the rental car and talk to Grandpa and let you know what time we need to meet at the airport on Saturday morning.”
Chris straightened his shoulders and propped his hands on his hips. “I’m picking you up.”
“I do know how to get to the airport, Chris. I’m a big girl.”
She was damn wrong about that. She was all woman. “I can see that. But I’m still picking you up.”
“Okay.”
For a moment, they smiled at each other.
“Thank you again, Chris,” Ellie finally said. “This is going to be… well, I’m sure my colleagues will be thrilled about it. Really.”
Chris walked towards the front door and stopped. “Anything I should know about your grandfather?”
Ellie beamed. “Grandpa Trev calls a spade a bloody shovel.”
“Now I know where you got it from.” He laughed again at her open-mouthed indignation. “See you Saturday.”
Six
‡
F irst thing the next morning, Ellie hopped off the bus after her short commute and walked the two blocks to the offices of the Western Gazette. She pushed through the front door with a renewed sense of purpose. She felt like she had the scoop of the century, and scoops, unlike secrets, were screaming out to be shared with your news editor. The news editor who’d been so cranky she’d delivered a stern lecture to Ellie about the need to develop a nose for the news and the imperative to always put the newspaper first.
Ellie had to admit her loyalties were divided these days. She’d been a journalist for more than a decade and her career was starting to lose its lustre. Although she loved playing with words, some parts of the job were becoming tougher. Times were hard in the news game and some of the stories she really wanted to get up weren’t cutting it anymore. Celebrity news – like Sydney rich boy and international photographer Chris Malone’s supposed engagement to a European princess – got a better position in the paper and online than her serious pieces about cuts to local health services. Ellie knew she had to play along if she wanted to keep her job; that she had to adapt to the changing environment in which she worked. But that didn’t mean it was easy.
After her news editor’s rant at her over the phone about missing the Chris Malone story, Ellie knew this angle would get her out of the bad books with her boss and make her job safe for a little while longer, which her landlord, in particular, would be very pleased about. A girl had to eat, after all. But in the back of her mind, an idea was brewing, every day a little stronger, that maybe she needed to mix things up. Find a new direction, perhaps.
“Kerry!” she called across the newsroom.
A head popped out of the kitchen. Her news editor wore her black hair cropped short which highlighted her suspicious eyes and her bright red power suit.
“What’ve you got, Flannery?”
“I’ve got a story for you.”
“Music to my ears What is it?”
“This is an even bigger yarn than the one I missed about Chris Malone. You know, about him being engaged to that European princess, whose name I can never remember.”
“Yeah?” Her news editor pricked up her ears.
“I found out last night that Malone is donating his time to take a one of a kind, rare, exclusive photograph for the Royal Flying Doctor’s annual charity ball. It’s going to be auctioned off and will raise thousands and thousands of dollars.”
“That’s the one you’re helping out with, right?”
“Yes, that’s right. All in my own time, if you remember.”
Kerry regarded Ellie with a smirk. “Did you have something to do with him donating that photo?”
“Yes, in a roundabout way.” Ellie knew it had all been Chris’s idea but she didn’t want to look like a total loser in front of her boss. And she figured she’d had a role in it because she’d mentioned what her grandfather had gone through. Maybe she could take forty percent of the credit.
“Okay, I’ll give that a run. Everyone in Australia
Chris straightened his shoulders and propped his hands on his hips. “I’m picking you up.”
“I do know how to get to the airport, Chris. I’m a big girl.”
She was damn wrong about that. She was all woman. “I can see that. But I’m still picking you up.”
“Okay.”
For a moment, they smiled at each other.
“Thank you again, Chris,” Ellie finally said. “This is going to be… well, I’m sure my colleagues will be thrilled about it. Really.”
Chris walked towards the front door and stopped. “Anything I should know about your grandfather?”
Ellie beamed. “Grandpa Trev calls a spade a bloody shovel.”
“Now I know where you got it from.” He laughed again at her open-mouthed indignation. “See you Saturday.”
Six
‡
F irst thing the next morning, Ellie hopped off the bus after her short commute and walked the two blocks to the offices of the Western Gazette. She pushed through the front door with a renewed sense of purpose. She felt like she had the scoop of the century, and scoops, unlike secrets, were screaming out to be shared with your news editor. The news editor who’d been so cranky she’d delivered a stern lecture to Ellie about the need to develop a nose for the news and the imperative to always put the newspaper first.
Ellie had to admit her loyalties were divided these days. She’d been a journalist for more than a decade and her career was starting to lose its lustre. Although she loved playing with words, some parts of the job were becoming tougher. Times were hard in the news game and some of the stories she really wanted to get up weren’t cutting it anymore. Celebrity news – like Sydney rich boy and international photographer Chris Malone’s supposed engagement to a European princess – got a better position in the paper and online than her serious pieces about cuts to local health services. Ellie knew she had to play along if she wanted to keep her job; that she had to adapt to the changing environment in which she worked. But that didn’t mean it was easy.
After her news editor’s rant at her over the phone about missing the Chris Malone story, Ellie knew this angle would get her out of the bad books with her boss and make her job safe for a little while longer, which her landlord, in particular, would be very pleased about. A girl had to eat, after all. But in the back of her mind, an idea was brewing, every day a little stronger, that maybe she needed to mix things up. Find a new direction, perhaps.
“Kerry!” she called across the newsroom.
A head popped out of the kitchen. Her news editor wore her black hair cropped short which highlighted her suspicious eyes and her bright red power suit.
“What’ve you got, Flannery?”
“I’ve got a story for you.”
“Music to my ears What is it?”
“This is an even bigger yarn than the one I missed about Chris Malone. You know, about him being engaged to that European princess, whose name I can never remember.”
“Yeah?” Her news editor pricked up her ears.
“I found out last night that Malone is donating his time to take a one of a kind, rare, exclusive photograph for the Royal Flying Doctor’s annual charity ball. It’s going to be auctioned off and will raise thousands and thousands of dollars.”
“That’s the one you’re helping out with, right?”
“Yes, that’s right. All in my own time, if you remember.”
Kerry regarded Ellie with a smirk. “Did you have something to do with him donating that photo?”
“Yes, in a roundabout way.” Ellie knew it had all been Chris’s idea but she didn’t want to look like a total loser in front of her boss. And she figured she’d had a role in it because she’d mentioned what her grandfather had gone through. Maybe she could take forty percent of the credit.
“Okay, I’ll give that a run. Everyone in Australia
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