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Apartment 255

Page 18

by Bunty Avieson


  Ginny sat for a long time with the newspaper in her hand and her tea growing cold in front of her. She looked through her binoculars at the apartment opposite. The light was on in what Ginny knew was the kitchen but there was no sign of anybody. Ginny made a fresh pot of tea and settled herself into the winged armchair in her bedroom, binoculars to her eyes and waited.

  *

  Tom was wearing his dressing gown and a look of concern when he appeared in the kitchen doorway. He took in at a glance the newspapers, the coffee cup and Sarah’s face. She smiled at him.

  ‘How’s my Sare Bear?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘And you?’

  ‘Oh, I’m okay.’

  Tom looked at her closely. She looked a whole lot better after the night’s sleep. The wild staring look had gone from her eyes and they showed life again.

  ‘Did you sleep okay?’

  ‘I slept like a log,’ she replied. ‘Best sleep I’ve had in a long time actually.’

  Tom poured himself a coffee. On the surface he appeared calm and relaxed. Underneath he was poised like a cat, ready to jump whichever way Sarah seemed to go.

  ‘And how famous are you this morning?’ he said, tentatively poking out a paw, attempting some light-hearted humour.

  Sarah smiled weakly back at him. So far so good, he thought.

  She pushed the newspaper across towards him. ‘Read for yourself.’

  Sarah watched Tom’s face as he read. She saw the bags under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. He didn’t look like he had slept so well. Sarah realised she hadn’t noticed Tom, really looked at him, for a while. He looked like a man under pressure, a man carrying the weight of the world. Have I done this to him? she thought.

  Tom finished reading and looked up. ‘Is that what happened?’ he asked.

  ‘I guess so, more or less,’ Sarah replied.

  Tom couldn’t help but be shocked. Three men to restrain her. A disagreement that turned violent. What the hell was going on? The Sarah in the newspaper and the Sarah he knew were worlds apart. Until he read the newspaper he assumed that Sarah had screamed at someone in the RTA office, or burst into tears, or that it all had been some dreadful mistake. Tom knew the frustration of dealing with government departments. He did it almost every day of his working life. Sure, it was frustrating. But Sarah’s reaction was something he couldn’t imagine.

  Sarah didn’t often lose her temper. When she was angry she would become icy and withdraw. This was something else again. He thought of the tension that had developed between them over the past few weeks. Sarah had been a tight ball of fury, erupting into anger or passion, and Tom had skirted around her. Sarah had been building up to this, he could see that now. But he could never have imagined this to be the outcome. He couldn’t imagine her capable of such a thing. And here she was sitting opposite him, looking vulnerable and small, telling him it was true.

  Tom always wanted to fix things, make them right. It was his nature, his way of making sense of the world. When Sarah came home after a tough day with McKenzie, he would inevitably offer the advice that she should resign. This would surprise Sarah and the discussion would usually end up with her defending McKenzie. She didn’t see it as a problem to be solved but as something to be discussed and shared. He saw every problem as there to be solved.

  He had felt impotent in the face of Sarah’s emotional exhaustion last night. Her numbness had scared and unnerved him. He was at a loss how to respond. This was a problem way beyond him, Sarah needed professional help. Tom thought he could discuss that with her later. He concerned himself for now with the practicalities. It made him feel better, more in control.

  ‘Are the police going to charge you?’

  ‘No,’ said Sarah. ‘I received an official warning. And that’s it. But the paperwork will go on my file. So if I ever do anything like it again, then this incident may be considered relevant.’

  Tom nodded. Sarah felt he deserved some sort of explanation and if she had one she would have gladly given it. At least she could try to offer him some reassurance.

  ‘But I won’t be doing it again,’ said Sarah firmly.

  Tom didn’t know what to say to that. He was still in shock that it happened at all. ‘What about McKenzie? What do you want to do about work?’

  Sarah shuddered. ‘I think I will go in and see him,’ said Sarah. ‘I think I have to, don’t you?’

