Making Headlines (22 page)

Rachel turned around. Surely he wasn't going to say anything about their discussion?

Rob cleared his throat. ‘Helmut's had a big day, so he's left this one to me. Now, it's a bit tricky, and I can't say much for legal reasons. Suffice to say, Brent Garrison no longer works for Network Six. Despite charges against him being dropped, his contract has been terminated as of today.' He swigged on his beer and turned away. End of announcement.

A rumbling among the journalists grew louder. Someone called out, ‘Knew that was coming' while another piped up with, ‘Who got paid to drop the charges?' Others had heard he was heading overseas to escape the furore. Jeff Clements confirmed the rumour, saying Brent was heading over to the UK to live with relatives.

Rachel walked away, wanting to hear more but not wanting to get involved. She'd made her decision not to go to the police and now felt all the more uncomfortable knowing charges had been quashed. But if she had stayed any longer, Helmut wouldn't have believed her excuse.

Rob's words festered in her head. She climbed into her car, uneasy. Maybe she
was
making a mistake on both fronts. Maybe she should still go to the police about Brent? Maybe she should have stayed back for a drink with Helmut? But surely having a drink with him couldn't mean
that
much?

Rachel returned to her desk after recording her last update to read a text message from Mitch.
‘Our six month anniversary coming up next week. Thought a fish and chip beach date on the 16th
in St Kilda could work'

Marvelling at how sweet he was for remembering, she texted back.
‘Perfect. Just bring a mattress this time.'

Their anniversary also meant she'd been reading weekend news for a little more than six months. Thank goodness her nerves had long-since abated and she'd settled into a routine, feeling a welcome sense of confidence. It was still challenging and an adrenalin rush, but she loved it. Even Kevin McIntyre had thawed towards her. Especially when the ratings had begun to climb.

She was sleeping better too. The nightmares sparked by the bombing had subsided, although she noted she was far less likely to have one if staying with Mitch. The letters from her stalker had stopped too, although she was still concerned she'd never discovered who was behind them.

Helmet was her biggest problem. Ever since she'd stopped visiting his office for Friday evening drinks, she'd gone from teacher's pet to bottom of the list. Sometimes she wondered whether it was because he'd found out she was seeing Mitch. Perhaps it was both. Whatever the reason, the turnaround in his attitude was frightening and he picked on her incessantly. She avoided him whenever she could.

Right now her toughest challenge was battling her appetite. She was ravenous. She'd been trying to diet, knowing how much weight the camera added on screen, but it was tough. Especially given how well her relationship with Mitch was progressing.

They'd been dating furiously — dining at restaurants, drinking at bars, splurging at parties, and making the most of Rachel's increasing number of social invitations. While they didn't flaunt their relationship at work, they'd softened their stance on secrecy in public. There was too much fun to be had. Her heart was happy but her backside was growing at an alarming rate.

Last week, she and Kate had put themselves on a rigorous regime. Only three rules. No bread, no carbohydrates after four in the afternoon, and no alcohol, apart from the weekend. Today she'd done well and saved herself a special treat for afternoon tea.
It was just after three. She looked around the newsroom to see if anyone was watching, then pulled a small Kit-Kat from under a newspaper. It had fewer calories than a lot of other bars and she needed a sugar boost. She let the chocolate melt for a moment in her mouth before crunching into the biscuit, closing her eyes to savour the sweetness.

‘Do you really think you should be eating that?' A booming voice cracked her reverie.

Her eyes flew open. Helmut. Colour pinked her cheeks and she coughed as the chocolate caught in her throat. ‘Um . . . ah . . . it's afternoon tea,' she squeaked.

‘There are healthier options, you know. Like an apple? You know what they say — a minute in the mouth and a month on the hips.' He smirked and strode off.

Typical. Just like an unwanted fart, he popped out of nowhere. Rachel threw the wrapper in the bin and gobbled the last few mouthfuls before anyone else passed judgment.

Shirley had phoned earlier, speaking in hushed tones, asking her to come over when Helmut wasn't around. Now he'd walked out of the newsroom it was a good time. Rachel had been worried about Shirley who seemed to have lost her spark and warmth, and quite a lot of weight.

‘Hey, Shirley, how's it going?' She pulled up a chair at her desk.

Shirley gave a wan smile. ‘Oh, I'm okay, dear. Well, actually, no, I'm not. And that's what I wanted to tell you. Guess I'd best be quick.' Her eyes darted around the newsroom.

