Making Headlines (5 page)

Rachel stood her ground. ‘I don't care if they're your posters or not. As head editor, you should be demanding that kind of crap is ripped from the walls.'

Mitch was about to retaliate when Tony approached. ‘Well done, Rachel. That was your finest effort to date.' Beaming with delight, he gave her a clumsy pat on the shoulder. ‘That last question you threw at him — the one that made him crack — that was brilliant. You're really coming along.'

‘Thanks,' said Rachel. ‘And I had the help of a great cameraman too.' She glanced at Mitch, to make sure he'd heard. ‘And a good editor,' she added lamely. He rolled his eyes and walked off.

Tony continued. ‘There's something else I wanted to talk to you about. That favour you asked for about reading news updates. Turns out Sarah is taking holidays on short notice and her morning shift hasn't been covered on the roster yet. I could slot you in before I leave if you'd like to give it a go?'

‘Oh, that's brilliant! Thank you! That's so lovely of you to think of me in your last week and to go to the trouble. God, I wish you weren't leaving! So, when will this update shift happen?' She tried not to sound overly excited, but couldn't help bouncing up and down on her toes.

‘Starts in two weeks. I won't be here, but I know you'll do well.'

‘Sure.' She paused. ‘Um, the only problem is, I've never read a news update live to air. Won't I need a few training sessions first?'

‘Oh, don't worry about that. You'll be fine. You've done a couple of live crosses. Much better to be thrown in the deep end.'

‘Right.' She felt more like she'd been caught in a strong tide. But she couldn't push for any more help. ‘I'll give it my best shot then.'

‘That's the way,' said Tony. ‘And just so you know, the shift starts at 6 am and you have to do your own makeup. You're pretty good at that, so it should all be fine.'

Rachel did the math and worked out that with a half-hour drive to the network and the time it took to do makeup and tame her hair, she'd need to set her alarm clock for three thirty.
AM
.

Returning to her desk, her mind was buzzing. The excitement of being given an opportunity to read updates was tempered by the problems with Tim, and now Mitch. Not to mention Tony leaving. She wanted to dive into a clear blue sea and wash all her cares away. She stared at her computer, imagining the cool water wash over her.

Julia leaned across. ‘Good stuff, buddy. Wish I could get a scoop like that. Who put you on to it?'

‘Surprisingly, an old newspaper colleague. Someone you might know. Derek Jacobsen?'

Julia laughed out loud. ‘So that's what he was hinting at! Glad you made the most of it because he also told me to tell you I'll be getting all his tips from now on.'

‘I really don't need to know about your sex life . . .'

‘Funny!' Julia slapped her playfully on the arm.

‘How about you ditch Derek next week and join me and the girls for a night out? You've been promising to come for ages. On Thursday week.'

Julia looked thoughtful. ‘You know, I think I'll take you up on that. Count me in.'

‘Excellent,' said Rachel. ‘About time you met the gang.'

They smiled at each other and Rachel turned to pack up her things. She glanced
over to Tony's office where Shirley had already started emptying filing cabinets and removing pictures from the walls. Rachel shivered. The air was feeling colder.

On Friday afternoon, Shirley placed farewell signs in bright colours around the newsroom, then began unpacking boxes of wine and beer glasses. She set up a mini-bar at her desk and placed several plastic crates filled with ice, beer and wine nearby.

It was hardly a festive occasion. Rachel watched the preparations glumly. She couldn't think of anyone who wanted Tony to go. As the news went to air, the crowd grew, with Tony's former colleagues arriving from far and wide. Even current staff on days off or holidays turned up.

When the final notes of the news theme played out, the crowd erupted in cheers and cries of ‘party time' as they made a mad rush for drinks. Someone switched the screens to a Foxtel music channel and the Black Eyed Peas blared forth, singing about how it was going to be a good night. Rachel grabbed a glass of wine and tried to strike up a conversation with Julia through the chaos.

