Her eyes widened. ‘Gee, don’t hold back or anything.’
It was the most thorough insult she’d ever received. But what was it they said about Bulldog? He was a perfectionist. Clearly he applied that to his every pursuit.
His lips hardened. ‘You think this is a joke. Don’t you? Just like everything else. When are you going to learn that you can’t get through life on a smile? It doesn’t work that way. Especially not out here. You’re going to get hurt and you won’t see it coming.’
When he said nothing more, Lena decided it was her turn. Something in her brain was flashing in warning, but she was too appalled by his speech to remember that the client is always right.
‘Thank you very much for that illuminating review of my character, but it’s not as if you’re Mr Perfect. Sure, you’ve got heaps of experience, but no understanding of people. You want your men to respect you, but instead you’ve got them looking over their shoulders to make sure you’re not on their back. You’re domineering and obnoxious and you have no ability to see any point of view but your own. And, just to set the record straight, I have not had it easy!’
He opened his mouth and then shut it.
Lena shook her head. ‘If you dislike me so much, why the hell didn’t you just tell Carl about the flag? That would have got me off this site and out of your life as quickly as possible.’
‘With your understanding of people,’ his dark eyes smouldered, ‘I don’t know why you haven’t figured that out already.’
And on this cryptic note, he swung his sack over his shoulder and walked out.
Bulldog and his personality assessment from hell played on Lena’s mind all evening.
How dare he judge the way she spent her free time? How dare he suggest she got through life on her looks? How dare he put her in a box and label it ‘naive’?
He didn’t even know her.
At least Kevin, for all his faults, had only ever jumped to one bad conclusion about her. Bulldog had written a book on her shortcomings and was still adding pages.
Safely back in her donga, wearing her pink pyjamas and snuggled under the covers of her still unfamiliar bed, she was able to consider at leisure the pitfalls of being female in her profession.
Did all men really think that just because she was a girl, she’d never fit into the construction industry? Steel was just iron with a dash of carbon, for goodness sake. Lipstick had a more complicated chemical structure. And as for concrete – please. Anyone who made mud pies as a kid could figure out what to do with that!
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Normally, she pushed Kevin’s words out of her head. But now she found herself trying to recall more. Was there a hint she could pick up among them that could show her how to earn her colleagues’ respect? She fast-forwarded through the lovely times and her increasing detachment to their final conversation, about six weeks after her final year exams. They’d had dinner and were drinking some of his somehow-very-special brandy back at his place; and Lena was summoning up her courage to tell Kevin how she’d been feeling – or not feeling. Things hadn’t been right between them for almost a month.
She was excited about the future and had a lot of plans. Kevin was critical about most of them. He was happy that she was looking for her first job but at the same time was concerned about the companies she’d chosen to apply to. When she’d suggested that maybe she’d take a year off and go backpacking around Europe instead, he hadn’t been pleased about that either. They hadn’t fought about it or anything, but Lena recognised the vibe she was getting from him. He wanted things to stay the same while she knew it was time for change.
That night, she’d had a speech fully rehearsed. But frustration and nerves made her just blurt it out. ‘Kevin, I want to break up.’
He’d whipped off his silver-framed glasses and fixed her with dark brown eyes that were both concerned and wary.
‘What did you say?’
She leaned forwards, clutching a sofa cushion for support. ‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to come out like that.’
He ignored her apology. ‘Where is this coming from? It doesn’t make sense.’
She searched for a place to start. He took her silence for indecision and stood up, a smile of gentle indulgence curling his mouth. ‘Lena, if we have a problem, we can talk about it. Get through it together.’
Kevin put his glasses down, came around to her and placed warm hands on her shoulders. ‘We’re so close now. In a couple of days, exam results will be out and you’ll be a graduate. All these covert meetings will be at an end.’
‘I know and –’
‘We should be celebrating,’ he insisted, anxiety wrinkling his brow. ‘We’re done hiding now, Lena.’
‘It’s not that.’ She looked away. If she still loved him, she wouldn’t care who she had to keep it a secret from. But that was just the thing.
She didn’t.
How did you tell someone that you’d fallen out of love with them? Not because they were a bad person or they’d done anything wrong but just because the two of you didn’t view the world the same any more. She didn’t want to hurt him – he’d been good to her.
She got up too, but stepped out of his reach and walked over to the bookshelves on her right, scanning the titles in search of enlightenment. Finally she found her voice.
‘Kevin, when we started going out, keeping our relationship a secret was the best part. It was exciting and dangerous and sexy. And you . . .’ she turned back to him, indicating his person with a reverent lift of her hand ‘. . . are a beautiful man. Generous and confident in a way that none of the guys my own age are. I was attracted to that beyond anything. But now –’ She broke off as pain twisted his mouth.
‘Are you trying to say you’ve outgrown me?’
‘I still care for you a great deal,’ she protested. ‘I just don’t . . . love you.’
