Making Headlines (24 page)

‘I always respected your opinion and you being a stay-at-home mum!' Rachel took her hands, squeezing tightly. ‘Oh, Lou, what wouldn't I give to have a child like Joshie? You're my big sister. I've always looked up to you. Surely you know that?'

‘No, I didn't. In fact, I thought the opposite.' Lou pulled back her hands, gulping down the last of her coffee. ‘But thank you. That means a lot. Come on, you start work at one. Let's get shopping. And don't forget these.' She handed Rachel the letters. as they stood to leave.

Rachel popped them in her handbag and gave Lou a hug. It was good to have her support and friendship. She'd make an effort to be a better sister in the future. As they walked off, Rachel looked at men passing by, checking their faces, wondering whether she was being followed.

‘So there you go,' Steven Cohen said sternly. ‘This may seem unprecedented, but as we all know, strange things happen in television. Perhaps it'll be third time lucky, eh?'

Rachel stared at the general manager, trying to appear calm, as she sat in his opulent office for the first time. It didn't seem real. Her mind was in over-drive. He spoke to her as if he was issuing a reprimand — probably to cover his embarrassment about having to replace two newsreaders in less than six months. He'd been left with no choice. It didn't matter. All she had to do was maintain composure despite wanting to swing from the rafters and squeal with joy at the top of her lungs.

She had just been offered a one-year contract reading the main news bulletin at Network Six.

It was the article in last Sunday's newspaper that had sealed Suzanne Holder's fate. An exclusive story reported that not only had the network received an overwhelming number of complaints about her, the
Morning Herald
itself had been inundated with hundreds of negative emails and letters. Sunday's scathing editorial from the paper's TV writer was the final kick that killed Suzanne's career. The backlash was too strong for management to ignore.

Steven handed Rachel a wad of paperwork. ‘Of course, you might like to get a lawyer to look over the details but when it comes to your financial remuneration, but that's the final figure. You have to remember you are being offered this position in unusual circumstances and you are rather young for the role.'

A loud snort of derision came from her left. She turned to see Helmut shaking his head.

‘Too right she's too young. And if Sydney hadn't interfered, she wouldn't be sitting here now.'

Rachel felt like one of Henry the Eighth's wives. There'd already been a couple of executions. Her initial excitement subsided. Perhaps she'd be the sixth wife, who survived. She needed to phone Adam Montague. He'd done a good job with her last contract and she needed to make sure this one was watertight.

‘Ah, Helmut you're a right bastard, you are!' Steven chortled. ‘Don't you worry,
Rachel. His bark's worse than his bite. Once this old bugger calms down and remembers what an outstanding newsreader you are, he'll be fine. He's just a mite miffed the decision was taken out of his hands, aren't you, buddy?' He winked at Helmut. ‘Don't you worry now, love,' he said. ‘It'll all be hunky-dory.' He flashed a perfect set of shining dentures and put out his hand to shake hers. She was about to leave when he called out. ‘Oh, Rachel? You can move into your new office on Monday.'

Not sure if she really wanted to be separated from her friends in the newsroom, she smiled and thanked him anyway.

***

It happened so quickly. Rachel began reading the main news on Monday, without a signed contract. It was on its way to Adam's office and he'd promised to give it top priority. Reading her first bulletin passed in a blur of excitement. As she left the studio with Jack Nolan, the rush of adrenalin started to subside, but it still felt quite surreal.

Jack threw his arm around her shoulders. ‘Well done, young lady! A fine job. Much better than those other two. I know we'll get it right this time.' He squeezed, drawing her close. He smelt slightly musty, as if his coat had been among mothballs a tad too long.

They walked into the newsroom and cheering erupted. A crowd of about thirty people filled the producers' area. Rachel stopped in her tracks. No one stayed back for the bulletin on a Monday. Her surprise translated into something between a hiccup and a giggle. She covered her mouth and laughed.

She took in the faces — Julia, Gerard, and Dan. Even Kevin and Jeff had stayed back, along with several of the cameramen. Surprisingly, Ned, her favourite producer was there too. He rarely socialised. And of course, Mitch. There he was with his wide, proud smile and eyes shining blue.

Helmut came towards her. She braced herself.

‘Well done,' he said gruffly, thrusting a glass of wine at her. ‘Even made sure it was Sav Blanc. Just for your first night mind you.' With that he walked off.