There was a shuffling in the crowd and Tony took his place in front of the news staff, standing on top of a desk. ‘Thanks, everyone, for coming along. Great to see so many of you. And even though we're a hard-hearted bunch, I can honestly say I am truly touched to see you all here.'

Gentle mocking noises and laughter came from the gathering.

Tony continued. ‘It's been a wonderful and rewarding eight years here at Six and I'll miss you all. No, that's a lie. I'll miss
some
of you.'

More laughter from the crowd.

‘But, I leave you in good hands. Rob Kingsbury will temporarily take over for about two months, then your new boss will start. He's just been signed this week so he needs to give notice at his old job. And of course they're not making it easy for him to get out of his contract . . .' Tony paused. Rachel knew he was deliberately stringing them along. A few in the crowd began heckling.

He waved his arms to quieten the noise. ‘Alright, alright, there's been much speculation about who it will be and yes, yes, the big rumour is correct. Your new boss will be Helmut Becker.'

A roar erupted, drowning Tony's following words. Rachel stood there, numb.

Gerard punched Mitch on the arm. ‘Told ya. I was right! Gotta work up those boxing skills now with the cricket-bat terrorist at the helm.'

Mitch sparred back, the two putting on a show.

‘Keep it down, guys.' Tony commanded. ‘And don't give Becker a bad name. He's tough, but only on those who don't work hard. And if you don't like the decision, don't blame me, it was beyond my control.'

A smattering of applause came from the crowd.

‘So, thank you again. I'm done here, but look forward to a drink with you all before we call it a night. Cheers!' Tony raised his glass to raucous clapping.

Mitch turned to Rachel. ‘Interesting times ahead. Better drink up. Who knows what kind of hospitality we'll get after tonight?'

‘Well, hopefully we'll still have staff drinks on a Friday, at least?' Rachel wanted to put things right between them.

‘Sure.' He smiled at her warmly, clinking his beer bottle against her glass.

The thought of having Helmut Becker as her new boss was daunting. Rachel drank deeply, and felt strangely reassured knowing Mitch would still be around. It made the newsroom seem a little less formidable.

***

The next night Rachel peered through the curtains of the study hoping the taxi would arrive before Lou saw her. No sign. Grimacing, she sat back in the desk chair, swivelling to and fro. A silver-framed photograph of Lou, Neil and Josh caught her attention. It was taken last summer on a holiday at Anglesea. Lou and Neil with arms enfolding Josh on a beach — all salt-washed, suntanned and happy. She hadn't realised what a mixture of them both little Josh was. She was starting to imagine what a baby of her own might look like when Betsy began barking. The taxi.

She picked up her keys. One step at a time. She still didn't know whether she even had a future with Tim.

‘Shh, Betsy. No time for walkies, time to fly,' she whispered as she knelt down to hug her.

‘Is that my new pink dress you're wearing?' Lou caught Rachel trying to sneak out the door.

‘Oh shit, sorry. Didn't know it was new. Promise I'll have it dry-cleaned. It's the opening night of
42
^nd
Street
. I didn't have anything to wear.'

‘God, you're a pain. Just like the old days. If you ruin it, I expect you to buy a replacement.'

‘I'll buy you ten. Promise. Oh, and I might not be home tonight. Picking up Tim in the taxi.'

Lou raised her eyebrows. As if on cue, the taxi honked its horn and Rachel ran down the footpath, nearly tripping on the fast-multiplying weeds, and adjusting her dress. It was an off-the-shoulder number so she had to be careful it didn't slip and become too revealing. The taxi was already ten minutes late, and it was slow going down Chapel Street, where they became caught in a long line of traffic behind a tram. Rachel looked at her watch, swearing under her breath. She had hoped to arrive at the theatre early. Now they'd be lucky to get there on time.

When Tim opened his door, Rachel stopped in her tracks, then stepped back. ‘Oh. Wow. You really did go all out.'