‘Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?’ His voice was suddenly bitter. ‘That you would wait till now to tell me this?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You needed me to help you finish your degree. Now that you have, I’m dispensable.’
‘You can’t honestly believe that, Kevin,’ she returned hotly.
He raised his eyebrows with dark scepticism. ‘Do you mean to tell me you didn’t notice the way you seemed to miraculously pass all the subjects I teach you?’
What the –? She had not expected him to say that. A fever ripped through Lena’s body like the lash of a whip. ‘What are you talking about?’
He shrugged. ‘The benefits of having a boyfriend who marks your assignments and exam papers, of course. Face it, Lena. Without my help, you never would have made it through.’
Lena’s throat constricted. ‘What do you mean, your help?’
His face hardened. ‘I marked you leniently, of course.’
She felt sick. ‘Kevin, I never asked you to cheat for me and I never would.’
‘But it was implied, Lena, it was always implied!’ he threw at her.
‘How? When?’
He raised an eyebrow derisively. ‘How often did you confess your worries about passing to me? You –’
‘For support,’ she cried. ‘For reassurance!’
‘I told you you weren’t built for this profession but you wouldn’t have it. So I made it work for you. It was what you wanted.’
‘Never.’ Her voice shook. ‘I sat every paper in good faith. You should know that: you helped me study. You were always helping me.’
‘Yes, I helped you all right.’ His tone was cruel. ‘What I didn’t know was that you were just using me for it.’
‘This can’t be right.’ Lena’s lips trembled as she searched Kevin’s face for the right answers. ‘Third year exams maybe, but this year I worked da
mn hard.’
‘Obviously not hard enough.’ His words were like a physical slap. For a moment she couldn’t speak.
‘You’re a beautiful girl, Lena. I was a fool, an absolute fool.’ His eyes burned her. ‘The real world won’t fall for you as easily as I have.’
She stood taller, fists clenching at her sides, sweat dampening her neck. ‘All I ever wanted was for you to believe in me, Kevin. That’s all!’
‘How can I believe in someone who spent more energy on her wardrobe than on a subject at the heart of her degree?’
Her eyes widened at this vindictive blow and she struck back as best she could. ‘One subject, more than a year ago. You know I’m not that person any more. Our relationship was real to me, Kevin. It wasn’t a plot. It’s your own twisted mind that’s changing the facts.’
‘Don’t worry.’ He turned away. ‘I’m not going to tell anyone. Your degree is perfectly intact.’
But that was where he’d been wrong.
Her degree had meant nothing to her after that.
Absolutely nothing.
A new day brought a new resolution – to keep her mind off all things Kevin and Bulldog. Wallowing was not helping.
She was pleased to finally meet Lance the next morning, by the office printer. He was a funny-looking guy: skinny, with long brown hair that was on its way to dreadlocks and a mouth that was really far too big for his face.
‘Great to meet you!’ He stuck out a hand as he jumped from foot to foot, a mannerism she noticed didn’t leave him for the rest of their conversation.
‘Great to meet you too.’
He shook her hand vigorously. ‘Madame E, right? The boys told me you don’t fish either.’
She couldn’t help but smile that he’d already checked out her fishing credentials. ‘Afraid not.’
He rubbed his palms together. ‘Not to worry. I work best alone anyway.’ On these cryptic words he walked off. Shaking her head, she turned back to the printer and the first task she had set for herself that day.
Teaching the skid boys a lesson.
Only minutes before she had opened the photos she’d taken on the skid on her computer and flicked through them until she had located the best one. She’d blown this up to A4 size and added a large caption at the bottom. She now took this full-colour mini poster from the printer and walked out of the office with it.
Lena entered the lunch donga next door. Every day the boys had the option of catching the bus back there for their breaks. It was the only sheltered area available to them that was air-conditioned. On a hot day, it packed out pretty quick. Eight white trestle tables took up most of the space. In the corner by the door was a small kitchen boasting a bar fridge, an urn and a sink. A big noticeboard hung on the wall that was not lined with windows.
As it was neither lunch nor smoko when she walked in, the only person in there was Sharon. She was re-filling the fridge with milk.
‘Whatcha got there?’ The bus driver smiled in greeting.
‘Payback.’
Sharon’s eyes brightened with interest. ‘Really?’
‘I don’t suppose you heard what happened at the gym last night?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘The skid boys told everyone I go there at six o’clock.’ Lena walked over to the noticeboard and pinned the photo over the top of a Barnes Inc safety calendar.
Sharon covered her gasp with her hand. ‘Oh, that’s priceless! How did you –?’
‘They were teasing me on the skid yesterday.’
Lena stood back to admire her handiwork. Five skid boys, knees bent, fists clenched and biceps curled as they cast ‘come hither’ looks at the camera. In black block capitals beneath: ‘Man-O-Man, Month of May.’
‘What do you reckon?’ Lena asked Sharon. ‘Think it’ll teach ’em a lesson?’
She choked. ‘One they’ll never forget.’
