the chief had to see it regardless,’ he said. ‘The Daily will probably run it, and they’ll give us part two.’
Jo was wide-eyed. ‘It’ll run in Saturday’s Tribune?’
‘Probably. Not for a few weeks, mind. And until then, this stays in this office, Jo,’ Leo stated firmly. ‘No one can know anything about it, not a soul. If there’s a leak, it’s all over.’
She nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘Once it breaks, I imagine the Daily will second you and before long you’ll be offered a transfer. That’s what you’ve wanted all along, right?’ he prompted. ‘To be taken “seriously”. Working on a broadsheet is the brass ring, isn’t it?’
Jo sat there, speechless.
‘Jo?’
She looked at him. ‘Maybe not. Could I ask a favour, Leo?’
Sydney domestic terminal
‘So how do I look?’ asked Charlene, getting to her feet as the call to board her plane was announced.
‘You look really great, Mum,’ Belle said enthusiastically.
Her new beau was meeting her at the other end, so Charlene had insisted she had to look her best. Her spirits had lifted significantly, her eyes were bright and she was clearly excited. So if dressing like a Canterbury Road hooker made her feel good, who was Jo to burst her bubble?
‘You know, Mum,’ she said, ‘you should think about telling this guy, give him a chance to do the right thing. You might be surprised.’
‘I sure would be,’ Charlene returned dubiously.
Jo watched as she gave Belle a hug, and it suddenly occurred to her that it would be a long time before she would see her mother again, maybe . . . She had a sensation like an icy cold hand closing around her heart. Jo roused herself.
‘Bye Mum.’ She came forward to give her a quick hug, blinking back the tears she could feel pricking at the corners of her eyes.
‘Wish me l
uck!’
Jo and Belle stood together, their arms linked, as Charlene disappeared down the gangway with a cheery wave but no backwards glance.
‘I’m so worried about her,’ Belle murmured.
Jo looked at her. ‘Mum has made her own decisions for her own reasons, and we have to respect that.’
Belle nodded begrudgingly as they turned around and ambled away. ‘I guess we don’t have a choice.’
‘When did we ever have a choice about what Mum did with her life?’
‘Never.’
‘So nothing’s changed. She has her bloke, that’s what makes her happy.’ Jo paused. ‘Listen, do you have time for a coffee?’
‘When?’ said Belle.
‘Now.’
‘Here?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘But it’s so expensive.’
‘I don’t think it’d be any more than four dollars,’ said Jo, confused. ‘I’ll shout you.’
‘No,’ Belle shook her head. ‘It’s the price of the parking that makes it expensive.’
Jo sighed, a little frustrated. ‘Then I’ll pay for the parking.’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Belle,’ said Jo. ‘I have to talk to you. I need to talk to you now.’
She frowned. ‘Okay. Then let’s just talk.’
They sat on a bench facing a wall of glass where they could see the planes parked in their bays and, further off in the distance, more planes taking off and landing.
‘What is it?’ Belle asked warily.
Jo took a breath. ‘I’m going away.’
‘Where to?’
‘London, first.’
Belle shifted to face her. ‘What?’
‘The European bureau for the Trib is based in London,’ she explained. ‘And not just the Sunday Trib but the whole organisation. I’m going to be a correspondent for publications right across the country.’
Belle’s eyes grew wide. ‘You’re going to work in London? You’re not talking about a holiday?’
‘No, it’s not a holiday, Belle,’ said Jo. ‘And I’ll only be staying in London until they find a post for me. The French correspondent is leaving, but everyone wants that gig, so depending on who gets it, and the shuffle that happens as a result, I’ll end up wherever there’s a vacancy.’
‘Like where?’
Jo shrugged. ‘Well, it might be Moscow. Apparently no one wants to stay there longer than they have to, so there’s a big turnover of correspondents.’
Belle leapt up off the bench. ‘You’re moving to Moscow?’ she cried.
‘Sit down,’ said Jo, grabbing her hand to pull her down again. She was attracting attention.
‘How can you do this?’ said Belle in a high-pitched voice. ‘You . . . you can’t . . . you, um . . . you have a mortgage.’
‘That’s nothing,’ Jo dismissed. ‘What’s more important is that I have a wonderful sister who I’m going to miss like crazy.’
Belle’s face crumpled and Jo put her arms around her, stroking her back in a circle the way Belle had done for her.
‘You’re really going to do this?’ she said in a small voice.
Jo held her shoulders to look at her directly. ‘This is a fantastic opportunity, Belle. I’d really like you to be happy for me.’
She sniffed. ‘I know you’ve always wanted this, Jo. And I am happy for you, really. I just don’t know what I’m going to do without you,’ she whimpered.
‘You’re going to do absolutely fine, like you always have,’ Jo assured her. ‘I haven’t been much of a support to you, or an aunty to those kids. You’re running your own show, Belle, with no help from me.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Belle. ‘You’ve always been there for me, Jo.’
‘And I still will be, with the Internet and email,’ said Jo. ‘You’ll be able to pick up the phone and talk to me any time. I’ll never be far away from you, Belle, wherever I am in the world. You should know that by now.’
Belle wiped her eyes. ‘You’re going because of what happened with Joe, aren’t you?’
‘I can’t deny that was the catalyst,’ she admitted. ‘But I worked on this big story around Christmas –’
‘Oh? What was it? You didn’t mention.’
