by Di Morrissey
‘Gosh, Dad, you’re on another planet half the time! I hope the new book’s coming together for you.’
‘Yes, honey. I’m having a bit of fun with it, actually. It’s bringing back a lot of memories.’
‘That’s great. When can I read it?’
‘Oh, when I think it’s worth reading, but I have to say that I’m enjoying the project.’
‘That’s a good sign, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. I hope so.’ He gave her a hug. ‘How’re you going?’
‘Good, Dad. Really good.’ She held on to him for a moment and then skipped out of the room. Chris grinned watching her go and then returned to the satisfying work in front of him.
*
‘Do you think you could set up a meeting with the publisher?’ Chris asked Georgia. ‘I have something to show you, and the airlines are having a special this weekend, so I thought I might get the earliest flight down.’
‘Yes, I’ll make the appointment for us first thing. After that, do you think you would have time to meet Dad? He wants to catch up with you, and of course he’d rather do that over lunch than on the phone.’
‘And you?’
‘I’ll be making us a special dinner.’
‘I like the sound of that. So next Saturday’s a date, then?’
*
Chris strolled into Greasy Greeks feeling pleased with himself. The meeting with the publisher had gone well. Paul had shown obvious enthusiasm for his stories and there would be no problem publishing them because they weren’t at all controversial. Certainly there wouldn’t be any difficulties like the ones Alan Carmichael and his lawyers had posed with Chris’s first book.
Chris saw Mac sitting at their favourite table. Walking over to join him, Chris glanced around the restaurant, recognising a few familiar media faces, although he didn’t feel like one of them anymore. He realised he’d moved away from the hub of things. He was no longer the harried journo hunting for stories, chasing unpromising leads flung at him by the news editor, always facing a deadline.
Mac rose and held out his hand, a big smile on his face. Chris gave him a bear hug.
‘What’s that for?’ mumbled Mac as he sat back down. ‘I said I’m paying for lunch this time. Or are you trying to worm your way into the family?’
Chris laughed. ‘Maybe, or maybe I’m thanking you for being such a good friend and having such a wonderful daughter.’ He nodded at the room. ‘You know, Mac, suddenly I don’t feel like I belong here anymore. I’m not one of them now.’
‘You and me both, sport. Not a lot of familiar faces around.’
‘No, it’s more than that. Last time we came here, I felt on the outer because I’d left my job. Now I feel as though I’ve moved on.’
‘Driving a van? Or writing the great journo book?’
‘Both, I’m multi-tasking,’ Chris quipped as he started to read the specials scribbled on the front of the menu. ‘The moussaka is always good here. I think I’ll have that.’
‘You always have that. Try something different.’
Chris chuckled. ‘All right, I will.’ Just as he put down the menu, a familiar face joined them.
‘Hello, stranger.’
‘John Miller!’ Chris leapt to his feet to shake hands with his old editor from Trinity Press. ‘How are you keeping?’
‘I can’t complain. Been a few changes at Trinity in the last few weeks.’
‘Can you sit down and tell me what’s happened? I’d be interested in knowing,’ said Chris, genuinely pleased to see his old friend and boss.
After greeting Mac, John pulled up a chair. ‘Well, the best news is that Honeywell has gone. You remember that pompous English twat? Had no idea what he was doing and under him the paper went into very rapid decline. Now the paper has to begin rebuilding quickly while there’s still something there to regenerate.’
‘I’m pleased to hear that piece of news,’ said Chris, with a small smile.
‘Running into you is fortuitous, Chris. We are now on the lookout for more really first-class journalists, of which you are most definitely one, so how would you like your old job back? If you still don’t want to be a foreign correspondent, I would be happy to find you a job based in Sydney. Brad Jones is retiring early. He’s got some serious health issues, and you could easily take his place.’
Chris tried to keep a straight face at John’s surprising announcement. ‘I’m sorry about Brad. Nice chap. John, I’ll need to think about your offer, which I have to say is very generous,’ he said carefully. ‘How long have I got?’
