Making Headlines (23 page)

‘Yes, I suppose you're right. Still, even if you could give me some idea of what
you like. Actually I was hoping you could come shopping with me, but I guess that's going to be tricky with you working weekends. Although, you never know how things change in our business.' Julia raised her eyebrows at Rachel and began whistling softly as she flipped through pages with a knowing smile.

‘And what's that about, Miss Subtlety?' said Rachel, bemused.

‘Just a couple of rumours flying around that our esteemed Mary Masterson might be leaving for greener pastures.'

‘Oh, really?' Rachel tried to sound surprised, then let her face drop. ‘Actually, you could be right because I heard the same thing. I don't think it'll mean anything for me though.'

‘Why not? You're doing a brilliant job, and the bosses can't ignore the skyrocketing ratings.'

‘I just don't want to get my hopes up.'

‘Well, don't then. But it's definitely worth keeping an eye on. And you need to make it known you want the gig.'

‘Oh, I know, I know. Although . . .' Rachel paused, fishing in her handbag and pulling out a crumpled letter. ‘If it brings on more of these, I don't think I want it. That stalker guy is back.' She handed it over.

Julia scanned the page.
‘
What a pig! Oh, Rach, this is the worst one yet. Surely you've shown Helmut?'

‘Oh God, no! You know he turned against me a while back. I don't think he'd help at all. I'm trying to convince myself this guy is just some harmless nutter. If I keep ignoring him, he's sure to stop.'

‘I hope you're right.' Julia looked doubtful. ‘I suppose lots of people on TV attract weird fans. But you'll have to make Helmut take this seriously if they become regular again.'

‘I don't think I could
make
Helmut do anything. In the meantime, I'm better off sucking up at Friday night drinks in case the Mary rumour is true.'

‘Yes. Poor you. I could think of nothing worse.'

Rachel sighed and clinked glasses with Julia, knocking back the wine. The slow numbing sensation was a relief.

***

The next Friday Rachel finished her story early and spent an hour at her desk, wondering if she dared approach Helmut about drinks in his office. But he was nowhere to be seen.
She could hear Rob passing out beers to reporters. Best grab a drink now so she could waltz into Helmut's office when he returned, showing she was keen. Not that she wanted to stay long. She was due at a girls' dinner at eight.

Pouring herself a wine, Gerard came up, chatting happily about his new role as state rounds reporter. Over his shoulder, she saw Helmut walk into his office and close the door. He sat typing at his computer, not a drink in sight.

When Gerard finished, she excused herself and grabbed a beer. Unsure if she was doing the right thing, she knocked gently on Helmut's door then pushed it ajar.

‘Hi,' she said brightly. ‘Looks like you're working hard, so I thought you might like a beer.' She moved inside, placing the stubby on his desk. ‘Mind if I join you?'

He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his thinning red strands. ‘Ah, thanks but not right now. I've got a lot on my plate.'

‘Right then. No problem.' She went to leave, wishing she'd never come.

‘Was there something you wanted to talk about? You don't stay back often these days.'

She turned around. His eyes were tired and cynical. ‘Oh, no, just thought we'd chew over the week.'

‘Uh huh. Well, I'll join you lot later. Got an announcement to make.' He reached for the beer and took a swig.

‘Okay. See you later then.' Head racing, Rachel returned to the reporters. Would the announcement be about Mary? Was she really leaving? She wished Mitch was working so she could talk to him. Instead, she returned to Gerard and his entertaining stories.

Just before the news ended, Helmut appeared. ‘Okay you lot, don't think about leaving. Grab another drink and I'll be back in a mo' to tell you something that's pretty important to all of us.' He took another beer from Rob's desk and left the newsroom.

Everyone stared after him and the buzz of conversation rose to fever pitch. He returned in five minutes with Mary Masterson at his side. She walked with her head held high and a superior smirk. Helmut's face was grim. They stood in front of the TV monitors, facing the pack.

Helmut clapped his hands. ‘Righto, a bit of attention, if you please. I know rumours have been spreading like bushfires and it's time to set things straight. Mary has been with us a good five years and done a fine job.'

‘Hear, hear!' Jack Nolan had just arrived and helped himself to a beer.

‘Thanks, Jack.' He paused to scratch his crotch. ‘Well, as I was saying, Mary's done a great job but has decided to move on. She's starting at SBS in a couple of weeks, hosting an international current affairs show. So congratulations, Mary. We wish you well.' He raised his beer. Most joined in with congratulatory murmurs and sporadic clapping. Rachel's heart pounded. Helmut hadn't moved. There was more to come.

