The Road Back (45 page)

‘I suppose so,' Chris said quietly, but he was secretly pleased to know that Georgia had listened to what he'd said.

Georgia ignored his comment and continued, ‘Only in novels does an author have a sensational overnight success. In real life, writing a book is a long, hard slog, and even then there is no guarantee of success. I think that you could make it as a writer, but only if your heart is really in it. So would you please write down a few thoughts that I can show to the publisher?'

‘Hmm. Let me think about it.'

‘An expression of interest from a dedicated publisher isn't to be sneezed at, Chris,' said Georgia, sternly.

Chris could hear the excitement in her voice, the eagerness, the enthusiasm. ‘What an ungrateful sod I am. I don't deserve you. I wish I could kiss you. Okay, I'll give it a shot, Georgie,' he said contritely.

‘Fantastic, I'm so pleased. Can you get down to Sydney any time soon and bring your ideas? I'll set up a meeting with Paul and we'll go in and see him.'

‘Any excuse to see you! But seriously, I would love to have another attempt at a book. Thank you for this opportunity. I love you, Georgie.'

‘I love you, too.'

Chris rang off and returned to his wood-chopping detail with renewed energy. New opportunities seemed to be springing up everywhere.

*

Chris began to put in long hours on his writing again, gathering together his old stories and looking at the emails that he'd sent his mother over the years, pleased that she had always been reluctant to discard anything. He was often deep in thought as he wandered around the house, out onto the verandah and into the garden before returning to his desk. Even Megan noticed his deep absorption in the task and teased him.

‘Gosh, Dad, you're on another planet half the time! I hope the new book's coming together for you.'

‘Yes, honey. I'm having a bit of fun with it, actually. It's bringing back a lot of memories.'

‘That's great. When can I read it?'

‘Oh, when I think it's worth reading, but I have to say that I'm enjoying the project.'

‘That's a good sign, isn't it?'

‘Yes. I hope so.' He gave her a hug. ‘How're you going?'

‘Good, Dad. Really good.' She held on to him for a moment and then skipped out of the room. Chris grinned watching her go and then returned to the satisfying work in front of him.

*

‘Do you think you could set up a meeting with the publisher?' Chris asked Georgia. ‘I have something to show you, and the airlines are having a special this weekend, so I thought I might get the earliest flight down.'

‘Yes, I'll make the appointment for us first thing. After that, do you think you would have time to meet Dad? He wants to catch up with you, and of course he'd rather do that over lunch than on the phone.'

‘And you?'

‘I'll be making us a special dinner.'

‘I like the sound of that. So next Saturday's a date, then?'

*

Chris strolled into Greasy Greeks feeling pleased with himself. The meeting with the publisher had gone well. Paul had shown obvious enthusiasm for his stories and there would be no problem publishing them because they weren't at all controversial. Certainly there wouldn't be any difficulties like the ones Alan Carmichael and his lawyers had posed with Chris's first book.

Chris saw Mac sitting at their favourite table. Walking over to join him, Chris glanced around the restaurant, recognising a few familiar media faces, although he didn't feel like one of them anymore. He realised he'd moved away from the hub of things. He was no longer the harried journo hunting for stories, chasing unpromising leads flung at him by the news editor, always facing a deadline.

Mac rose and held out his hand, a big smile on his face. Chris gave him a bear hug.

‘What's that for?' mumbled Mac as he sat back down. ‘I said I'm paying for lunch this time. Or are you trying to worm your way into the family?'

Chris laughed. ‘Maybe, or maybe I'm thanking you for being such a good friend and having such a wonderful daughter.' He nodded at the room. ‘You know, Mac, suddenly I don't feel like I belong here anymore. I'm not one of them now.'

‘You and me both, sport. Not a lot of familiar faces around.'

‘No, it's more than that. Last time we came here, I felt on the outer because I'd left my job. Now I feel as though I've moved on.'

‘Driving a van? Or writing the great journo book?'

‘Both, I'm multi-tasking,' Chris quipped as he started to read the specials scribbled on the front of the menu. ‘The moussaka is always good here. I think I'll have that.'

