Making Headlines (12 page)

‘I think I was supposed to be Rachel's handbag, but she's got a pretty big wardrobe, so I get confushed.'

She could hear a slight slurring of his words. It was definitely time to go.

‘Rachel! There you are! Can you believe it? We'll be working for the same network!' Damien broke through their posse to give her an energetic hug. The smell of alcohol engulfed her. Over his shoulder, she could see Lisa staring at her, expressionless. Tim shook his head in disgust and walked away.

Rachel pushed Damien back. The hug had lasted too long. ‘Hey, congratulations on the hosting gig. I guess we'll be seeing a bit more of you around here.'

‘You bet. We should catch up before I start. You can help me with the rundown on the place.' He slipped a business card into her hand. ‘Give me a call. I really need to speak to you about some things.' He held her by the shoulders, his eyes searing into hers. Then he burst into laughter. ‘God, you look so pretty tonight! I was just remembering you getting out of that pool on Celebrity Battlefield, all covered in green gunk. What a sight! And now . . . now . . . gorgeous.' He ran a finger gently down the side of her cheek. She felt Julia and Derek staring.

‘I guess it doesn't take much to improve on slime . . .' Her voice faded as she tried to think of an escape. ‘Julia and I were just about to head to the ladies, so . . . um . . . I'll see you soon.'

‘Don't forget to call me for a coffee. Next week?'

‘Sure, next week.' She popped his card into her handbag.

Julia took her by the arm and marched her to the ladies. ‘What the hell was that about? I thought the mission tonight was to reignite the flame with Tim?'

‘A friendship, not a flame.' She walked quickly, wishing she could leave.

‘So what's going on with you and Damien Wilde? What happened up in Sydney?'

‘A long story. It's hard to explain.'

‘Looks pretty obvious to me. Jesus, poor Tim.'

In the ladies bathroom, Julia pulled out her makeup purse and applied lipstick. Rachel looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips dry. She reached into her bag for a clear lip-gloss. It was all she could manage.

Julia was powdering her nose. ‘It's such a shame, Rach. You seemed to be getting on so well at our engagement party, and now this. When we go back out, try to avoid Damien, would you? And suggest to Tim we all go back to our place.'

‘Sure. Thanks.'

The cocktails had made Rachel unsteady and faces blurred as she scanned the room. They searched the crowd for Tim and Derek. Perhaps Tim had left? She saw Derek at the far end of the room, gesturing and pointing to a lounge area. As she got closer, she saw Tim sitting on a dark velvet modular couch — a row of empty beer glasses lined up on the coffee table. He was slouched against a young woman with yellow hair, her leather mini skirt crept up her thighs. Her tight black top with plunging neckline exposed ample breasts on her skinny frame. It was the host of the children's cartoon show, Helena Watson. The girl had the face of a pixie. Her tiny fingers were dancing over Tim's chest.

Rachel stood before them, heart pounding. ‘Tim, we're thinking of heading back to Julia and Derek's place for drinks. Want to come?' She tried to sound casual, but could hear a parental ring in her words.

‘Ah . . . Rachel.' He smiled lazily and turned to the elf. ‘Helena, give me a minute, will you?' He put his hands on his knees and, wavering, stood up. Throwing his arm around Rachel's shoulder, he guided her away then whispered loudly. ‘How about another plan? Why don't you go home and take Damien with you? Good, huh? And I'll take Helena home. 'Cos that's okay, ishn't it? I mean, you said, with Damien, when you fucked him in Sydney, that I shouldn't worry 'cos it was only physical. This thing with Helena. Only physical too.' He started a low laugh, slapping the side of her arm.

‘God, Tim, you are so drunk. Get a grip.'

‘Good idea. I will get a grip. A big fucking grip on Helena! How about that? Chat tomorrow, schweetheart.' He shook his head then sat back down next to Helena, planting kisses over her cheeks.

Rachel walked away, a million nails scratching at the blackboard inside her head. She heard Julia calling. Waving goodbye, she kept walking. She needed some air.