‘So I guess you lot want to know who will fill her shoes. Luckily Mary gave us the heads up a while back, so we've been searching high and low and we've come up with a real winner.'

Rachel slumped against the bookshelf. She hadn't even been considered.

Helmut continued. ‘Yep, she's a right looker this one. Name's Carlin Williamson and she's a Sydney bird. Funny name, I know. Apparently it means “little champion” or something, so here's hoping she'll be a damn big champion in the ratings! And she's sure as hell skinny, so the “little” part is right.' He eyeballed Rachel. She could feel her skirt straining at the seams. Her heart sank.

‘So that's all the news for now, folks.' Helmut laughed at his own joke. ‘Enjoy your weekend, and let's make sure we give Carlin a big welcome when she starts in two weeks.'

Rob tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Better luck next time, love. See, I told you. Need to
work
harder, eh?'

‘I know exactly what you mean.' She kept her voice low. ‘It's just that there are some aspects of my
work
that aren't very appealing.'

‘And what exactly are they, Rachel?' Helmut joined them, his voice flinty.

‘Oh, nothing, nothing. An in-joke.' She gulped some wine. ‘Well, that was one big announcement. I had heard Mary might be leaving. I was hoping to talk to you about being considered for the role, but you'd obviously already chosen someone.'

Helmut grunted loudly. ‘Ha! Are you kidding? You've only been reading weekends for a blink, you're not ready for the main gig, girlie.'

Rachel shrank inside.

Rob joined Helmut, chortling. ‘Oh, mate, maybe we should start up another bulletin for Rachel? You know, like that one on cable telly. The “Nude News”, isn't it?' They both roared with laughter.

‘Nah, no mate. That would only work if Rachel
wasn't
reading.' More raucous laughing.

‘Or perhaps,' said Rob, ‘she could read alongside Brent Garrison. He's back in
town after a stint overseas and wants me to write him a reference. What a great couple, hey?'

That was enough. ‘Gee, with an act like that, you guys should go in the Comedy Festival next year. Goodnight,
gentlemen
.'

Rachel walked off, a nauseous sensation rising up from her stomach. When she got home, she googled Carlin Williamson and found dozens of pictures of an ethereal blonde with vacant green eyes and fragile features. She could have been a model. No wonder she'd been given the gig. Beauty was a currency that never fluctuated. Rachel just wished she had more dollars in the bank and fewer kilos on her backside.

She wasn't in the mood for a girls' night. She'd have to order a salad for main course and discourage the girls from having the dessert platter. Although surely an espresso martini was acceptable? A few of those were guaranteed to dull the pain.

***

The following evening, Mitch looked at his plate and then at Rachel's. ‘So you're serious about this diet then?'

‘You bet I am. You should have seen the way those bastards looked at me, like I was a beached whale.'

Kate was working so they had the house to themselves. While she'd cooked for Mitch before, she still liked to make a fuss. She'd chopped up a mango and avocado salsa with pine nuts for the chicken fillets, made a large green salad and a Moroccan carrot dish. But after last night's comments, she couldn't bring herself to eat.

‘They're just dickheads,' said Mitch. ‘They probably weren't even being serious, just having a go for the sake of it. You know how it works.'

‘I do. But I also know I've put on weight and it's up to me to do something about it. So I'm going to an early spin class tomorrow. And counting calories. Every day.'

‘That's not going to be much fun. Are you having a wine with me when we watch that DVD?' He reached his foot under the table to stroke her ankle.

She smiled coyly. ‘Why do you think I'm having such a small dinner? Of course I'll have a wine. Or two. Anyway, I think it's more than just my weight that stopped me getting the reading gig.' She put down her cutlery.

‘You mean Helmut?'

‘Yeah. He turned after I stopped having Friday drinks with him. He's hated me ever since. It's so trivial . . .' She pushed her plate aside and went to get the wine from the fridge.

‘Not for him. He's all about ego. You do have to watch him, you know.' Mitch looked at her with concern. ‘There's so many stories, not only the shit he's given you. Just be careful. He's clever and he's manipulative.'

‘I sometimes wonder if he's the creepy stalker writing those foul letters.'

‘So do I,' said Mitch. ‘I heard he once visited a newsreader he had a crush on at night, trying to get into her house through the back door.'

Rachel cringed as she filled Mitch's glass. ‘That's revolting. But he couldn't be the stalker, surely? No, he'll just sabotage my career instead. I don't think I've got a chance of getting anywhere at Six while he's news director.'

