Laura's Big Break (19 page)

Laura hesitated.

“Charlie was wondering what else would be in the issue along with this, he asked me to tell him how we were playing the story?”

She held her breath waiting for the answer.

“What and you can’t hand it over until I tell you?”

Claire’s blood red fingernails tapped the desktop.

“Fine,” she sighed at last. “We’ve got some great photos of the event, a couple of your boy looking like an underwear model and we’re running it in our hot to trot hero issue. Jane came up with a fireman who strips in his spare time, but was awarded community hero of the month last June and there is a vet who rescued a koala during an Australian fire, while he was on holiday there. He came in for a photo shoot. Happy now?”

Hot to trot? No, she wasn’t happy.

“This,” Laura motioned to the flash drive she seemed to have a death grip on, “is quite a serious piece. I’m not sure it fits.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed as the temperature in the room fell.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Men died, a friend of Charlie’s amongst them. I don’t think he would be too pleased with us taking the hunky hero angle. Don’t you think it trivialises the story?”

Claire stood on her twenty inch heels. She managed to glide around the desk to face Laura.

“I think it will sell magazines.” Her tone was as icy as the atmosphere. “That is what I do. So hand over the story Laura. That is, after all, why you went to Holland in the first place. To get the story.” She paused in front of Laura. “And to save your job.”

Laura licked her dry lips. Charlie would be devastated. A story like this trivialised him and turned him into a pin-up boy. She remembered his reaction to the website teaser. This would cause way more damage. She suspected that under other circumstances he would have welcomed a spread on his looks, but not in this one. This meant too much to him. This had changed him. A stark realisation hit her. If she published this story, in this magazine, he would be disappointed in her. The world shifted on its axis. She’d spent most of her life disappointed in him, she wasn’t sure if she could cope with a reversal.

“Laura, this is no time for second guessing. You said yourself; you are like a dysfunctional family. Does it really matter what the slant is? The story will get out. Your friend will be centre stage and the army will get some good publicity.”

And Jones would get lost in the side bars on which hero had the best bachelor appeal. Her grip on the flash drive tightened. She took a deep breath.

“I can’t do it.”

The words surprised her more than Claire.

“I’m sorry; I don’t think I heard you properly. Are you refusing to give me
my
story? The one I commissioned. The one I paid for?”

Laura stuffed her sore hand, and the drive, into her jeans pocket and held it tight.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do that to Charlie and to the men who died. This story deserves respect. They deserve respect.”

For a second she thought Claire might actually slap her and she took a step backwards. Instead the witch folded her arms across her designer grey suit and gave Laura a withering look.

“Think about this carefully, Laura. This isn’t only a decision about a story. It’s a decision about your life. You must ask yourself, are you being sensible? After all, it’s only a story. Next week we will all be interested in something else. Do you really want to throw away your career over something like this?”

Laura felt a rush of adrenalin flow through her; it brought a wave of courage, of certainty. She began to smile. For the first time in her life she wasn’t being sensible. She had no idea what she would do next or how she could survive this decision. Her life would be in tatters. It was terrifying. She pulled herself up to her full five foot two and looked Claire in the eye.

“This is the right thing to do,” she told her and was proud that her voice didn’t waver.

“Oh my hairy aunt.” Claire looked towards the ceiling, because it couldn’t have been anywhere else. Laura had no doubt that Claire had absolutely no awareness of heaven. “You stupid child. You’re in love with the man. You’re making serious decisions with your heart. Don’t be a fool. Men come and go, careers last a lifetime. You only have yourself to depend on. Don’t throw that away over a man.”

Laura smiled as her words came back at her through Claire’s mouth.

“This isn’t over a man. It’s the right thing to do. And if that means I don’t have a job…” She shrugged like it didn’t matter, a gesture Charlie had perfected. She grinned wider. He was such a bad influence on her. “Then I guess I don’t have a job,” she said.

The witch pointed a long manicured talon at her.

“No, sweetie, you don’t have a career. By this time tomorrow there won’t be a women’s magazine in Europe that will employ you. You can kiss goodbye to teen mags too, I plan to spread the word there as well.”

Laura felt nauseous.

“You have to do what you feel is right,” she told her now ex-boss. “That’s all each of us can do.”

With that she turned and let herself out of the room, leaving the rest of the staff to deal with a furious Claire.

Maggie was whiter than chalk.

“What are you going to do now?” she said with a trembling voice.

Laura gave her an equally unsteady smile.

“I have no idea.”

She waved goodbye to Maggie, and to her life, before heading to her desk to clean it out. As she held her head high she wondered how long she could live on principles alone, because that was all she had left.

“Break time?”

Charlie looked up from his cup of weak coffee to see the clinic manager enter the room. He was exhausted. He’d seen more patients in one shift in a jungle clinic in Bolivia than he’d seen in a week in a busy emergency department in Central London. Word had gotten out that there was a doctor in town and the people flooded in.

“Ten minutes. What I really need is a decent night’s sleep.”

“Yeah, me too.” He gave Charlie a meaningful look before he dumped his sandwiches on the table beside him.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Charlie eyed the food and his stomach rumbled. “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep as soon as I get a minute to do it.”

“Who is Laura anyway?” his roommate asked, as he slid half his sandwich in Charlie’s direction. “You were screaming her name most of last night. And not in a good way.”

Charlie scoffed the food in a couple of bites. He knew about the screaming. The dreams were getting worse. Now Laura was in Afghanistan too and every night he had to save her. He always woke before he could manage it.