One foot in front of the other out of the building, down the long driveway and onto the main highway. No cabs in sight. All she knew was that she had to keep moving. It felt good to be walking alongside the roaring traffic as it whizzed past. The air had cooled but was still mild. Her footsteps were loud and rhythmic, like she was marching with the military. She counted her steps as she walked. It kept her busy.

***

The glare of morning sunlight woke her at a rude hour. Too early to be awake on a Sunday, but she'd been so drunk she'd forgotten to pull down the blind when she collapsed into bed. A clattering of cans and squeals of delight came from down the hallway. Sleep was a luxury she would not be afforded this morning. Might as well get up and make a cup of tea.

Josh jumped up and down with excitement. ‘Auntie Rachel! Look at my can castle! Not a sand castle, a can castle!' He'd raided the recycling bin and stacked about thirty cans in a pyramid shape. ‘Now, just one more . . .' He placed the final can at the top of the metal mountain only to set it crashing to the floor. ‘Yaaaay!' he shouted.

The noise wedged open the cracks already splintering her brain.

‘Clever boy, Joshie,' Rachel said quietly, wondering whether Lou had deliberately set him up to this game, knowing she'd have a big night. She was filling the kettle when Lou wandered in with an empty washing basket and wet hair.

‘So what went wrong?' Lou set the hamper down and leaned against the bench with her arms folded.

Rachel refused to look at her. ‘Don't know what you mean.' On autopilot, she went to the pantry for a teabag and sugar.

‘Well, you're not at Tim's house. And he's not here. Told you he wasn't your soul mate.'

‘What actually happened, Lou, is that I developed one of my migraines and had to cut the night short. We're catching up this morning instead.' She filled her cup with boiling water then turned to meet Lou's gaze. It wasn't too far from the truth. Right now she did have a headache that was threatening to turn nasty.

‘You mean he might actually be awake on a Sunday morning? Christ, maybe he has changed.' Lou laughed as she sat down with Josh to build another can castle. ‘Well, we're all heading down the coast for a beach trip in an hour, so probably won't be back for dinner.'

Rachel took her tea back to her bedroom. After her lie, she needed to get out of the house to convince Lou the breakfast date was going ahead. She reached for her phone.

A sleepy voice answered. ‘Who the fuck is this?'

‘Kate, hi. It's Rachel.' She kept her voice low. ‘I'm sorry, I know it's early, but I need to come over.'

‘Jesus, hon, I need my sleep. I was working late on a function.'

‘I'm really sorry. But I'll sleep too. On the couch. Can I come?'

Kate groaned. ‘What? Right now?'

‘Yes, now.'

‘Arghhh. Alright. But only if you go to sleep. We can talk later when I'm alive. Maybe at the gym.'

‘No, God, not the gym. I think I'm getting a migraine.'

‘Right, we'll do drugs then. Fifty doses of Panadol. I'll leave the front door open.' Kate hung up.

***

The warm, salty smell of buttery eggs and bacon teased Rachel from a deep sleep. She blinked and looked around Kate's lounge room. Not only had her friend left the door open, she had placed a blanket and pillow on the couch along with a pack of heavy-duty migraine tablets. Now she was cooking up a gourmet breakfast. Rachel sat up, trying to clear the fog from her head. That tablet had well and truly knocked her out. Even better was the numbness. She looked around and snuggled back into the cushions. It was a cosy room, filled with a couple of taupe corduroy couches, a stack of Gourmet Traveller magazines piled on the coffee table, and several cashmere rugs draped across armchairs. Rachel stood up gingerly before making her way to the kitchen.

‘Ah, so how is the sleepy patient?' Kate grinned.

‘Much better, thank you, nurse. Can I move in with you?'

Kate waved a knife at her. ‘Don't be ridiculous, this apartment's only just big enough for me.'