***

The bonhomie didn't last. By some miracle, Adam had managed to wring more money out of the network, making her salary quite reasonable. Rachel knew it was probably a quarter of the pay Jack Nolan received, but she was happy. Helmut was not. It was as though she'd stolen money from his own wallet.

Her new postage-stamp-sized office was a trap. When she was at her desk,
Helmut could swing past whenever he pleased, throw an insult without anyone hearing, and walk off. Rachel had no recourse. If she made any slip-ups during the bulletin, he would be by her office in a flash.

By the end of the second week, her stress levels were peaking. The smallest fracture in her day left her feeling like someone had raked fingernails down a blackboard. Now it was Friday and she had ten minutes to finish writing her last update before the six o'clock bulletin.

It was hard to concentrate. Mandy had just delivered a letter. Another missive from her Devoted Admirer. She shouldn't open it. She needed to focus on writing her update. But it was taunting her, sitting there on her desk. No, she would be strong and concentrate on work. Better not to give him the power. She shoved the letter under a newspaper on her desk.

Typing away, she heard a knock. Helmut was at her door.

‘Mind if I come in?' Without waiting for a reply, he landed heavily in the chair opposite. A sour odour drifted her way. He'd been to a long lunch. ‘So . . .' He leaned into her. ‘You like your new office?'

‘Yes, thanks, it's great. Look, I really have to finish this update and—'

‘And I bet you like your new contract. Quite a job your lawyer did, eh? Saw him in the city the other day, driving a new Mercedes.
You
helped pay for that, you know.'

‘Well, I haven't received my bill yet so I'm not sure about that. But right now I really have to—'

‘That's okay. I'll go. Not a problem.' He stood up, wobbling slightly then placed both hands on the desk to right himself. ‘Just one piece of advice — the most important piece of advice you'll ever get in this business.'

‘Oh? And what's that?' She tensed, waiting for the bullet.

‘Never think you're irreplaceable. That's the thing.' He turned to leave then spun around and held the doorframe, jabbing a finger in her direction. ‘
Never
think you're irreplaceable.'

His words ringing in her ears, Rachel finished her update and recorded it on autopilot. Returning to her desk, the envelope beckoned from under the newspaper. She had to know if the weirdo had calmed down or if his threats would be worse. She ripped it open.

Dear Rachel,

Write to me, bitch. I want us to swap fantasies so we can have the hottest sex ever when we finally hook up. That WILL be soon.

The plans are set. But maybe you have been deliberately playing hard to get all along? Maybe you want me to rough you up, you slag. That's fine – I can easily do that. I am going to have to tie you up and teach you a lesson for not doing as you were told. I'll laugh when I make you cry and then punish you so hard you'll be screaming. I want to make you HURT BAD. I will enjoy your pain as I watch your body bleed until you die. I will remember your final moment. You won't remember a thing.

Your Devoted Admirer, X.

She should never have opened it. Breathing deeply, she reached for some water, her hand trembling slightly. Now it was time to read the news.

***

When Rachel put her head on the pillow that night, the room started to spin. She closed her eyes, willing it to stop. She'd definitely drunk too much at dinner. She turned on her side and curled her back into Mitch. She felt his breath on her neck and wriggled against him to soak up his warmth. She couldn't get close enough, even after ten months of being together.

‘Aren't you sleepy?' he murmured.

‘Hmm? Oh, yes, I am. Why?'

‘You're fidgeting.'

‘Just getting snuggly.'

He pulled her towards him tightly. ‘Long as nothing's bothering you. Been a big few weeks.'

‘Uh huh.' But there
were
things bothering her.

They'd been out to a pre-wedding dinner for Julia and Derek so the bridesmaids and groomsmen could meet before the reception in two weeks. It was slightly awkward when Tim and Mitch shook hands, but they'd blundered their way through. It hadn't bothered Rachel that Tim had a new girlfriend, and she was only slightly miffed to find out they were living together after just three months of dating. She wasn't jealous of his girlfriend, but she was envious his relationship had moved to the next stage when hers hadn't. All those months of working weekends hadn't helped. As well, Mitch was often away with his surfing buddies down the coast, so their time together was less than she would have liked.

