No Job for a Girl Page 4

  ‘Urn still hot?’ A smooth baritone spoke close behind her. Leah jumped, slopping tea onto her hand. She swivelled around to see who owned the voice.

  He was trim, and barely six foot. He looked as if he’d be more at home in a boardroom and a designer suit than the creased k­hakis and high-vis vest he wore. And he had product in his thick, dark hair.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. Leah turned back to the sink and shoved her hand under the cold tap. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’ He pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and passed it to her, crowding her in the cramped space.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she said and examined the red splotch on her hand. ‘It won’t even blister.’

  When she’d finished blotting it dry with the paper towel he extended a tanned hand. ‘Frank Ballard,’ he said, ‘Ballard Earthmoving. You must be Leah Jackson.’

  Leah shook his hand. His grip was cool, and the skin not as rough as she’d expected for someone in earthmoving. He held her hand for a few seconds longer than necessary, smiling when she pulled her fingers from his. He tore open two coffee sachets and tipped them into a polystyrene cup, filled it with water from the urn and added a glug of milk. She’d bet women told him he looked like a young George Clooney, because he did. And she had the feeling he knew it, and used it to the max.

  ‘Paul Prentice is a close, personal friend of mine,’ he said in a hushed, confidential tone.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ she said, not sure what it was she was supposed to see.

  Frank tapped the side of his nose with a slender finger. ‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.’

  Unease rippled through Leah. ‘What secret? There’s no secret that I know of. Unless you mean that I know Paul Prentice. I do. His wife Eve’s a close friend of mine.’ She felt increasingly un­comfortable under Frank Ballard’s relentless scrutiny.

  ‘Feel free to join us any time,’ Alex said, his voice slicing through the silence as he stepped into the kitchen. Leah relaxed a fraction when his attention shifted to Frank.

  ‘Sorry. I was getting a cup of tea. I spilled it.’ She edged past Frank and skirted around Alex. She could almost smell the t­estosterone; wanted to roll her eyes. Men.

  ‘Alex, mate,’ Frank said, slapping him on the back. ‘What’s the rush? Not as if we’ve got any other place to be.’

  She glanced back over her shoulder as she went into the contractor’s office, nonplussed when Frank winked at her.

  Leah sat at her corner of the desk, conscious that all eyes were on her now. She cleared her throat and picked up the pen. Earlier, she’d scanned Steve’s notes from the daily debriefs for the past week or so. Most of it made sense, but the remainder was mumbo jumbo.

  ‘Beer?’ Ben said, jerking a thumb at the one remaining can on the desk when Frank sauntered in. Frank held up his polystyrene cup and shook his head.

  Alex returned and perched on the edge of the other desk. Frank draped himself on the one remaining chair, Ben leaned against the door frame and Phil sat behind the desk. Dee scooted her chair as close to Frank’s as she could in the confined space. Frank winked at Dee and Leah nearly choked when the other woman actually batted her eyelashes at him. Phil glared at Frank and Ben rolled his eyes.

  Seemingly oblivious, Alex opened the meeting.

  ‘You’ve all met Leah Jackson, Steve’s replacement?’ he asked and everyone acknowledged that they had.

  ‘Shame about his wife,’ Ben said and a murmur of agreement came from the others. ‘I hope she pulls through.’

  Alex nodded, then started talking and Leah began taking notes.

  ‘Frank, what’s the hold up with the access track to tower s­eventy-three?’

  ‘Too sandy. We’ll have to go around the long way. Tyler has it sorted. Boys will do it tomorrow.’

  ‘And the holding dam at bore number two? How long before it’s lined and they can fill it? The concrete boys are getting antsy. With all the steel being moved for the towers, moving the water they need is clogging up the roads and becoming a traffic management issue.’

  Frank sat up straighter. ‘The blokes are chucking rocks as fast as they can. Should be ready to line tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘You said that yesterday.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’ll be ready tomorrow, all right?’

  Alex turned to Leah and asked her to give an update on the day’s lost-time injury. She cleared her throat and began, making eye c­ontact with everyone as she spoke.

