Making Headlines (15 page)

Kate plonked herself next to Rachel on the couch. ‘Well here's cheers to us, I say.' She grinned broadly. ‘Took a while to get sorted, but it's looking pretty good, huh?'

‘Are you kidding? All this in one weekend? Bloody amazing. A good reason to celebrate, I say.' Rachel raised her vodka and tonic to Kate's.

For the first time in a year, Rachel was truly content. She felt grounded at work and loved her new home. Not to mention she had a housemate who made her a drink and turned on the music when she got home from work.

The living room was a light, airy space with lime-washed floorboards and white French doors leading to a pretty paved courtyard. Kate's taupe corduroy couches fitted perfectly, and a couple of Rachel's abstract paintings gave the room a contemporary feel. Draped woollen throws over the couches and a chocolate shag-pile rug drew the room together.

She rattled the ice cubes in her glass. ‘Do you think it matters that we're drinking on a Monday night?'

‘Honey, after all the hard work we've put in, we deserve a drink,' said Kate. ‘We won't do it all the time. After all, I work most nights, so I won't be here to lead you astray.'

‘I'll try to keep quiet in the mornings, but I'm back on reporting shift this week so I will have to use the hairdryer. Hope that won't wake you.'

‘You know I sleep like the dead. It'll be fine.' Kate closed her eyes and leaned back, smiling.

‘Anything else we need around the house? What about curtains on the French doors? For privacy — don't want the neighbours getting an eyeful.' Rachel looked into the courtyard at the lights from what appeared to be a bathroom window in the house behind them. She didn't want to worry Kate but the thought of her stalker also crossed her mind.

‘Oh, don't worry about those. It's a brick glass window, so they can't see anything. Anyway, I like looking at the garden. It's peaceful,' said Kate, nestling into the couch.

‘S'pose you're right. No money left anyway.' Rachel sighed. ‘This is good. I'm
so glad you found this place.'

‘Me too, hon. Worked out a treat.' Kate skolled her drink. ‘Time for a refill?'

Rachel laughed. ‘Sure. Hey, what are you doing next Monday night? Want to come to the David Jones fashion parade?'

‘Nah, take Evie. Fashion's not my thing and that's my night to stay home and chill after working all weekend.'

‘Okay. You're probably right. Evie would love it.'

‘Yeah, and we're living together now. God knows I'll be seeing enough of you.'

‘Absolutely. Didn't want to take you anyway.' They clinked glasses.

***

Under the pump all day, Rachel now sat in the edit suite, tapping her hands on her knees. A media conference to hear the Premier's response about the bashing of an Indian student had been called late that afternoon. Now she had to pull all the threads together. Mitch was cutting her story and feeling the pressure.

‘Don't worry, Rach, it'll be done in time.' Mitch's fingers were flying over the console as he stared at the images on the screen.

‘I know. If anyone can do it, you can.'

‘How long to go?' he asked.

‘Ten minutes to air. We're second story.'

‘Two minutes and I'm done. At least it's Friday. If we don't make it, Helmut will be too busy drinking to give us an ear-bashing.'

Cut, spool, rewind. Cut. Trim back an interview grab. Cut and paste. Mitch worked the editing process with astounding speed.

‘There you go. Done.'

With the push of a button, he uploaded the story to the main news computer system. Even though it was finished four minutes before the news went to air, they were cutting it fine. The interstate newsrooms wanted to run the package too and needed to slot it into their rundowns. Mission accomplished, Rachel returned to her desk and sat down, exhausted.

Her phone rang.

‘Rachel? It's Shirley.'

Rachel looked up to see her at her desk outside Helmut's office. Her face was pinched and serious. ‘Oh, hi Shirley. You didn't feel like coming over?'

‘No, dear, that's not the reason.' She kept her voice low. ‘It's just that Helmut
goes ballistic if I'm away from my desk and not right here at his beck and call. It's better to phone you. He thinks I spend too much time fraternising with the staff.'

‘Are you kidding?' said Rachel. ‘That's what makes you the wonderful person you are. You take the time to talk to us, and show interest in our lives.'