  *

  Ginny was gleeful but she wanted more. She wanted to see the expressions, know what was going on between and around their words. That would be the icing on the cake. She could hardly wait for tonight. Of course she would ring Sarah today, ever the concerned friend, offering sympathy and seeing if there was anything she could do. Perhaps she should drop in after work. She really would like to see Sarah, see how she looked in her worst hour, share it with her. Oh really, this was just too, too exciting.

  *

  Sarah drove to work listening to the morning radio. It was a pair of comedians who played some music and the news bulletins, and filled in the rest with talkback and chat, usually about Hollywood or what had been on TV the night before. The radio was just background noise as Sarah prepared herself to face McKenzie. She tried to imagine the worst outcome. Perhaps he would sack her on the spot. How bad would that be? Pretty bad, she had to admit. There was the loss of income, the embarrassment, the difficulties of getting another job given the reasons for her sacking. Okay, that’s as bad as it could get. She would still have Tom, her health and … and she would just find something else to do.

  Sarah considered all the angles, trying to paint them as darkly as she could as a form of protection against whatever McKenzie might do. He would yell, sure. So what? He yelled at her every day. She was no longer intimidated by that. The thought cheered her a little. She thought how she could face anyone after working for McKenzie. In fact, she thought, if she lost her job, she would never have to work for McKenzie again, never have to cop it from him again. That thought cheered her considerably.

  She thought of all the things she could say to McKenzie before she walked out. How she would love to give him an earful, some of the abuse he so happily dished out but no-one ever served back. Sarah considered it then reluctantly dropped it. No, she would go with dignity, with grace and poise. Satisfying though it may be in the short term, Sydney was too small. And it wasn’t really her style.

  A phrase on the radio caught her attention. She thought they had said her name. Sarah realised with a start that the radio announcer was relating a more sensationalised version of yesterday’s events than had appeared in the Daily News. Sarah felt terribly conspicuous to all the other morning drivers. She looked about her in the traffic wondering who else was listening to this.

  The male announcer snickered that it had taken three men to hold her down. ‘I like the sound of her, a wildcat,’ he said.

  His female offsider immediately took the opposing view. That was their formula. He would be extreme, prompting outrage and controversy, and she would go as far as possible the other way. When they tapped the right social nerve, which was often, the phones would run hot.

  ‘I reckon that constitutes assault,’ she said. ‘I feel sorry for this girl. She goes into an RTA office … and we all know what they are like … she gets annoyed with the slow staff … perfectly normal behaviour so far … is vocal about her dissatisfaction … I’m still on her side … and then three wallies jump on her. I’m sorry. If I were her I’d be demanding the police arrest them. Go girl, I say. On ya sister!’

  The male DJ guffawed. ‘Oh, come on. If that was a man you would say lock him up, the streets aren’t safe with the likes of him around.’ Sarah listened with disbelief. It seemed surreal that these people were talking about her. That the woman announcer was loudly and publicly championing her supposed ‘cause’ was too unbelievable. Sarah wondered if the world had gone mad. The announcers invited callers to ring in with their views. Was Sarah’s behaviour acceptable or unaccepta
ble? Have your say.

  ‘Go on,’ said Sarah. ‘Have your say and make my day.’ She felt a little lightheaded.

  The first caller was a civil servant, angry that he couldn’t get a date. No he hadn’t read the morning’s newspaper, no he had never watched the news on Channel 8, but dammit he was just as good as anybody else and women shouldn’t be so rude.

  The second caller thought Sarah was awfully pretty and he hoped that the police would let her go because it was only a first offence. How would you know? thought Sarah, bemused at what was unfolding through her radio speaker. She wondered if Tom were listening. She hoped he was. They could have a good laugh about this later on.

  The third caller wanted to talk about an anger management workshop he had been on after his wife took out a restraining order against him. He offered to pass on the details to Sarah if she would care to ring him. ‘Oh yeah, right,’ thought Sarah.

