Lois smiled suddenly and looked sideways at him. "Bessie liked *you*," she said in a teasing tone. "Your 'mum' will be pleased to hear that Australian women have noticed your manly charm."
There was only one Australian woman Clark wanted to notice him. "Bessie is a very kind lady," he said.
"Are you going to tell your mom what she said about you?"
"No."
Lois giggled. "Here's a promise, Kent," she said. "If I ever meet your mother, I'm telling her."
Clark smiled but said nothing. There was something very wonderful about the thought of Lois meeting his mom. He was sure they would like each other, but more than that, it would mean Lois had become more than his colleague.
They drove the rest of the way to the office in silence. Clark thought about his story ... and couldn't forget the soft Aussie accent of a brave little woman who had lost so much that she loved.
Part 8
When they arrived back at the Herald Sun office, they separated - Lois to her desk, Clark to his.
Clark listened to the tape of his interview with Bessie and put together the bare bones of his story. He debated whether to take it to Browny now - just to ensure it was what was required - or whether to advance the story further before showing it to the editor.
Clark glanced to Lois's desk, thinking it would be a good idea to take her a coffee and ask her opinion.
Her desk was empty.
He hadn't noticed her leave - he must have been really immersed in his story. Deciding not to bother Browny yet, Clark kept working - though it didn't stop him from listening for the sound of Lois's return.
By mid-afternoon, his story was in good enough shape that Clark felt comfortable about sending it to Browny. He submitted it, surprised at how nervous he was about the editor's reaction. This was his first contribution to the paper, and he really didn't want Browny feeling that the Herald Sun had been short-changed in the switch of reporters.
Lois still wasn't back at her desk.
Clark's mind drifted back to their time at the beach in Geelong yesterday, but his pleasant recollections were chopped short by the scream that cut across the newsroom.
"RUBBER!"
With his heart thumping way beyond what seemed warranted, Clark rose from his seat and hurried into Browny's office. "Yes?" he said, only just managing not to add 'sir' to his greeting.
Browny looked up from his monitor. "I've just read your story," he said in a tone that gave absolutely no clue about his opinion.
"And?" Clark asked.
Browny's loud laugh reverberated around his office. "You look worried, Rubber," he said. "Don't you know a good piece of writing when you see it? It's exactly what I was hoping for."
"Thank you," Clark said, trying hard not to sound too surprised or relieved.
Browny's thoughts seemed to move on from the story. "Bluey is going out to Moorabbin to watch St Kilda train," he said. "I want you to go with him and then come back and write up the training report together. By then the teams will be coming in." Browny picked up his phone, which Clark took as a dismissal.
Walking back to his desk, Clark felt a wave of satisfaction at Browny's response to the story. If only Lois were at her desk, his life would be perfect.
Later, Clark went with Bluey to the St Kilda training ground and saw a much more spirited and intensive session than he'd seen the day before at Geelong. Bluey's approach to the story seemed somewhat haphazard, and his interest regularly drifted to his conversation with some of the female fans, but Clark thought it best not to comment.
After training had finished, they stopped at a milk bar to buy a couple of meat pies - which Bluey told him were an institution in Australia - and ate them as they drove back to the office.
When they arrived back, the newsroom was abuzz with a frenzied level of activity. Clark ascertained immediately that Lois still hadn't returned from wherever she'd gone. He wanted to enquire but hesitated to show too much interest in her whereabouts. No one else mentioned her absence - perhaps she was chasing up last minute information for her 'Rich Club, Poor Club' story.
Bluey wrote up the training report - obviously he had noticed more than Clark had feared - and Clark offered occasional suggestions. At regular intervals, the call came across the newsroom - "Collingwood's in ... Essendon's in ... Fitzroy's in," and a new piece of paper was added to the big board on the wall. When he heard the Geelong team announced, Clark wandered over to the board and discovered that Kendall had been named to play.
It was after ten o'clock when the flurry finally eased, and Browny told him to go. Clark caught the train back to Richmond. As he walked home, he detoured past Lois's home. A light was on and Clark paused. He could hear footsteps and a heartbeat from her unit. Feeling he had invaded her privacy more than was appropriate, he hurried away.
