The Road Back

by Di Morrissey

  ‘You mean at school? What do I want to do with my life? Boyfriends? Or Mum and Trevor?’

  ‘Boyfriends? Do you have one? Someone special?’ Chris asked, his eyebrows raised.

  She smiled at him. ‘Chill, Dad. I’m just tuning.’

  ‘Translation, please.’

  ‘Tuning is like a flirtationship. Sort of just having someone to flirt with. A bit more than a friend, but not a relationship.’

  ‘So are you tuning with anyone special?’

  ‘Not at the moment, no one that’s serious.’

  ‘And school is fine? I know from your reports that you’re a hard worker. Have you given any thought to what you want to do in your final years? I don’t expect you to have any clues about a career at this stage, unless there’s something that really grabs you. Sometimes it’s good to try different things.’

  ‘I tell everyone who asks that I just want to be happy. They like to hear that. Sometimes I say that I want to be a lawyer, but I don’t.’

  Chris chuckled and shook his head. ‘I hated being asked that, too. The other question I hated was, “What’s your favourite subject?”’

  ‘Easy. Commerce.’

  ‘Really?’ He was surprised.

  Then Megan asked, ‘Can you come to my next school parents’ night? I hate Trevor coming along, even though Mum does all the talking.’

  ‘Sure, honey. I’d like to meet your teachers. I’m glad that you like school. It’s meant to be one of the best girls’ schools in the area.’

  ‘It’s a great school. Everyone is fantastic. It’s just a long trip each day from Newport, but I can hang out with my friends and talk about things on the bus.’

  ‘And you like that it’s only girls? You wouldn’t rather change to a co-ed school that’s a bit closer to home?’

  Megan shook her head. ‘No way, Dad. One of my girlfriends goes to a mixed school and I can see the pros and cons, but I like where I am better.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘She says the girls don’t want to show that they’re smart and be seen as geeky by getting high science marks or whatever. I think you can take more risks if it’s just girls. Who wants to fail or look stupid in front of the boys in the class? And my friend says that if you date a boy from school and then it crashes, everyone knows and it’s a big deal. It’s good to learn to get along with guys as friends, which would be one good thing about co-ed, but I like all-girl classes. Anyway, we do things like dances at St Peter’s, and we put on shows with the boys. We’re going to do a combined musical this year as a fundraiser for a school in Myanmar.’

  ‘Are you in this show?’

  ‘Not out the front, but I’m doing backstage stuff, and helping out. I haven’t found my true talent yet.’ She smiled.

  As their first dish arrived, Chris thought, and not for the first time, that Megan was a delight. He was pleased that she seemed so level-headed and he knew that she was very intelligent. Jill had done a good job in raising her. It was just a shame that Megan’s life had become so complicated lately.

  ‘Want some noodles?’ he asked.

  ‘Wow, all this food looks amazing. Nothing like our local Chinese.’ After loading up her plate, Megan continued chatting.

  ‘Dad, did you always want to be a foreign correspondent?’

  Chris thought for a moment. ‘Well, being a journalist came first, then my ambition was to become a foreign correspondent but it took a process of elimination to get there. It goes back to my love of books and reading and being interested in communications, I think. I used to write and make up my own newspaper when I was six or seven and take it around the neighbourhood. Your grandparents were news fanatics, especially your grandfather. Had the radio on all the time, and when the TV news came on, not a word could be spoken. I guess their interest in what was going on in the world rubbed off on me.’

  ‘Dad, I think it’s really cool that you’re a foreign correspondent. It’s great when I see your name in the paper. I tell all my friends.’

  ‘That’s very nice to hear.’

  ‘Yes, they all think you sound very cool. Dad, who were the most important people you met in America?’

  ‘I didn’t really get a chance to meet that many,’ admitted Chris. ‘Foreign correspondents are regarded by the local press as blow-ins and it’s not easy to trespass on their patch, but when the Australian Prime Minister was in town, I could get a pass to attend any joint press conferences they had with the President at the White House.’

