Dan stopped and spun her into his arms when they had reached a safe distance. ‘I love you.’
Lena grinned back. ‘I love you more.’
‘Not possible.’ With a bark of laughter, he was pulling her off again. She followed him without a shred of resistance.
Nothing could touch Lena in the days that followed. She was the happiest girl in Western Australia. To say that all obstacles had been pushed from her path was a gross understatement. But instead of looking at them with dread, she revelled in the challenge they offered. Life stretched out before her, a writhing mass of possibilities and opportunities. All she had to do was pick one and she definitely knew which one she was going to tackle first.
First thing Monday she rang Ivan’s direct line. He picked up after the third ring and said pleasantly enough when he heard her voice, ‘Oh hello there, Lena, I was just about to call you.’
Lena smiled confidently with the knowledge that Carl and the rest of the project engineers on the job were behind her one hundred per cent.
‘Hi, Ivan, I’m calling because I’ve thought about your proposal.’
‘And you have a preference?’ he prompted smoothly.
‘Definitely.’ Her response was firm and positive. Then with a deep breath she uttered the words that six months ago she thought she’d never say. ‘I’d like to stay on in the Pilbara.’
There are so many people who have given me their time and support to make this book come together. It simply wouldn’t be right not to spend a few words giving them my appreciation and gratitude.
My sincere thanks to the girls from WINK for their critical eyes on the first draft.
To my amazing critique partner and fellow writer, Nicole E. Sheridan, who ploughed patiently through an entire rewrite. Your encouragement has meant a lot to me.
To my sister, Marlena, who has been there from the beginning with both complaints and enthusiasm for my heroine, Lena. Thank you for all your help and belief in this story.
To my mother-in-law, Shirley, who proofread the final draft at very short notice and has always had absolute faith in this book.
And of course, this novel simply wouldn’t be where it is now without the hard work of my fabulous agent, Clare Forster, and my wonderful publisher, Beverley Cousins.
Thanks also to the rest of the team at Random House for their contribution, particularly Virginia Grant and my publicist, Jessica Malpass.
My family and friends have always been so supportive of my writing over the years. I must mention my parents, Ivan and Juanita, and my other two sisters, Jacenta and Angela, for their enduring confidence in me. Mum, thank you for saving all my emails from the Pilbara and giving them back to me. You were the first person to see a story there.
Finally my love to my husband, Todd, who is my rock and my champion. And to our three beautiful children, Luke, James and Beth. You guys are my inspiration.
The majority of this story is set at Cape Lambert Port Facilities, the home of one of the tallest, longest and deepest jetties or open-sea wharves in the world. It is owned by Rio Tinto and is operated by Pilbara Iron. The nearby town of Wickham was built specifically for the purpose of supporting the wharf and other functions of the port, such as train-dumping, primary and secondary crushing and screening, stockpiling and blending of iron ore.
This ore wharf, which is approximately three kilometres long and thirty metres tall, has two cranes or shiploaders that are able to load three ships at the same time. The wharf currently exports 55 to 57 million tonnes of iron ore every year to steel mills in Japan, China, Korea, Taiwan and Europe.
My heroine is sent to Cape Lambert to work as part of a team to lengthen and widen this wharf, which was originally completed in 1972. Over the course of its existence the Cape Lambert wharf has undergone many upgrades of this nature to increase its life and capacity. I was fortunate early in my career as an engineer to witness and participate in one of these upgrades in 2001 – which experience forms the basis of the background of this story.
The project is real, the hardship is real and the conditions are real. However, to reduce the number of characters and engineering jargon in this story, I have condensed some of the professional roles played by my characters. For example, Carl is the project manager, but in my novel he also performs the duties of a construction manager. In real life, his job would have been done by two people. I have also ignored a lot of the other functions of the port and the shipping schedule, which complicated the project far more than shown here. It has been my aim to show the culture and flavour of the people in this environment. Nonetheless, it is important to note that all characters and companies shown here are entirely fictional. Any resemblances to any real persons or entities are purely coincidental.
This is the book of my heart and in little ways mirrors some of the journeys I have taken in my own life, both on and off the Pilbara. The engineering profession is not glamorous or well understood by some people. The challenges and dangers men and women face on jobs such as this, both intellectually and emotionally, are not usually discussed in any public forums. But this book is not just about that. I wanted to capture the beauty of Australia, the colourful characters who live here and why it is so important to never take your friends and family for granted.
