The Road Back

by Di Morrissey

  Chris told him about Megan and then what had happened in Honeywell’s office.

  John stared at him. ‘Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, Chris, really sorry to hear that. But it’s your decision and I respect you for stepping up to take in your daughter.’

  ‘I didn’t expect that there would be no other position for me,’ said Chris weakly. ‘I’m in a bit of shock. Do you think he means it? What do you think the chances are of finding a berth?’

  ‘Probably less than zero. Honeywell has the reins.’ The editor got up and closed the door to his office. He sat back down and looked at Chris sympathetically. ‘I don’t know what’s happening in this place. It’s utter madness to get rid of you. There are some very odd decisions being made. Not a lot of happy campers here. You feel like you have to look over your shoulder all the time. But look, tell you what I’ll do, I’ll go and talk to Honeywell and see if he’ll change his mind. I can find a spot for you on the city desk, if I put my mind to it. Just leave it with me.’

  Chris looked at his friend with gratitude. ‘I suppose Honeywell has every right to be angry. I made no secret of the fact that I wanted Bangkok and now suddenly I’m telling him no, he can give that job to someone else.’

  ‘Have to put family first, Chris. I’ll see what I can do and give you a ring.’

  ‘Thanks, John.’

  On the ferry ride back to Neutral Bay, Chris thought about what had happened. Unless John could pull something off, it seemed likely that Chris might now be unemployed. He couldn’t believe the way the meeting had turned out. How would he be able to pay his mortgage, let alone pay off the loan he had just taken out on his new car? He knew he was a good journalist, but would he be able to get another position right away? Mac had warned him that there were a lot more journalists than there was work for them. And now the word would go out that he was the sort of person who would put his family, not the corporation, first. He would be known as being ‘difficult’. Maybe he could survive as a freelancer until something turned up, but that was a hard row to hoe, too. Perhaps he would have to take the Bangkok post after all. He now seemed to have very limited options. Chris groaned inwardly with frustration. Should he speak to Jill about taking Megan to Bangkok? He dismissed the idea. No, she’d never stand for it. He wouldn’t be happy for Megan to go to Bangkok either. He would only worry about her when he was away. It was all too impractical. No, if John couldn’t wangle him a job in Sydney, there would be nothing else he could do but accept Honeywell’s offer of Bangkok and leave Megan behind. He couldn’t just throw his career away. He was sure that Megan would understand that, while he had had every intention of taking her to live with him, circumstances had changed and this was no longer a feasible option. She would just have to move to Perth.

  But in spite of all these thoughts, the short ferry ride resolved nothing. He knew that when he told Megan he’d changed his mind about taking her to live with him she would be devastated, and this thought filled him with guilt. Jill was right. All Chris had done for Megan in the last few years was appear like a knight in shining armour every few months and spoil her and now, when she really needed him, he was about to let her down. He hoped that John would be able to come through for him. He would take any job to stay in Sydney.

  About an hour after arriving home, he got his answer from his old friend and editor.

  ‘Sorry, mate, it’s a no go, I’m afraid. Honeywell is adamant. It’s the Bangkok job, or nothing. I don’t think he’s too keen on any sort of compromise, even if I could find a position for you here. Thinks it would set a bad example. His way or the highway is his motto. So what are you going to do?’

  ‘Bangkok, I suppose. What choice do I have? Look, I’ll go and have a talk with Megan and I’ll get back to you. You’ll have my final answer today, John.’

  Chris made himself a cup of tea and put on some music. His mind was still confused, but he knew that he had to make a decision, so he sat quietly in his favourite chair and went over all his options again. Finally, he looked at his watch and decided that it was getting towards the time when Megan would finish school. If he hurried he’d have time to pick her up and go somewhere quiet to tell her what had happened.

  *

  ‘Dad, this is so great, you picking me up. What a surprise!’ Megan waved goodbye to her friends and jumped in Chris’s car. She did up her seatbelt. ‘Love the new car. We so made the right choice. Are you going to take me for a drive in it?’