Moments later, safely back in the main office, Lena went in search of Carl. Her plan for the new access platform was set to go. She just needed consent from the client, which meant a meeting with Bulldog. She found Carl in Gavin’s cubicle.
‘What do you mean they’re fuckin’ warped? Ring the fuckin’ shit-kickers and tell ’em to unwarp ’em.’
Gavin ran an agitated hand through his hair. ‘They’re claiming the girders weren’t warped when they left their yard.’
‘Fuck! If you believe that, then you’re the piece of shit they’re kicking around!’
Lena stuck her head over the cubicle wall and Gavin looked up in relief. ‘Hey, Lena.’
She threw him a grin and then examined Carl’s brooding countenance. It didn’t seem like a good time to bother him, but it wasn’t like she had choices. The man was never around.
‘Er, Carl,’ she began, ‘I kinda need to see Bulldog. I’ve got a new concept I want to show him to speed up installation of the headstocks.’
‘Fuck.’ Carl’s expression was keen but his voice was reproachful. ‘Don’t you think you better run it by me first?’
‘Sorry,’ Lena said. ‘It’s just that you’re always so busy and –’
‘Todd, quit the bullshit and cut to the chase.’
Lena quickly outlined her idea for the new access platform.
‘That could fuckin’ work,’ Carl finally acknowledged. ‘Have you got a sketch?’
‘Yes.’
Carl looked at his watch. ‘Gavin, Fish and I are seeing Bulldog at eleven today. You should join us.’
Lena wrinkled her nose. ‘Fish?’
Carl didn’t appear to understand her confusion but luckily Gavin intervened. ‘That’s what the boys have taken to calling Lance. If you ask me it suits him.’
‘Oh.’ Lena didn’t disagree but she was more interested in the upcoming meeting. ‘So is Bulldog coming here?’
‘Fuck no!’ Carl was appalled at the prospect of letting the enemy see their hallowed halls – or disorganised, dust-infused jungle, more like.
‘We’re going there,’ Gavin put in. ‘We always do.’ He looked around the office. ‘Safer.’
‘Fine,’ Lena agreed, rubbing her hands at the chance to check out enemy territory. Her excitement was silly, really. What was she going to do? Mentally price all their furniture and compare it to Barnes Inc’s stuff? Eavesdrop on their telephone conversations to catch them in an act of ignorance? Taste their coffee only to confirm that her company’s was better? Lena rubbed her forehead.
I’ve been spending way too much time with the skid boys. She grinned to herself. If nothing else, Radar was going to be insane with jealousy.
She went back to her computer and spent the next few hours sourcing potential steel suppliers for her new access platform and confirming with Tony that they had the yard space to build it. She wanted to have all the facts at her fingertips before the meeting. Every conversation she’d ever had with Bulldog so far had been an exercise in humiliation. Today, she wanted to impress him.
If that was possible.
Just before eleven o’clock, Fish called. He was still in Karratha seeing a supplier and could not make it back in time for their meeting with Bulldog. Carl was not pleased, but there was nothing for it: they would have to go without him. So as planned, Gavin, Carl and Lena piled into Carl’s ute and drove down to the TCN site offices. Lena reflected on what a luxury it was to be going to the top of the wharf in a car rather than having to wait for the bus.
TCN reception consisted of a simple counter manned by a sour-faced female. Lena had seen her and another female TCN employee in the camp. But they were so hostile that she and Sharon did not speak to them.
True to form, the receptionist deliberately ignored them for a while, shuffling papers and arranging her pens neatly in a cup before lifting her eyes to Carl’s blackening countena
nce.
‘Can I help you?’
Carl leaned on the counter. ‘We’re here to see Bu–Dan Hullog.’
Her unfriendly grey eyes registered that his elbow was touching one of her files and she snatched at it, as though the slight contact would be enough to cause contamination. Carl straightened indignantly, taking his arm from her desk and eyeing her with distaste.
‘Can you just tell Bulldog we’re here?’
‘You mean Mr Hullog.’
‘Fuck, yes.’
Her eyes hardened. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
Carl looked like he was going to explode so Lena hastily intervened. ‘Yes we do.’
The receptionist glanced at her phone and they both saw that one number was flashing. ‘He’s on the phone at the moment.’ Her voice was triumphant. ‘You’ll have to wait.’
Lena knew the two sides didn’t like each other, but this was ridiculous.
Remembering that she was partly there on a fact-finding mission, she looked beyond the receptionist to the office behind her. It was open plan with no cubicles, so even though they stood by the front door, they could see everyone’s work stations. It was then that Lena noticed how much interest their arrival had generated.
None of it was friendly.
The receptionist must have noticed that her gaze was wandering because she jumped to her feet. ‘Would you care to take a seat in our meeting room?’ She indicated the closed-off area to their left.
‘Why not?’ said Carl.
The receptionist closed the door to the meeting room as they seated themselves around the large rectangular table. Lena shuffled her files into a neat pile and leaned on them.
‘What’s their problem?’ she whispered to the others.
The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots Page 11