Loretta Hill was born in Perth, the eldest of four girls. She enjoyed writing from a very early age and was just eleven years old when she had her first short story published in the West Australian newspaper.
Having graduated with a degree in Civil Engineering and another in Commerce, she was hired by a major West Australian Engineering Company, and worked for a number of years on many outback projects.
But through all this she continued to write, and her first novel, a short romantic comedy called Kiss and Tell, was published in America in 2009 under the name Loretta Brabant.
The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots, her debut in mainstream women’s fiction, was an acclaimed bestseller. Its eagerly awaited sequel, The Girl in the Hard Hat, publishes in early 2013.
She lives in Perth with her husband and three children.
Praise for The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots
‘A funny, touching tale . . . Let the escapism begin’ Cleo
‘Her hilarious novel is authentic in every detail. More than an enjoyable comedy, it’s a blinkers-off expose of a workforce employed to extend to an industrial wharf: five women and 350 men. These males aren’t lovable larrikins; they need help. My tip for the next Miles Franklin Award’ Country Style
‘An A-plus debut novel’ Grazia
‘Drama, humour and romance – Hill provides it all in this insightful glimpse into the life of an engineer in the Pilbara’ Sunday Herald Sun
‘A fun story of friendship, overcoming preconceptions, and unexpected love. The ideal summer read’ West Australian
‘Well written, funny and fascinating, The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots is a wonderfully entertaining novel’ Book’d Out
‘A charming down-to-earth love story’ Take 5
‘Romantic and entertaining reading for the girls’ Weekend Gold Coast Bulletin
‘Laugh-out-loud fiction delivered with relish’ Write Note Reviews
If you loved The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots
read on for a taster of Loretta’s new novel
What do you do when you are the most hated person in town?
Wendy Hopkins knew her Uncle Mike had got her the job as Safety Officer at the Barnes Inc. site on the Pilbara. What she didn’t know – until her first day on the job – was that he achieved it through blackmail . . .
It’s not the greatest of starts – and it’s about to get worse.
Her new boss doesn’t want her there.
The 350 men on site don’t want her there.
Even her uncle doesn’t want her there now . . .
In fact the only man who does is an outrageous flirt whose interest is certainly not professional. And yet, he may be the only person who can help her find the truth she seeks . . .
Available early 2013
Wendy knew something was wrong the moment she stepped into TCN’s open plan office.
Perhaps it was the frosty looks she got from the staff as they peered at her over their short cubicle walls. Or the fact that the receptionist wouldn’t let her past the hat hooks by the front door but directed her instead to a room set apart from the main office space.
‘You’ll have to sit in the meeting room until Mr Hullog is ready to deal with you.’
Deal with me? The woman made it sound like she was toddler with a dirty nappy.
This was supposed to be her first day of work. She had dressed carefully in the TCN uniform that Dan Hullog had given her just yesterday. Her shirt was ironed, her khaki pants neat. Her blonde hair tied modestly at the nape of her neck with black elastic.
So if it wasn’t her appearance they disapproved of then what had happened between yesterday and today that she didn’t know about?
She walked into the meeting room. It was furnished in the usual sparse style of a construction site donga office. A white trestle table and eight uncomfortable plastic chairs filled the space. The vinyl floor was marked red with boot prints and the white board on one wall held a list of milestone dates. She knew the chairs were uncomfortable even before she sat down and after twenty minutes she had to get up and walk around to stave off a numb bum.
Where is he?
She looked out the window, anticipation momentarily overcoming her concern. The Cape Lambert iron ore wharf stretched out before her – a majestic masterpiece almost like a painting framed by the dingy office window. Standing nearly five stories above the water, the jetty wove out more than three kilometres across the sea. The end of it was imperceptible as it faded into the horizon. Every day, ships from around the world docked there, picking up tonnes and tonnes of the precious red dirt that fuelled Australia’s economy.
A shiver of both excitement and trepidation flitted through her body.
I can’t believe I’m going to be a part of something like this . . . again.
She heard the snap of a door closing and spun around. A tall, dark-haired man with the most intense blue eyes she’d ever seen advanced into the room. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Wendy.’
‘Er . . . that’s okay, Mr Hullog.’
‘Call me Dan.’ He indicated the chair she had been sitting in before and took the one opposite it. ‘Have a seat.’ He laced his hands together on the white chipboard, somehow lifting the table’s image from backyard picnic to boardroom meeting. ‘I have to ask. Do you know how you got this job?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘My uncle said you owed him a favour.’
