‘Come in,’ a murky tone instructed him.
He opened the door and was immediately standing before a large white desk that was neither regal nor expensive yet made him feel like a minion come to beg for bread. Caesar’s eyes flicked upwards from the paper he was signing, though he didn’t lift his chin.
‘Aah, if it isn’t young William. To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘I, er . . .’ He squared his shoulders and changed tack. ‘Good morning, sir.’
‘Not really but I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss that.’
‘No, I . . .’ He lifted the parcel in his hand, all at once grateful for its existence. ‘I brought your mail.’
‘I see. Who is it from?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he lied and held onto it, remembering Ann’s warning. ‘But there was something else I wanted to ask you too.’
Caesar stopped writing and looked up in silence, neither asking Will to continue nor saying that he couldn’t. Will tried not to find this expectant stare unnerving.
‘You see, I overheard before I went away that you were trying to get head office to send another graduate over here to help me out. And then I noticed that no one has turned up.’
‘Yes, well, I believe the girl they had in mind didn’t want to leave the Pilbara.’
‘Lena Todd?’ Will started.
‘I didn’t think it important to remember her name.’
‘We’re good friends. Went to uni together.’ Will nodded.
‘As happy as I am for you,’ Caesar drawled, ‘how does this concern me?’
‘We . . . I have another good friend, also female –’
‘No doubt.’
‘– who would love to come here and work. We were in the same year at university too. She’s currently working for a company in Perth but is not overly fussed with the work they are giving her and I thought –’
‘William, William, William.’ Caesar held up his hand. ‘I see what you’re doing, I really do. The problem with you is that you think I care.’ He rubbed his chin with thumb and forefinger. ‘Now as much as I hate to be the one to shatter your illusions, I don’t. Now can I have my mail, please?’ Caesar held out his hands.
‘But –’
‘Boy Scout, my parcel.’
Helplessly, Will placed the package in his hand and made haste to plead his case while he still had half a chance.
‘It’s just that it’s so clear to me that we need more hands on deck and she would be perfect. She’s very enthusiastic, very hard working and extremely eager to learn.’
But it was too late, for Caesar had turned over the tough bag and spied the name on the back. A muscle clenched in his cheek and there was a chilly silence. Will folded his arms tightly and looked up to see if icicles were forming on the ceiling.
‘William.’ Mark Crawford finally dropped the parcel on the desk, reverting sinisterly to his real name, his lips set into a hard line. ‘I will not be mobilising your girlfriend to site. Another crane maybe or a couple more utes, even a pallet of bolts might come in handy. But not your girlfriend.’
‘She’s not my girlfriend.’
However, this statement didn’t seem relevant to Caesar, who spread his hands and gazed heavenwards as though he were complaining to a higher power. ‘Why is it that everyone thinks it’s my job to improve their social life? This is not a holiday. This is not a picnic. I know the Whitsunday Islands are right next door but we’re here to work.’ His gaze returned to Will’s. ‘The whole point of working fly in, fly out, my friend, is that when you fly out you have someone to fly out to. Console yourself with that fact. Others are not so fortunate. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ He closed a large foolscap file of correspondence and stood up.
‘But –’
‘We’re done, William.’ Picking up the parcel, he shoved it in a filing cabinet behind him and then locked the drawer. He reached for his vest on the wall hook. ‘I’m going out.’
Will watched in resignation as his boss headed for the door. As luck would have it, however, as Caesar opened it, there was someone standing on the other side, barring his path.
Charlotte Templeton, Will noted, as he always noted whenever he saw her, was a very good-looking woman. Definitely the prettiest landlady he’d ever had. A little too old for him perhaps and when set alongside Emily she faded from memory. But he was sure other men would not have the same experience.
She was at least ten years his senior, with porcelain skin and wavy auburn hair – a classic Nicole Kidman lookalike. She stood there, hands on hips, foot tapping.
‘So you are here!’
Caesar frowned warily, his hand still on the doorknob. ‘What do you want?’