  ‘I’ll drive you home, but first we need to have a little talk. How about we find a nice coffee shop.’ Chris drove round the corner heading to a strip of nearby shops along the beach front.

  ‘Okay, Dad, you sound serious. What’s up?’

  Chris parked the car close to a little café. They quickly found an empty table inside. He ordered a coffee for himself and a juice for his daughter.

  ‘Honey, something’s come up.’ And he began to explain what had happened when he went into the office. As he got into his story, tears filled Megan’s eyes.

  ‘I knew it. I knew you didn’t really want me to live with you. You were just saying it to make me think that you love me, but really you just want to have your life the way it suits you, just like Mum does. It’s not fair. I didn’t ask to be born and now neither of you want me in your lives. I just get in the way. All right, go to Bangkok without me. See if I care.’ Her face crumpled and she sobbed in misery.

  Chris tried to stroke her hair, but she brushed his hand away. He looked at her tear-stained face and suddenly felt overwhelmed by how much he loved his daughter. Megan was the most important person in his life and the acceptance of this gave him a sudden sense of calm. He took a deep breath.

  ‘Megan, if you would just let me finish, I was about to tell you that I have turned down the Bangkok job. I wouldn’t have enjoyed it knowing I’d let you down. So now I have no job and I’m not sure what I’ll be doing, but whatever it is, I want to do it with you. I think I’m pretty lucky having a daughter who wants to live with her old man, so what say we give it a go?’

  She looked at him warily. ‘You mean it?’

  Chris nodded. ‘We’re in this together, Megan. We’ll manage. Something will turn up. It’ll all be okay.’

  As he saw a look of pure joy spread across her face, he hoped he was right.

  The weather reflected Chris’s mood; depressingly grey, hazy, cloudy. The kind of day when you wanted to hide under a doona, except that it was too hot and humid for that. Chris stood at the window looking at the small slice of view he could glimpse between buildings: a sludgy harbour, slanting rain, huddled passengers waiting for the ferry. He turned away. What an awful weekend to have Megan come and stay.

  Chris paced around his flat feeling suffocated. The apartment was small, something he’d never minded before, but in the back of his mind he wondered how he could share this cramped space, and his life, with his daughter.

  There was no question that he loved Megan and wanted the best for her, which was why he had agreed to step up and have her live with him. But now there was the crushing worry of how he was going to support both of them in this tiny flat, let alone find bigger, more suitable accommodation for them. Losing the job at Trinity Press – where he had been one of the stars in its newspaper firmament, albeit a modest one – had rocked him. He knew he had to look for another job right away. How hard could that be? he asked himself. He was reliable, a self-motivator and a good writer. Heavens, he’d won Australia’s highest journalistic accolade, a Walkley Award, for his story on a school shooting in the USA. But he was realistic enough to know that since he’d been out of the country for years, he didn’t have the network that the local journos did. So there was nothing else for it. He would have to start ringing around and see if any of Trinity’s rival newspapers were interested in hiring him.

  Staring at his phone, Chris had a sudden desire to ring his mother before he started the search. Talki
ng to her always put him at ease. Susan Baxter would be calm and understanding as well as practical.

  ‘A shock to the system, indeed. I know how much you were hoping to be assigned to Asia. Poor you. Poor Megan,’ his mother sympathised. ‘A good journalist like you shouldn’t have a lot of trouble getting another job, though. There are other papers out there. Mind you, I mostly read them online these days but I shall certainly cancel my subscription to your former paper, forthwith.’

  Chris relaxed at the sound of her voice. ‘That’s nice of you, Mum, but I’m really worried about being able to support Megan and a mortgage and car repayments,’ he said.

  ‘I can certainly understand that, but let’s not panic just yet. What did Jill say about Megan moving in with you? Does she know the latest about your job? Is she going to insist that Megan goes to Perth with them?’ his mother asked, pragmatic as ever.