‘He thinks that's unnecessary. Anyway, I shouldn't chat for long. Just letting you know that he'd like you in his office as soon as possible.'

‘Oh, okay. Have I done anything wrong?' Rachel watched Helmut in his office, trying to gauge his mood. He was typing on his computer, his face neutral.

‘To be honest, I don't know. But he seems reasonably happy.'

‘Okay then, I'll come right over.' It was well-timed — there was something she wanted to talk to Helmut about too. She grabbed some papers from her drawer.

When she tapped on the glass door of his office, he looked up from his computer, a broad smile breaking across his face. Spider-web lines creased around the corners of his eyes.

‘Ah, my favourite news chick. Come on in, Rachel. Time for Friday drinks, don't you think?'

‘After the day I've had, I couldn't agree more.' She took a seat opposite.

‘Shirley!' Helmut called. ‘Drinks time, love. Make it snappy.'

Wincing, Rachel watched Shirley jump to fetch a bottle of wine and glasses. ‘Um, Helmut, there is something I need to talk to you about. I wanted to ask your advice about a problem.'

‘Fire away,' he said, looking pleased with himself.

‘I've been getting these letters from this man who's obviously a nutter. The first few were fairly harmless, but now they're becoming creepier.' She passed him the most recent letter. ‘This is the probably the tenth one.'

Shirley returned with the wine while he scanned the pages, chortling. Rachel mouthed thank you as she filled their glasses, before leaving as quickly as she could.

Folding a letter, he rocked back in his chair, shaking his head. ‘Oh God, you haven't been in the business very long, have you, love?'

‘Well, nearly two years . . .'

Cackling laughter. ‘Ah, so naive. On-air talent get shit like this all the time. He's quite creative though, isn't he? Really wants to give it to you. Good and hard. Oh, yeah.' He nodded and continued reading, licking his lips. Then he scrunched it into a ball. ‘But it's nothing to worry about. You should be flattered, really.' He tossed the letter in the
bin.

Rachel fidgeted in her seat. ‘Oh. Right. I didn't realise this was so common.'

Helmut looked behind her to the producers' area. ‘News is about to start.' He turned on his TV with a remote control. ‘We'll watch it in the background, but I do need to discuss something with you before we join the mob.' He sat back in his chair swivelling slowly from side to side, placing his hands together under this chin and looking at Rachel. ‘You've been impressing quite a few people at this network, you know.'

‘Have I?'

‘Yes, indeed. And I have some good news for you. Turns out Jane Kendall is leaving us for the ABC.' He paused. Rachel wondered if he could hear her heart beating. Jane Kendall was the weekend newsreader. ‘Not only are you doing a great job as a reporter, your handling of the updates goes from strength to strength. I'm thinking of giving you the chance to read the weekend news with Kevin McIntyre. Think you could handle it?'

‘I think, yes, I think absolutely I could.' She tried to keep the excitement from her voice. Stay professional.

‘It may be a bit early, given your age and experience, but sometimes fate gives us a happy kick up the butt and makes things happen sooner than expected. We'll start you off on a trial basis for a month and then, if it works out, we'll offer you the job permanently and renegotiate a new contract. Sound good?'

‘Sounds brilliant. And Kevin. Is he okay with this?

‘Of course. Not his decision anyway.'

That didn't sound very positive. ‘Okay, well, that's great. Thank you so much. This is fantastic.' She smiled at him, glowing. Those reports about him being an ogre were wrong. He was tough but fair. If you worked hard and were good at your job, you were rewarded. And Rachel was prepared to work hard.

‘Means there's a few other things to think about, Rachel. As your public profile grows, more people will be watching you. Got to keep squeaky clean. Think of yourself as a princess. Can't put a little toe out of line or you'll pay the price. Understand?'

‘Sure, of course.' She nodded. A princess? That was taking things a bit far. But okay then, if Miss Prim and Proper was required, she could do that.

‘Excellent. Ah well, when I started coming up in the world as a current affairs producer, I definitely wasn't behaving myself,' he chuckled loudly. ‘My God, the
weekends away we had covering stories. All-night drinking sessions with cameramen and local girls in the spa tubs, tits floating in the bubbles, my God, what a hoot!'