‘Maybe a week or so. But don’t leave it too long. More journos than positions these days.’
‘I’ll think it over, and thanks again, I’ll get back to you with my answer.’
Chris leaned back in his seat after John had farewelled them and gone back to his table. He could hardly believe it. Two job offers in such a short time. Now he had options, but the trouble was, which option should he take?
‘That’s good news,’ said Mac. ‘Will you take the job?’
‘Part of me is keen. I can’t say that I’m not flattered that Trinity wants me back,’ said Chris, slowly. ‘However, that’d mean moving Megan back to the city and getting a bigger place. And Mac, there’s a job available at the local ABC radio outfit and the station manager is sure that, even without radio experience, I’m the best candidate for it. Even though I’d not be making a heap of money, I don’t need all that much, living in Neverend.’ He paused as his thoughts turned over. ‘And I’ve got the bit between my teeth with this book. And you know, I think that if I started fulltime newspaper work again, it’d be very hard on Megan. I know the sort of hours I’d have to work with Trinity. I’d often have to leave her on her own and I don’t want to be a part-time father again. With the radio job, I’d be around for her. I also think I could work for a few hours each afternoon on my book. Coming home at night from the newspaper and then trying to be creative . . . well, it wouldn’t work. And frankly, Mac, I’m pretty sure that Megan doesn’t want to leave Neverend, and I’m not sure I do either.’
Mac handed the menus to the waiter, who was standing with pencil poised. ‘Well, bugger me. You’re full of surprises. I’ll have the moussaka,’ he said to the waiter.
‘Lamb shanks,’ said Chris, then grinned at his old friend.
Mac leaned back in his chair. ‘Are you sure you want to work in local radio? Bit out of the mainstream for someone of your abilities,’ he said.
‘I suppose so, but I intend to do the job as well as I would if I were still a foreign correspondent for Trinity Press. As I see it, it’s the best job around that fits in with my present life.’
‘Georgie will be disappointed,’ said Mac, pointedly.
‘I know.’ Chris was quiet for a moment. ‘Am I being stupid, Mac? Six months ago I’d have killed to have this Trinity Press job offer, but now I know that it’s not the right job for me at this point in time. I wish I could be closer to Georgie. Maybe she might be happy living away from the city?’
‘You’d have to ask her, mate.’ Mac leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ‘Chris, I didn’t just ask you here for a chat, you know, although that’s been nice. There’s another reason that I wanted to meet you for lunch. I’ve still got good contacts around the traps, as you know, old journo mates as well as friends in high places, and I’ve heard a rumour that a certain multi-millionaire who has been trying to expand his construction company into the US is in a heap of financial pain.’
‘Do you mean Carmichael?’ Chris said incredulously. ‘Are you bullshitting me?’
Mac put his hand on his heart. ‘It’s true. If you look in today’s financial papers, you’ll see a couple of stories. They’re only small at this stage, but from what I hear, things are going to get a whole lot worse for Carmichael. The word is out that the American banks that were going to back his expansion are pulling out of their deal. Rumour has it that he’s no longer sound.’
‘What does that m
ean?’ asked Chris.
‘I think the bankers are questioning the viability of Carmichael’s projects.’
Chris gave a low whistle. ‘So where does he go from here?’
‘Who would know? But if he doesn’t get other financial backing pretty quickly, then he’s going to be in a lot of bother.’
Lunch arrived and their conversation turned to other things, mainly how great it had been working as a journalist in the good old days; colourful characters, less stringent restrictions, a lot more free-wheeling opportunities to chase stories.
After lunch, Chris made his way to Georgia’s place and they watched the nightly news snuggled together on the couch. The story about Carmichael was little more than a passing reference, but Susan was on the phone to Chris immediately.
‘Chris! Have you heard the news? I can’t believe it! Do you think Alan is in real trouble?’
‘It didn’t say much in the news today, but Mac thinks he is.’
