Blaze (75 page)

There was the poignant follow-up story dated a few weeks later of the young girl who'd lost her mother – the late Katherine Anne Gruber. Her father, Alex Vidal, was now on remand in jail awaiting trial. The ten-year-old girl was pictured standing at Sydney Airport with a large tag pinned to her chest, staring defiantly at the camera like a frightened doe. The caption explained she was on her way to a new life with a distant cousin of her mother's in America.

It was Ali. Who now looked uncannily like the picture of her mother taken at the time of her death. They were approximately the same age. In the story, neighbours described the father as European. The family had no relatives in Australia.

Miche was overwhelmed by sadness for Ali. No wonder she had kept her past life a secret. Her father had been charged with manslaughter when it was found Ali's mother had died, before the fire engulfed the house, as a result of being struck by her husband. No wonder Ali hadn't been keen to come back to Australia. It was a terrible wound to re-open, thought Miche. But along with the sympathy she felt for Ali, came the disturbing knowledge that in her hands was a story that many journos and, no doubt, every city editor, would grab with relish. She could imagine how this would be played in the hands of a few of the less scrupulous journalists like Heather Race. She didn't imagine Nina or anyone else in the
Blaze
corporate scene knew about Ali's background. Miche shook her head in another spasm of shock at the horror revealed by the articles and the implications if the story was ever uncovered. It would ruin Ali's life. Everything she'd achieved as a successful editor, everything that meant so much to Ali would be washed away in the sensationalist discovery of her innocent part in this tragedy. As Miche folded the cuttings slowly, she reflected on how the lives of Ali and her own mother had come together from such remote and different pasts. Ali had been Lorraine's nemesis, and now Miche realised that she had the power to undo Ali by releasing what she knew.

The next question confronting Miche was what, if anything, she should do with this stunning knowledge? Ali had shut down her past and constructed a new history, burying the terrible secret that her father had killed her mother.

At least Miche's father was successful, respected and liked, from what Jeremy had said. How lucky she was. Whatever had happened between her mother and father, whatever pain she had suffered as the child of divorced parents, was nothing compared with the anguish Ali must feel.

Dozens of questions ran through her mind. Was Ali's father still in jail? Had Ali kept in touch with her father, how had she dealt with it, had she forgiven him? Ali had taken her mother's maiden name, and stayed in America. It didn't sound like the American aunt had worked out. Miche knew from what Nina and her mother had told her that Ali had turned up in New York at sixteen, another runaway, who worked at odd jobs, including cleaning Nina's house, before landing the job at
Blaze
as a gofer.

But the more she pondered over Ali, thinking back on small incidents, comments and her obsession with privacy, the more she realised what a shell Ali had built around herself.

Miche now understood Ali's reaction to her suggestion of doing the story on children who were the innocent victims of violent crime.

How close that must have hit Ali – no wonder she had tried to steer Miche away from the story. And yet the substitute story she agreed Miche could do was also risky. The Hunter Valley . . . the area where Ali had lived, the scene of her tragic secret. Miche thought back to how Ali had briefed her on the story to concentrate on the vineyards and to look for an upbeat angle that would appeal to the twenty and thirtysomethings who were investing in wines. It was a long way from one sad story in the fabric of a whole district. Ali had gambled that in researching such a story it would be most unlikely her secret past would be discovered. It was a calculated move to steer Miche away from writing about a subject that was so painful and so close to Ali's own story.

Miche was staggered when she looked at the overlapping connections between herself and Ali. Miche's mother, Lorraine, tormented by the ambitious, younger Ali. Nina throwing Miche and Ali together in a place where they both had to confront the memory of lost fathers. Then Miche ploughing into an emotional minefield of children who were victims of childhood abuse. Miche saw their similarities as well as their differences. How each had handled the situation so differently. They'd both lost their mothers and needed a father during their crucial growing years. Both were known by their mothers' maiden names. Ali was not the sort of person who liked people feeling sorry for her. Strangely, Miche felt suddenly protective of Ali. Then came a blinding realisation that this knowledge about Ali was a test. A powerful one.