Rachel laughed awkwardly. That was an image she didn't need. ‘Must have been wild times,' she said, forcing a smile.

‘Yes indeed, wild times, wild times. That's the upside of working behind the camera. But you, Rachel, you'll have to keep out of those spas.' He grinned, his eyes wandering down to her chest.

‘I'm sure I can manage,' she said.

‘I'm sure you can. And it's a good thing you're single too. Publicity can promote the fact that you're so focused on your career that you haven't got time for anything else. Let's go and spread your good news, hey?'

Following him out to the throng of journalists, they stood watching the news until the next commercial break. Helmut made the announcement and then Rachel was swamped by colleagues offering congratulations. Mitch smiled at her from a distance and raised his beer, mouthing, ‘Well done'. Then he disappeared. She was disappointed. Out of everyone in the newsroom, she wanted to share the moment with him the most.

Ned was one of the first to come forward. One of the quieter personalities in the newsroom, when he spoke, people listened. ‘Congratulations,' he said, offering his hand. ‘Not often we get reporters who are good writers and good newsreaders. But you are both.'

‘Thanks,' said Rachel, blushing at all the attention.

Kevin stood off to the side, ramrod straight, his expression neutral. Rachel approached him cautiously. ‘Hi there. Looks like we're going to be partners.' She clinked her wine glass against his beer. He didn't reciprocate.

‘Yes, it does,' he said. ‘Of course, there is a trial period.' Kevin adjusted his glasses and coughed. ‘Bit of a test for such a young girl. I have to be honest with you, Rachel, I'm not sure you're ready for this.'

‘Oh, I see. Well, I hope I can exceed your expectations.' A warm flush crept up her neck. She gulped at her wine while they looked at each other. A cold, metal silence.

Julia barged in, hugging her, just as Kevin moved away. ‘Oh my God, this is amazing! You'll be brilliant, I just know it.'

‘Thanks, Jules. With a bit of luck, I might be able to pull it off.' She watched Kevin pick up his briefcase and leave.

Julia punched her arm. ‘Don't be ridiculous, of course you will! Wow, officially
a newsreader. I guess this will slow down your partying on weekends, huh?'

‘Yeah, I guess so.' She hadn't thought about that. Compared to the Kevin problem, it was a minor issue.

As people headed home, Rachel wandered back to her desk to pack up. An envelope sat on the keyboard of her computer, with her name in large letters. Curious, it wasn't there earlier.

Inside there was a card with a hand-drawn picture on the front of a victorious warrior woman standing on top of a television set. She bore a resemblance to Rachel and held a flag up high, carrying the word, ‘Congratulations'. Inside, it read ‘Rachel — with your fighting spirit, it's only natural you'd be promoted sooner rather than later. Congratulations, and I hope the role is everything you could wish for. Your buddy, Mitch.'

Turning the card over she looked at the picture more closely. Mitch must have drawn this himself in about ten minutes. She'd had no idea he was such a proficient artist. The warrior woman's hair flew in the wind, her expression triumphant, her arms and legs strong and sinewy. Rachel smiled. If only her body was as athletic in real life. Still, he'd captured her facial features and she was flattered he'd gone to so much trouble. She read it again. ‘Your buddy, Mitch.'

As she walked to her car, she wondered why the word ‘buddy' had left her feeling so flat. It was lovely of Mitch to go to the trouble of making the card but while she'd been given one thing, she felt like another had been taken away. At the same time, it was good to open a letter that wasn't from her stalker. She reached for her keys as she crossed the half-empty car park, looking over her shoulder. Just in case. The Devoted Admirer knew where she worked and the keys were the sharpest objects in her bag.

‘This is brilliant,' whispered Evie. ‘Great seats.'

‘I know,' said Rachel. ‘Just act cool, like we do this all the time.'

They looked at each other with poker faces, but then broke into giggles. Rachel stared ahead, trying to compose herself. On the other side of the catwalk, she spied Jeannie Friedrich, notepad and pen in hand. Front row.