‘Perhaps, Mr Crawford, if you had bothered to answer a single one of my emails or phone messages you would know that by now.’
As she took a few steps forwards, Caesar took a few steps back, as though her proximity was too close for his liking. Will watched with interest slightly mixed with satisfaction the way she shut the door and advanced on Mark like a spider picking its way across its web.
Unafraid.
Irritated.
And totally in command of the room.
Given the man she was addressing was Caesar, this was completely unexpected and definitely worth watching. She seemed to feel his eyes on her and momentarily looked up.
‘Oh, hi, Will.’
‘Er, hi, Charlotte.’
‘This won’t take a moment,’ she assured him. ‘So sorry to interrupt your meeting.’
‘That’s okay. We were done anyway.’
Caesar noisily cleared his throat. ‘Ms Templeton –’
‘Mr Crawford,’ she responded just as imperiously, ‘I have a number of items, a whole list in fact, which I need to discuss with you regarding the use of my resort, the primary place of accommodation for your men.’
‘I can’t discuss your list right now,’ Mark returned tightly. ‘I’m busy.’
‘All right, can I come and see you tomorrow?’
‘No.’
‘How about after work?’
‘No.’
‘I could drop by your unit; it’s not far from my reception office.’
‘Definitely not.’
Charlotte’s lips pulled into a thin line and her delicate hands were back on her hips. ‘Then how am I supposed to address the issues I must raise with you?’
Mark’s closed expression did not change as he shrugged into his safety vest. ‘That’s the thing. You’re not.’
‘But –’
‘Ms Templeton –’
‘Call me Charlotte.’
He seemed to baulk at her suggestion. ‘Ms Templeton, if you are looking to raise your rates, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I can’t offer you anything more.’
‘Now just hang on a second there –’
‘Are you sure you only want a second?’ he drawled dryly, snatching his hat from the corner of his desk and determinedly putting it on. ‘In my experience it is always much longer.’
Charlotte looked furious and Will sucked in a deep breath, hoping she wouldn’t, praying she wouldn’t . . .
She did.
‘Mr Crawford, I do not want your money. I do not want your disregard. And I most certainly do not want your mockery. What I want is respect! Respect from you and respect from your men for the services provided by Silver Seas resort. On numerous occasions I have asked your men for more care and I am constantly ignored. These units have been in my family for more than forty years and your men have inflicted more wear and tear on them in the eight months they’ve been here than they’ve experienced in their whole existence. Frankly, it’s unacceptable.’ She was practically panting by the time she came to the end of her impassioned declaration.
Caesar sighed. ‘There, you see? More than one second. It was inevitable.’
Charlotte gasped. ‘Do you intend to continue to make fun of me, Mr Crawford?’
‘Was that what I was doing, Ms
Templeton? I was under the impression I was listening to you with unprecedented patience.’
‘Then I suppose it is I who should be sorry for having put you out,’ she replied with a sarcasm that was completely lost on her opponent.
‘True.’ He nodded. ‘Apology accepted.’
She opened her mouth to say something else but he waved a hand to stall her next rebuke. ‘Oh, very well. I suppose I will give your “list of items” a onceover. Have it ready and I’ll come pick it up after work on . . .’ he seemed to pick a day at random ‘. . . Friday.’
It was apparent to Will that Charlotte seemed to be having some sort of internal struggle before she said with tight-lipped politeness, ‘Thank you. What time should I expect you?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Caesar as he walked around her, opened his door and let himself out.
She turned on Will, who grimaced apologetically. ‘That man,’ she announced, ‘wasn’t beaten enough as a child.’
Will grinned. ‘Well, maybe you’ll just have to take a stick to him now.’
She gave him an answering smile. ‘Maybe I shall.’
It was Friday morning and Charlotte Templeton was desperately trying to get off the phone.
‘So I’m going to the Port Pub in Mackay tonight,’ said the male voice on the end of the line. ‘You should come.’
‘Er . . .’ She fingered the cord. ‘I have paperwork to do. Lots of paperwork.’