  ‘Wow! Did you meet President Obama?’

  ‘No, I’m not nearly important enough. I was just in the same room.’ Chris smiled.

  ‘That is amazing. He is such a cool dude.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so. Another “cool dude” I did interview, one on one, was Hillary Clinton.’

  Megan stared at him. ‘No way. Wait till I tell everyone at school about that. How come?’

  ‘She let me conduct an hour-long interview with her. It took months to set up and I didn’t think that it would come off, but I did it just before I came back. The story will be in the paper’s weekend magazine in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Fantastic.’

  The next lot of dishes arrived and Chris picked up a piece of fried duck with his chopsticks.

  ‘Tell me, have you spoken to Bunny recently?’

  Megan tried to follow Chris’s chopsticks style but with only partial success as she manoeuvred a piece of duck into her bowl. ‘We talk on the phone all the time. And she’s even learned to text and she follows me on Facebook. She came down for my birthday a few months ago. When are you going up to visit her? I bet she wants to see you.’

  ‘Yes, the feeling’s mutual. I’ll go up to see your grandmother as soon as I can. What about Trevor’s family, do you get on with them?’

  Megan pulled a face. ‘God, no! His mother is a dragon and his father’s a bogan. Even Mum doesn’t encourage family get-togethers.’

  ‘I’m sure everything will work out. Just give it time.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say. I’m under the same roof as them. I so hate it when Mum introduces those brats as my stepbrothers.’

  ‘The school holidays can’t be far off. What say we trundle up to Neverend and visit your grandmother then?’

  ‘Yeah, that’d be pretty cool. I love visiting Bunny.’

  ‘I’ll raise it with your mother, but I can’t see that a visit to your grandmother’s would be an issue.’

  ‘It’s nice having you home, Dad,’ said Megan after a pause.

  Chris’s heart twisted. He was glad to be home and to spend time with his daughter and he was looking forward to visiting his mother in the house where he’d grown up. These were the two people he loved most. But he felt a twinge of guilt, because he knew that what he wanted more than anything was another overseas posting. His job as a foreign correspondent was busy, fascinating and stimulating. It was the job that he had always dreamed of doing. He reached over and touched Megan’s hand. ‘It’s nice to be with you, too,’ he said.

  *

  The next afternoon, Chris and Megan walked up to the bus stop so that she could get the bus back home to Newport.

  ‘Sorry about not being able to drive you. Do you think that you could come here next weekend and the two of us could go car shopping? You could give me your input as to which you think would be suitable.’

  ‘Really? That would be great. I promise I’ll get all my homework done before Saturday, so I can spend the whole weekend with you. See you, Dad.’ She hugged him and stepped onto the bus.

  As he waved to her and the bus moved along Military Road, Chris reflected on his weekend with Megan. It had been a lot of fun. He was interested in her thoughts, and he enjoyed the ease of her company. She wasn’t demanding because she constantly entertained herself with Snapchat and Instagram and what
ever other apps she had on her beloved purple phone. He was touched that she was interested in and proud of what he did, but he could also see that Megan’s life had become difficult in his absence. Acquiring an instant family when she had been used to being an only child had not been easy for her, and Chris could empathise with her struggle to cope with these changes.

  Walking back to his apartment, he thought of the years since his divorce and how he had come to treasure his own space. He liked just pleasing himself and not having to fit in with anyone else. He looked forward to a quiet drink in the evening to digest the hurly-burly of the day and appreciated not having to socialise if he didn’t want to. He liked to return to the serenity of his apartment and listen to music, or watch his favourite TV programmes. He suspected he had a reputation as a bit of a loner, but that didn’t worry him. When he did seek company it was to feed his curiosity, to discuss current events, ideas and off-beat news, but generally he was content to be on his own. That said, next weekend he would enjoy taking Megan out to look for a new car. It would be fun to decide on one together.

