The Road Back (3 page)

The balding former news editor wiped his ginger moustache. ‘Have you been into the office yet?' he asked.

Chris settled back in his chair. ‘No. I've still got some leave and I wanted a little down time to get the feel of things again. I've spent a bit of one-on-one with my daughter. Do you remember Megan?'

‘How old is she now?'

‘She see-saws between fourteen and twenty. She looks her age, but sometimes comes across as so much older. Doesn't seem to have discovered boys too seriously at this stage, thank heavens. What were you doing when you were fourteen?'

‘Trying out for the local cricket team. Didn't know girls existed.'

‘Megan seems to be on her mobile phone all the time, mainly texting her friends. I suppose that's the norm these days for teenagers.'

‘This generation is going to forget how to speak to each other, but I have to admit that mobile phones are bloody handy things if you're a journalist. So, what's your plan?' Mac raised an eyebrow.

‘I've heard a few rumours, but I'm pretty sure I'll get another overseas post. Bangkok is coming up.'

Mac sipped his beer. ‘Is that what you want? I suppose overseas postings are easier for you than for a family man. Not as many complications.'

‘I want to cover stories that have some meat and for me that means being a foreign correspondent, but I know that newspapers are struggling. A lot have folded in the States. Hell,
The
Washington Post
has been bought by Jeff Bezos, Amazon's CEO, for a song, just because he wants to keep the great paper going. So, Mac, I want to find out what you've heard about the local scene, and especially what's happening with Trinity Press. How's it really travelling?'

Mac rubbed his chin. ‘Well, Chris, all the Australian papers are having a difficult time. The Murdoch press still carries on more or less as usual, because the papers are cross-subsidised from other News Limited enterprises. But, of course, working for Murdoch means having to toe the party line. Fairfax has been cutting back. As you know, they never recovered from the advent of online advertising. The “rivers of gold” that used to flow from their advertising department have now slowed to a trickle. I hear that the
Herald
is going to expand its online classifieds. Nowadays it's hard to tell what's real news and what a sponsored ad disguised as a story. If you don't get the revenue, you can't afford the staff,' said Mac emphatically.

‘I know. I've heard that they let a lot of journos go,' said Chris, swirling his beer.

‘It's bloody dreadful. Most of the best journos have gone. Decades of knowledge and experience out the door. 'Course, a lot of them got good redundancy packages and I guess that if you're close to retirement age, that's fine, but if you're not, then it's a worry. Too many journal
ists looking for too few jobs. Lot of them try freelancing, but it pays a pittance.
' Mac's mouth twisted in a grimace. ‘If you write a thousand words and they only use five hundred, that's all you get paid for, and if it's not used at all, no money, even if you've been working for days. Makes you sick. Even working fulltime you don't just file a story and that's it. You have to do an online version, and respond to tweets, comments and blogs. Fourteen-hour days and if you don't produce, out the door you go, and there are plenty of others waiting out there to take your place.'

Chris started to say something, but Mac, now wound up, barely paused for breath before he continued.

‘Of course today technology has taken over. Where once a TV journalist travelled with a producer, cameraman and sound man, now they're a one-man band. They have to shoot digital footage, record the sound, do a piece to camera, edit it on a laptop then upload the story from wherever they can get a signal. Quite a job.'

Chris frowned. ‘There are some journos who do well, though,' he said cautiously.

‘Yeah, but that's usually when they have already made their name. Some well-known celeb journos can make big
money, so they get a producer and a researcher plus a swank house up the coast. All for doing half an hour
a week on the box. The rest are scratching. Even worse, media now relies on contributor's content. They get academics, business people or other specialists to write articles and the trouble is that readers don't know their agendas. We need committed journos like you to act as community watchdogs.'

‘What about radio? Some big names there make a fortune.'