But he knew he couldn't have gone home without knowing for sure that Lois was safe.
||_||
The first thing Clark did when he arrived at the office the next morning was to check Lois's desk. It was still deserted. He quickly scanned the entire newsroom and realised that she wasn't in yet. Trying to suppress his disappointment, he opened his copy of the Herald Sun and found Lois's 'Rich Club, Poor Club' story. After reading it, he was impressed. The story could have been reduced to little more than stodgy information, but she had somehow breathed life and interest into her words.
He figured Lois assumed she had been given the story because she was the least of the reporters in the football department. Having read it, Clark was sure Browny's reasoning had been that she was one of the very few who could actually produce a quality piece of work, given the dry subject matter.
Gazza came over, and Clark noticed he had indeed 'dressed down', wearing a well-worn pair of jeans and a casual polo shirt that had probably seen a few too many Fridays. Clark had remembered Lois's advice and was wearing jeans and a button-up shirt without a tie. As he had dressed, he had wondered wryly if the next time he wore a tie would be the day he returned to the Daily Planet.
"We're outta here, mate," Gazza said. "Three debutantes have been named in the teams, and Browny thinks the young Carlton bloke, Aaron Hamill, has a future, so we're headed to Princes Park to see if they're willing to let him talk to us."
Clark followed Gazza out of the office. He passed Lois's vacant desk with a sigh, his disappointment beginning to morph into concern despite his patrol last night. Was she OK?
"Do you know where Lois is?" Clark asked Gazza as they stepped onto the sidewalk.
Gazza shrugged, his disinterest stark. "Could be anywhere."
"But someone would know where she is?" Clark said, trying desperately to keep the anxiety from his voice. "Browny would be keeping tabs on her?"
"I s'pose so," Gazza said. "Listen, mate, the first thing you need to know about Flinders is that she isn't your average sheila. I mean, what normal woman would want to work in a footy department? It's a tough gig if you're a bloke who hasn't played the game; if you're a woman, you just don't have any credibility at all."
"She has earned credibility," Clark said tightly.
His response seemed to surprise Gazza. "She writes OK, and her looks aren't too bad," Gazza said. "She could be a TV reporter on twice the money, or she could get married and have a coupla kids ... but she prefers the hard slog of trying to carve out a career as a footy journo." He shook his head as if such decisions were unfathomable.
"But she's good at it."
Gazza shrugged. "Doesn't change that she's a woman."
"That's an incredibly sexist attitude," Clark said before he could stop himself.
Gazza didn't take offence; he merely grinned. "That's how it is."
"It shouldn't be that way."
"You could be right, Rubber," Gazza said indifferently. "And if anyone can change people's minds about women reporting on footy, it's probably Flinders Lane. But will it be worth it if she gets to the end of the road and wonders about all the things she missed?"
"Such as?"
"A life."
"She has a life."
Gazza's expression clearly said two things. He didn't agree and he didn't want to discuss it any more. "We're having a barbeque next Wednesday," he said. "The missus said to make sure you know you're welcome."
"The missus?"
"My 'trouble and strife'." Gazza saw Clark's confusion and chortled. "My wife," he said. "The good woman, the other half, the missus, the minister for domestic affairs, she who must be obeyed."
"Oh," Clark said. He had assumed Gazza wasn't married.
"Wednesday arvo," Gazza said. "Get Flinders to give you a lift. Oh, and bring a plate."
||_||
Clark and Gazza arrived back just before lunch - having been granted a short interview with the debutante but having had to wait for over an hour while he attended the team meeting.
Lois was at her desk! Clark's heart danced.
Even better, she didn't have a drink.
Tucked into the corner of the newsroom was a bench with a tiny sink, a miniature fridge, and a large white jug with a lead connecting it to a power outlet. Cups hung from hooks below a shelf that held tea bags, instant coffee, and a jar of sugar.
Clark surveyed the remainder of the area. There was no coffee machine.
"What'cha looking for, mate?" Banjo asked, coming up behind Clark. "Milk's in the fridge."
Clark turned. "Is there a coffee machine?"
Banjo snorted. "This is a newspaper, Rubber," he said. "Not an Italian restaurant."
