The Girl in the Hard Hat (7 page)

A plastic packet flew from her left and landed in front of her. It was a fluoro yellow safety vest. She looked over in the direction it had come.

‘It might help.’ Chub winked at her. ‘Marginally.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled but didn’t immediately open it. Instead she got up and walked over to Neil’s side of the office.

‘Er . . . Neil,’ she began.

‘Not now,’ he snapped. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’

The truth was he didn’t look busy at all. He was just sitting there – pale and sweaty with bloodshot eyes.

What he did look was
sick
. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Just go away,’ he croaked.

It was the sound of his voice, rather than the command itself that made her turn helplessly away. After she sat down, she looked across the room at him. He was sitting slumped in his chair, head down, eyes fixed on the floor like he was suffering.

Her brow wrinkled. ‘Hey, Cobber,’ she whispered to Chub. ‘Should we call someone, like the medic?’

‘Nothing to worry about, little mate, he’s just hungover.’ He continued to type away on his computer as though the announcement were commonplace.

‘How do you know?’ she asked.

‘A lot of guys here like to drink after work. Neil
especially
. He’s committed.’

‘He’s committed?’

‘Yeah, he’s like this every morning.’

Warning bells like the chimes of Big Ben sounded in her ears. ‘
Every
morning?’

Chub looked up. ‘Are we playing like a game, where you repeat everything I say?’

‘But that’s disgraceful!’ Wendy ignored his question, her voice losing its whisper quality.

‘Not too loud.’ Chub put a sausage-like finger to his lips. ‘You’ll wake him up.’

Just then what sounded like a snore erupted from Neil’s slumped body.

‘Please tell me he’s not sleeping.’

‘All right.’ Chub complied agreeably and said no more.

An awful realisation dawned on Wendy. ‘And I suppose he does that every morning too?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘But that’s outrageous. Why haven’t you reported him?’

‘And be a snitch?’ Chub snorted. ‘Little mate, you don’t know the rules of the game around here.’

‘What game?’

‘You don’t dob on your peers. It’s very bad form. I’d be ostracised. So would anyone else who blew the whistle. You protect your own.’

She gaped at him. ‘But don’t you get it? He’s supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around. Who else knows about this?’

‘Everyone.’ Chub raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, maybe not everyone everyone. Carl obviously doesn’t know.’

‘He’s an alcoholic,’ she whispered, glancing over at Neil’s snoring form. The horror that Parker Point was repeating itself was like a slap across her face. ‘I mean, he’s gotta be.’ Was she going to be asked to protect this guy from himself too?

Just like Adam Booth. The man she had unwisely decided to give a second chance to.

She turned angrily on Chub. Her reaction, she knew, was slightly overboard but she couldn’t help it.

‘I can’t deal with this.’

‘Which part?’

‘All of it! You can’t have a safety officer who’s an alcoholic! Even saying it sounds ludicrous.’

‘Well don’t say it then,’ Chub offered. ‘It’ll make you feel much better. Hell, it’ll make me feel better.’

‘No it won’t. No wonder Barnes Inc has dropped the ball on safety. It’s all because of him.’

‘Well, there’s no need to get your knickers in a knot.’ Chub reached for his jar of jelly beans.

‘I don’t want a jelly bean!’ She bolted to her feet. ‘I’m going to see Carl.’ The anger boiling in her blood was like a shot of adrenaline.

‘But, Wendy,’ Chub began, ‘wait –’

It was too late. She was already striding from the room. It was only about fifteen minutes into Wednesday morning, so Carl was still in his office, just downloading his morning emails.

‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’

Obviously, none of them were good news.

‘Good morning, Carl.’

He didn’t look up from his computer screen as she positioned herself in his doorframe.

‘Morning, Wendy.’

‘How are you?’ she asked politely, wondering whether to ease into her complaint or cut to the chase.

‘Fucked.’ He still didn’t look up.

Cut to the chase.

‘Speaking of which, did you know that Neil Cooper has a drinking problem?’

He finally pulled his eyes from his screen. ‘What the fuck?’

