A Straight Line to My Heart (14 page)

I only have to knock once and the door is whisked open by Bull.

‘Get lost, did ya? I was about to send a chopper out looking for you.'

Another half hour and he probably would have, too.

‘Thanks for caring, Bull.'

‘Who said anything about carin'? Your turn to wash up, that's all.'

Back in the lounge room, Kayla hits me with questions, just as I'd expected.

‘Well? What happened? Tell me! Don't leave out a thing – I'll know if you do!'

‘Nothing to tell. A walk's a walk.'

‘Tiffff! You can't do that to me!'

I'm driving her mad. And loving it.

Zoe sits beside Reggie in front of the
tv
, both looking relaxed. It occurs to me that at last she might have won him over. She smiles at me, most probably appreciating the fun I'm having, as Kayla tries again.

‘Aw, come on, Tiff. I'd tell you. Play fair. You gotta give me something!'

‘Oh all right then . . .'

The kiss is not for sharing. I've got it locked away. Saving it for days when everything goes wrong, for nights when I'm lonely, and for old age, when I can barely remember what a kiss is like. Call me greedy, I don't care. It's my one piece of magic.

But I do have some news I can tell Kayla.

‘Davey's taking me out on a date. On Saturday.'

‘Where to?'

‘Rifle range.'

I'm not sure who laughs first. Is it Zoe or Bull? Kayla isn't far behind them. Only Reggie keeps a straight face.

‘Don't take any notice of 'em, Tiffy. They're only jealous.'

‘Yeah, right.' Kayla grins. ‘Wish I could get a guy to take me to the rifle range. That's always been my ambition. Woo-hoo.'

‘Sorry to laugh, Tiff,' Zoe says, ‘but it does seem like a strange place to go for a first date. Why there of all places?'

‘It's not a
bit
strange,' I tell her. ‘Davey's thinking of taking up shooting as a hobby, so he wants to check out the rifle range and he asked me if I'd like to go with him.'

Kayla snorts. ‘Are you kidding me? He should be checking you out – not a rifle range! No way is that a date.'

I go to the one person I know I can depend on.

‘It
is
a date, isn't it, Reggie?'

‘S'pose it all depends on how it goes,' he says. ‘If you have a good time, come home happy, then it was a date.'

‘Okay.'

‘But if he shoots yer, it wasn't a date – it was an ambush.'

‘Reggie! That's mean!'

‘You know I'm only kiddin', Tiffy.' He puts his arms out and I gladly fall into them. ‘Don't worry about what anyone says, luv. It's a date.'

I feel the storm coming from the time I leave Gungee to when the bus grinds to a halt one street away from the
Eagle
. The first drops whack against me as Nancy opens the office door. Just as I step inside, rain tumbles down behind me, louder by the second. Everyone in our office stands at the front window and watches. It's like we've never seen rain. Outside, drivers switch on headlights in the gloom and slow to a crawl as gutters overflow and water courses across the road.

When my mobile rings I only just hear it. I move away from the others to answer. It's Reggie. He hardly ever calls me, so my mind is instantly crowded with all the things that could be wrong.

‘Reggie. Are you okay? Is everything . . . Hello?'

We can't hear each other so I make my way towards the kitchen where I know it won't be as noisy. Halfway there his voice comes through, clear and strong.

‘Yeah, Tiffy. All good with me. I was worried about
you
. Heard on the radio there's been a few accidents with all the rain. Just wanted to make sure you got to the paper in one piece.'

I smile at the phone, wishing Reggie could see me.

‘You're all right then, luv? No dramas?'

‘Not a one.' I reach the kitchen. ‘Thanks for thinking about me.'

‘Gotta look after my girl. Only one I got.'

My smile gets even bigger.

‘Wanted to talk to you anyway. You got a minute or are you busy? You just say if you are, it's not important.'

As he says that, the rain eases. With nothing more to see everyone will head back into the office and I'll have to be there too. But not yet.

‘Never too busy for you, Reggie.' I ease down against the rogues' gallery wall. My photo is up there now. ‘I'm all yours. Talk to me.'

‘Well, I got some good news for you. Believe it or not, I've almost got the old girl up and runnin' again.'

The Falcon. I never really thought he'd do it.

‘Good for you, Reggie! That's excellent!'

‘Ta, luv. By gee, I put in some hours on her lately. Worked till late last night. Got up early for once and had another go this mornin'. The Wolf almost drove me mad wantin' me to throw the ball for her, but I still got a fair bit of work done.'