"So, we have instant coffee?" Clark asked, trying to make it sound like an enquiry and not a criticism.
"Yep," Banjo said. "Just stick on the jug and away you go."
Clark contemplated the white jug, hoping Banjo would remember he had a story to write.
Apparently, Banjo didn't have a story. He studied Clark. "You don't know how to work the jug, do you, Rubber?" Banjo said, grinning widely. "It's easy. You check the gauge at the front to make sure there's enough water, and then you flick this switch at the top. Got it?"
Clark nodded. "Thanks, Banjo," he said.
"How do you boil water in the USA?" Banjo asked.
"Ah ... kettles ... on the stove top." Or a coffee machine.
"Oh," Banjo said. He slipped two cups from their hooks and set them on the bench. "You want coffee?"
"Actually, I was going to take one to Lois," Clark said.
Banjo took down another cup. "I have mine black with one sugar," he said. "Thanks, Rubber." He turned and walked back to his desk.
Half a minute later, the jug began to steam and automatically clicked off. Clark made the three coffees and took one to Banjo.
"Thanks, mate," he said.
Then Clark took the remaining two cups to Lois's desk. "Hi, Lois," he said, trying to sound casual despite how good it felt to see her again.
She looked up from her work with a smile. "Hi, Clark," she said. "How are you going? How's your Bessie Bellchambers story?"
Clark put a cup on her desk, biting back the need to apologise that it was instant coffee. "Browny said it is what he was hoping for."
Lois smiled her thanks. "That's always good. It will probably be in tomorrow's edition as a build-up to the Swans game against St Kilda."
"Yeah, that's what Browny said."
"Congratulations - your first Aussie byline."
"Thanks," he said. "I read your story - it was great."
Lois wrinkled her nose. "It was OK given it's a topic that no one really wants to read about."
"I asked Browny if I can do the St Kilda-Sydney game tomorrow, and he said that would be a good idea," Clark said.
"No worries. I'll pick you up about nine o'clock."
Any chance of further conversation was quelled by a loud demand from Browny for silence. He was perched on the crate again.
Browny cleared this throat. "Lunch'll be here in a tick, so hold onto your hunger for a moment and listen here. We've had another good week in this department - thanks to all of you for your efforts. As you know, we've had a team change of our own, with Deano out and Rubber in." His eyes rested briefly on Clark. "Welcome, Rubber, it's good to have you on board."
"Thanks," Clark said.
Browny didn't shift his attention as Clark had expected him to. "You've been here nearly a week, Rubber," he said. "It's time for you to spill the beans."
This statement was met with loud agreement from around the room. Clark was genuinely unsure what they expected from him.
"Your footy team," Gazza explained from across the room. "We want to know who you're going to barrack for."
Oh. That.
"Come on, Rubber," Bluey said. "Be a man and make a stand."
"Yeah, come on, Rubber."
Clark was aware of Lois to his left and slightly behind him, but determinedly kept his eyes forward as he thrust his hands into his pockets. "I ... ah ... haven't ..."
"Don't give us that, Rubber," Banjo said, grinning. "It won't wash. You can't live in Melbourne and not have a footy team."
Clark realised that his time in neutral territory was over. "OK," he said. "I think I'll barrack for Hawthorn."
His announcement was met with loud groans of abject disapproval. "Hawthorn," Gazza said, his lip curling with deep disgust. "Hawthorn. I wouldn't barrack for those colours if every other team dropped dead."
"That's 'cause we ripped you a new one last weekend," Lois said quietly.
This comment was met with loud laughter. Gazza scowled.
"The Colliwobbles came early this year," Lois added.
Gazza's scowl deepened. From the crate, Browny spoke again.
"So you're a Hawk, Rubber," he said, a hint of disappointment in his tone. His eyes scanned the gathering before him. "I trust you all know which games you are doing this weekend ... Good. Don't push the deadlines - it plays havoc with my blood pressure. And don't forget you're supposed to be in training for our game against the electronic media blokes. We don't want any of you carking it just 'cause you had to run twenty metres."
He stepped down from the crate with surprising agility, and Clark snuck a look at Lois. She was contemplating him with a small smile.