‘You could try elsewhere. I could help you put together a DVD of some of your better newsreading efforts. Maybe send them to other networks, if you like?'

She planted herself on his knee, kissing him full on the mouth. ‘Now
that
is a great idea,' she said. Then her face fell. ‘But if he found out I was looking elsewhere, it'd get even worse.'

Mitch drew her around so she sat astride him. ‘You wouldn't have to worry about that, the other news directors are pretty good on confidentiality. They have to be. And if you are worried, maybe try interstate first?'

‘You're so clever.' She kissed him on the forehead. ‘But what about us? Would you come with me?' She nuzzled into his neck.

‘I'd go anywhere with you.' Mitch pulled her closer.

‘That must mean you love me,' she whispered in his ear.

He cupped her face in his hands. ‘I
do
love you, Rachel Bentley.'

She paused, looking into eyes, clear and true. ‘I love you too,' she mouthed.

‘Say it out loud.'

She breathed in slowly. ‘I love you too.'

Julia tapped Rachel on the arm and hissed, ‘Quick, here she comes. Check out the legs!'

Carlin Williamson was gliding towards them. Julia clicked away at her keyboard while Rachel snuck a look. The petite blonde was gazing upwards at nothing in particular as she floated off to the editors' lounge. Her legs were like matchsticks. Julia was right. She was skinnier than ever.

When Carlin was out of earshot, Julia leaned across. ‘See? She's wasting away. And she's a space cadet. Gerard reckons she's on Valium because she can't cope with the pressure. Looks like she's anorexic.'

‘Wouldn't be surprised, with the grief Helmut gives her,' Rachel said tightly. She'd watched Helmut berate Carlin in front of others about her newsreading performance. If she was fragile to begin with, it was no wonder she wasn't coping.

‘Derek says the newspapers are onto it. Says their TV writer claims she's going to get sacked any minute. You see, they should have picked you from the start.' Julia nodded smugly.

Rachel wondered if she should feel vindicated. She didn't. She felt sorry Carlin.

Flushed from the summer heat, Gerard raced in, bursting with news. ‘Girls, girls, girls, have I got some goss for you!' he gushed. ‘Hold on, I'll be back.' He swept over to his desk and sprayed his face with Evian water. ‘Phew, it's a stinker out there. Got to keep hydrated.'

‘Get on with it, Gerard. We've got stories to finish,' Rachel said.

‘So do I, so do I.' He combed his hair with his fingers then leaned over the partition, lowering his voice. ‘I just heard on the road that Carlin is getting dumped on Friday. Can you believe it? Shortest newsreading career in history. Although not surprising. Perhaps it could be good for someone?' He raised his eyebrows at Rachel encouragingly.

‘Oh, I don't think so. Not under Helmut's rule.'

‘I still don't understand why he hates you,' said Gerard.

‘It's hard to explain.'

‘Darling, I think it was that David Jones pash . . .' said Gerard, wagging a finger. ‘Bet he was downright furious you weren't sticking your tongue down his throat.'

‘It's a long story and there could be a skerrick of truth in your theory,' said Rachel wearily. ‘But it doesn't really matter. He just hates me.'

‘Maybe,' he said, smiling. ‘But if the Carlin rumour's true, it puts them on the spot to find someone quickly. You could be the anointed one.' He spritzed her.

‘He's right, Rach,' said Julia. ‘Helmut mightn't have a choice.'

She looked at their hopeful faces. Even though she wanted the gig, she'd rather it came about through happier circumstances. Yet it was often the way. Rarely did a newsreading position become available that wasn't at the expense of someone else's career ending miserably.

***

By Friday, Rachel had cause to believe the rumours. Helmut's new secretary, Mandy, sauntered over to deliver her mail and advised her to stay for drinks after the news as Helmut had an announcement. Rachel watched her sashay back to her desk, red pouty lips and full swaying hips making her miss Shirley all the more.

Shirley had retired at Christmas and when she left, the newsroom lost some of its soul. It was a low-key send-off with a few drinks after the news on a Friday night, with Helmut making a lacklustre, cursory speech. He'd given her a gold-plated clock for her mantelpiece as a farewell present, which Shirley said would go straight to the op shop. They'd caught up for coffee since, but Shirley still looked pale and thin. Being forced into an early retirement was like a bad divorce where she'd lost custody of the kids. The newsroom had been her life for twenty years. Mandy was nice enough, but preferred using her spare time to paint her nails rather than remember people's birthdays or the names of their children.