He leaned against the doorway with an easy smile. ‘You did say this was an opening night, didn't you?' Her eyes moved up and down his tall frame, taking in the bow tie and formal suit. She'd half expected him to be stoned, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans.

‘I did and yes, I'm impressed.' Stepping up onto the porch she went to kiss him on the cheek, but he caught her face with his hands and brought his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss. Stroking the bare skin of her shoulder, his hand teased its way up to her neck, caressing gently as he kissed her deeply. The taxi beeped.

‘Whoa, okay, time to go!' Gently, Rachel pushed him away, but wanting him to continue. It had been a while. She smiled brightly. ‘Well, ah, let's head off. Don't want to be late.'

‘Of course. Shall we?' Tim offered her his arm and they walked to the taxi. He held the door for her as she got in.

Half an hour later, they pulled up at Her Majesty's Theatre. Bright searchlights scanned the night sky and a brass band struck an upbeat tempo. Women in glittering, skin-baring cocktail dresses clutched wraps and coats against the autumn chill, letting them drop as they approached the red carpet, where photographers waited behind silver rope. Men in formal suits and bow ties greeted each other loudly, slapping backs as if proving to onlookers that they did belong. Rachel and Tim walked up the red carpet while the paparazzi stood idly by, one or two cameras popping.

Rachel noticed a pack of photographers just ahead of them, cameras flashing wildly. Must be someone famous. She looked more closely. Her heart beat rapidly. It was TV host, Damien Wilde, and his girlfriend, a towering raven-haired woman with
stern features. Damien caught Rachel's eye, breaking into an enormous grin. He dashed over to greet her.

‘Rachel, how fantastic to see you! All the bruises gone?' He grasped both her arms, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. His breath was warm and he smelled delicious, his musky aftershave bombarding her with memories from Sydney.

Rachel felt Tim bristling. Heat radiated from her face. ‘Hi, Damien. Great to see you too. Yes, all recovered. You weren't
that
brutal.'

‘Ah yes, but surely I left a reasonable impression, if not any actual bruises?' He eyed her cheekily, rubbing her arms to soothe any possible injury. Rachel hoped Tim wouldn't pick up the double entendre.

‘I'm sure you're exceptional at good impressions, Damien. Although you might need to make one with your girlfriend who's waiting, and we need to get to our seats.' His touch was unnerving. Rachel needed to sit down.

‘Of course. Hopefully we'll see you both at the after-party.' He drew back, nodded politely at Tim and left. She hadn't introduced them. She couldn't.

‘Sleazy prick,' said Tim.

Rachel took his arm and led him to the entrance. Of all the people. What was Damien doing in Melbourne? She vaguely remembered the possibility of his moving interstate, but so soon? He was the last person she'd expected to see.

In the theatre Rachel joined the audience clapping wildly on the tide of the rousing opening music. Despite the glittering spectacle, her eyes kept flickering around the theatre to find Damien. Occasionally she glanced at Tim to see him laughing and applauding, then taking her hand in his, squeezing warmly. She decided it was best not to go to the after-party. It was too risky. The greater the distance she kept between Tim and Damien the better.

As the show ended to a standing ovation Rachel suggested they have a drink at the downstairs bar where it would be more intimate. Tim ordered the cocktails and they sat at a small round table by a window.

‘Gotta say I quite like this dating concept of yours,' he said, leaning forward and taking her hands in his. ‘It does make it kind of special all over again, doesn't it?'

‘It does,' said Rachel, remembering their kiss at the start of the night and imagining how the evening might end. ‘Who knows where the night will end?' She stroked her thumb against his, but he pulled his hand away and sat back.

A waiter had arrived with their mojitos.

As they drank, he told her how his job hunting was faring and that he'd had several interviews. He was really cleaning up his act. No more dope smoking and he'd taken on an advanced IT course to help improve his employment prospects.