‘Oh,’ came the hesitant response, ‘because I was thinking . . .’
Don’t think.
‘. . . that you’d love it. It’s ladies’ night.’
She’d hate it.
Apart from the fact that she just didn’t have the time for dating, she wasn’t interested in Jared, her plumber, that way. Not that there was anything wrong with him. He was certainly nice enough. As a plumber. ‘Er, thanks for the offer but I think I’ll have to pass.’
‘You work too hard.’
He said the words like he knew her. The truth was he’d fixed her leaky taps and changed her showerheads twice. He didn’t have a clue what was going on in her head or how much baggage she had. If he knew, he’d be glad he’d got off lightly.
‘Well, you know,’ she tried to make light of his comment, ‘running a business single-handedly is no laughing matter.’
‘Yeah, you’re one smart lady.’
Charlotte glanced at her watch. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Hopefully, he’d say goodbye soon and they could both get on with their lives. She glanced at the computer screen in front of her. She really had to get this invoice done and off within the next half hour. Not to mention the stack of other chores she had lined up for the day, as well as a meeting with the emperor himself at TBA o’clock that evening.
‘Would you like me to come and service your hot-water system some time?’ His languid tone broke her thoughts. ‘It was looking pretty run down when I was there yesterday.’
Were they back to business again or was that a trick question?
Regardless, her hot-water system did need a service. Ever since Silver Seas had entered ‘the slump’ she had been letting things like that slide. ‘Yeah okay,’ she finally agreed. ‘I’ll give you a call about it later. But I really must go now.’
Thankfully he didn’t protest and they rang off. Charlotte put the receiver back on the phone and sighed. It wasn’t that she was against relationships exactly. It was just that she had two already that were taking up most of her time. A fifteen-year-old sister, whom she was practically raising, and a mum who needed almost twenty-four-hour care. Where was she supposed to put a boyfriend in that mix?
Besides the fact that Jared’s double-pierced ears, neck tattoo and bleached hair with red roots didn’t even slightly get her ticker counting faster. In fact he probably made her double her resolve to save herself the pain. She didn’t have anything against the ‘bad boy’. He just lacked that charismatic, irresistible something that . . .
Her thoughts dissolved as the lithe, masculine figure of Barnes Inc’s notorious project manager sauntered past the reception window. He neither glanced in, nor paused, in that arrogant, dogmatic way that was only his. Even so, she couldn’t help but crane her neck a little so that she could watch him manoeuvre that perfect arse of his into the driver’s seat of a white ute.
Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. If only he didn’t have the personality of a cactus.
‘He’s a bit of all right,’ a voice cackled at her elbow. ‘Don’t suppose he’s looking for a fling while he’s in town.’
Charlotte jumped, nearly sliding off the counter she’d been leaning on so heavily and landing on the floor. She didn’t like the direction her mother’s thoughts were taking. ‘Mum, you gave me a fright!’
The older woman who had suddenly materialised by her elbow ignored this remark. She patted her wiry, grey-streaked hair, watching the ute disappear in a cloud of dust. ‘I’m calling dibs.’
‘You’re what?’
‘He’s mine. Hands off.’
‘I wasn’t –’
‘Yeah right,’ she scoffed, adding smugly, ‘Gentlemen prefer blondes. And stop calling me Mum. I’m too young to be your mother.’ And she removed a pocket mirror from her purse to examine her make-up, which had been applied with all the coordination of a five-year-old. Yes. Definitely having an episode.
Charlotte kept her voice light. ‘It’s not even seven yet. You should still be in bed.’
Her mother, otherwise known as Virginia Templeton, shook her head. ‘I have business in town, Sarah.’
Sarah was the receptionist her mother had let go about eighteen years ago just after Charlotte’s father had died. Sarah had been caught renting rooms to her friends for free. But that wasn’t the most telling hint that the sixty-year-old was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. Despite the fact that she was carrying an old-fashioned handbag and had pulled most of her hair back into an off-centre bun, she was still dressed in her long pale-pink nightie, the kind that buttoned up at the front.