  Sarah parked her car in her usual spot, silencing the fourth caller mid-rave. It was an older woman whose car had been stolen. She complained that the RTA had been no help in tracking it down. It was a relief to shut them up. Sarah was surprised to find she was smiling. The world had gone mad.

  But Sarah’s smile didn’t last through the carpark, down the corridors and into the newsroom. With each step she felt the dread growing heavier in her stomach. She said hello to the receptionist, who she didn’t know well, and her reaction, the merest flash of something in her eyes, confirmed what Sarah feared. Everybody had read the morning’s newspaper. She was the talk of the station.

  The newsroom was an open-plan office with a jumble of desks and computer screens, banks of filing cabinets and people milling about looking busy. Sarah was self-conscious as she made her way between the desks, aware of every eye in the room on her. Dennis Sand, the court reporter whose desk was jammed up against hers, whistled as she sat down.

  ‘Hey there, how’s our office wildcat this morning?’ he asked.

  Sarah flinched inside but smiled back, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. It was going to get worse than this, she told herself.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘Just fine.’

  She put down her handbag and leafed through some telephone messages, turning her shoulders just enough to discourage him. But Dennis was inherently nosy. It was an occupational hazard and Sarah knew everyone in the newsroom also suffered from it.

  ‘What happened yesterday?’ It was typical Dennis. Straight to the point.

  ‘You don’t know?’ said Sarah with mock surprise. ‘Dennis, you’re losing your touch. You really should keep up. Try the Daily News.’

  ‘Ha, ha,’ said Dennis.

  Sarah picked up her phone to block any further conversation. She dialled Fay. McKenzie’s office was only a few metres away. Sarah couldn’t see it because of a partition, and she felt too conspicuous and uncomfortable to walk around there.

  ‘Hi, it’s Sarah. Is he in?’

  ‘Oh,’ gasped Fay. ‘Yes he is. I told him you weren’t coming in today.’

  ‘Yeah, well I just couldn’t stay away from the place,’ said Sarah. ‘Can I see him?’

  Fay didn’t bother to cover the mouthpiece as she called out to her boss that Sarah wanted to see him. ‘Yes. He’s free,’ she said.

  Sarah steeled herself. At least he would see her. She knew the meeting would be bad but it was better to face him now than spend hours or all day in agony, waiting for the axe to fall. It gave her back some sense of control.

  Fay whispered to her as she went past. ‘Good luck.’

  McKenzie was sitting in the midst of his usual chaos. King of his own domain. He had a perfect line of vision to Fay so he could bark orders, a huge newspaper-covered desk and three television monitors playing with the volume turned down. His purple-veined nose, a legacy of the red wine he consumed in massive quantities, was twitching. Not a good sign. But his expression was calm. Sarah was braced for an onslaught of abuse, but McKenzie was uncharacteristically quiet. He eyed her speculatively. Sarah stumbled in to fill the silence.

  ‘I want to explain about yesterday,’ she started. ‘The newspaper story is a gross exaggeration of what actually happened. I had a minor disagreement with a member of staff at the RTA. There is no question that the police will press charges. They are in no position to because I committed no offence. However, I realise that as a face of Channel 8 news, I made a shocking error of judgement. I am sincerely sorry if you feel that it has brought the show into disrepute in any way.’

  McKenzie didn’t respond. Sarah didn’t know how to read him. She had not said this many words to him in the two years he had been her news director. Usually he did all the talking. He continued to sit, silently, watching her. Sarah found it unsettling. She tried another tack.

  ‘I appreciate your support of me in the newspaper this morning. I admit to feeling somewhat embarrassed by the story appearing, but I’m sure it will be fish-and-chip wrapping by this afternoon and I have no intention of allowing it to affect my work.’

  Still McKenzie didn’t respond. Sarah felt herself beginning to babble. It was what she did when she was nervous and faced with an uncomfortable silence. She could see herself doing it but was unable to stop herself.

  ‘It was a momentary lapse of judgement which will not be repeated, I can assure you of that. But, if it’s any consolation, I have been listening to talkback radio this morning and it would appear that there is so much hostility against government departments that in some quarters I am being hailed a hero.’