‘The reason why we have such a poor relationship with the wharf owners is because Neil can’t get through the work. Every morning he’s hungover.’

‘You’ve been here . . . what? Three days? And that’s your assessment. A bloke is allowed to be fuckin’ hungover occasionally. Especially in these parts.’

‘Well, according to Bill Walden, and probably anyone else you care to question, Neil is like that every morning without fail.’

‘Who the fuck is Bill Walden?’

She sighed. ‘Chub.’

‘Right.’ His eyes cleared in recognition. ‘Well, why didn’t Chub tell me himself?’

‘Because,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘nobody wants to be a whistle-blower.’

His eyes narrowed upon her. ‘You, on the other hand, are fuckin’ happy to do it.’

She reddened. ‘It’s not that. I don’t enjoy anyone’s misfortune or deliberately want anyone to suffer whether they’ve made a mistake or not. I firmly believe that everyone should get a fair go and definitely some room to stuff up and get back up. But, Carl, I’ve seen how much work he has on his desk. And I’ve heard the number of complaint calls he gets. This is a situation of long standing. I’ve had my safety induction but he won’t let me on the wharf or give me any real work. He’s too scared I might find out exactly how much he’s missed. It’s too dangerous to give him time to realise the error of his own ways and change. He’s in charge of people’s lives, for goodness’ sake – making sure that every person on this job is not at unnecessary risk of injury, or worse, death. You can’t just let something like that slide. Particularly for an
alcoholic
. His condition is a disease. He’s not going to right the wrongs he’s committed overnight, even if he admits today that he’s got a problem. He needs help. Professional help!’

Her voice faltered as bad decisions she couldn’t make again threatened to choke her. But she pushed through the feeling.

‘Even if the lives and well-being of your men aren’t that important to you, what about Barnes Inc’s risk of liability? If anyone so much as breathes the word negligence, we won’t have a leg to stand on. Maybe I’m the new girl in town and maybe I’ve only been here a few days but, Carl, I can promise you, if you come with me now, just for five minutes, you’ll be able to see firsthand
exactly
what I’m talking about.’

She found herself panting slightly as she came to the end of this impassioned speech. And Carl, who had watched her whole diatribe in wide-eyed shock, continued to sit there in silence for a few more seconds before exclaiming, ‘What is it with the fuckin’ women on this job?’

While she was still trying to decipher the significance of this question, Carl put his pointer finger to the desk. ‘This,’ he growled, ‘is a construction project. It’s not a cause. I have no place for soapboxes on this job.’

Wendy wrung her hands. ‘I know but –’

‘But,’ he held up his finger, ‘if you think you’ve got something to show me then, fuck, show me, and make it quick.’

She nodded curtly. ‘All right then.’

She led him out of the main office donga, across the patch of dirt separating it from the icebox and back to Neil’s desk. It took Carl only five seconds to notice that Neil Cooper was asleep and another two seconds to smell him.

‘Fuck!’ Carl turned on Chub. ‘And you say he’s like this
every morning
?’

Chub looked heavenwards. ‘Why do I feel like there’s an echo in here?’

‘Just tell me the fuckin’ truth.’

Chub quickly sobered. ‘Yes. It’s pretty much his routine.’

Carl bent over and shook Neil’s shoulders. The man started as he opened his eyes.

‘Neil, you’re fired. Pack up your things and leave. Wendy,’ Carl turned to her, ‘you’ve got his job. I want you out on that wharf. You find out everything this motherfucker has missed and I do mean
everything.
’

Gavin Jones was not a man who normally gave much time to gossip. Unless, of course, it was about himself, which generally didn’t happen that often. After the awkward incident with Lena Todd a couple of months earlier he’d made it his personal mission to stay out of the limelight.

It wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy a good laugh with his men over their drunken antics and hook-ups with women gone wrong. He just didn’t want to be the subject of one of those stories again, which, once circulated, were followed by all and sundry like a TV soap.