Sighing, Rachel reached for her mail then drew a sharp breath at the writing on the second envelope. Another letter from the stalker. She hesitated then slowly opened it.

Dear Rachel,

What was love is now just as intense, because I hate you so much, it feels good. You fucking slut. Although you never write back, I know you read my words. I like knowing that I get inside your head. I promise we'll meet very, very soon and I will make you very, VERY happy. Before I slash you with my knife. I want you to feel the pain that I feel. And watch you bleed.

Not long, you whore . . . We will meet very soon.

Your Devoted Admirer. X.'

Rachel crumpled the letter and threw it in the bin, before retrieving it and trying to smooth it out. She knew she had to keep all his revolting letters in case she needed to show either Helmut or the police. Two months ago she'd brought up the letters again with Helmut, giving him one to read. He still thought them amusing. She'd insisted they were threatening and that something should be done. Eventually he said he had a copper mate he'd talk to, but it seemed he never did. This was a definitive death threat. He had to take it seriously now.

She heard Julia call her name. She was beckoning from an edit suite. Curious, Rachel walked over.

‘Quick, come in here.' She was flushed and smiling, and slid the door shut after her.

‘What is it?'

‘You're such a crap bridesmaid because you work weekends, I decided we should workshop stuff here. Only we can't let everyone else see because they'll think it's time wasting.' Julia sat her down. ‘This is crucial! I want you to help pick my wedding dress. I've been shopping with my sisters and we've narrowed it down to three. What do you think?' She handed Rachel a bunch of photos. ‘At least Derek and I seem to be on the same page. Neither of us likes anything too fussy.'

Rachel flipped through the pictures. ‘They're all gorgeous, Jules. God, you've lost weight. You'll have to give me some tips.'

‘Thanks. No special tips. Just stress and desperation.'

‘Oh, well I've got those down pat already.' She grimaced. ‘This is hard. They're all lovely . . .'

‘Um, Rach, there's another thing we need to talk about.' Julia wrinkled her nose.

‘Yeah?'

‘Well . . . um . . . you know Derek and Tim are mates? The thing is, Derek has asked Tim to be one of his groomsmen. Will that be a problem for you?'

Rachel realised she hadn't thought about Tim for ages. ‘Nope, shouldn't be a problem. Not for me, anyway.' She paused. ‘Yep, just checked my feelings, and they're fine with it. Honestly, I'm just so happy with Mitch.' She returned to the photos. She really was fine.

‘That's such a relief,' said Julia. ‘You have no idea how long I've been worrying
about it.'

‘I think this is the one, Jules.' She picked out a photo of Julia in a strapless gown with a beaded bodice. Uneven layers of fabric in different tones of white made up a full skirt. ‘It's perfect, and very flattering.'

‘I love that one too, and so does Mum. So I guess that's it.' She looked at Rachel nervously.

‘Relax, Jules, it's divine. You'll be the perfect bride.'

‘And you'll be the perfect bridesmaid.' She put the photos back in a folder and stood up. ‘Better get back to work. You're staying for Helmut's announcement? This could be your chance.'

‘Don't count on it.' Rachel sighed. ‘I think I'm destined to always be the bridesmaid.'

***

After the bulletin finished Helmut stood before the newsroom staff. No Carlin in sight. The group was unusually silent as they waited for him. He shuffled his feet, eyes darting around the room, then cleared his throat.

‘Well, I didn't expect to be back here quite so soon with another announcement over a change in newsreaders, but, as we all know, television can be an unpredictable industry.' He coughed into his hand. ‘It appears Carlin Williamson has some . . .' He rolled his eyes, ‘. . . health issues she needs to address, so she's taking indefinite leave. Which means we need to find another newsreader pretty damn quickly.' Frowning, he glanced at Rachel and her temples pounded. Perhaps it
was
her turn after all?

He continued. ‘We don't want to make any rash decisions. But we have found a lovely young woman from Queensland who has left weekend reading at Channel Eight and happens to have moved down to Melbourne. Name's Suzanne Holder. But we're not signing her on just yet. She's here on a one-month trial and we'll take it from there.'

Rachel felt her face flush and stared at the floor, feeling everyone's eyes upon her. Overlooked again.

***

Before the next weekend news shift, Rachel wandered along Chapel Street on her way to meet Lou for coffee and shopping. It was a humid, windy morning, the heat already soaking into the asphalt and giving off steely fumes when trams rattled by. Blustery weather usually made her irritable, but today she just felt numb.