‘I might ring Mark right away and see if he’s heard anything,’ said Susan, and hung up.
‘My mother is pretty shocked at the news,’ Chris relayed to Georgia.
‘I’m not surprised. I suppose we’ll hear more about what’s going on over the next few days,’ said Georgia. ‘By the way, what else did you and Dad talk about besides Alan Carmichael today?’
‘Actually, something else did happen while we were having lunch. I was approached by my old editor in the restaurant and he offered me a job back at Trinity, working in Sydney.’
Georgia sat up. ‘That’s wonderful, Chris. How do you feel about that?’
‘Truthfully? It puts me in a difficult position. It’s certainly what I wanted to do a few months back.’
‘And now?’ Georgia cocked her head to one side.
Chris began hesitantly. ‘Georgie, please don’t be hurt, I want to see you all the time. But . . . it’s Megan. I just can’t drag her away from Neverend now. She’s so happy there, what with her friends, her interests, and of course Squire. And if I take the Trinity job, I know that I wouldn’t be able to give her the attention she deserves. I’m feeling very confident about getting the ABC position and then I’ll have the security of decent money and a regular job and have a lot of time for Megan, too.’ He stopped as she started to smile. ‘Am I nuts settling for all that without you?’
Georgia looked fondly at him. ‘Perhaps not. I’ve been to Neverend. I’ve seen how happy Megan is. And your relationship with your daughter is your first priority, and that’s how it should be. Besides, as your agent, I can see that you have a much better chance of writing your next book in a stress-free atmosphere.’
Chris put his arms around Georgia. ‘I love you insanely,’ he said. ‘I’m a lucky man, to have such an understanding girl like you.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind hanging out with a bloke who lives in the bush, drives a courier van and scribbles in his spare time, but who will soon be a radio star.’
‘You’re wonderful,’ he sighed as he hugged her. ‘I’ll give this book-writing a decent bash. Second time lucky, but I couldn’t do it without you.’
‘Maybe I’d better stick around, then,’ she said playfully. ‘Keep an eye on my client.’
*
Early the following morning, Chris wrapped his arms around Georgia, feeling the warmth of her body through her bathrobe. Her hair smelled faintly of lemons as he kissed her scrubbed face. ‘It gets harder and harder to say goodbye to you,’ he murmured.
‘I know. Me too. I’ll fly up as soon as I can. Just keep writing. I love what you’re doing.’
‘I’ll call you tonight. Let me know if your dad hears anything more about Carmichael.’
‘Will do.’
Chris drove back to Neverend from Coffs airport, his mind whirring with all that had happened. As always, once he’d crossed the bridge over the Henry River and turned off the Pacific Highway towards Neverend, he felt his body and mind relax, slowing and settling as a peacefulness stole over him despite all he had running through his head.
It was the middle of the day, the winter sun lit up the trees and in the paddocks soporific cows stood motionless, time being of no consequence to them. The main street was quiet save for the newsagent, who was seated outside his shop dozing, a newspaper on his lap.
At home, Chris dropped his bag, went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He sent Georgia a text saying he’d arrived safely. Then, with a coffee and a cheese sandwich beside him, he opened his laptop, picked up the thread of his story and began to type.
When Susan poked her head in, Chris was surprised to find that two hours had evaporated.
‘Glad you’re back,’ said Susan. ‘I had book club today. We discussed our book over a very pleasant lunch and a nice glass of wine. Best way to look at literature, I always think.’
He stretched. ‘I’m ready for a coffee refill. Is Megan over at Mollie’s this afternoon?’
‘I assume so. She said that she wants to start learning dressage and that could be beyond old Squire. Mollie said she knew of a good teacher who might take Megan on if she’s really serious.’
‘Do you think she is? Or will boys and parties and her music start to impinge more on her time?’ wondered Chris.
Susan laughed. ‘She does have a lot going on. She did say she might drop the debating team but stick with the jazz band, the school orchestra and netball. She has a very full agenda.’