Today, however, as he sat in the TCN office with Lena waiting for Bulldog to deem them worthy of his presence he couldn’t help but listen with half an ear to her musings.

‘Did you know she had Neil fired this morning? She’s taken his job. Just swiped it right out from under him.’

‘Really?’ His tone implied vague interest. ‘And who is Neil again?’

Lena rolled her eyes. ‘He’s our safety guy.’

‘We have a safety guy?’ Gavin rubbed his chin. ‘Never heard of him.’

‘I think that’s half the problem.’ Lena put her foolscap file in a standing position and leaned heavily on the top of it. ‘Things are going to change around here big time. I just know it. Radar was saying that after firing Neil she got on the wharf and started going around taking a heap of notes. Apparently, there’s all these improvements we need to make.’

Did that mean he was going to be seeing more of that stunning blonde striding around the deck? He couldn’t wait.

‘She reckons we’re not ready for cyclone season. I suppose that’s true, considering I don’t even know when cyclone season starts.’

‘November.’ Gavin’s excitement increased. ‘She’ll probably want to do a pre-season clean up.’

‘That’s what Radar said,’ Lena groaned. ‘That’s going to slow us down, isn’t it?’

Gavin sighed as he thought about Wendy’s pouty mouth, and long-lashed lids. ‘Oh, give the girl a chance. Safety is, after all, very important.’

‘I know.’ Lena bit her lip. ‘And I shouldn’t be complaining after everything Dan’s been through. I just have a bad feeling, you know.’

‘About Bulldog?’ Gavin grinned. ‘That’s perfectly natural.’

‘About
Wendy
.’ Lena tutted. ‘She’s a nice girl who’s in for a very hard time of it. The boys around here are pretty much set in their ways with their “Why fix it if it ain’t broke?” attitudes. I doubt they’ll be very accommodating of her new ideas. Maybe I should warn her to be careful.’

She
should
be careful all right. That gorgeous tight little arse encased in black Lycra running through the streets of Wickham at twilight, taunting a man with delights he dared not imagine.
Is that get-up even legal in these parts?

‘What are you smiling about?’ Lena demanded. ‘I swear you’re like a stoned puppy to talk to this morning.’

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re thinking about going after her, aren’t you?’

Been there. Done that.

‘For goodness’ sake, Gavin, have you even met her yet?’

Kissing her was the highlight of my week.

‘Sort of.’ He lifted an arm to self-consciously rub the back of his neck. ‘We kind of didn’t get off to a good start. I think I’m going to have to work on my manners.’

Lena sniffed. ‘Got that right.’

He threw her his most whimsical smile. It usually melted away the annoyance on the crankiest woman’s face. ‘You’re not still dirty about what went down between us, are you?’

But Lena wasn’t most women. She’d proved her immunity to him with gleeful dexterity. ‘I’m too in love with Dan to be worried about the likes of you.’

‘Of course.’ He glanced dryly at his watch. ‘I just wish that boyfriend of yours cared a little more about this meeting. We’ve been waiting for his majesty for nearly half an hour now. I’ve got things on the wharf I need to do.’

Lena stiffened defensively. ‘He’s a busy man. He’s got lots of people demanding his attention.’

As if to echo this sentiment, the door to the client’s office swung open. Preceded by a swirl of red dust, a woman entered the reception area.

A gorgeous brunette.

Gavin immediately sat up straighter. He definitely had a preference for blondes but this bird was something special. She looked completely out of place standing in front of that dirt-smudged white reception counter. She was wearing a cream summer dress with a faint pink floral print. It had a lace-trimmed sweetheart neckline leaving her shoulders, arms and the round tops of two perfect breasts exposed. On her feet were a pair of flimsy pale pink sandals, a rare sight at Cape Lambert, where every foot was encased in steel-capped boots to avoid censure from the client, or crushed toes – whichever seemed like the priority at the time.

Her skin was the fair kind that obviously only saw sun on those rare occasions she thought a well-catered picnic on the beach sounded like a good idea. Her hair, a generous cascade of glossy chestnut-coloured curls, trailed down her back with inviting warmth.