  Sarah realised she was sounding stupid and reined herself in. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself quiet.

  McKenzie watched her, to be sure she had finished.

  ‘Is that it?’ he asked finally.

  Sarah felt like a child again. She nodded.

  ‘Okay, then close the door.’

  Sarah was surprised. McKenzie almost never shut his door. When Sarah was seated again McKenzie did something she never expected to see in her lifetime. He came around from his desk and sat beside her on a chair. His elbow was just inches from her own.

  ‘Sarah, you are a damn fine reporter. There is no question about that. The job you did on the Liverpool fires was first rate.’

  Sarah nodded dumbly. She was unnerved by McKenzie sitting so close to her, on this side of his desk. She was unnerved by his serious, almost friendly tone. But she was completely unnerved by what he was saying. This was not what she expected at all.

  ‘I always knew you would be good from the first day I came to Channel 8 and you argued with me. I don’t remember what about but I know I was impressed. I thought then that you had spunk.’

  Sarah remembered. McKenzie hadn’t been interested in covering the court case of a woman who had murdered her abusive husband. Sarah had thought it a strong story and had told him so. The story had resulted in major changes to the law and it was as well that Channel 8 had followed it.

  ‘What I want to say to you I don’t want to go outside these walls, at least not for a little while. Pretty soon everyone will know but in the meantime I ask you to respect my confidence.’

  Sarah nodded. She didn’t feel like such a child any more.

  ‘The network, in all its wisdom, has decided to merge our news program with our current affairs program and make it one hour-long show combining all the elements.’

  This wasn’t complete news to Sarah. The rumours had been flying around for weeks but she had been so distracted with what was going on in her own world that she had paid little attention.

  ‘There will be one executive producer and it won’t be me.’

  McKenzie struggled to keep the bitterness out of his voice. For the first time Sarah saw him as a man. Not a tyrant or a boss but an overweight man in his fifties with a long distinguished career behind him, but not much in front of him. He must be very scared, she thought.

  ‘Oh, sir, I’m so sorry,’ stammered Sarah.

  McKenzie waved away her platitudes. Sarah struggl
ed to think what she could say that would help. Nothing, she realised.

  ‘It’s going to get really messy around here for the next few weeks and I suggest you take a few weeks’ leave. I know you’ve got plenty owing, and right now you are a hot potato. The people upstairs read the papers too and they don’t like anything that reflects badly on the network. It would be best, for your sake, if you weren’t around for the next few weeks while they are looking at who to sack.’

  Sarah looked at McKenzie with astonishment. The man she had called tyrant, had railed against and hated, was worrying about her when his own neck was so clearly in the noose. She had misjudged him completely.

  ‘And on the matter of yesterday’s little barney at the RTA– my advice to you is just to deny, deny, deny.’

  McKenzie smiled, the first time Sarah thought she had ever seen him do so. In the fifteen minutes that had passed since she entered his office, something had shifted. For years she had put McKenzie in a box labelled boss. She had never seen him as a human being with pressures and a life of his own. She was seeing him that way for the first time.

  She realised he must have known exactly what she was thinking when he said, ‘You think I’ve been hard on you?’ and laughed. ‘Sarah, you were worth being hard on. One day you will be a boss. You will run a newsroom somewhere. And I hope you are lucky enough to get a Sarah Cowley working for you.’

  It wasn’t until an hour later when Sarah was alone in her car and driving home that she realised what that meant. She looked at the past two years through fresh eyes. McKenzie constantly driving her, pushing her, berating her to do better. She remembered how often she had been given the good jobs, the tough assignments, despite her youth. She had been too busy trying to prove herself and not show any fear or inability to realise what was going on – that she had a mentor, someone looking after her. He may not have been obvious about it but that’s what McKenzie had been. She felt humbled. As she crossed the Harbour Bridge, the tears spilled out of her eyes, tumbling down onto her shirt. It wasn’t McKenzie she cried for. It was her father. Big, sad, heavy tears.

 

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