  ‘Yes, I had that conversation. Jill’s not happy about me losing my job. She’s prepared to let Megan live with me for the present because Megan has her heart set on it, but only long term if I can support her financially. So I hope I’m earning before they go to Perth. I can’t bear to let Megan down. She will be incredibly upset if she has to go with them.’ Chris frowned just thinking of the prospect.

  ‘Look, the summer school holidays are coming up and you’ve already spoken about coming here for a visit. Why don’t you and Megan still do that? Come here and stay, Chris. It won’t stop you from looking for work,’ Susan said reassuringly. ‘We do have the internet and phone reception in Neverend. If you want to, you can use your father’s office – I’m hardly ever in there. And you can easily zip down to Sydney when you have a job interview. It would be good for you and Megan to have time together and I’ll adore having you both here for Christmas. Maybe you could rent your place out while you’re here and that would take care of the mortgage for a while.’

  Chris considered the offer for a moment and couldn’t see a downside. For the first time since losing his job, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, as well as nostalgia for the place where he was born.

  ‘Okay, Mum. Megan’s already dying to visit. And you and I haven’t spent much quality time together in a long while. I could do with a break, too. Get out of Sydney and look up some of my old school mates.’

  ‘That’s lovely, darling. I hope Megan doesn’t get bored, though – it’s a long holiday and she’s used to the bright lights! Maybe one or two of her friends could come up and visit for a few days.’

  ‘Perhaps. Let’s see how things go,’ replied Chris, who thought that one teenager would probably be more than enough for him to handle. ‘Thanks so much for the offer, Mum. Megan and I would love to spend the summer holidays with you.’

  It seemed the perfect solution for the short term. His daughter got on well with her grandmother and had always loved visiting the town of Neverend, which was nestled in a beautiful river valley. Looking out of his misted window at the often chaotic life in the crowded city, Chris thought about the town where he had grown up, with its bustling main street, its well-preserved colonial buildings and its tiny side roads shaded by leafy camphor laurel trees. The town was divided by the wide, slow-moving Henry River, whose occasional floods marooned half the population. The river was always a picturesque spot for fishing, picnics or contemplative walks and, in summer, kids drifted along it in all manner of makeshift floats and boats. Dogs raced into the river to cool off, scrambling out to shake their coats in a sparkling spray. Lovers clung together in the shallows beneath the bridge, hiding from the world. Above the river sat a row of old homes, some converted into B&Bs, which all looked across to the green river flats, dotted with fat cows. Beyond the paddocks the dramatic Great Dividing Range rose towards the blue sky.

  While Chris had loved his home at the end of View Street, where Susan’s garden was a showpiece and his dad’s shed was a boy’s treasure house, he’d always itched to see the outside world. Although he had frequently visited his mother for two or three days when he had been on leave, this would be his first extended visit for years. Now, suddenly, he couldn’t wait to go home and share with Megan all his favourite places around Neverend.

  Buoyed by this thought, Chris decided that it was time to start putting out some feelers and seriously look for a new job. Megan wasn’t due to arrive for another hour, so he had time to make a call or two. He was sure that he was unlikely to just walk into a new job, but there was no time like the present to make contact with people who might be able to help him. The first person he rang was Mac.

  ‘So the bastard fired you. Couldn’t put family before profits. Selfish sod,’ Mac said sympathetically.

  ‘Not really. I feel it was my decision. I’m going to see my mother for Christmas. Taking Megan with me. After that . . . who knows? Got any ideas?’

  ‘Chris, after our drink the other day, I don’t have to tell you that the newspaper game isn’t in great shape,’ replied Mac.

  ‘I know. I’m wondering if you think it would be worthwhile contacting the other major Aussie rags,’ said Chris, wondering how accurate Mac’s gloomy assessment was.

  ‘Get in touch with them, by all means. I’ve got a few contacts you could try. You’re an excellent journo with a solid reputation, so at least let them know you’re interested, but don’t hold your breath. They’ve already let a lot of their best staff go,’ Mac replied. ‘Sorry I can’t be more help, mate.’