  ‘Ryan Greene sustained an open fracture of his left tibia and fi­bula when he slipped and fell from the excavator he was operating. He was stabilised here and retrieved by the Nickel Bluff paramedics at fifteen thirty-five. RFDS were in flight to pick him up from Nickel Bluff. I don’t expect he’ll be back to work any time soon.’

  ‘Yeah, bloody unfortunate. Slowed us down a bit. Ryan is one of my boys,’ Frank said, looking in Leah’s direction. ‘I’ve let his mother and his girlfriend know.’

  ‘Shouldn’t have happened, Frank,’ Alex said, punching the words out. He looked at Leah, raised his eyebrows.

  ‘My accident report is almost finished,’ Leah said. ‘I’ll go out to the accident site to investigate first thing in the morning.’

  Alex nodded. The meeting went on. Leah wrote down everything – what she didn’t understand she’d ask about later.

  There was a lull in the conversation and her stomach grumbled. Everyone in the small room looked at her.

  ‘Oops! Sorry. I missed lunch and breakfast was a long time ago.’

  Alex stood up. ‘You’re right. Time we wound up and went to eat. See you all at the pre-start meeting in the morning.’

  Leah wheeled the chair back to her desk. Alex was already at his desk.

  ‘What was that all about with Frank?’ he said without preamble.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Out there. When you were making tea. Before the debrief.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Leah threw down the pen and notepad. ‘I’m hungry. I’ll write up the notes later, if that’s okay. I’m going to lock the fuel bowser and go for dinner.’

  ‘Fair enough. Don’t forget the work permits for tomorrow. There’ll be a list somewhere.’

  ‘Already done,’ she said calmly, but felt like pumping the air with her fist.

  Alex watched Leah go, his eyes unconsciously dropping to the denim-clad curve of her backside as she walked out the door. He leaned back in the chair, clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the empty doorway.

  They all thought he didn’t know what was going on – that Phil, despite being married, had something going with Dee; that Dee wanted to get something going with Frank; that Dee wasn’t in Frank’s league even though he led her on at every opportunity.

  And what had Frank been saying to Leah out there in the kitchen? Whatever it was, Leah hadn’t looked too happy about it.

  Frank had tried to catch her eye all through the meeting but she’d ignored him. Frank Ballard was a player with two ex-wives. He hoped Paul was right and that Leah Jackson could take care of herself. Alex shook his head slowly. What did he care anyway, as long as they all did their jobs and kept out of trouble?

  When he finally dragged himself away from his desk and went to eat, the mess had emptied out. Almost everyone had moved next door to the bar, and those who didn’t drink, or didn’t want c­ompany, would have headed back to their rooms. He’d left dinner to the last minute as usual and Ruby would be busting to clean up and get to the inevitable game of poker. He grabbed a plate and began loading it up at the bain-marie.

  ‘Do you want me to do you up some fresh chips, Mr McKinley?’ Ruby appeared from the kitchen. The top of her head barely reached Alex’s armpit and she was about as far around as she was high, straight black hair sticking out from under a caterer’s cap. Dark eyes smiled at him through folds of smooth olive skin. Over the years Alex had probably eaten more of Ruby’s cooking, and that of other cooks like her, than he had of his ex-wife
’s.

  ‘No, thanks. These will be fine.’ He scooped chips onto his plate alongside the slab of steak and a few sorry-looking vegetables.

  ‘You’re always late and the best is gone. I can always do you up a plate and keep it warm.’

  ‘Too much to do, Ruby, and thanks, but no special treatment for the boss.’

  Ruby clicked her tongue, shaking her head. ‘Who’s the blonde?’

  Alex glanced around. Leah was sitting at a table with Frank and Ben. There was no sign of Phil and Dee. No surprises there. They’d more than likely been propping up the bar next door since opening time.

  ‘Leah Jackson’s the nurse and safety advisor they’ve sent to fill in for Steve.’

  ‘I heard about his wife. Bloody bad luck.’ She tipped her chin in Leah’s direction. ‘Trouble brewing there, boss.’

  Alex raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Them blokes have been watching her like goats on the rut.’

  He looked at his plate of food and then back at the cook. There was no way he was getting into this conversation. ‘Dinner looks good, thanks, Ruby,’ he said, gave her a tight-lipped smile and walked over to where ‘the blonde’ was sitting.