‘Come on, Mum, let’s get you some breakfast.’ Charlotte came out from behind the counter and took her by the elbow. ‘You haven’t eaten yet, have you?’
Virginia pulled her arm away but looked slightly confused. ‘Actually . . . er . . . I don’t think I have.’
‘Thought so.’ Charlotte put up a plastic sign on the counter top, Ring bell for service. Spinning her mother in a complete circle, she walked her back through the door she’d come in by. It was also the entrance to their home.
They entered a cosy-looking living room. The decor was simple, consisting of a pine bookshelf, an inexpensive TV cabinet, a matching coffee table and a pair of gum-green couches. The curtains were floral and the carpet cream. All in all, the layout had not really changed since she’d first left home to study psychology in Brisbane nineteen years back. They passed through this area, straight to the kitchen and dining where Charlotte’s younger sister, Zara, sat eating some toast.
The fifteen-year-old grinned. ‘Hey, Mum, off to town again?’
Charlotte tried sending her a meaningful look as she gently removed her mother’s handbag from her wrist, but Zara didn’t seem to receive the message. Charlotte took her eyes from her sister and guided her mother to a chair. ‘What would you like, Mum? Toast or cereal?’
Virginia Templeton glanced from daughter to daughter. She had a blank look in her eyes as though she were coming out of a dream and was trying to find her bearings.
‘Tell you what,’ Charlotte patted her shoulder, ‘I’ll get your favourite. Coco Pops.’
Zara immediately frowned. ‘That’s so unfair.’
Frankly, Charlotte was in no mood to get into an argument. She felt like all she ever did these days was give people boundaries. If it wasn’t her family, it was the resort patrons or, more precisely, the workers from the Hay Point Wharf project, situated two minutes up the road.
But for the giant expansion project going on there, Silver Seas would never ha
ve had the opportunity to fill all but one of its luxury beachside chalets. In fact, prior to the approach from Barnes Inc, she’d had the resort on the market because they’d been facing bankruptcy. Her contract with the major construction company had saved her parents’ business. However, now she didn’t know whether their arrival had been manna from heaven or the onset of the plague.
The problem was FIFO workers weren’t exactly domestic goddesses. In fact, they weren’t domestic anything. They treated her chalets like, well, like dongas. Coal-encrusted footwear was trampled straight into the two-bedroom units, through the white-tiled foyers and down the short, cream-carpeted halls to the bedrooms. Luckily the shoes seemed to come off then. But Charlotte couldn’t help but notice that her floors were getting more and more stained. If they kept this up much longer, she would need to replace all the carpets by the time the project was over.
And that wasn’t the only bone she had to pick.
There was this one guy the men called ‘Fish’, and with good reason. His name was his hobby, his diet and his personal life philosophy. Charlotte had nothing against passion. What she did have a problem with were the fish guts he left in the sink every morning after his evenings on the shoreline. Part of the service of Silver Seas resort was housekeeping. She didn’t mind cleaning as such. It was something she was prepared to do to keep her parents’ legacy alive. But within reason, please! To be greeted every morning by the stench of this man’s rotting catches as soon as she threw open his chalet door, and then be expected to clean it up as well, was definitely more than she’d signed up for.
And then there was the level of drinking going on after five. Was it normal for a man to consume half a carton or more every night? Surely there must be some alcoholics among them by now. There had been no damage to property as yet, but Charlotte couldn’t see how this good luck could continue. Every night she found the evidence of their consumption littered around her pool chairs and on the outdoor tables. At first she thought she might just put a bin out there. But the large plastic blue hint, even adorned with a sign saying Place rubbish here, seemed to have no impact whatsoever upon the revellers who used the space for their booze-ups. Besides the mess, she had a teenage sister to consider. She didn’t want Zara getting any ideas. The girl was rebellious enough as it was.
The Girl in the Yellow Vest Page 4