‘I could go over to see her later this afternoon. I haven’t seen Megs ride for a while.’ But before he had the chance, the phone rang. It was Mark.
Susan spoke to him for some time. When she hung up, she looked grave.
‘Mark has been talking to his friends in the financial world and they are all shocked by Alan’s predicament. It seems that the loans he had taken out in the US for the expansion of his business are not going to be forthcoming. Whatever capital he has in Australia will have to be used to try to salvage his American operation. This means that now he is seriously overextended, and Mark thinks he could even become bankrupt if he can’t raise more funds straight away.’
Privately Chris had absolutely no sympathy for Alan at all, but he knew that a lot of people would lose their jobs if International Industries went belly up, and he wondered if any new loans would materialise.
Over the next few weeks, more and more stories appeared in the papers and online, all following the collapse of Alan’s business. There were a lot of phone calls between Mark, Evan, David and Susan. Only Mark had any real information. Evan was shocked by what was happening and constantly suggested that things could not be as bad as they seemed. David said that he didn’t really care what happened to Alan.
‘I did hear that he had to sell his estate in Bali. I bet his waterfront place in Sydney will be the next to go,’ David said to Susan, who relayed his comment to Chris.
Chris just nodded.
Now that the physical threats from Alan, if indeed they had been from him, seemed to have evaporated, Chris found that, like David, he was watching the decline of the tycoon’s business with only moderate interest.
Chris was delighted when the ABC let him work there on a trial basis and he quickly fitted in. He found that the work was interesting and quite fulfilling, if not as high-powered as in other positions he had held. Working on radio was much harder than he had thought it would be, but he soon mastered the technicalities. He no longer had the luxury of chasing just one or two big stories, instead he had to provide bulletins of reliable and relevant news to critical listeners every hour, but he loved the challenge.
He also enjoyed the chance to write for a couple of hours in the afternoon and soon realised that his new book was much more engaging than his first literary attempt. He knew that writing part-time meant that the book would take quite a while to come to fruition, but he appreciated being able to work under less pressure. Although he scarcely acknowledged it to himself, a small kernel of an idea was forming in the back of his mind for a further book. But he pushed the i
dea to one side, knowing he had to concentrate and finish this book first, and do it well. Nevertheless, he was comforted that this might not be the only book he had in him.
Chris felt a bit guilty about telling Shaun that he would be leaving the courier business, but his friend had no trouble finding a replacement straight away. There was now even talk of expanding the business, especially as Shaun was becoming less and less enthusiastic about working on the family farm.
When David arrived for a visit two weeks later, Susan announced they were all having a big roast dinner.
‘Is this in my honour?’ asked David.
‘Of course! No, actually it’s so we can all catch up. Megan never seems to be around and Chris has his head down all the time these days and I’ve been pretty busy, too, so it’s a big Saturday night feast for us all to enjoy together.’
‘Shall I make my best dessert?’ offered Megan.
‘You bet,’ said Chris.
‘And what are you up to, Megan?’ asked David.
‘I’ve started dressage classes. I love it. My teacher, Judy, says I have a good seat, very straight, and I move well with the horse.’ She sat up straight in her chair to demonstrate what she meant.
‘On Squire?’ asked David. ‘From what I saw, he seems to be a bit of an old plodder. Bit like me.’
‘Nonsense,’ interrupted Susan. ‘Plodder you are not.’
‘No, I use one of Judy’s horses. She’s amazing. She breaks in horses and everything. Maybe I’ll break horses when I leave school,’ said Megan, her voice full of admiration for her new teacher.
‘Maybe not,’ said Chris. ‘I think you’ll need to have a lot more experience to do anything like that.’
‘I think I should dedicate the rest of my life to horses,’ said Megan, dreamily.
‘Could you dedicate the next half hour to the dessert?’ said Susan, but she had a smile on her face. ‘I remember your auntie Kate saying much the same thing about horses when she was your age.’