‘Just a thought.' She sat at the stocky wooden table and glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Oh. Didn't know I'd been out of it so long

‘Well, you'll feel even better after this.' Kate began dishing food onto plates. ‘My breakfast special — parmesan, garlic and parsley scrambled eggs with double-smoked bacon coming up. Guaranteed to mend a broken heart.'

Rachel looked up in surprise. ‘I didn't say anything about a broken heart.'

‘Julia rang. She was worried about you 'cos you weren't answering your phone and how things ended last night. Sounds like Tim put on his bastard hat.' Kate placed a full plate in front of her.

‘Pretty much.' Rachel picked up her knife and fork. ‘God, this smells amazing.' It tasted good too.

‘What the hell did you invite him to the party for anyway?'

‘I know, I know. A stupid decision. And yes, it was upsetting for him that Damien was the star of the party. But the way he was all over that TV host? That was disgusting.' She pushed her plate to the side, folding her arms.

‘So if you're not broken-hearted, why did I get the early morning wake-up call?'

‘A problem with Lou.'

‘Again.'

‘Yep.'

Kate rinsed a sponge and wiped the bench. ‘If Tim's well and truly farted his way out of your life, why don't you give that Damien bloke a look-in? Julia said he was pretty keen.' She pushed Rachel's plate back under her nose.

‘Hmm . . .' Rachel sighed. ‘Because he's dangerously charismatic and trouble.'

‘But he was a good shag?'

‘Yes, damn good shag.'

‘Right, so that's an easy decision. Call him and hook up. Even if he doesn't become your life partner, he'll help take your mind off Tim.'

‘Maybe. I don't know. He's got a girlfriend.'

‘Well, he's still chasing you, and a girlfriend isn't a wife. Wait till tomorrow then give Damien a call. Repeat after me — I will call Damien. I will
not
call Tim.'

‘Fine. I don't want to call Tim. And I will phone Damien. Okay?' Rachel's mind turned to Mitch and she thought about how he'd asked her for a dance. Maybe she should call him instead? Or was she misreading his signals? Perhaps he really only wanted friendship from her. And who knew how many other Natashas he flirted with? In terms of signals, Damien was a far surer bet.

‘Good girl.' Kate smiled as she grabbed the frying pan to heap more eggs onto Rachel's plate.

***

The newspaper was open on the kitchen table when Rachel arrived home. A note from Lou confirmed her day trip to Sorrento. She'd also drawn an arrow pointing to the social pages. It was Jeannie Friedrich's column in the
Sunday Sentinel
. One article gave the
Rock Rap
party a rave review. Her heart lurched when she saw a photo of Tim and herself, smiling and glowing, among pictures of the other guests. She read Jeannie's story and gasped when she saw her name.

‘Channel Six reporter and newsreader, Rachel Bentley, was among the guests.
This bright young lady is impressing all with her warm newsreading style. Expect to see more of Rachel in the future!' She breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing about her personal life. If anything, she should write Jeannie a thank you note.

She scanned the rest of the page, eyes drawn to the ‘Guess Who' column. She could pick the rock star Jeannie mentioned had two mistresses. She didn't know who the famous artist was, involved in a credit card fraud. And then . . . ‘Guess which up-and-coming television newsreader is currently having a break with her boyfriend? While the happy couple used to share a home, they've decided to spend time apart with our blonde reporter believed to be living back at home with Mummy. Single men — get out your dance cards.' Rachel felt a surge of betrayal sweep over her. Tim had been right.

It was the usual Monday morning chaos in the newsroom. Journalists calling out over the top of each other, vying to cover the best story of the day. Producers argued the merits of story ideas while cameramen raced by, topping up equipment supplies before hitting the road. Rachel grabbed a newspaper from the COS counter as her phone rang.

Tim's name flashed on the screen. She let it ring three times before deciding to answer as she returned to her desk.

‘Tim,' she said. ‘Sobered up yet?'

‘Hi. I know you must be upset—'

‘That would be putting it mildly.'

‘I just wanted to say sorry. But surely you get it? It
was
a shitty situation. But I guess we should probably steer clear of each other for a while.'