‘I hope you didn't overdo it.'

‘Nah. I'm feelin' good today; fit as a fiddle. Had to give it up when it rained but that doesn't matter. I know exactly what needs to be done now. Reckon another ten or fifteen minutes, half hour tops. That's all. Finished. Done. She'll be tickin' over like a clock.'

‘Fannn-tastic! We'll get some photos of you in the car to go with your interview – you still up to doing it tonight?'

‘What interview's that, Tiffy?'

I feel miserable that he's forgotten so quickly, but I've learnt not to show it.

‘Your life story. I'm going to interview . . . hang on, Reggie.'

I stand up when the Shark comes into the kitchen.

‘Wondered where you got to.'

He's got his cup with him.

‘I'm just finishing this call.' I show him the mobile. ‘It's kind of important. Can you give me another minute? I'll make your tea and bring it in to you. I'll be quick.'

He puts his cup down and holds up his hands, palms towards me. ‘No rush – not if it's important. You carry on. I'll fix this.'

I can't believe it – he's making his own tea! Miracle!

‘You want me to get you a brew while I'm here?'

Double miracle!

‘No, I'm good. But thanks, Shark.'

He nods, drops in a tea bag, fills his cup with hot water and a drop of milk, and traipses off again.

‘Sorry, Reggie. That was my boss. I have to get to work.'

‘Aw, right. Of course. You go, luv.'

I can read Reggie's thoughts, just like he can read mine. There's something going on with him. It's there, written in his voice, plain as. He must be bored today, or lonely, or maybe he's worried about those test results. Whatever the reason, I know he doesn't want to get off the phone.

‘It's okay, Reggie, the job can survive without me for just a little bit longer.' I head back to my desk. ‘What were you saying before?'

He has to think a moment to pick up the thread. I usually let him find his way, but now I haven't got the time.

‘It was about the Falcon, Reggie. You almost got it going and then it rained–'

‘Yeah, I know all that. I wanted to tell yer somethin' else. I've been thinkin' about it for a good while.'

As I turn into the office I find that the Shark is looking directly at me.

Please, Reggie, get to the point, finish the story.

‘Tell me.'

‘All right . . . for a long time I had this idea that I'd get the Falcon goin' and then I'd take off for a big drive – get out of everyone's way for a while – didn't want to weigh anyone down, if I got sick, yer know?'

‘Reggie, what are you talking about? That is such–'

‘It's hard to work out sometimes . . . the right thing to do.'

‘Just ask
me
! Running away is wrong! You've always taught me that!'

‘Calm down, luv. I've decided it's not a good plan – that's what I'm tryin' to tell yer. I know you'd worry yerself sick. Couldn't do that to you. So you'll just have to put up with me. I'm stayin' right here.'

‘Good! And don't you ever think of leaving us, Reggie. We'll hunt you down if you do – and you'll be so sorry.'

‘I'm shakin' in me shoes.'

‘You should be, too.'

‘Now listen – about the Falcon. I'm not touchin' her till you and Bull get home. I want you both here when that motor kicks over.'

‘We'll be there.'

‘Good-oh. And you can get some pictures of Bull's jaw droppin' to the floor, too. How many times has that bloke said I'd never get it–'

‘I'm sorry, Reggie. I really have to go now. I'll be in trouble if I don't.'

‘You scoot then. I'll see yer later. Love you, Tiffy.'

He hangs up before I can say it back to him.

‘Now i'll give you a demo on how we gather news.' The Shark dials a phone number as he speaks. ‘First thing you learn in this job is that any kind of extreme weather means you've got a story. Heavy rain like that has to cause damage, right? So you ring the emergency services, find out what's–' He turns his back to me as the call is answered. ‘Harvey, me old mate! No, I'm not dead yet, try to be patient. Now, Harv, that was some wild weather we had. Bet your phones have been runnin' hot, have they? Yeah? Yeah? Is that right? You got some addresses for me, chief?'

He frantically scribbles a message and hands it to me.
Flash floods, trees down. Get Jord!

All morning we trawl the streets, Jordie snapping photos of the debris while the Shark fronts up to distressed householders with his notebook, pen, and a ton of nerve. I gladly obey his order to stick close behind him. I'd hide under his coat if he let me.