“I’ll find another bunk as soon as the clinic closes,” Charlie said wearily. He’d sleep in the supply cupboard if he had to.

“Whatever.” Jacques waved the offer away.

An African born Parisian, he was currently managing the clinic for
Medicine International
. The guy was a veteran, ten years with the organisation and this was his third posting. He was a wanderer, a lot like Charlie, his job was to start projects, get them up and running and move to the next. Charlie’s job was to go where they needed a doctor short term and fill in until the permanent person turned up.

“So what is the problem?” the Frenchman said. “Did this Laura break your heart?”

Charlie grinned in spite of the effort it took to stay upright. Even though he was desperate for sleep, he was too wound up to actually fall asleep – and wasn’t that a kicker?

“I know all about heartbreak. I have caused many,” Jacques said. “Ask me anything. French men are experts with women.”

He looked so smug that it made Charlie laugh.

“If you are such an expert why are you single?”

“That is why I’m an expert my friend. I have experienced many women and I can share that experience with you.” He tapped his temple. “Extensive knowledge.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. Yeah, right.

“Well?” Jacques prompted.

“It’s complicated,” Charlie said. “Anyway, she’s half way round the world doing her thing. So it doesn’t matter. We’re not going to see each other again.”

No, because she might lose control, he scoffed to himself. Like that made any sense.

“Ah, you are in love with her?”

“No,” Charlie held up his hands. “No, no, no. I’m just worried about her and we have some unfinished business.”

Like the fact he could never quite find the thing about her that drove him nuts.

Jacques raised an eloquent eyebrow.

“Seriously.” Charlie felt he had to explain. “I’m not a relationship type guy. I’m like you - too many women, not enough time. I mean what am I supposed to do, change my life, give up on who I am to work in the suburbs for her? Because she’s never going to do anything spontaneous or anything that involves risk. You don’t know her, she’s stubborn, she’ll carry on making stupid choices and living half a life all because it’s the sensible thing to do. She should have sensible tattooed on her backside, it’s her life motto.”

He glared at Jacques.

“I’m not going to spend my days in some repetitive job so that she’ll have someone to make sure she doesn’t die of boredom, or make one sensible decision too many so that her head explodes.”

Jacques smiled smugly. Charlie didn’t like it one bit.

“Yes, that is a problem,” the Frenchman said. “I can see why it is keeping us up at night.”

Charlie was pretty sure that he was missing something. He just wasn’t sure what.

“I can’t fix her life for her. She needs to do that,” he told his friend.

“Absolutely.”

“She isn’t my problem.”

“I can see that.”

“It would take a whole medical team to sort out what’s in her head.”

“I agree. Too much of a challenge for one man. I can see how that would lead to a very boring life.”

Charlie narrowed his eyes. He was being mocked. He changed the subject.

“I heard shouting earlier, what was that about?”

Jacques grinned with mischief.

“Big Mike, somebody insulted his plane and he pushed them in the water.”

Charlie grinned back. Big Mike was a jungle legend. He flew a rust bucket and took it very seriously.

“You don’t want to mess with Big Mike,” he said.

“No, you would have to be very foolish indeed.”

Jacques patted him on the shoulder before he went back to work. Charlie looked out of the glassless window over the fields to the rain forest beyond. He couldn’t help but think that there was more he could have done about Laura. Maybe when his six weeks were up he’d drop in on her and make sure she was okay. If it wasn’t against her stupid rules. He smiled. Who knew, maybe the simple act of turning up would be enough to make her lose control again. Now that alone would make it worth the trip.

Laura tugged at her stiff black skirt and wondered again why she bothered wearing it. No one else in her new workplace was dressed formally. With a silent sigh, she acknowledged exactly how low she’d sunk – she’d worn the suit so that she would feel she was in control, even though it was pathetically obvious that she wasn’t. As the phone beside her rang again, she reminded herself that she was lucky to have a job, that it wasn’t a bad job and that it gave her the time and space she needed to look for a better one. All good. Right? So why did she feel like she was dying inside every time she put pen to paper? Because she was pathetic, that’s why. With a frown she squared her shoulders and she picked up the call.

“Trash or Treasure,” she said in as cheery a voice as she could manage. “The free paper that helps you find a home for your unwanted goods. How can I help you?”

She listened dutifully as the person on the other end of the line described the ad they wanted her to write, all the while wondering why they didn’t go online and fill out the form. Her temple began to throb as she reminded herself that computer illiterate people were the reason she had a take-home pay. Okay, a minimum wage take-home pay, but it was money, right? Her jaw hurt from constant teeth grinding and the twitch in her left eye had become a fully-fledged random spasm down the side of her face.

But. It. Was. All. Okay.

Her elbow hit the wall of her cubicle for the millionth time that morning as she reached for a pen that worked. Over the top of the partition wall she could see her twelve year old boss point to the clock and glare at her. Apparently she didn’t work fast enough; the last moron who held her job could deal with twice the number of calls in the same amount of time. She narrowed her eyes and imagined that his head blew clear off his shoulders. His face went pale and he scurried away.

Laura turned her attention back to the caller instead of the clock. All the clock did was remind her that there was still four long hours left until she could go home.

As the pain in her head thumped louder, she wondered if it was a good idea to take aspirin and antacids at the same time. Surely they cancelled each other out in her stomach?

The caller sounded impatient in her ear and she realised that she’d tuned the man out. She gave him her full attention.