‘You always have that. Try something different.'

Chris chuckled. ‘All right, I will.' Just as he put down the menu, a familiar face joined them.

‘Hello, stranger.'

‘John Miller!' Chris leapt to his feet to shake hands with his old editor from Trinity Press. ‘How are you keeping?'

‘I can't complain. Been a few changes at Trinity in the last few weeks.'

‘Can you sit down and tell me what's happened? I'd be interested in knowing,' said Chris, genuinely pleased to see his old friend and boss.

After greeting Mac, John pulled up a chair. ‘Well, the best news is that Honeywell has gone. You remember that pompous English twat? Had no idea what he was doing and under him the paper went into very rapid decline. Now the paper has to begin rebuilding quickly while there's still something there to regenerate.'

‘I'm pleased to hear that piece of news,' said Chris, with a small smile.

‘Running into you is fortuitous, Chris. We are now on the lookout for more really first-class journalists, of which you are most definitely one, so how would you like your old job back? If you still don't want to be a foreign correspondent, I would be happy to find you a job based in Sydney. Brad Jones is retiring early. He's got some serious health issues, and you could easily take his place.'

Chris tried to keep a straight face at John's surprising announcement. ‘I'm sorry about Brad. Nice chap. John, I'll need to think about your offer, which I have to say is very generous,' he said carefully. ‘How long have I got?'

‘Maybe a week or so. But don't leave it too long. More journos than positions these days.'

‘I'll think it over, and thanks again, I'll get back to you with my answer.'

Chris leaned back in his seat after John had farewelled them and gone back to his table. He could hardly believe it. Two job offers in such a short time. Now he had options, but the trouble was, which option should he take?

‘That's good news,' said Mac. ‘Will you take the job?'

‘Part of me is keen. I can't say that I'm not flattered that Trinity wants me back,' said Chris, slowly. ‘However, that'd mean moving Megan back to the city and getting a bigger place. And Mac, there's a job available at the local ABC radio outfit and the station manager is sure that, even without radio experience, I'm the best candidate for it. Even though I'd not be making a heap of money, I don't need all that much, living in Neverend.' He paused as his thoughts turned over. ‘And I've got the bit between my teeth with this book. And you know, I think that if I started fulltime newspaper work again, it'd be very hard on Megan. I know the sort of hours I'd have to work with Trinity. I'd often have to leave her on her own and I don't want to be a part-time father again. With the radio job, I'd be around for her. I also think I could work for a few hours each afternoon on my book. Coming home at night from the newspaper and then trying to be creative . . . well, it wouldn't work. And frankly, Mac, I'm pretty sure that Megan doesn't want to leave Neverend, and I'm not sure I do either.'

Mac handed the menus to the waiter, who was standing with pencil poised. ‘Well, bugger me. You're full of surprises. I'll have the moussaka,' he said to the waiter.

‘Lamb shanks,' said Chris, then grinned at his old friend.

Mac leaned back in his chair. ‘Are you sure you want to work in local radio? Bit out of the mainstream for someone of your abilities,' he said.

‘I suppose so, but I intend to do the job as well as I would if I were still a foreign correspondent for Trinity Press. As I see it, it's the best job around that fits in with my present life.'

‘Georgie will be disappointed,' said Mac, pointedly.

‘I know.' Chris was quiet for a moment. ‘Am I being stupid, Mac? Six months ago I'd have killed to have this Trinity Press job offer, but now I know that it's not the right job for me at this point in time. I wish I could be closer to Georgie. Maybe she might be happy living away from the city?'

‘You'd have to ask her, mate.' Mac leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ‘Chris, I didn't just ask you here for a chat, you know, although that's been nice. There's another reason that I wanted to meet you for lunch. I've still got good contacts around the traps, as you know, old journo mates as well as
friends in high places, and I've heard a rumour that a certain multi-millionaire who has been trying to expand his construction company into the US is in a heap of financial pain.'

‘Do you mean Carmichael?' Chris said incredulously. ‘Are you bullshitting me?'