She spoke of her sadness at Tony' departure and her scoop story about the corrupt politician. ‘Of course, one reason that story came up so well was because of Mitch. He's our new head editor and really talented. A bit annoying in that we had a run-in over these gross posters in his edit suite, although I then found out it wasn't his edit suite so that was a bit embarrassing. But I think we've sorted it out. He's a lovely guy. A good person to have as a friend in the newsroom . . .' She continued chatting away until she caught Tim looking at her strangely and stopped.

‘What is it? Did I say something wrong?'

‘Nope,' he said. ‘All good. I just have a lot on tomorrow, so we should head off soon.' He downed the last of his cocktail.

Rachel reached for his hand again. ‘As I was saying before, who knows where the night will end? Maybe I should come back to your place?'

‘You know what?' said Tim. ‘I think you're right about this dating thing. Let's keep this up and not rush things. Like it's completely new again. So maybe not. No sleepovers for a few weeks, which will really give you what you wanted. Remember you said you wanted some space?'

Rachel couldn't argue. Who was she to think she should be the one to lay down the rules each time? ‘Okay,' she said flatly. ‘Let's get the bill.' She couldn't help but feel he'd been toying with her all night.

*

On Monday, the office seemed like a rudderless ship without Tony at the helm. Rachel felt his absence sharply, accentuated by Rob's blustering attempts to lead the crew. He was relishing his temporary role, making himself at home in what had been Tony's office while he could, before Helmut arrived.

At least he hadn't questioned Tony's decision to put her on the update roster. She felt a frisson of anticipation when she saw the schedule pinned to the noticeboard. It was official. She'd finally have a chance to prove herself as a newsreader.

In the meantime, Rob continued to hand her fluff pieces. By Thursday she'd had enough and couldn't wait to catch up with her girlfriends.

They were a mixed bunch, thought Rachel, taking in their individual looks as she walked in the door. Her taxi had made her late and she was pleased to see Julia already chatting easily with Kate and Evie, as if they'd been friends for ages.

‘At last!' said Kate as she approached the table.

‘Fashionably late,' said Rachel, taking a seat.

‘All good,' said Julia. ‘Gave me time to pick their brains about all your deep, dark secrets.'

Rachel blushed despite herself. ‘Such a shallow lot. And I was thinking you'd be banging on about philosophy and politics.'

‘Nope, it's romance tonight. Hearing all about Derek and Julia.' Evie beamed at Julia, thrilled to have someone happily in love in their midst.

‘Yes, we're hoping some of her luck will rub off on us,' said Kate, pouring Rachel a wine. ‘How are things with you and that relationship crisis? Is it on or off with Tim this week?'

Rachel shrugged. ‘On, I think. We went to the opening of
42nd Street
on the weekend.' She gulped down some wine, thinking about the anti-climactic end to the night.

‘Ooh, wish I'd worked on that one. Such wonderful costuming and makeup,' said Evie.

‘You still haven't told us why you moved back to your mum's,' said Kate. ‘Reckon there's more to it than you're letting on.'

Rachel focused on the menu. ‘Oh, well, there's a couple of things I need to sort out. Nothing much to tell really. So Evie, what's happening on the job front?' Whenever she needed to change the subject she always threw a job question at Evie.

‘Not much,' said Evie, pulling her chair closer to the table. ‘In fact, I hope you don't mind but I've got a favour to ask.'

‘Sure. Fire away.'

‘Well I was wondering if you could ask the makeup department about casual work for me. Theatre work is drying up and I'm desperate. What do you think, Rach? Would that be awkward?' Evie twisted a curl tightly around her fingers, eyes anxious.

‘No, of course not. Happy to ask. I'd love you to work there. I'll talk to them on Monday.' She smiled, squeezing Evie's hand.

‘Oh, that's fantastic. Thanks so much. How about I do your makeup for your next date with Tim as a thank you?'

‘No, thanks, it's fine. Although, Jules, you were keen on getting some makeup tips, weren't you?' She reached for the wine bottle to refill her glass.