The issue of ethics, the use and abuse of power and knowledge. Blackmail and persuasion, power and position. Talent, ability, creativity, integrity. On the big media merry-go-round these days, so many people believed everything could and should be manipulated for personal advantage. Loyalty counted for nothing. It was a matter of debate whether newspapers or magazines took the crown for bastardry. Since coming to Australia, Miche had heard all the arguments, all the opinions, again and again at dinner after dinner with journalists, over many a latte or bottle of red.

She thought back to the life her mother had lived in New York. The constant pressure and obsession with work. How her mother would never take time out to sit and watch a video, just veg out, or even go for a walk in the park. There was always something to do for the magazine. Her argument was that if she didn't put her work first there'd be no treats, no luxuries, no staying in their smart apartment. Lorraine had brushed aside Miche's childish pleas that all she wanted was her mother's full and constant attention for an hour or so.

Even when they went somewhere special it was generally connected to
Blaze
. The magazine world followed them home as Lorraine had vented her frustrated anger over the male hierarchy who treated her so badly. The constant refrain of her mother had been the fear of age, losing her beauty, and her job. Miche hadn't understood, she'd seen her mother as beautiful and talented and clever.

In this reflective state, Miche thought about the staff at
Blaze
in Sydney. The same problems her mother had faced years before in New York were still alive and well Down Under. Men ruled. Girls had to flirt or be devious and stab each other as well as their male competitors. The pretty, soft, new girls landed the best jobs over the experienced, better writers. She remembered one time in New York her mother and Nina becoming angry over a strong suggestion from a male executive that they find a woman psychologist to write a column – ‘Someone who is young and pretty.'

Lorraine had slammed her hand down on the table as she'd related the episode to a less than interested Miche – ‘And not a flicker of embarrassment when he said it! They still haven't learned!'

When Miche told her mother she wanted to write, Lorraine had urged her to keep away from the newsrooms of the metropolitan dailies. ‘It's usually a cesspit of piranhas,' she had warned. ‘Survival depends on the men's club. A mistake by a woman means a blotted copybook for years. The same mistake by a man is simply a learning experience that can be smoothed over with a beer or two.' Miche had found it difficult to believe until she started her career in print. Still, she hoped the new and fast-changing world of magazines, into which she was trying to make her way, would somehow find a solution to many of these issues and provide a more satisfying and fulfilling opportunity for women who wanted to write, to communicate in the mass media. At this stage, she wasn't quite sure how it was all going to work out. But she was glad she was freelancing, rather than being tied to one office and its internal politics. Miche was determined not to touch the nest egg her mother had left, and while it was a struggle to find the rent, she had flexibility and freedom.

It was with an effort that she forced her mind back to the necessity of focusing on the Hunter Valley research and, after a concentrated effort, was able to nut out a concept of how she could structure a fairly interesting yarn. But then, as she packed up her notes and laptop, once again into the forefront of her mind came the knowledge that in a day or two she would be meeting her long-lost father.

Ironically there was only one person in the world Miche felt she could share her fears with who would truly understand how she felt – and that was Ali.

This time when Nina and Lucien embraced at the airport departure lounge, it was not tinged with overwhelming sadness, but with joy knowing they would soon be settled together in Sydney. They had been back in touch with Mara in Croatia to confirm that the local authorities had suspended the casino proposal pending Nina's application for restoration of her family's home. Nina had no doubt she would win. Now Nina's energy and enthusiasm was directed at setting up a village school. A teacher had returned to her family home in the village and was willing to run it. Nina and Lucien agreed to help. Nina had already begun to make notes about the logistics of establishing schools at the two new children's homes. ‘We'll be out in the spring, Mara, laden like pack mules,' promised Lucien. He was writing a character into his film based on the indomitable Mara.