  Chris thanked Mac and promised to catch up with him after the Christmas holidays, then hung up. Mac had confirmed what Chris felt he had known all along, deep down: finding another job was going to be difficult. Still, he told himself, he had weeks to find something before the problem became critical.

  *

  The car was crammed full to bursting. Chris had picked Megan up that morning for the drive north. Jill had seemed quite happy to see her daughter off. No doubt, thought Chris, she’ll enjoy a break from the constant hostilities between Megan and the twins.

  ‘What is all this stuff?’ asked Chris, eyeing the large overstuffed bag in Megan’s lap as they drove away.

  ‘Just my essentials, Dad,’ said Megan and rattled off a list. ‘Phone and charger, headphones, iPod, swimmers, my Peter Alexander pjs, skateboard, MinkPink sunglasses, Converse, Sukin face cleanser, a John Green novel, and a bag of snakes to eat on the road. Do you want one?’ She waved the brightly coloured plastic bag in his direction.

  ‘No thanks, sweetie,’ said Chris, rather amused. ‘I’m glad you brought those Converse.’

  She moved her bag into the backseat and lifted her foot, displaying a well-worn sneaker. ‘As if I would leave them at home, Dad.’

  *

  Neverend was more than six hours’ drive north of Sydney, and at about the halfway mark they stopped for cold drinks and a hamburger from a store near a petrol station where Chris had stopped before.

  ‘Don’t get beetroot juice on you, it won’t come out,’ he said as Megan tucked into her burger with relish.

  ‘Now you’re sounding like a mum,’ said Megan with her mouth full.

  ‘Good,’ said Chris. ‘Just getting into practice.’

  For most of the drive Megan sat back with her headphones on listening to music. Chris felt happy to have his daughter beside him. She seemed comfortable and at ease. He hoped this would be the pattern of their relationship.

  *

  It seemed as though the further north the car sped, the more relaxed Chris began to feel. As he passed the turn-off to Port Macquarie, he became quite excited about returning home and began to think again about Neverend.

  He’d learned when he was in school how the timber-getters had first opened up the area in their search for red cedar. The logs had been taken from the thick bush and floated down the Henry River to the coast. From there, the valuable timber was shipped all over the world. After the sources of timber had been depleted, the dairy farmers moved i
n, their herds fattening on the rich river flats, and the farmers’ monthly pay cheques enabled the town to flourish. Land subdivisions in the town had quickly sold and substantial timber homes, reflecting the wealth of the area, were built. The town soon boasted a hospital, courthouse and police station as well as schools. The main street had been filled with pubs and busy shops, that stayed open as late as 10 pm on Saturday nights to cater for the affluent farmers.

  Two entrepreneurial merchants, Webb and Mills, had built a two-storeyed department store which sold everything from shoes and china to bed linen and furniture. The store, now more than a hundred years old, still stood proudly in the main street and its wide iron awning continued to shelter Neverend residents from the weather, while its magnificent grand staircase, leading to a mezzanine floor, always produced admiring comments from visitors.

  When Britain had entered the EU in the 1960s and Australian dairy products lost their major market, the town stalled, but gradually it began to adapt. New people moved in: hippies seeking a different way of life, retirees and tree changers, and then tourists looking for a quiet escape in an area renowned for its natural beauty. Chris had seen a lot of the world, but he had to admit that there were very few places that matched the loveliness of the valley in which he’d been born.

  When he turned off the highway to wind through a landscape of farms and paddocks, Megan took off her headphones and watched the passing scenery.

  ‘It’s pretty, isn’t it?’ he said after a while, as large fields dotted with the occasional gum tree rolled past.

  ‘Yes, it is. And empty.’

  Chris chuckled. ‘Amazing country we have. I’m bowled over every time I come back here. It’s all so beautiful and, you’re right, it does seem empty and isolated, but Neverend is only fifteen minutes from Coffs Harbour, and that’s a big place.’

  ‘Do you think Bunny ever gets bored living up here?’