"Welcome to the Hawthorn family," she said quietly.
Clark grinned and winked at her.
Her attention turned to the door as a man and two women strode into the room carrying large trays of food.
"What's this?" Clark asked.
"We get lunch on the bosses on Fridays," Lois said. "Are you hungry?"
Clark nodded. "Are you?"
"Yep." They walked together to the table where the food was being laid out.
"What happens around here on Friday night?" Clark asked.
"Footy," Lois replied.
Banjo sidled up to Clark. "C'ov a word, mate?" he said.
Clark turned. "Sure."
Banjo gestured away from the crowd at the table. "Not here; this is for your ears only," he said. He walked to the door of the newsroom and exited into the corridor. Clark followed.
"Hey, mate?" Banjo said once they were alone. "Do yourself a favour and stay away from Flinders."
Clark understood but pretended not to. "Browny has us working together sometimes."
"Not work," Banjo said. "Personally. Don't go there, mate. You're barking up the wrong tree."
Clark studied Banjo's face, trying to read beyond his words. "Is this because I said I barracked for Hawthorn?" he asked. "Is that the problem?"
"That and how often you look at her desk."
Clark tried to stifle his disquiet at having been caught watching Lois. "Because she's with someone else?" he asked.
"Because you've got Buckley's."
"Buckley's?"
"Buckley's chance - meaning none," Banjo said. "Listen, mate, you're an OK-looking bloke, and with that Yank accent, you shouldn't have too much trouble pulling the sheilas, but going after Flinders is like a dog chasing a truck - it's best that you don't actually catch it."
"Are you warning me to stay away from her?"
"You got it, mate," Banjo said, looking relieved that Clark had understood.
Clark decided this was not a conversation he wanted to continue. "Thanks," he said. "Mate."
Banjo smiled. "Us blokes have to stick together, Rubber. I couldn't stand by and watch a mate get himself into a mess like that."
"Thanks again," Clark said.
He walked back into the newsroom and picked up a plate. He put a few of the more recognisable food items on it and returned to his desk. Glancing surreptitiously to Lois, he saw she was eating absently while reading from her computer screen. He surveyed the room and realised that he and Lois were the only two at their desks; everyone else was standing around, chatting and laughing as they ate the lunch that had been provided.
Lois looked as if she were oblivious to everything going on around her. Clark wondered if she really was as much of an outsider as it sometimes appeared. She didn't seem unduly perturbed by her separateness.
Was she eating alone because Dan Scardino wasn't here?
If he were here, would they be eating together, laughing and talking just like everyone else?
Was that why Banjo had warned him off? Out of loyalty to Scardino? It had sounded more like he was trying to keep Clark out of trouble, but maybe Scardino was the sort of man who didn't like anyone showing an interest in his girl.
But if that were the case, why had he gone to Metropolis?
Clark stood and resolutely weaved through the gathered people to Lois's desk. He took his notes from his pocket. "There's a game tonight," he said. "West Coast Eagles versus Fitzroy. Your friends from the west."
"The game's in Perth, so no footy in Melbourne tonight," Lois said. "Therefore, your choices are pretty much any pub - they'll all be showing the game."
"What do you usually do?"
"I usually go home and watch the footy on the telly," Lois replied. "Saturdays and Sundays are my biggest days, so I try to keep Friday night quiet." She shrugged. "Sorry to be so lame. Gazza and the boys will be going to the pub. I know you could go with them if you wanted to."
"I'd rather watch the game with you."
She didn't seem taken aback by his forthrightness. "There would be conditions."
Clark could tell by the gleam in her eyes that the conditions were not going to be onerous. "What conditions?" he asked.
"Well, Friday night wouldn't be Friday night without fish and chips for tea."
"Chips? They're like french fries, aren't they?"
"Fat french fries."
"OK," Clark said. "Deal."
"Beauty," Lois said. "I'll probably be ready to leave about seven; does that suit you?"
It suited him just fine. "Yep," he said.
As Clark walked back to his desk, he was completely unable to control the wide grin that had settled on his face.
||_||
It was after seven when Lois and Clark swung out of the Herald Sun offices. "I didn't bring the Jeep today," she told him. "Friday night traffic is a nightmare, even when there's no footy."
