The Girl in the Yellow Vest (37 page)

Eeek!
If Nova hadn’t been sitting in the car next to her, she would have put her face in her hands.
I can’t!

Will would just at laugh at her if she attempted to flirt with him. She really only had two signature moves. The ‘I’m cold’ move, which involved faking freezing and climbing into a man’s lap. Or the ‘I’m tired’ move, which involved pretty much the same thing. Will was familiar with both those moves as they’d often joked about the time she tried them on –

His best friend!

This time she did put her head in her hands. Luckily by this stage Nova had stopped the ute and in this moment turned to open his door. She quickly followed suit and stepped out onto the concrete deck to take in the scene around her.

Her thoughts dissolved at the sight of the shiploader. Taller than a ten-storey building, the lattice of steel trusses rose up from the deck of the ship docked at berth two. The structure was shaped like a crane, and its function was similar too. The shiploader was supposed to sit on the wharf next to the conveyor so that coal could move up its structure and down its giant boom into the tanks of the ships.

The massive concrete counterweight hung off the back and the control room for the driver sat in the front. The boom of the shiploader, or long steel arm that was usually responsible for loading ships, was currently detached from the main tower and lying beside it on the deck of the transporting ship. They would need to be connected later, once they had placed the new shiploader back onto its wheels, which were currently in position on the rail. The tension in the air was so thick, Emily could have put a skewer through it.

A gentle breeze rustled her fringe.

Nova lifted his nose to the sky as he felt it too. ‘Hmmm, that’s no good. They’ll want it absolutely still.’

‘It’s barely there,’ Emily tried to assure him. Her eyes went to the red flags that fenced off some equipment out of use. ‘See – the flags aren’t even moving.’

‘Just as well,’ Nova nodded. ‘Caesar won’t want that thing waiting in the wind. I better find Fish.’

As he went off to find the second in charge, she was at liberty to scan the deck. Surprisingly, it was not the pandemonium she had been expecting. Instead, there was a rather reverent silence. Many of the Barnes Inc workers were simply clustered in twos and threes craning their necks at the giant structure currently floating beside the wharf.

She had no problems understanding their noiseless fear. They were about to lift one thousand and fifteen tonnes off the deck of that ship and the entire state would probably be watching the highlights on television that evening. Heavier than two hundred African elephants in their prime, the shiploader was going to be lifted by two giant cranes capable of holding six hundred tonnes each. They would perform the job in co-ordination.

‘Co-ordination’ being the key word.

Every second guy on deck had a radio. All ears would be tuned into every centimetre the shiploader moved. She saw Fish talking to one of the media personnel in Charlotte’s group. Even he looked freaked out. She could tell because he was dressed in brand-new jeans, a brand-new blue shirt and a brand-new safety vest. She knew they were brand new because they still had their factory creases; he’d clearly pulled them direct from their plastic packets and dressed up for the cameras. There were three of them currently pointing at him. Caesar wasn’t there and she searched the deck for him, finally finding him standing by the rail. He was looking out to sea, lost in his own thoughts, his hands deep in the pockets of his pants. Two men, like sentries, stood nearby as though guarding his solitude. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d asked them to keep the media off his back.

There’s a man who didn’t sleep last night
.

Everyone was just watching, waiting. She had one of the company cameras with her, so she took it out and snapped a couple of photos of the shiploader. She was sure the staff would want to remember this moment in years to come. Her nerves buzzed as she put the camera back in its bag and looked around again. Activity on the radios seemed to have gone up a notch and Caesar had moved from his position by the railing to talk to his men.

Emily went over to Charlotte, as the resort owner was, like herself, pretty much a spectator in all this.

‘How’s it going?’ she asked with a flick of her eyes at the media personnel behind them.

Charlotte grinned. ‘They’re excited, but who wouldn’t be?’

Now there were several men clustered around Caesar. Decked out in hats and high-visibility vests, they looked almost military in their movements. Charlotte had a radio on and they could hear them talking status on the airways. The cranes that would lift the shiploader were actually seated on the ship itself rather than on the wharf. Once they had the shiploader in the air and then more particularly over the side of the ship, the hull took in water to counter-balance so that the boat stayed stable the whole time.

Just then Caesar nodded and she heard, ‘We’re all hooked up and good to go, over,’ on the airways.

One man detached from Caesar’s group and gave the hand signal to the men driving the cranes. With bowed head, he simply raised one finger to the sky and the lift began. The shiploader creaked and moaned as it left its bearings.

They lifted it a mere twenty centimetres before stopping to check everything. Men standing on the ship scurried around it. One of them said over the airways after a few nods from the others, ‘Okay, guys, she’s airborne and looking good. Over.’

Emily realised she’d been holding her breath and hastily exhaled. A cheer rose up around the watching crowd. A few claps too as they looked at the structure dangling there for the first time in mid-air.

Wow!

‘I somehow expected it to be faster,’ Charlotte mused.

Emily shook her head with a smile. ‘A few centimetres in the wrong direction can cost us an hour in correction. Everything has to be just perfect.’

Charlotte smiled. ‘Okay.’