‘I agree,' she said. ‘And thanks for the apology but I've gotta fly.' She hung up. It was almost true. She was still on the mid-morning update shift and due in makeup in five minutes. Besides, she'd heard enough. An apology was good, but she didn't need to wallow in the mess they'd made.

Nearby, Gerard and Julia discussed how a junior reporter from another network had made a major on-air gaffe. During a live cross, the girl had referred to Australia's Prime Minster as the President. Usually, that would have drawn Rachel right in. Not today. It might lead to talking about Saturday night. She may as well head to makeup.

The door was closed so she knocked tentatively. ‘Hello? Anyone there?'

‘Oh, Rachel. You're a bit early. Just a second . . .' Rex sounded excited. She put her ear to the door. ‘Okay, you can come in now.'

She walked in to find Rex and Lola either side of someone whose head was covered by a fluffy blue towel.

‘We have a surprise for you!' Lola grinned broadly.

Rachel looked at them, flummoxed.

‘Ready? Here goes . . . Da da!' With a matador flourish, Rex swept the towel away revealing Evie's laughing face.

‘Oh my God!' Rachel rushed forward, squeezing Evie in a bear hug.

‘We thought you'd be pleased,' said Lola. ‘We know it's been a couple of months since you asked, but we finally had a spot to fill. Good timing really, given you've got the mid-morning updates now.'

‘Isn't it fantastic?' Evie's face was sparkling.

It was indeed. Rachel hugged her again, embracing all that was familiar and warm. ‘How long will you be with us?'

‘Just two days a week for the next six weeks, but Lola said there may be more work after that. I'm just thrilled to get a foot in the door — and we get to see more of each other!' Evie clasped Rachel's arms tightly.

Rex snapped his fingers. ‘Okay, enough of the huggy stuff. Come on, Rachel, sit down here.' He swept a wrap over her shoulders. ‘Evie, you can do the face, I'll tackle the hair and Lola, you just sit there and look gorgeous.'

Rachel stared at herself in the mirror. Not a pretty sight. The fluorescent lights exaggerated the toll of the weekend. Pale skin, grey smudges under her eyes, and a few pink spots on her chin.

‘You've got a bit of a challenge here, Evie. I didn't sleep well last night.' She rubbed under her eyes, trying to inject some life into her face.

‘Oh, no! You just made it worse! What's on your fingers?' Evie tried to stifle a laugh. Charcoal streaks under Rachel's eyes made her look like she'd come out of a boxing ring.

‘Oh shit! Must be the newspapers. Sorry, hon — your first day, too.'

‘Don't worry. Nothing the miracle department can't fix.' Evie wiped at Rachel's face with a tissue and cleanser. ‘Why aren't you sleeping?'

‘Oh, just the usual. Messy personal stuff.' She caught Evie's eyes in the mirror and looked away. ‘Long story. Let's talk about you instead. Tell me something fabulous about your life.'

Evie giggled, curls bouncing about her shoulders. ‘You must be psychic.' She lowered her voice. ‘Yes, yes, of course it's a guy.'

Rex sprayed Rachel's hair with a water bottle and began combing. ‘Don't mind us, darling, we tell each other everything. No secrets in this hive of gossip!'

‘Oh, of course.' Evie blushed. ‘Well, his name's Russell and he's a landscape gardener. I met him in a health shop a few weeks ago. We were both buying the same brand of muesli but there was only one box left, so he let me have it. So sweet. Anyway,
we've been on three dates now and it just gets better and better.' Evie couldn't stop smiling.

‘Sounds great. So happy for you, Evie.' Thank God someone was getting it right. ‘So come on, tell me more.'

‘He's kind, he's funny, a Virgo like me — God, I sound like an ad in the personals! Oh, and he has an amazing body, working outdoors and all. Very fit.'

‘Hmm . . . lucky you,' said Rachel.

‘Oh, but I shouldn't bang on.' Evie looked at her with concern. ‘I mean, what about you and Tim? Kate said you were taking him to some party on the weekend?'