They crossed the Yarra River and walked into the teeming Flinders St Station. When they boarded the overloaded train, all the seats were taken, so they had to stand, crushed against the door. The movement of the train kept jostling Lois against him.
They alighted at Richmond station, walked along the street and into a brightly lit, crowded store. As soon as they entered, an older guy from behind the counter raised his hand in cheery greeting. "Flinders!" he called.
Lois manoeuvred her way through the customers to the counter. The old guy leant over and squeezed her shoulder. "Thank you, Flinders. You were very nice to my Dees."
Lois grinned. "It's easy to be nice to them when they play like that, George."
"Neitz kicked eight," he said, grinning broadly. "Big game this week. Do you reckon we can beat the Tigers?"
"I didn't pick 'em, George," Lois admitted.
His grin faded. "Flinders, my girl," he said, "You didn't pick my Dees?"
"Sorry, George. I think Richmond will win."
Two people from the assembled crowd joined in the conversation, and the four of them tossed around comments for the next few minutes. Clark looked at the other people in the shop and noticed that, without exception, they were listening to the footy talk. Then, one by one, they joined in. They talked over each other, they disagreed loudly, and they laughed often.
Clark couldn't follow the conversation. There were just too many phrases he didn't understand - and too many unfamiliar names - but he found himself smiling because they were clearly enjoying it so much.
George handed Lois a package wrapped in white paper, and she paid him with a blue-green ten-dollar note.
"Thanks, George," she said. "See you next week."
"Bye, Flinders. Have a good week and remember, 'Go Dees'."
The store erupted into a chaotic and unsynchronised sports cheer.
Outside, it was cold and dark. And, noticeably quiet after the noise of the shop. Lois cuddled the warm package against her chest.
"Do you go there every week?" Clark asked.
"Every Friday night," Lois replied. "It's my weekly indulgence."
"Who are the Dees? I don't remember them from the sheet you gave me."
"The Demons. Melbourne. Their name is the envy of all clubs. Their record isn't. Their last premiership was 1964. You have to wonder if their fans care any more."
"Because they've been so long without success?" he said.
"Because ... I don't know ... it's as if something vital is missing at Melbourne."
"What makes you say that?"
"Just a gut feeling," Lois said. "I hope for George's sake that I'm wrong."
When they had nearly reached Lois's unit, she suddenly gave a little squeal. "Eeek, I forgot," she said. "I'm out of milk." She handed Clark the warm white package, reached into her bag, and offered him her keys. "Take the chips and go home. Turn on the heater and get out a couple of cans from the fridge. I'll zip to the milk bar. I'll only be a few moments behind you."
"Do you want me to go for the milk?" Clark offered.
"No," Lois said. "It will take just as long to tell you where the milk bar is as it will to go there myself. See you in a few minutes."
Clark went to Lois's unit. As he pushed the key in the lock, he heard a sound behind him. It was Lois's neighbour, Esmeralda.
"Hi, Clark," she said in a sultry voice.
"Hi, Esmeralda." He opened Lois's door.
"You spending the night with Lois?" Esmeralda asked.
"We're watching the football together," Clark said, his tone not inviting further conversation.
Esmeralda giggled - a high-pitched cackle that soured his insides.
"Bye," Clark said. He stepped into Lois's apartment and firmly shut the door.
||_||
Glossary
Beauty - great.
Buckley's chance - none. You've got Buckley's - you have no chance.
Cark it - to die.
The Colliwobbles - The condition of being highly likely to fall at the final hurdle. Drawn from Collingwood's tendency to lose Grand Finals. Collingwood supporters do not find the term amusing!
C'ov - can I have.
Debutante - player in his first game.
Milk bar - called a milk bar in Victoria (also known as a deli or a corner store in other states) - a local store that sells bread and milk, newspapers, ice-creams, soft drinks (soda), and also take-away food such as pies.
RL people
Aaron Hamill - Played for Carlton 1996-2000 and St Kilda 2001-2007. David Neitz - played for Melbourne 1993-2008 - champion full forward.