They both continued to watch the shiploader inch its way higher into the air, and Emily felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction claim her. All the crap she’d been through when she’d first arrived on site seemed worth it now. And to think, she never would have had this opportunity without Will.

Will, the man I love.

He always knew what she needed without her even having to verbalise it. Whatever doubts she’d harboured previously about where she wanted to take their relationship fell away. Will was a very special guy and she had to fight for him. Yes, she’d already made a lot of mistakes. Wasted five years on his best friend for a start – an error in judgement that was going to be a very difficult hurdle to overcome. Especially for Will. But she had to try.

Trent was a smart and decent man. But even if he’d been in love with her, he didn’t love her the way she wanted to be loved. He was selfish. He hadn’t been interested in her as a complete, separate human, but as an extra bit of himself. She wasn’t her best self with him, either. She had been timid and even, in a way, lazy. And apart from all of that they weren’t soulmates the way she and Will were and always had been.

‘Are you okay?’ Charlotte asked.

‘I’ve just realised what an idiot I’ve been.’

Charlotte looked confused. ‘About the shiploader?’

‘No, about Will.’ Emily sighed. ‘I’m in love with him. There’s no use denying it any longer, as much as I would like to.’

Charlotte grimaced. ‘We can’t choose who we fall in love with. It could be our best friend or . . .’ Her gaze travelled across the deck to where Caesar, Fish and the guy in charge of the cranes were examining a drawing together. ‘. . . Or our worst enemy.’

Emily paid very little attention to that. ‘Well, I’m going to do something about this tonight.’ It felt good to voice her decision out loud. Suddenly she laughed as a thought occurred to her. ‘But first I think I need a little confidence-booster.’

Shielding her gaze against the sun, she scanned the deck before her eyes alighted on Spooks, who was standing by the bogies surrounded by his usual group of cronies. They were chatting away nonchalantly, like the crane guys weren’t about to swing a thousand tonnes over their heads.

‘Hey, Spooks,’ she hailed him.

He looked up in surprise. ‘What can I do for ya?’ He grinned toothily at her.

‘It’s about the bet,’ Emily began, and watched smugly as all eyes immediately turned to her.

His return to site was not the homecoming he’d expected. On top of the stuff-ups they’d made with the shiploader, Charlotte wasn’t talking to him.

No, scratch that, she
was
talking to him. Just not in the usual, bossy, teasing manner he was used to.
And
, if he was man enough to admit, had actually grown to enjoy. Charlotte was the only person who challenged him – questioned everything he said and did. He enjoyed the cut and thrust of their sparring and her opinionated perspective on the little nuances of his life. But ever since she’d joined his team, it was Yes, Mr Crawford; no, Mr Crawford; and will that be all, Mr Crawford? with no additional commentary.

He wanted the old Charlotte back.

In an attempt to draw her out he’d even gone so far as to apologise. Yes! Apologise for not having been present when she first started at the job. But she’d merely blinked and said, ‘Oh, that’s all right. Will took care of me just fine,’ before walking off.

Then he’d tried giving her more work.

He told her he needed her to babysit reporters when the shiploader arrived because everyone else would be too busy. This wasn’t entirely true and it wasn’t in her job description, besides the fact that her brother would have to take the day off from his own work to look after their mother while she was on site. He was sure that would raise a protest. But all she said was, ‘Sure. I’ll work something out.’

Huh?

He couldn’t decide why she was being so submissive. Was it because he was now her boss as well as her client? Was she worried that he held too hefty a piece of her livelihood in his undeserving hands?
Or
was it because she was still upset about the way he’d treated her after that kiss they’d shared?

A kiss she hadn’t mentioned at all but that he couldn’t get out of his head.

Her taste, her touch. The way her body moulded to his to make the other half of their whole.

He’d read her book,
Life after Rape
, cover to cover in a few hours and then read it again. It had been written rather factually and in no way with a personal flavour. It was definitely an advice-style book that addressed the reader rather than spoke of the author. The only personal reference was a very brief dedication at the front.

For Mum. Your courage in the face of adversity is an inspiration to me.

It was a slim window into Charlotte’s soul and told him nothing he didn’t already know. She loved her family. She would do anything for them and had. Still, at every chapter heading he found himself asking questions.

Did this happen to you? How do you know all this?

A rage so deep it nearly curdled his blood grew in the pit of his stomach, making his skin feel toxic and his thoughts run rampant at times. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hurting Charlotte. Least of all in a way so abhorrent it made him want to do violence. He wanted to talk to her about it but didn’t dare. Instead, he skirted around the edges of it with Zara when she came to visit Augustus.

‘So does your sister date much?’

Zara, who had been sitting cross-legged on the ground next to Augustus’s cage, choked on the biscuit she’d been eating. ‘Why do
you
want to know?’

He frowned. ‘Just making conversation.’

Zara smirked and then gave him a sharp look that unfortunately saw more than he wanted it to. Her astuteness was starting to become bloody annoying. He couldn’t understand how Charlotte was unaware of it. He remained determinedly silent, waiting for her to speak again.

‘She has had a few boyfriends. Or so I’m told. I’ve never met any of them.’

‘Why?’ He tried not to sound too interested.

‘I don’t know. She just likes to keep that part of her life separate from us.’