‘What's he done now?' Rachel was concerned. Shirley actually looked quite ill.

She shrugged. ‘I just wanted to let you know that I am seriously looking at an early retirement. I've talked with Barry and we think it's for the best. Working here is just too stressful.' She looked down at her hands, tugging at her rings.

‘Shirley, no!' Rachel leaned forward, clasping her forearm. ‘You can't! We need you in the newsroom. You're the one who keeps us all sane. It would be awful without you.'

‘I'd miss you too, dear. But life's too short. I don't enjoy work anymore. I won't do it straight away, but I wanted you to know. Just keep it to yourself, okay?'

‘Of course. Oh, Shirley, I'm so sorry. He's such a bastard.'

‘Yes. Yes, he is.' She nodded vigorously. ‘But quickly, there's another thing you should know.' She leaned forward, lowering her voice. ‘Mary Masterson is resigning. Not because of Helmut, she's going to host a current affairs show on SBS. So you should
try to get on with him, and put your hand up for her job.'

‘My God!' Rachel breathed, trying to keep her voice under control. ‘But I don't think he'd even consider me, I'm too young.'

‘No, you're not,' she said firmly. ‘Mary started reading when she was your age. You're twenty-four, aren't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, maybe have a think about putting those awful Friday night drinks back in your diary, just for the time being. And you'd better get going or he'll catch us.' She looked over Rachel's shoulder.

‘Thanks, Shirley.' She started to leave then dashed back to kiss Shirley on the cheek. ‘I hope something happens to make you change your mind.'

Shirley squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you, dear.'

***

Half an hour later, Shirley returned with a pile of letters. ‘Late delivery,' she said, handing a bundle to Rachel with a smile. ‘Rosemary in reception's off sick.'

Rachel flicked through the envelopes, stopping when she spied the familiar handwriting. Her stalker was back. Heart pounding, she wondered why he'd waited so long between letters. She ripped open the envelope and took out the page.

Dear Rachel,

It's been a while — you up-yourself little slut. But don't think I haven't been thinking of you every fucking day while I've been away. Not that you would care where I've been, would you? Your rejection stings, you bitch. It doesn't get better with time, it gets worse. I fucking hate your fucking guts, you whore. You dog. Yes DOG. Let's do it doggy style before I slice up your face. I want to cover my body with your stinking blood and fuck you again and again while you bleed all over the ground.

You are going to suffer, bitch. And so is your arrogant boyfriend. You should have treated me with respect. We could have had a life together. You wrecked everything. Fucking whore.

Your DEVOTED Admirer, X.

Rachel threw the letter down, hand trembling. Who the hell was this guy? This wasn't a harmless, albeit sick joke. Her Devoted Admirer knew she had a boyfriend. There were
no photos of her and Mitch on social media. The stalker was still watching her. She shuddered, feeling hot and clammy.

***

Rachel looked across her mother's dining table at Mitch, wondering how he was coping with her family. It was his second Sunday lunch with them and while he seemed to genuinely get along with everyone, she couldn't help feeling a little nervous. At least Lou was in a cheerful mood. She'd been affectionate with Neil and Josh, and had even complimented Rachel on her newsreading.

Chewing on a mouthful of roast beef, Mitch nodded his head slightly in Brian's direction. Rachel smiled and looked down at her meal, trying not to laugh. She'd warned him about Brian's eating habits and, true to form, Brian was chomping away loudly with an open mouth, oblivious. Brian had moved in with her mother, and while the idea had been unsettling at first, Rachel could see how happy she was and it was starting to feel right.

On cue, Brian began to speak. ‘So Rachel, you seem to be improving every week with your newsreading. Very impressive! Are they giving you good feedback?' He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘I give her good feedback all the time,' said Mitch.

Rachel kicked him gently under the table. ‘Ha. No, apart from Mitch, no one says much. They just expect you to do your job and get on with it like everyone else, which is fine. The main thing for me is that Kevin seems to be much friendlier. I think he's finally getting used to the idea of having me on board. So that's a relief.'

‘Might have something to do with the ratings improving too.' Mitch winked at her.

Margaret snorted. ‘Hmph! About time. Silly man. He should have been grateful to have you from the beginning. But I'm glad he's being nicer.'

‘So am I!' Josh beamed broadly.

Blowing him a kiss, Rachel marvelled at how much he'd grown. Now four and a half, he was managing his cutlery well. He'd also had a haircut, losing most of his soft brown curls. He seemed older.