The stalker letters were disturbing her more than ever. The most recent one had been hand-delivered to Network Six. He had been in the building. Rachel felt like he was closing in.

She rolled over to face Mitch. ‘Actually, I fibbed. There is something bothering me,' she whispered.

His body twitched. ‘Sorry, was nodding off.'

‘Don't worry then . . .'

‘No, what's up?' He sounded tired.

‘It's that last letter. The fact that he actually hand-delivered it to the station. I rang reception to see if anyone saw who dropped it off, but no one did. Why didn't anyone see him? There's not even anything on security camera footage.'

‘Hon, we talked about this before. We'll go to the police tomorrow. Shhh . . .'

‘But this one's the worst. He's talking about beating me up now. Tying me up and sick sexual stuff.'

Sighing, Mitch propped himself up with an elbow. ‘Rach, I know this is scary, but you're safe right now, so you have to try and forget about it. We can't do anything right now. Try to sleep.'

He reached out to stroke her face, but she pushed his hand away. ‘This isn't something you can just brush off. Christ, do you think a pat on the face will make it all better?' She turned onto her back and crossed her arms.

‘We've already talked about it.' A sharper tone now.

‘You know, this would have been the perfect moment for you to say, Gee, that's shocking. Why don't we live together because I love you so much I want to make you feel safe?'

‘Oh, shit, Rach, you're being ridiculous. It's not the right time. And I am taking you out on a special date tomorrow night, aren't I?'

‘A date is not a discussion about living together. You just want your freedom to go away surfing with your mates whenever you like. It's called commitment phobia.'

Mitch rolled over with his back to her. ‘Goodnight, Rachel.'

She grabbed a second pillow from the floor and hugged it to her chest. The letters were really getting to her, but she shouldn't take it out on Mitch. She was being a brat. This was not the way to persuade a guy to live with you. She'd only ever have pillows to hug if she kept behaving like that.

***

Early next morning she woke and cooked a huge breakfast. She even laid the table with the newspaper ready at Mitch's place. His housemates were away on a surfing weekend. Mitch was meant to go, but cancelled when Rachel was given her promotion.

When he shuffled downstairs, she dished up the eggs, bacon and freshly squeezed juice without a word. He muttered a thank you then silence reigned.

Eventually she reached across the table and placed a hand on his. ‘Sorry about last night,' she said quietly. ‘Got a bit over-wrought.'

‘Hmm . . .' glumped Mitch through a mouthful. ‘You've got that letter, haven't you? We'll head off to the cops after this.'

‘Yes, got it. I think I'll go home after that. Get out of your hair. Are we still on for tonight?'

He shrugged and didn't look up. ‘Yep. Guess I'll pick you up at seven.'

‘Okay then.' She picked at her eggs. She'd lost her appetite.

***

The police at Prahran station were sympathetic but unable to do much. They took notes and details and kept the letter to see if they could find fingerprints. Rachel left feeling more vulnerable than before.

She went home to change and headed straight to the gym for a yoga class. Sitting on the mat, she tried to let her mind relax, but it was impossible. The stalker could be in the class, for all she knew. She kept twisting her head this way and that, trying to check out every male in the class. Halfway through the session she walked out, mouthing an apology to the instructor. She needed to work up a sweat. She jumped on the treadmill and jogged for forty-five minutes, perspiration dribbling down her back and soaking the front of her tank top. She still couldn't decide whether to broach gym management about the letters. It was probably best to discuss it with Helmut again first.

When she returned home, Kate was coming out of the bathroom, wrapped in a pink towel.

Rachel threw her keys on the hall table. ‘Hi, hon. What are you doing home? Aren't you meant to be at work?'

Kate grinned. ‘I am allowed to have a social life occasionally, you know. Took the day off. I just happen to have a special date.' With a self-satisfied grin, she walked into the kitchen.

‘Oh, that's great. Who is he? Anyone I know?' Rachel followed and threw her handbag and towel on the bench.

‘Maybe . . .' Kate started whistling as she took some grapes from the fridge and began eating them one by one.

‘Oh, don't be so mysterious. Who is he?' Rachel sat on a bar stool at the kitchen bench.

‘Well, you might find this hard to believe, but he's your lawyer, Adam Montague.' She burst out laughing.

‘Oh my God, you can't be serious?' shrieked Rachel. ‘No! He's lovely, but he's not your type.'