‘It's not worth talking about. Really. Let's forget it.' Rachel waved her hand in the air. ‘I'm going to focus on my career now. Sort out my long-term goals and become the best newsreader imaginable!'

Heavy footsteps approaching caught their attention before Helmut barged in. ‘Morning folks. Just came to check on Rachel's look. I'm very particular about on-air appearances,' he said, looking darkly at Rex.

‘We've been doing this for decades, love, so I think we have it under control.' Rex winked at him provocatively.

‘Yes, well nothing too fancy, if you know what I mean. News is serious and that applies to the updates too. Keep the hair simple and lots of spray. No straggly bits on the side, and keep the lipstick under control. No prostitute red. Got that?'

‘I know
exactly
what you mean.' Rex leaned against the bench, folding his arms and nodding.

‘Great. All sorted then.'

‘What a tosser!' Rex declared after he left. He started working on Rachel's hair with a rounded bristle brush and blaring hairdryer. ‘So where were we? Ah yes, your long-term goals, sugar. What
are
they?'

‘Well, to be honest, it's newsreading. I'd love to be reading the main bulletin during the week.' Her cheeks reddened under the newly applied foundation.

‘Be careful what you wish for.' Lola was swinging her legs in the makeup chair alongside.

Rachel saw her catch Rex's eye. ‘Why?' she asked. ‘What's the downside?'

‘Oh, stuff . . .' Lola sighed. ‘We see how it changes people. The high-level office politics, fame, egos . . . all that.'

‘But what about the upside? It's a highly respected job that carries a big responsibility.' Rachel was warming to the theme. ‘You know, giving the public their news fix for the day in the most credible way possible. Not to mention the simple fact that I love reading the news. I don't know why. Maybe it's the buzz of being live to air?'

‘And I thought you just liked the clothes allowance,' said Evie, smiling.

‘Very funny. Of course I do. But that's the trivial stuff. I meant what I said. I do think it's an important role. I'd love to give it a go.'

Rex started teasing her hair into shape. ‘Good to have a goal, honey. It's just that we've been around the traps longer than you.' He nodded at Lola. ‘But good luck, sweetheart. I've no doubt you'll get there.'

Rachel shrugged. ‘Better see how I cope updates first. It's still early days. Then aim for weekend bulletins. One step at a time.'

Evie patted her shoulder. ‘You'll get there, Rach. I know it. You'll be fine.'

***

Someone called her name. She turned to see Julia walking from the producer's desk, holding her phone in the air. ‘Rach! Phone call! You left it here.'

She grabbed it. ‘Hello?'

‘Is that the gorgeous Miss Bentley? It's Damien.'

‘Damien, hi. How are you?' Rachel glanced at Julia who pursed her mouth as she sat at her keyboard.

‘I'm great. Listen, I know I gave you my card but then I thought, why not just call you myself? I'd really love to catch up with you before I start there officially. Would you like to grab a drink one night? Purely business, of course. Would your partner mind?'

‘Tim? Oh, we're not an item any more. More to the point, what about your girlfriend?'

‘Lisa's fine. She knows it's just a work thing. What about this Friday?'

She remembered Kate's advice. ‘I've got the staff Grand Final party here after the news. But it won't go too late. Maybe we could catch up after that? About nine o'clock?'

‘Sure, perfect. I'm still learning my way around Melbourne, but The Botanical in South Yarra is just down the road from me and seems like a good spot. What do you think?'

And so it was set. Kate would be pleased. Julia wouldn't. Lou would. As for herself, she couldn't decide.

‘Here's your mail, dear.' Shirley placed a large pile on her desk. ‘It grows bigger every day, doesn't it?'

The fat envelope on the top with the sprawling handwriting caught her attention. Her Devoted Admirer was becoming more prolific, and more sinister. It was getting to the point where he'd crossed the line, beyond a mildly obsessed fan who was nothing to worry about. After showing Julia the last letter, she'd told Rachel to go to the police. But a hectic work schedule, a new boss, and dramas with Tim had been more than enough to preoccupy her. Sucking in her breath, she grabbed the letter and tore it open.