An African-American singer Rachel felt she should know but didn't, took to the stage and sat at a grand piano. Music flooded the Town Hall and purple lights flared over the catwalk. Watching from Row C, Rachel understood how Melbourne's social hierarchy worked. Row A and you were a somebody. She was flattered to be sitting in Row C.

The pianist finished his song to loud applause, which was cut short as a thumping drumbeat took over and a string of models pranced onto the catwalk. All shoulder pads and sequins pasted on bony frames sporting oversized bouffant hair. They strutted and posed, balancing on towering heels with neutral, unsmiling faces.

After another half hour of posturing, a grand finale of the best of the outfits, won raucous applause. As they dispersed a line of male models filed out, balancing trays of cocktails, and the lights came up. The waiters made their way down stairs into the crowd who jumped out of their seats, reaching for drinks while gushing over the parade. ‘Fabulous', ‘innovative' and ‘outstanding'. The girls joined the throng.

‘Rachel! I knew I'd find you eventually.' It was Julia, with Mitch behind her. He looked different — polished and fresh. Perhaps it was because he was clean-shaven. Even his unruly surfer-hair was neat. She'd never seen him in a suit before, which he carried off effortlessly, over a white linen shirt open at the neck.

‘How are you?' Julia gave Rachel a hug. ‘I saw the media release about the weekends. Guess it's official, huh?'

‘I guess so. I thought I was on probation but Helmut must have changed his mind. He said he'll get me a two-year contract by the end of the week.'

‘Hi Rachel.' Mitch kissed her cheek. A mere peck left her skin tingling. It reminded her of the first time he'd kissed her.

‘Hey, Mitch. What a surprise. Didn't think fashion shows were your thing.'

‘They're not. But Derek had a deadline, so I'm Julia's handbag.'

‘Very kind of you.'

‘Not really. She told me there'd be free drinks.' He clinked his glass against hers.

She met his gaze. Their eyes seemed to be having a different conversation in the pause that followed, swollen with unsaid words. Rachel scrambled for something to say.

‘Hey, thanks for the card on Friday. I had no idea you were such an artist. It was really lovely. Thank you.'

‘Glad you liked it. It was a bit hurried.' He held her gaze.

Rachel felt Evie poking her in the back. ‘Oh, sorry, this is my girlfriend, Evie.'

Evie shook Mitch's hand and they started to chat. Julia nudged her and looked pointedly to the crowd on her right. Rachel followed the line of her eye, her body tensing as she spied Tim with Helena. She gulped down her cocktail and vowed to avoid them.

As Julia and Mitch grabbed another drink, Evie hissed in Rachel's ear. ‘You didn't tell me he was a total hottie.'

‘Who?'

‘Mitch, you idiot,' said Evie.

‘Oh, right. Really? I guess I just see him as a friend.' Even as she said the words, Rachel didn't believe them. It was becoming increasingly harder to fight her attraction to him.

‘You need glasses.'

Rachel ignored her and turned to Julia. ‘So what's Derek working on that's so important? Something we can follow up on?'

‘Nah,' said Julia, ‘just a boring profile on a computer geek.'

‘Rachel!' It was Jeannie Friedrich, dripping in fake pearls and bursting out of a peacock-green satin dress.

‘Congratulations, darling. On your promotion, that is.' She leaned forward to kiss Rachel on both cheeks, overwhelming her with heavy musk perfume. ‘What did I tell you? I knew you were a star on the rise. I'm running a piece on you in tomorrow's column. You must meet my friend, Adam Montague. He's a lawyer. If you haven't negotiated your new contract yet, he might be just the person you need. He specialises in media law.'

‘He just might be.' It was perfect timing. Her mother had suggested a lawyer, but Adam came with a good recommendation and looked sharp.

Rachel smiled and shook hands as Jeannie made the introductions. Adam was charming but her mind kept turning to Mitch and she wondered where he'd gone. She
craned her head over Adam's shoulder to look through the buzzing crowd. Jeannie turned away to seize a
Neighbours
actress for a chat. She couldn't spy Mitch but Tim and Helena were moving closer by the minute. As Rachel went to make her excuses to leave, Adam touched her arm.