  Ben stood up as Alex sat down.

  ‘I’m going for a beer,’ he said and picked up his empty plate.

  ‘I won’t take it personally,’ Alex said, and Ben grinned.

  Leah yawned. ‘Goodnight, Ben, and thanks for showing me around today.’ She smiled at the big man and Alex couldn’t help but stare at her mouth. Frank smirked and Alex wanted to wipe the knowing look off the other man’s face. He snapped his attention back to the food on his plate; told himself to get a grip.

  ‘Reckon I’ll call it a night, too,’ Leah said. ‘It has been a long day.’ She gave her head a slight shake. ‘Feels like I’ve been here for a week, and it’s not even twelve hours.’

  Frank stood up as she did. ‘I’ll walk you to your room.’

  Leah looked like the last thing she wanted was for anyone to walk her to her room, or think they should. Alex felt a pang of compassion for her. It had been a long day and she was dead on her feet. Frank was an opportunist.

  ‘Frank, I wouldn’t mind a word before you go.’

  Frank threw Alex a narrow-eyed glare.

  Leah sighed with what could only be described as relief. ‘Ben said breakfast starts at five thirty. I’ll see you all in the morning. Goodnight.’

  She’d barely taken two steps from the table when she turned back and smiled at Alex, the same way she’d smiled at Ben. ‘Alex, I didn’t thank you for your help with Ryan Greene this afternoon. You were awesome. Thanks.’

  Alex almost choked on a mouthful of steak. Frank muttered something he didn’t catch.

  ‘All in a day’s work,’ he said. Pathetic, he thought.

  Frank spun his chair around and straddled it. ‘So, what’s so important it couldn’t wait until the morning?’

  Alex speared a chip with his fork, dipped it into the sauce on the side of his plate and looked up. Frank shifted in his chair.

  ‘I’m going to ask Leah to check that excavator first thing in the morning, Frank, when she goes out to finish the accident invest­igation.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Alex, it was an accident.’

  ‘We’ve had issues with your mobile plant and equipment before. Fix them. No more injuries on my watch. You got it?’

  Frank stood up, and slammed his chair into the table. Alex watched him go. Give him Frank’s brother, Charlie, to work with any day. Charlie Ballard had a solid work ethic, a better feel for the job, a sound rapport with the men and he didn’t cut corners the way Frank did. But Charlie was taking some well-earned leave and the last time Alex had spoken to Charlie he’d said he wouldn’t be back on the job for weeks.

  Alex dunked a few more chips. They tasted like fat-soaked cardboard. The fork dropped onto his plate with a clatter. He was the last person left in the mess. Ruby was clearing away.

  ‘You want pudding, Mr McKinley, before I put it away?’ she called.

  ‘No thanks, Ruby.’ His appetite had vanished. He pushed away the half-eaten steak. As much as he’d rather another beer and then an early night, there was work he needed to do in the office. But before he started on his forever-multiplying emails, he’d ring Heather for an update on Fergus. And then he’d call his boys, Connor and Liam, to see how their days had been.

  He’d barely let himself into the office when the phone rang. Heather had beaten him to it.

  ‘Dad had a reasonable day,’ she said. ‘I spoke to the doctors and they’re satisfied with his progress. He’s still short of breath and they might give him another blood transfusion tomorrow.’

  ‘Is Lisa coming over?’

  ‘No. She wanted to but Mark is away shearing and his parents can’t look after the kids.’

  ‘Are you okay with it all?’

  Heather sighed. She was the eldest, lived a few streets from Fergus and was the one always there for him. Alex felt the familiar twist of guilt.

  ‘For the time being,’ she said. ‘I might need help when they discharge him.’

  ‘Keep me posted,’ he said and they made their farewells.

  He tried Connor’s mobile phone, then Liam’s. Neither answered. Disappointed, he left messages and decided against the landline, too tired to tackle a conversation with his ex-wife, Claire. There was a time when talking to her on the telephone had been the highlight of each day they were apart, when they’d counted the days until they’d see each other again.