One letter and ten pages of drawings. She scattered them over her desk, her heart thumping. The pictures were drawn in an apricot lipstick. Her body tensed as it occurred to her this was exactly the same shade as the one that went missing on Saturday when their back door was found open.

The drawings varied from hearts and flowers to increasingly violent images of blood dripping from a stabbed hand and heart, and then from a woman's naked body. She turned to the letter.

Dear Rachel,

You are still my favourite newsreader and I will continue to watch you every day. But now my patience is wearing thin. We both know we are destined for each other, so your refusal to write back to me, to meet with me, is pointless.

Already, I know so much about your life, my dear heart. I know who your friends are, which bars you like and which gym you go to. Of course I know where you live as well. And I know how much you love your nephew, Joshua.

But you must write soon, my princess, or I will have to take drastic measures. Surely you can see from my drawings how you are making my heart bleed? I think our first date should be at a first-rate restaurant. After filling our bellies with fine food, I will take you home and ravish you until you are begging me to stop. I will fuck you and fuck you until the sun rises. Because I know how much we need to make up for lost time. Write soon my angel. I would prefer not to have to hurt you.

All my love, your Devoted Admirer, X.

There was no question now, Rachel had to go to the police as soon as possible. This was
serious. She tapped Julia on the arm and passed her the letter. ‘Take a look at this.'

Julia scanned the page. ‘Jesus, you still haven't reported him, have you?'

‘I know, I know. I meant to with the last one but got caught up with a story and then forgot.'

‘Well you'll have to go to the cops now. This is revolting. And seriously threatening.' Julia shook her head. ‘Sadly, it's not uncommon in this industry. There are a lot of crazy people out there, believe me. But you must call the police.'

A booming voice cut through. ‘Bentley! Get your arse over here! Gotta story for you.' Rob Kingsbury.

‘Go see him but don't forget to make that call, okay?'

Rachel nodded. ‘Sure. As soon as I get back.'

***

On Friday, Rachel led the way as she and Julia trudged through long grass to the helicopter hangar. They'd changed from work clothes to party gear in the greenroom, Rachel choosing a black dress with a zip down the front. She breathed deeply, taking in the slightly humid spring air, the grass smelling warm and sweet. The sun was sinking into an orange furnace overlaid with slashes of dark blue cloud, like charcoal at the base of a fire. She paused, waiting for Julia to catch up. In a long white T-shirt with a bright tiger design billowing over her generous curves, Julia looked funkier and more youthful. Tight black jeans showed off her legs.

‘Looking good, Jules.' Rachel grinned. ‘If you weren't already taken, you'd have your pick of the bunch tonight.'

‘That's if we ever get there,' Julia puffed, struggling through the grassy paddock in her stilettos. ‘They could have built a footpath.'

‘I just hope that letter-writing creep isn't coming. That last one really spooked me, saying he knows all those things about my life.'

‘I'm not surprised,' said Julia. ‘You did call the cops, right?'

‘Yes. I've got an appointment tomorrow. They want copies of the last few letters that I saved, but they don't think there's much they can do,' she said, watching the sunset darken.

As they approached, excited conversation and loud music suggested the party had already swung into full gear. A tremor of anticipation filtered through Rachel. She wondered if Mitch would already be there.

Turning the corner, she stopped and stared. The hangar had been transformed
into a country barn dance, with hay bales stacked on top of each other lining the metal walls. Football flags representing all the AFL teams hung from the ceiling. Large plastic bins stood in a row, brimming with ice, beer cans and wine bottles. A mini DJ station manned by the sound crew threatened to topple a card table overflowing with equipment. Then a waft of freshly grilled meat and onions drifted her way from the barbeque, sparking an appetite.

Julia came up from behind. ‘Wow! Come on, Rach.'