‘No money in commercial radio, either,' Mac said, shaking his head. ‘The bean counters that run the stations want to pay their personalities, their stars, the big bucks because they bring in the revenue, but the same can't be said for the journalists. They are seen as a liability that cost the station money.' Mac jabbed a finger at Chris. ‘And so they are paid accordingly. Of course the ABC still does a great job, but it never has enough money and everyone there is expected to multi-task. Doesn't leave them much time to seek out the really interesting stories. Journalism is now reduced to the twenty-four-hour news cycle delivered in quick bites. God forbid that someone out there might want to know what is actually going on. Journos don't have time to do anything in-depth, so it comes down to “he said, she said” stories. Spin doctors. Gonzo journalism. And y'know what? The public is less informed. In fact, they're actually misled a lot of the time. I once thought I'd like to teach journalism. Get youngsters fired up to go and find the truth. But now I think, why bother? There are so few jobs out there for journalists, and as for finding the truth, they are way too time-poor for a luxury like that.'

Chris was taken aback by Mac's bitterness. ‘Take it easy, Mac. You wouldn't have done anything else. I'll get us both another drink. Beer still okay with you?' Mac nodded and sat back in his chair.

Chris returned from the bar with the two drinks and placed a beer carefully in front of his former editor.

Mac smiled and thanked him. ‘The business has changed,' he said, calmer now. ‘Technology might be the means of delivery but it's still the mind and the intellect that gets to the source, analyses, and makes it all digestible to the readers. I like the challenge. You're younger than me. How old are you now?'

‘I'll be forty-three this year,' said Chris.

Mac grinned. ‘Still got a good career ahead of you. You did a great job in Washington, so I can't see that you'll have any trouble getting that Bangkok posting you're after. Might depend on how you get on with the new chief operating officer, the Pommy bloke. I hear he's a penny pincher like all the others. Cutting back on the Sydney staff in a big way. Still, there's only a staff of one in Bangkok, he can't cut that back,' Mac said with a wink. ‘You'll be right.'

‘I actually haven't met the new bloke. He's only had the job a few months and I've just got back to Oz,' said Chris.

‘Heard he does it all by the book. Even records his interviews with the staff. And you have to make an appointment. None of this tapping on the door and walking into the office, so I'm told.'

‘Sounds a bit draconian. I'd better ring the office this afternoon,' said Chris. They continued chatting for another hour, enjoying each other's company. It was great to reconnect with an old friend. Chris knew, however, that Mac was prone to melodrama. The industry had changed and he felt sorry for all the journos affected by the changes in the media. He was relieved that he probably had a plum position to go to. Nevertheless, Mac didn't make the office sound all that friendly and Chris hoped his meeting with his editor would go well.

*

‘I asked Megan to come car shopping with me, so is it all right for her to come over again this weekend?' Chris asked his ex-wife on the phone that evening.

Jill was noncommittal. ‘I'll ask her. So, if you're buying a car, does that mean you're staying here?' she said in clipped tones.

‘I could be in Sydney for a few months, until my new posting is settled. I can use public transport but I suddenly feel the need for a car. I would also like to take Megan up to see Mum as soon as the holidays start,' he said.

Jill sniffed. ‘Megan has a very busy social life. She may not want to go to the country to see her grandmother.'

‘Well, we'll see what Megan says, shall we?' said Chris, rather tersely.

‘So where are you going off to next time?'

‘I'm hoping that it will be Bangkok.'

‘Lucky you. Some of us just have to stay and raise a family,' said Jill, with some bitterness in her voice.

Chris ignored the comment. ‘If you could ask Megan to let me know if she still wants to come and check out my shortlist of cars, that would be great. Thanks, Jill.'

Chris hung up. He didn't want to get into another argument with his ex-wife. Jill had wanted custody of Megan and since he travelled and worked overseas so much, Chris had never contested it. But Jill always liked to let Chris know that, in her opinion, she'd got the short end of the stick.

The next weekend Chris took a photo on Megan's phone of her sitting behind the wheel of an expensive European sports car so that she could send it to her friends.

‘Now, let's try to narrow this down. It can't be too big because of the parking space at the apartment, but it needs to be comfortable enough for a long drive and not a huge gas guzzler.'

‘So we're not getting the Maserati, Dad?' Megan laughed. ‘Okay. Do we get to drive the new car home?'