  *

  A couple of days later, before he was due to report back to the office, Chris decided that he’d look up his old friend and mentor Sam McPhee, who had been his first news editor when he had started out. Even though he was now retired, Mac (as everyone called him) always knew what was going on in the newspaper business and it would be good to catch up.

  In a quiet corner of the Black Swan, known to the journos who frequented it as the Mucky Duck, Chris put a schooner of beer in front of Mac and a light lager on the table for himself.

  Mac lifted his glass. ‘Cheers, Chris. Good to see you.’

  ‘Cheers, Mac. Good to be back, for a while at least.’

  The balding former news editor wiped his ginger moustache. ‘Have you been into the office yet?’ he asked.

  Chris settled back in his chair. ‘No. I’ve still got some leave and I wanted a little down time to get the feel of things again. I’ve spent a bit of one-on-one with my daughter. Do you remember Megan?’

  ‘How old is she now?’

  ‘She see-saws between fourteen and twenty. She looks her age, but sometimes comes across as so much older. Doesn’t seem to have discovered boys too seriously at this stage, thank heavens. What were you doing when you were fourteen?’

  ‘Trying out for the local cricket team. Didn’t know girls existed.’

  ‘Megan seems to be on her mobile phone all the time, mainly texting her friends. I suppose that’s the norm these days for teenagers.’

  ‘This generation is going to forget how to speak to each other, but I have to admit that mobile phones are bloody handy things if you’re a journalist. So, what’s your plan?’ Mac raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I’ve heard a few rumours, but I’m pretty sure I’ll get another overseas post. Bangkok is coming up.’

  Mac sipped his beer. ‘Is that what you want? I suppose overseas postings are easier for you than for a family man. Not as many complications.’

  ‘I want to cover stories that have some meat and for me that means being a foreign correspondent, but I know that newspapers are struggling. A lot have folded in the States. Hell, The Washington Post has been bought by Jeff Bezos, Amazon’s CEO, for a song, just because he wants to keep the great paper going. So, Mac, I want to find out what you’ve heard about the local scene, and especially what’s happening with Trinity Press. How’s it really travelling?’

  Mac rubbed his chin. ‘Well, Chris, all the Australian papers are having a difficult time. The Murdoch press still carries on more or less as usual, because the papers are cross-subsidised from other News Limited enterprises. But, of course, working for Murdoch means having to toe the party line. Fairfax has been cutting back. As you know, they never recovered from the advent of online advertising. The “rivers of gold” that used to flow from their advertising department have now slowed to a trickle. I hear that the Herald is going to expand its online classifieds. Nowadays it’s hard to tell what’s real news and what a sponsored ad disguised as a story. If you don’t get the revenue, you can’t afford the staff,’ said Mac emphatically.

  ‘I know. I’ve heard that they let a lot of journos go,’ said Chris, swirling his beer.

  ‘It’s bloody dreadful. Most of the best journos have gone. Decades of knowledge and experience out the door. ’Course, a lot of them got good redundancy packages and I guess that if you’re close to retirement age, that’s fine, but if you’re not, then it’s a worry. Too many journalists looking for too few jobs. Lot of them try freelancing, but it pays a pittance.’ Mac’s mouth twisted in a grimace. ‘If you write a thousand words and they only use five hundred, that’s all you get paid for, and if it’s not used at all, no money, even if you’ve been working for days. Makes you sick. Even working fulltime you don’t just file a story and that’s it. You have to do an online version, and respond to tweets, comments and blogs. Fourteen-hour days and if you don’t produce, out the door you go, and there are plenty of others waiting out there to take your place.’

  Chris started to say something, but Mac, now wound up, barely paused for breath before he continued.

  ‘Of course today technology has taken over. Where once a TV journalist travelled with a producer, cameraman and sound man, now they’re a one-man band. They have to shoot digital footage, record the sound, do a piece to camera, edit it on a laptop then upload the story from wherever they can get a signal. Quite a job.’