Mac put his hand on his heart. ‘It's true. If you look in today's financial papers, you'll see a couple of stories. They're only small at this stage, but from what I hear, things are going to get a whole lot worse for Carmichael. The word is out that the American banks that were going to back his expansion are pulling out of their deal. Rumour has it that he's no longer sound.'

‘What does that mean?' asked Chris.

‘I think the bankers are questioning the viability of Carmichael's projects.'

Chris gave a low whistle. ‘So where does he go from here?'

‘Who would know? But if he doesn't get other financial backing pretty quickly, then he's going to be in a lot of bother.'

Lunch arrived and their conversation turned to other things, mainly how great it had been working as a journalist in the good old days; colourful characters, less stringent restrictions, a lot more free-wheeling opportunities to chase stories.

After lunch, Chris made his way to Georgia's place and they watched the nightly news snuggled together on the couch. The story about Carmichael was little more than a passing reference, but Susan was on the phone to Chris immediately.

‘Chris! Have you heard the news? I can't believe it! Do you think Alan is in real trouble?'

‘It didn't say much in the news today, but Mac thinks he is.'

‘I might ring Mark right away and see if he's heard anything,' said Susan, and hung up.

‘My mother is pretty shocked at the news,' Chris relayed to Georgia.

‘I'm not surprised. I suppose we'll hear more about what's going on over the next few days,' said Georgia. ‘By the way, what else did you and Dad talk about besides Alan Carmichael today?'

‘Actually, something else did happen while we were having lunch. I was approached by my old editor in the restaurant and he offered me a job back at Trinity, working in Sydney.'

Georgia sat up. ‘That's wonderful, Chris. How do you feel about that?'

‘Truthfully? It puts me in a difficult position. It's certainly what I wanted to do a few months back.'

‘And now?' Georgia cocked her head to one side.

Chris began hesitantly. ‘Georgie, please don't be hurt, I want to see you all the time. But . . . it's Megan. I just can't drag her away from Neverend now. She's so happy there, what with her friends, her interests, and of course Squire. And if I take the Trinity job, I know that I wouldn't be able to give her the attention she deserves. I'm feeling very confident about getting the ABC position and then I'll have the security of decent money and a regular job and have a lot of time for Megan, too.' He stopped as she started to smile. ‘Am I nuts settling for all that without you?'

Georgia looked fondly at him. ‘Perhaps not. I've been to Neverend. I've seen how happy Megan is. And your relationship with your daughter is your first priority, and that's how it should be. Besides, as your agent, I can see that you have a much better chance of writing your next book in a stress-free atmosphere.'

Chris put his arms around Georgia. ‘I love you insanely,' he said. ‘I'm a lucky man, to have such an understanding girl like you.'

‘Oh, I don't mind hanging out with a bloke who lives in the bush, drives a courier van and scribbles in his spare time, but who will soon be a radio star.'

‘You're wonderful,' he sighed as he hugged her. ‘I'll give this book-writing a decent bash. Second time lucky, but I couldn't do it without you.'

‘Maybe I'd better stick around, then,' she said playfully. ‘Keep an eye on my client.'

*

Early the following morning, Chris wrapped his arms around Georgia, feeling the warmth of her body through her bathrobe. Her hair smelled faintly of lemons as he kissed her scrubbed face. ‘It gets harder and harder to say goodbye to you,' he murmured.

‘I know. Me too. I'll fly up as soon as I can. Just keep writing. I love what you're doing.'

‘I'll call you tonight. Let me know if your dad hears anything more about Carmichael.'

‘Will do.'

Chris drove back to Neverend from Coffs airport, his mind whirring with all that had happened. As always, once he'd crossed the bridge over the Henry River and turned off the Pacific Highway towards Neverend, he felt his body and mind relax, slowing and settling as a peacefulness stole over him despite all he had running through his head.

It was the middle of the day, the winter sun lit up the trees and in the paddocks soporific cows stood motionless, time being of no consequence to them. The main street was quiet save for the newsagent, who was seated outside his shop dozing, a newspaper on his lap.