The people we meet are all having a shocker of a day. They might have splintered branches strewn across their yards, or a gaping hole in the roof with a chunk of tree sticking out of it like a giant's spear. We find a group of houses where surging water from a creek has swept inside; not deep, but still ruining everything in its path. The owners have already stacked most of their furniture in their backyards, and as we arrive they're reefing up the carpets. It's not a good time to be out looking to have a chat.

Some people are teary and despondent, and others can't believe it. A few are just angry and spoiling for a fight. With anyone. And then suddenly a reporter is in their face with his nosey questions. It isn't the power of the media I feel today; it's the hatred of it.

The Shark gets ignored a lot and told to mind his own business; and sworn at, and voices are raised. But though he's fast getting old, I still see a coiled-up force in him that no one wants to challenge. He brushes off the threats and shoulders his way through to the next person, and then the next, until at last someone gives their name and explains what happened and how they feel. And while they're talking, Jordie freezes time with one click, and they don't even seem to notice. Then we bundle back into the car and find another place hit by the storm, and do it all again.

‘We might almost have enough.' The Shark scans his notes. ‘Yeah, one more and we're done.'

It's only a handful of minutes later that I see Adiba. She's standing with her dad in front of a car, a fallen tree beside it.

‘Stop, Jordie.' I touch his shoulder. ‘That girl used to go to my school.'

We jump out of the car and Adiba's eyes light up.

‘Tiffney!' She's the only one who ever called me that. ‘What are you doing here?'

It's easy to talk to Adiba – she's always been nice – and so I tell her about work experience, and she and her dad tell us about how they were in the car when the tree came down, just missing them.

‘Be all right if I grab a photo?' asks Jordie.

‘Sweet!'

Walking away, Jordie says, ‘That should be a great pic. Might be front page material.'

The Shark gives me a nod. Coming from him, it's as good as having a medal pinned on me.

‘Time to pack it in,' he says. ‘We've got all we need.'

- - + - -

It feels strange to listen in as the Shark and Jordie talk about their morning's work, like two soldiers reliving a battle. I don't feel part of that at all. And I can clearly see the things that are wrong with what they do: they take advantage of people's bad luck, and go to work on them when they're vulnerable. Yet the storm and all the havoc is news, and they have to get their stories. The main difference between me and them is that they've learnt to distance themselves emotionally from what they report. I can't do that. Nowhere near. I wonder how long it'll take before I learn how it's done . . . And then I wonder if I ever want to learn something like that.

The Shark cuts into my thoughts.

‘You did all right.'

‘Thanks,' I tell him, half-heartedly.

‘You listened, didn't you? Took it all in? Got some good experience?'

‘I guess.'

‘Didn't run off? Didn't complain?'

‘No.'

‘Well, I've had 'em do all that. Some of these work experiences you get landed with, they won't even get out of the car. You can ask Jord.'

‘That's for sure,' Jordie replies.

‘But I didn't really do anything – except talk to Adiba. I wouldn't have done that if I hadn't known her. I'm too shy to go up to strangers like you do.'

‘Most of us start out that way,' he says. ‘But every time you go out you'll get better.'

I wish I could believe that.

The Shark finds me again in the rear-vision mirror.

‘You know how yesterday we had a bit of a dust-up – about that girl?'

I nod.

‘Well, what about today? You were in the thick of things. How'd you go? Have any problems with what we did?'

‘Not really . . . you were just doing your job.'

‘Not really.' He says it softly to himself to hear it again, to examine it.

As he does I realise that it sounds terrible. I should have said a flat ‘no' and smiled. That would have bought me time to work out how I really feel. But now the Shark swoops on my doubts. His eyes linger on mine, searching for the things unsaid. I can't hide from someone like him.

‘Shark?'

‘You've got my full attention.'

‘The truth is – I'm just not sure if I can be a journalist.'

‘Yeah?'

‘This is the job I've always wanted but it's not like I thought it would be.'

‘And how did you think it would be?'

‘That I'd be in the office most of the time – writing stories on the computer. I could probably learn to do that – with a lot of practice. But it's getting out and going to places like we did just now, where people are in trouble – that's where it's hard. I don't know if I could ever do what you did today. In fact, I'm pretty sure I couldn't.'

‘So what are you telling me? You want out – is that it? I don't want there to be any confusion. Just say what's in your gut.'

Though I can hear the words in my mind –
I'm sorry, Shark, but I don't think this job is for me
– I can't bring myself to say them to him.

In the end it doesn't really matter, because he takes my silence as an answer.

And he looks away.