Lou tinkled a fork against her wine glass. ‘Attention, please!'

It was a long time since Rachel had seen her so bouncy. The usual line between her eyebrows had eased.

There was a pause as Lou waited until all eyes were focused on her. ‘I also have
some exciting news. Since my gorgeous Joshie is such a big boy now and will be starting school next year, I'm taking a course that means I should be able to begin a new job next year.'

Margaret dropped her knife and fork in surprise, brown gravy spots splattering her pale blue silk blouse. ‘Well, that's marvellous, darling! What have you been studying? And why haven't you told us before now?'

‘Oh, well, I just wanted to see how things went. It's a certificate in Art Therapy. I'm just loving it. It's amazing.'

‘What exactly
is
art therapy?' asked Rachel. It sounded a bit airy-fairy.

Lou smiled at her. ‘It means I'll be qualified to help people with emotional issues to use art to work out their problems. To express themselves. Then, what they paint or draw helps them understand stuff about themselves and sort out their problems.'

‘Okay,' said Rachel slowly. ‘So you're going to be a bit like an art psychologist?'

‘I suppose you could say that,' Lou said happily, tucking into her lunch again.

‘I've heard about that,' said Mitch. ‘Some companies get art therapists in for group sessions with workers. Meant to be good for staff bonding.'

‘Yes, that's right,' said Lou. ‘That's where the money is. I'll be aiming for that kind of work too. As well as with individual clients and smaller groups.'

Rachel shivered. ‘Well, there's plenty of weirdos out there who need your help. You should see some of the letters I get at work. Crazy stuff. I should refer them to you.'

‘But those letters stopped, didn't they?' Mitch said.

‘They did for six months. Then I got one last Tuesday.'

‘And you didn't mention it? What did it say?' He put down his knife and fork, frowning.

‘He made some pretty violent threats. But there's nothing you could do. I've already been to the police. They don't have the resources to investigate. And because it's been a while between letters and there's been no physical threat, they don't seem to think it's that serious. I didn't want to worry you.'

Mitch shook his head. ‘Show me later. I'll think of something.'

Wanting to change the subject, Rachel turned to Margaret. ‘That was great, Mum. Mind if I help myself to some more wine?'

‘Oh, course, dear, I'll get it.' Margaret pushed her chair back. ‘Oh, and Lou, I
do
think it's great about your course. It'll be good for you to get back into the workforce.'

‘Thanks, Mum. It
is
great. I can't wait.' She paused. ‘Oh, and Rach? Not sure if
I could help or not, but give me a call if you do want me to go over the letters. You never know, there might be something that springs to mind from all those books I've been studying.'

‘Thanks, I will.' She shivered, wondering what Lou would make of the earlier letters that included images of mutilated bodies. It was doubtful Lou could help, but anything was worth a shot.

***

Running late, Rachel walked quickly down Fitzroy Street, heading for The Pelican. She was meeting Julia for an early dinner. They hadn't seen as much of each other now she was working weekends and trying to get rid of those extra kilos. It was cool for a spring evening and she pulled her bomber jacket tight as she dodged a tram to cross the road.

From the entrance, she spotted Julia sitting at an outdoor corner table. Punctual as always, Julia looked happily ensconced with a glass of wine, a bottle in a cooler and a pile of magazines on the table. Rachel hurried over and greeted her with a kiss. ‘So sorry I'm late. Had to do the gym thing.'

‘That's fine. Plenty of reading material.' Julia beamed and patted the magazines.

Rachel glanced down and saw they were the bridal variety. ‘Oh! At last, you're picking a wedding dress. Have you set a date? You've been engaged forever.' She picked up a magazine and flipped the pages.

Julia poured Rachel a wine. ‘Yep, it's mid-March. It's a Saturday, so that's why I wanted to see you. Do you think you could put in for holidays so you can come?'

‘Of course, dummy. As if I'd miss your wedding!' Rachel slapped her on the arm.

‘Well, that's good, because I'm also hoping you'll be one of my bridesmaids.'

‘Oh, Jules!' Rachel jumped up and gave her a squeeze. ‘I'd adore that! Thank you. And you must promise to put us all in foul frocks so we can trash them on the night.'

Julia punched her back. ‘Don't be ridiculous. I want everyone looking stunning. And I won't choose something meringue, it'll be something you can wear again. Here, take a look.' She shoved the magazine pile over to Rachel. ‘See if there's anything you like.'

‘You should choose
your
dress first and then we'll just find something that works in with that.'