  Alex had always worked away, in remote locations more often than not. Places where you couldn’t just jump in your car and be home if there were an emergency. When the boys were little, the first couple of days after each leave he’d worry about them, but then work would take over. As they grew up, he worried less. Claire managed. But tonight, sitting at his lonely desk, he felt the isolation acutely, in a way he hadn’t for years.

  The wind had dropped, and the night air was cold. Light and laughter drifted out of the wet mess. Leah was shattered, but she detoured on the way to her room to buy a phone card. She had change in her pocket from the cab fare to the airport that morning. Mobile phone coverage was non-existent and she’d feel much more at ease k­nowing she could phone home if needed.

  A bunker light barely illuminated the door to her room. She fumbled for the key. Unpack, and then a hot shower and bed. She almost groaned out loud at the thought of sleep as she opened the door and reached in to turn on the light.

  The room had the smell of newness; of paint and newly laid c­arpet. She looked around the small space: a single bed against the wall on her right and a double-doored wardrobe, the side flush with the end of the bed. On the left side of the room was a desk with a bookshelf above it, a chair tucked in underneath and a bar fridge with a small flat-screen TV perched on the top. A door led to the ensuite bathroom. The window between the bed and the desk was covered by a thick blockout curtain. Above the window was a small split system air conditioner.

  She poked her head into the ensuite. It was sparklingly clean, the shower curtain fresh, towels folded on the rail. No trace of the previous occupant. Leah sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down a couple of times. Firm, but comfortable, with a forest-green doona cover and sheets. Two pillows. Lovely. And then it hit her – no luggage!

  She jumped to her feet, heart pounding. Where the hell was her suitcase? Not to mention the canvas tote with her wallet, phone, iPad . . .

  ‘Shit,’ she said and spun around. As if she would have missed it in the postage-stamp-sized quarters. She flew out the door, not sure where she was going, and then saw a light on in the office block.

  Alex looked up from his computer screen when she barrelled in. She tried to swallow the rising panic. Tears of frustration and sheer exhaustion pushed at the back of her eyes.

  ‘Leah?’

  ‘My luggage —’

  ‘Ah, your gear. I nearly tripped over it out the front this m­orning
. I put it in with mine. And promptly forgot about it.’

  Like a punctured balloon the wind went out of her, her sh­oulders slumped, and she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry I forgot to mention it earlier,’ he said.

  She held up a hand, shook her head. ‘Don’t worry. I’m just glad it’s found. When it wasn’t in my room —’

  He was standing close enough for her to feel the warmth coming from his body, to smell the dust and the sweat. There was genuine concern on his face. She straightened, trying for a smile. ‘Thanks. And thanks for putting it somewhere safe this morning. In all the excitement —’

  ‘Yeah, a bit of a misunderstanding.’

  Her smile firmed and when Alex smiled back, something inside her gave a little kick. She’d been right. He was good to look at when he lightened up.

  ‘My room’s next to yours.’ He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and dragged out a bunch of keys, separating one off for her. ‘You’ll find your bags just inside the door.’

  She was positive he was as careful as she was in making sure their hands didn’t touch when she took the key.

  ‘I’ll bring it straight back,’ she said, her fingers closing around the warm metal.

  ‘No need. Leave it in the door. I won’t be here much longer.’

  When she unlocked the door to his room and turned on the light she couldn’t help but notice the subtle hints of the man it revealed. There were magazines and several novels stacked on the bookshelf – Peter Temple, Garry Disher; he liked Australian crime. A canvas duffel bag gaped open on the bed, half-unpacked, and a quilted parka slung over the back of the chair where a pair of steel-capped boots peeked out from under the desk.

  On the desk, beside a wafer thin laptop, was a photograph. Leah did a double take, resisting the urge to step over and pick up the framed eight-by-ten and take a closer look at the two identically handsome boys. They looked to be in their early teens, and had the same striking blue eyes as Alex. She swallowed, slinging her own canvas tote onto her shoulder.

  Without taking her eyes off the photo she backed down the step and reached for the handle of the suitcase. Were they his sons? Of course they were. Why else would he have a photo of them on his desk, right where he could see them the moment he opened his eyes every morning?