  Chris frowned. ‘There are some journos who do well, though,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘Yeah, but that’s usually when they have already made their name. Some well-known celeb journos can make big money, so they get a producer and a researcher plus a swank house up the coast. All for doing half an hour a week on the box. The rest are scratching. Even worse, media now relies on contributor’s content. They get academics, business people or other specialists to write articles and the trouble is that readers don’t know their agendas. We need committed journos like you to act as community watchdogs.’

  ‘What about radio? Some big names there make a fortune.’

  ‘No money in commercial radio, either,’ Mac said, shaking his head. ‘The bean counters that run the stations want to pay their personalities, their stars, the big bucks because they bring in the revenue, but the same can’t be said for the journalists. They are seen as a liability that cost the station money.’ Mac jabbed a finger at Chris. ‘And so they are paid accordingly. Of course the ABC still does a great job, but it never has enough money and everyone there is expected to multi-task. Doesn’t leave them much time to seek out the really interesting stories. Journalism is now reduced to the twenty-four-hour news cycle delivered in quick bites. God forbid that someone out there might want to know what is actually going on. Journos don’t have time to do anything in-depth, so it comes down to “he said, she said” stories. Spin doctors. Gonzo journalism. And y’know what? The public is less informed. In fact, they’re actually misled a lot of the time. I once thought I’d like to teach journalism. Get youngsters fired up to go and find the truth. But now I think, why bother? There are so few jobs out there for journalists, and as for finding the truth, they are way too time-poor for a luxury like that.’

  Chris was taken aback by Mac’s bitterness. ‘Take it easy, Mac. You wouldn’t have done anything else. I’ll get us both another drink. Beer still okay with you?’ Mac nodded and sat back in his chair.

  Chris returned from the bar with the two drinks and placed a beer carefully in front of his former editor.

  Mac smiled and thanked him. ‘The business has changed,’ he said, calmer now. ‘Technology might be the means of delivery but it’s still the mind and the intellect that gets to the source, analyses, and makes it all digestible to the readers. I like the challenge. You’re younger than me. How old are you now?’

  ‘I’ll be forty-three this year,’ said Chris.
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  Mac grinned. ‘Still got a good career ahead of you. You did a great job in Washington, so I can’t see that you’ll have any trouble getting that Bangkok posting you’re after. Might depend on how you get on with the new chief operating officer, the Pommy bloke. I hear he’s a penny pincher like all the others. Cutting back on the Sydney staff in a big way. Still, there’s only a staff of one in Bangkok, he can’t cut that back,’ Mac said with a wink. ‘You’ll be right.’

  ‘I actually haven’t met the new bloke. He’s only had the job a few months and I’ve just got back to Oz,’ said Chris.

  ‘Heard he does it all by the book. Even records his interviews with the staff. And you have to make an appointment. None of this tapping on the door and walking into the office, so I’m told.’

  ‘Sounds a bit draconian. I’d better ring the office this afternoon,’ said Chris. They continued chatting for another hour, enjoying each other’s company. It was great to reconnect with an old friend. Chris knew, however, that Mac was prone to melodrama. The industry had changed and he felt sorry for all the journos affected by the changes in the media. He was relieved that he probably had a plum position to go to. Nevertheless, Mac didn’t make the office sound all that friendly and Chris hoped his meeting with his editor would go well.

  *

  ‘I asked Megan to come car shopping with me, so is it all right for her to come over again this weekend?’ Chris asked his ex-wife on the phone that evening.

  Jill was noncommittal. ‘I’ll ask her. So, if you’re buying a car, does that mean you’re staying here?’ she said in clipped tones.

  ‘I could be in Sydney for a few months, until my new posting is settled. I can use public transport but I suddenly feel the need for a car. I would also like to take Megan up to see Mum as soon as the holidays start,’ he said.

  Jill sniffed. ‘Megan has a very busy social life. She may not want to go to the country to see her grandmother.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see what Megan says, shall we?’ said Chris, rather tersely.

  ‘So where are you going off to next time?’