‘No, I can't get it until I take out a loan. I certainly don't have enough to pay cash. Maybe in a few days I'll be able to pick it up. You'll still have to get the bus home tomorrow, I'm afraid.'

He was glad to see her laugh. She'd been somewhat reserved since he'd met her earlier at the bus stop. He felt something was bothering her, but didn't like to probe. Leaving the dealership, he asked her, ‘What do you fancy for lunch?'

‘Fish and chips. But nice ones. Not just in paper,' Megan replied.

Chris grinned. ‘Great idea. Haven't had any for ages. We could get the bus to Balmoral, or we can eat at the little fish place around the corner. You choose.'

‘The corner place. It looks cute. Besides, I've had enough of bus rides.'

‘Exactly what I was thinking,' said Chris. ‘How about we see what the place around the corner has on offer.'

Megan chose a booth in the corner of the small funky eatery while Chris ordered at the counter. The food arrived quickly but Megan didn't look too enthusiastic about it.

‘This was a good choice . . . flaky fish, crisp batter, yummy mayonnaise. Verjuice instead of vinegar,' Chris said brightly.

Megan nodded, eating slowly. He wondered if she was savouring the food or working up to something. He topped up her mineral water.

‘Are things okay at school?' he ventured.

Megan sighed and pushed her food around her plate. ‘Yeah. The same old, same old.'

‘Well, that's good. So what's bothering you?'

She looked at him, then put down her fork, and he was shocked to see a tear roll down her cheek.

‘Megan, honey. What is it? Are you all right?' He reached across and touched her hand.

She shook her head. ‘It's Mum and Trevor.'

Chris's heart sank. ‘What's happened?'

‘It's Trevor's job,' Megan said, her voice shaking.

‘He's quit? Been fired?'

‘Worse. He's being transferred. To Perth.'

As Chris stared at her, the news sinking in, Megan burst into a flood of tears.

‘I don't want to go to Perth! It's on the other side of the planet. I don't want to leave my friends, my school! Dad, please . . .'

‘Hey, hey, slow down.' He handed her a paper napkin to dry her tears. ‘Now, run this past me again slowly. Trevor is going to Perth and he's planning to move your mum and you kids over there, too. What does your mother say?'

Megan sniffed and dabbed her eyes. ‘Not much. He says we're going. We all have to go. Sell the house and move to Perth! What am I going to do? I'll die over there.'

Chris was furious Jill hadn't mentioned this, given him some warning. ‘When did all this come about? I can't believe he'd uproot you all, and sell up. I mean, it must be a huge job opportunity.'

‘I heard them talking. It's a big deal, some supervisor thing. It's not fair that I have to go because of his stupid job!'

‘Now calm down, it sounds like early days. It can't be all decided yet.'

‘No, it's pretty certain. They won't leave me here, and I will not go over there. My whole life is here!' Megan's eyes filled with tears again.

‘Megan, I don't think you have a choice, if that's what they want to do . . .'

‘Why should I have to suffer for Trevor's dumb idea? Leave my life, my friends, my school? There's no way, Dad.' She shook her head and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. They sat in silence for a moment or two. Then she looked up at him. ‘Hey, what about this? I stay here, with you.'

Chris hesitated. ‘Megan, I don't think that's possible.'

Tears coursed down Megan's face again and Chris moved to her side of the booth and put his arm over her shoulders, glad there weren't any other diners near them.

‘The problem is that my next posting is very likely going to be in Bangkok, sweetheart. I have a very demanding job, I'll be away a lot working on assignments in other parts of Asia, and I certainly don't want you living in Bangkok without me. Anyway, your mother would never let you come. It's impossible.'

‘Can't you stay here, in Sydney? Do you have to go to Bangkok?' asked Megan, looking at him pleadingly.

‘It's my job, darling,' said Chris weakly. He didn't like where this discussion was leading. ‘You could board at your school,' he suggested, wondering as he said it from where all the extra money for that idea would come. When Megan didn't instantly shoot the suggestion down in flames, he added, ‘Listen, it's not a decision we have to make immediately. Let's not spoil our day together.'