‘Hang on a minute, Rachel. Take my business card. Just in case you need some legal help.' He slipped a card out of his jacket and she took it, nodding her thanks.

Grabbing Evie, they moved through a battle-zone of lethal stilettos, precariously held champagne flutes, and frazzled waiters juggling canapés and cocktails.

‘What's the rush?' Evie said.

‘Had to get away. Tim's here with that Helena tramp. They were getting dangerously close.' Rachel looked about as they walked.

‘Oh, no!' said Evie. ‘I hope he doesn't cause any dramas.'

‘There aren't going to be any dramas. Come on, grab another drink.' Rachel swept two cocktails off a tray, handing one to Evie and downing hers in a single gulp.

‘Well, you won't know about them if you keep drinking at that rate.' Evie was wide-eyed.

‘Just a bit of Dutch courage in case.' She punched Evie lightly on the arm, who pointed to someone behind Rachel just as she felt a clamp-like grip around the most ticklish part of her waist. ‘Eek!' she screeched, turning around.

Damien Wilde.

‘Rachel!' He hugged her enthusiastically. ‘At last!' She could tell from his breath he was also enjoying the cocktails. ‘You haven't returned my messages. We're well overdue for that date, you know.' He kept his hands locked about her hips.

‘I was away on holidays and not really taking calls. Sorry.' She tried to move one of his hands, but he clutched at her fingers, pulling her hand to his cheek and kissing the palm.

‘And you look all the better for having a break. In fact, you look amazing. There's something different about you. Can't put my finger on it, but you look gorgeous.'

Evie leaned forward. ‘Hi, Damien, we've met in makeup. I'm Rachel's date tonight.' She put out her hand.

‘Of course. How are you . . . Elizabeth?' They shook hands.

‘It's Evie, actually. But that's okay. I guess you must meet a lot of people.'

‘Ah yes, Evie, of course. And yes, I do meet a lot of people. Many riveting
people. But none quite as fascinating as the beautiful Rachel Bentley.' He smiled slowly, moving closer to Rachel and placing his arm around her waist again.

‘Ah, look, grab that waiter behind you,' she exclaimed, desperate to distract him.

He seized more cocktails. Rachel looked around for Mitch, wondering who he was talking to. She swigged at her drink, a floaty feeling taking hold. The music grew louder. People began to dance. Evie and Damien chatted animatedly and Rachel mingled with the crowd, watching faces blur, a sense of time fading.

And then those blue eyes came out of the haze, crinkling at the edges, delighted to find her. Mitch. ‘There you are!' She went to embrace him and stumbled, falling into his arms.

‘Whoa, there,' he said, setting her upright. ‘Is that a shoe malfunction or the cocktails taking you for a ride?'

‘Ah, you're funny!' She reached up to touch his face. ‘And talented. Your card was so lovely. Thank you for that. Really lovely . . .'

‘You already thanked me earlier, Rach.' He reached for her cocktail. ‘So what's this one like?' He downed it in one gulp, shaking his head. ‘Too delicious. Reckon you could wait here while I get us both some water? Could be what we need right now.'

‘Good idea. So sensible. Sensible Mitchy.' She smiled and waved at him while he mouthed the words, ‘Stay there' and disappeared.

Turning back to look at the crowd, she came face to face with Tim and Helena. Helena clutched Tim's arm. The shock instantly restored a sense of clarity.

‘Hello, Rachel,' Tim said cautiously.

‘Why, hello there. Fancy seeing
you
at a fashion parade?' She chided herself for descending to sarcasm.

‘Such a darling, ishn't he?' said Helena, kissing Tim noisily on the cheek. ‘I made him come.'

She grabbed another cocktail from a passing waiter. ‘I'm sure you do, Helena. Often. Cheers.' Rachel raised her glass and walked off, feeling a little stupid after her tacky comeback. She knocked back her cocktail and went looking for Mitch and that water.

She wasn't really sure, but it must have been half an hour later when she found herself on the dance floor with Damien and Evie. They were next to the elevated catwalk, and Damien had put their drinks on a step so they could dance more freely. Mitch was still nowhere to be seen.