‘I couldn’t, I shouldn’t even be telling you this much,’ said Jo. ‘It’s going to break soon, and it’s a pretty big deal.’
‘Wow, congratulations.’
‘Thanks,’ she smiled. ‘Anyway, the thing is, it gave me some bargaining power. There was a good chance the Daily Trib was going to offer me a position, so I told Leo how I’d always wanted to be a foreign correspondent, and because there’s a bit of rivalry between the papers, and he was probably going to lose me anyway, he was happy to make some calls. It turned out the European bureau chief had the French correspondent’s resignation sitting on his desk. It was perfect timing.’
‘Serendipity,’ Belle nodded, looking a little brighter. ‘So maybe it was all meant to be?’
Jo shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s how things work, Belle. If I was meant to meet Joe in the elevator, only to have him taken away from me, so that I could get this job, then fate is a pretty manipulative old bitch.’
Belle smiled faintly. ‘I guess.’
‘You know what I do think?’ Jo went on. ‘I think life just rolls along. Good stuff happens, bad stuff happens. It’s what you do with it that matters. Look at you, Belle, you had the same childhood as I did, but you didn’t let it defeat you, you didn’t let it stop you from going for what you wanted. And you have a good marriage and a happy family. You broke the cycle in one generation, and I’m so proud of you for doing that. I shut myself off from all that, not trusting or believing it could be better for me. And guess what, it hasn’t been. That’s what they call a self-fulfilling prophecy.’
Belle was listening to her thoughtfully. ‘We didn’t have the same childhood, Jo,’ she said. ‘We both had a father who abandoned us, and a pretty useless mother, granted. But I had you as well, and you were so caring and protective and strong, and you helped me trust the world because I could trust you, always. But you didn’t have that, you had to protect yourself and you never learned how to trust anyone. Till Joe. I suppose that didn’t turn out so well for you.’
‘You know what though, Belle?’ said Jo. ‘I don’t regret it. I did for a while, or I thought I did. But if that’s all the time I was going to get with him, then at least I had that. I’ve come to terms with it. And now I have to move on.’
Belle took hold of her hands. ‘Maybe it will be good for you to go off and see the world and realise it’s not all bad.’
‘So I have your blessing?’
She smiled bravely. ‘Of course you do, I only want you to be happy.’
They hugged each other tight.
‘Just, does it have to be Russia?’ Belle said in her ear.
The next day
Joe decided to walk home. It was a hot, grimy January afternoon, but he knew the bus was only likely to be hotter and grimier. Work had been uneventful. He hadn’t seen Jo all day, she didn’t seem to be around much at all lately, so he’d lost even that small consolation. Maybe she’d taken some annual leave, her column hadn’t appeared for a couple of weeks and a lot of the staff were away at the moment. The paper was in holiday mode as well, bumper crosswords and the like filling its pages rather than regular features. Joe didn’t really need to be there so much, but it gave him a break from sitting around the flat trying to be polite to Sarah. Besides, he used the time to keep up with all the overseas news services. It wasn’t summer break in the northern hemisphere, and wars didn’t stop for any holiday.
He was beginning to get a little frustrated at the Trib. He was going to have to start thinking about his options. With a family to support, he really had little choice but to take a staff position somewhere. He’d had offers ever since his by-line began to appear, and even before that. Sarah didn’t want to stay in the flat, and he couldn’t
blame her, he didn’t want to bring up a child in the middle of the city either. But he wasn’t sure how she would feel about living up in the Blue Mountains.
She still hadn’t come with him to visit his father, and now that she’d gone over her due date, it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Joe had managed to slip away on a couple of occasions, again through the day. His dad was lingering on, but while he still had brief periods of coherence where he could communicate, they were loath to take that away from him. Joe felt constantly torn; he wished he could just stay up there, he wished he hadn’t made the promise to Sarah, but there were many things he wished were different, and there was nothing he could do to change any of them.
He arrived at his building, relieved to step into the cool of the darkened foyer. He mounted the three flights of stairs wearily and let himself into the flat. ‘Sarah?’
He heard movement from her room and he walked over to the door. It was ajar, so he knocked lightly as he pushed it back.
Sarah was sitting herself up on the bed, wiping her eyes. Ian was standing over at the other side of the bed. He seemed unnerved, even a little embarrassed.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Joe.
‘Nothing,’ Sarah sniffed.
‘It doesn’t look like nothing,’ he persisted, glancing darkly at Ian.
‘I’ve just been feeling a little homesick, emotional, you know,’ Sarah explained. ‘That’s all. Par for the course.’
Joe felt an uncomfortable churning in his stomach as he looked from her to Ian. ‘You’d better stop bullshitting and tell me what the hell’s going on.’
‘Joe, you’re overreacting –’
‘We have to tell him,’ Ian blurted suddenly.
‘Ian!’ she said grimly, getting to her feet.
Joe was staring at her. ‘Sarah . . .?’
‘It won’t change anything,’ she said to Ian. ‘It doesn’t make any difference.’
‘Yes, it does.’ He looked squarely at Joe. ‘I’m in love with Sarah, we love each other.’
‘Ian!’ she cried again. She turned to look at Joe. ‘It’s not . . . um . . .’
Crossing Paths Page 47