*

Back at
Blaze
, Belinda, who was privy to Nina's plans, was having trouble keeping her mouth zipped. Instead, she kept smiling and looking, Barbara declared, like the cat who'd swallowed the cream. Plans were under way for Ali's farewell bash and a favoured newspaper journalist had been given the exclusive about Ali's promotion to splash in a positive spread. News about Ali's replacement was being down-played, though columnists speculated the new editor of
Blaze
was unlikely to be a major high-profile appointment.

Nina, publisher and editor-in-chief, was back at the helm, and the trade assumption was that the magazine would hum along quite smoothly and competently.

Jeremy tried to be as attentive and caring as he could towards Miche in an effort to make the coming meeting of father and daughter as amicable as possible. Without elaborating to Miche, he had many long conversations with Gordon Birchmont, telling him what he knew about Miche, how they'd met, what she was like and, without breaking personal confidences, what he thought Miche's fears and dreams may be.

‘Look, Gordon, I have to confess I'm rather smitten with Miche. She's very special to me. It's early days in our relationship, but I've never felt like this about a girl before.'

‘I appreciate your sharing that with me. I have to confess, Jeremy, that I haven't had anyone with whom I could talk about the sudden appearance in my life of the daughter I last held in my arms when she was five.'

Jeremy was glad he had a professional friendship with Gordon that had allowed him to step into this sensitive area. His role of bringing Miche and her father together was now weighing on him. It brought a huge sense of responsibility and the fear he might lose her. What if there were animosity, pain, guilt and anger between Miche and Gordon that could then be directed at him? Meddling in people's private lives, crashing through barriers in place for years, made him feel like the proverbial bull in a china shop. The fact that Miche stubbornly rejected the idea that she speak on the telephone to her father before the meeting worried him. The stand suggested a tension that Miche was not able to explain to herself, let alone Jeremy.

It was arranged that Gordon would arrive ahead of the other delegates at the mini wine convention and stay at a motel nearby. Jeremy had told Helen and Steve about the circumstances – with permission – of Miche and Gordon. Once over the initial shock and delight, they were supportive and offered whatever help they could. They refrained from making any judgements, even though they knew and liked Gordon Birchmont, were fond of Miche and privately thrilled about the obviously growing attraction between Miche and Jeremy, who had become more of a surrogate son than employee.

Feeling the need to unburden himself about the situation, Jeremy had talked it over with his parents in Melbourne. And, while they didn't know Miche and were a little concerned he might be interfering too much, they believed he had done the right thing.

Miche changed clothes four times, trying to decide what to wear. She was shocked at how nervous she felt. ‘This is worse than going to the dentist, a job interview and to court all rolled into one,' she told Jeremy.

He stood back and threw out his arms. ‘Miche, you're gorgeous. You look lovely. Just right.' She'd chosen a simple dark wool skirt, a soft pale blue cashmere sweater and the unusual blue bead and gold earrings designed by Kevin Friedman she'd bought in Paris. Her blonde hair fell smoothly to her shoulders and she'd taken pains with her make-up – a subtle look that was artfully achieved. Jeremy took her hand, ‘Anyway, he's bound to be more nervous than you are.' While he had no idea what had happened between Gordon and Miche's mother, he imagined Gordon was the one on the defensive.

With Jeremy acting as go-between, they agreed to meet in a small restaurant near Gordon's motel. Gordon had suggested eleven-thirty for an aperitif rather than lunch, leaving Miche the opportunity to escape early depending on how their meeting went. Jeremy knew the owner of the restaurant and he reserved a table on the terrace that was secluded and promised not to book other tables close by to give them privacy.

It turned out to be a magnificent sunny day and Jeremy was in high spirits as he drove Miche to the restaurant.

‘Fantastic day, isn't it,' he enthused. ‘This is when the Hunter is at its best. And I think it augurs well.'

‘I hope you're right‚' replied Miche softly.

‘Nervous?'

‘A little.'

‘I'd be surprised if you weren't. Remember, I'll be right alongside you in spirit.'