Turning to Evie, Damien yelled, ‘Doesn't Rachel looks fabulous tonight? I think she gets more and more beautiful every day.'

‘Absolutely. More and more beautiful.' Evie nodded in time with the beat.

‘In fact, Evie, I think Rachel is so beautiful, she should have been up on the catwalk with those models tonight.'

‘Absolutely should have been up on the catwalk tonight.'

At this point Rachel knew Evie would have agreed with anything Damien said.

‘She should show everyone here how beautiful she is.' Damien moved closer. ‘Let's show them, Rachel. Up we go, let's strut our stuff!' He seized her around the waist and lifted her onto the platform, jumping up himself and taking her by the elbow. She wobbled, trying to get her balance. The glare of the lights and a befuddled head made her dizzy.

‘No, I don't want to be up here.'

Damien propelled her down the catwalk. Faces turned. Damien adopted a mock version of a male model's strut and Rachel decided it was better to follow suit than risk an embarrassing scene. A blinding flash of light came out of nowhere as a photographer captured the moment.

‘Damien, we have to get down,' she hissed.

He stopped in the middle of the catwalk and turned her to him. Smiling slowly, he drew her closer, holding her gaze.

‘Yes, there is something different about you. It's your mouth.' He raised a finger to her lips and traced the edges.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Mitch standing there with two glasses of water, looking like he'd swallowed a dose of foul medicine. A sense of panic surged. Damien's face loomed closer.

‘Yes, the lips,' he said.

He kissed her. A deep, passionate kiss that took her back to the hotel room in Sydney. The headiness of his aftershave was familiar and she relaxed, enjoying the sensation as his arms brought her closer. For a moment nothing else mattered. Then an image of Mitch's face swam before her and she pulled away.

But not before a glaring flash from a camera recorded their embrace.

***

Rachel arrived at work the next day with a cloudy head and bloodshot eyes. She'd worn her red shoes in a bid to harness some energy, but Dorothy's feet were not dancing today.
She walked past her colleagues' desks, adorned with photos of smiling family and partners. Her own desk showcased books and a small ceramic koala, holding a sign with the words, ‘Ability may get you to the top but it takes character to keep you there.' A gift from her mother. She wondered what pashing a celebrity on a catwalk meant about her character.

The disgrace of her behaviour and Mitch's disapproval sat heavily. She'd been holding back from trying to start something between the two of them for so long, and just when she felt it might be the right time to let down her guard, she'd probably gone and ruined everything. She kept seeing his eyes watching her on the catwalk. At least she'd refused Damien's pleas to go back to his apartment.

Opening the
Morning Herald
on her desk, she flipped through the day's news, her heart skipping a beat at the Confidential column. There it was. A feature photo of her and Damien kissing fervently on the catwalk. With a sharp intake of breath, her hand flew to her mouth. She looked around, wondering if everyone was talking about her. Mitch was heading to her desk.

‘Quite a performance last night,' he said sharply, stabbing a finger at the photo in the paper. ‘You must be so proud.' He glared and walked off. Her face flushed. She wanted to explain herself, but he was gone.

Rob Kingsbury barked her name, summoning her to the COS desk. She stood up and walked steadily, though her heart was limping. He handed her details about a man appearing in court charged over the illegal importation of fifty rare lizards. It was a minor story but Rachel didn't care. It was hard to focus on Rob's words with her mind in overdrive, fearing Helmut's reaction. Especially after Helmet had warned her to watch her image in public.

Numbly, she followed the camera crew to the news car and went through the motions of filming the story and conducting interviews. At Customs, she gazed at the reptiles in their glass enclosure, thinking they looked lost. One moved to the window, pushing his nose at the invisible wall. Rachel stroked a finger against the glass silently offering a gesture of comfort. The customs officer looked at her suspiciously.

Gary interrupted her reverie to let her know Rob wanted them to head to the Clubroom — the Channel Six city office where the camera crews based themselves between stories. Andy, the assistant, wanted to stop on the way to pick up some lunch. Rachel still had to report back to Rob, but there was no hurry. She'd probably get a cab back to work from the Clubroom, finish her story early and head home for a quiet night.