She passed her favourite shops but she had no interest in fashion. Since Helmut's
announcement, she'd been flat all week. Not even Rex had been able to lift her spirits. She'd considered cancelling today, but Lou wanted help choosing an outfit for a special party that evening.

She nabbed an outdoor table at the cafe where they were meeting, and took a pile of letters from her handbag. They were the other reason she hadn't cancelled. She hoped that Lou, with her new career as an art therapist, might be able to help. Yes, at first she'd been sceptical of the profession, but Lou's success stories about clients had changed her mind. And she was becoming desperate.

‘Hi, Rach!' Lou waved from across the street. She was hopping out of a car, taking her time to kiss Neil and Josh goodbye, while a motorist honked at the hold up.

‘Hi there,' puffed Lou, leaning over the table to peck Rachel's cheek. ‘Sorry to keep you. Trying to get those two organised is a bloody nightmare!'

‘That's okay. I've ordered coffee.'

‘Great, can't wait to hit the shops. Been ages since I've checked out Chapel Street.' Lou looked up and down the street, eyes bright and expectant.

Rachel wished she felt like that. ‘So how's the new job?'

‘Oh, just brilliant. I absolutely love it, Rach. How's things for you? Mum told me you missed out on the main newsreading spot again. I
am
sorry, you know.'

Rachel could see she meant it. It was astonishing how much nicer Lou had become since she'd started working again. ‘Thanks. The only upside is that the new girl, Suzanne what's-her-name, is actually dreadful. I shouldn't be happy, but I am. She's got the most coarse ocker accent. Lots of viewers are complaining, saying she's always making mistakes and mispronouncing words.'

She moved her letters to the side of the table as their skinny lattes arrived.

Lou reached for her cup. ‘I did see her one night. She's a shocker. Her inflexions are all over the place.'

‘Exactly,' said Rachel. ‘And her position isn't guaranteed. Helmut said she's here on a trial basis.'

‘Brilliant. We'll start a campaign of phoning the network to complain about her.'

Rachel laughed. ‘No, don't do that. They might keep a record of phone numbers calling in and then I'd be busted!'

A gust of wind blew one of Rachel's letters into the air and she caught it before it was swept away. ‘Oh, Lou, I wanted to show you these. Mind taking a look before we hit the shops?'

‘Sure.'

She pushed the letters across the table. ‘At first they were pretty lame, but now they're getting worse. More sexual and threatening. I've shown them to Helmut but I don't think he's done anything. I just wondered, because of your course, if you might have any advice?' She sat there waiting while Lou unfolded each letter and read them one by one, eyes widening as she drew breath at the threats.

‘Oh, Rach, these are bad. He's writing as if he knows you. God, this is serious.' She clasped Rachel's hand. ‘I hate to say this, but I am concerned. This guy is obsessive, delusional and narcissistic. What is security like at work? Is there any chance he may have been able to get your home address?'

‘Security's good and no one is allowed to give out home addresses. But he wrote that I look sexy in my gym gear. That means he might even be a member at the gym. He could have followed me home. How would I know?'

Lou started flipping through the letters again to find the gym reference. She nodded slowly. ‘You're right, Rach, you need to show the gym manager and the police. This is scary stuff.'

‘I know. But I'm also worried about Helmut. What if someone leaked this to the media? He'd be furious. He even said that if it got out, it could spark copycat stalkers.'

Lou sat back, her face darkening. ‘This Helmut character sounds equally vile. In fact, are you sure it's not him who's the stalker? I mean, he did have a
thing
for you at the beginning, didn't he?'

Rachel snorted. ‘Mitch wondered that too, but no, I don't think it's him. He hates me. This guy wants to hurt me, but he also wants to sleep with me.'

‘Exactly!' said Lou. ‘Helmut is a nutcase. Maybe he wants to frighten you away from a job in the limelight? Maybe he wants you to leave, but a part of him is attracted to you.'

‘Lord . . . I wonder . . . No, it couldn't be . . . It's too far-fetched. Helmut? No.'

‘I think it's a serious possibility.' Lou sipped her coffee. ‘It's definitely worth raising with HR. You have to tell them what's going on, just in case. They have to keep everything confidential.'

Rachel nodded.

‘Oh, and Rach? Lou leaned forward, her elbows on the table and hands clasped. ‘I'm so glad you shared this with me. It's been kind of hard, watching you career soar while I was just a stay-at-home mum. In a weird way, I feel like this problem is actually
bringing us closer. That you respect my opinion.'