Dan grimaced. ‘That’s putting blackmail politely.’
Red-hot heat infused her neck, and kept working its way up. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted Uncle Mike. She barely knew him and he seemed as inclined to want to get rid of her as to help her, but she had been at her wits’ end. Out of money and out of luck. When she’d stumbled across him in Karratha, she had thought it was the hand of providence not the bite of corruption.
What had her mother told her? Nobody does anything for nothing.
She swallowed hard before casting an apology at the man before her. ‘I had no idea. Honestly. I haven’t seen Uncle Mike in years. I should have questioned his motives more closely.’
You should have listened to your conscience.
She had known Mike was the black sheep of the family. No one talked about him unless they absolutely had to and even then their comments were never complimentary. But then she wasn’t exactly number one with the family at the moment either. When she’d met Uncle Mike unexpectedly, it had almost been like meeting a kindred spirit.
How wrong you were.
She waited on Dan’s response, breath held.
‘I had a feeling from our conversation yesterday that you had no idea what the full story was. The truth is,’ he sighed, ‘there is no real position for you here. I have a safety officer already and he does a very good job.’
Her heart sank. It was all a farce. He wasn’t going to take her on, which was a great pity given he had been her last hope at job in the area.
‘Also,’ he lifted an unsmiling face, ‘I no longer care what your uncle says or doesn’t say. The person I was protecting . . .’ He changed track. ‘Let’s just say, his silence is no longer of any value to me.’
Pride stiffened her back, causing her to stand. ‘Well, I’ll just get out of your hair then, shall I? There’s no need to drag out this conversation any longer.’
‘Wendy, whatever beef I have with your uncle is nothing to do with you or your ability. And I am deeply mortified that you have been used as a pawn in this very tasteless game.’
Used. Yep that’s me.
However Dan was still talking. ‘I want to honour the agreement, not for his sake but for yours.’
‘But you said there was no job.’
‘Not here. But somewhere else.’ His tone softened. ‘Please sit down and let me tell you what I have arranged. TCN is the EPCM for this project. Do you know what that means?’
‘You run the show, don’t you?’
‘Sort of,’ Dan smiled. ‘The wharf owners make the rules, so we don’t have a choice about that. But essentially we govern the place for them. As in, we make sure everyone else such as our principal contractor Barnes Inc, follows the guidelines set by the wharf owners.’
She didn’t say anything but sank slowly back into her chair.
‘Unfortunately Barnes Inc have not been meeting the safety standard for some time now. They have a safety officer over there but he doesn’t seem to be able to keep up with the workload. On behalf of the wharf owners I have rung Barnes Inc and told them that they need to take on another safety person in addition to the one they already have. I’ve suggested you as a likely candidate.’ He paused. ‘The project manager at Barnes Inc, Carl Curtis, said he is willing to interview you this morning.’
A job was a job.
This office.That office down the road.
What did it matter as long as she got paid?
She licked her lips. ‘When?’
‘Now.’
Relief swept through her. All was not lost. ‘Well, that’s not a problem.’
‘I assume you bought your vehicle with you.’
She nodded. She’d passed the Barnes Inc office dongas on the way to TCN so she knew how to get there too.
Okay, let’s do this.
She stood up more firmly this time, holding out her hand. ‘Thank you for this opportunity . . . er . . . Dan.’
‘I’m very sorry that I didn’t have a job for you.’ His tone at least was genuine. ‘I really think we could have worked well together.’
‘Thanks.’ She had an inkling that Dan Hullog was an honourable man unlike her slimy excuse for an uncle. What the hell was Mike’s game anyway?
She gritted her teeth as she made her way out. Was there no end to the lies she had been fed by her family her whole life? Out here in the outback as far away from Perth as you could get without actually leaving the country she thought she was beyond all that. But no, the one uncle she thought might understand her was keen to offer her for sale instead.
Enough is enough.
She couldn’t wait to give him a piece of her mind later. Right now though she had a job to score on her own merit. After all, she was the only person she could really count on these days.
TCN had three office dongas lined up in a row, framed by red rock on one side and a car park on the other. Her car stood out easily amongst the dirty white utes – a blue Nissan wit
h floral seat covers and a collection of stuffed animals peering out the rear window. It looked completely out of place against the backdrop of iron ore stock piles, cranes and conveyors belts.
She made her way down the well-trodden path towards it, the only asset she had taken with her on her trek across the country in the last six months. For a while, it had been her sole companion in this search that never seemed to end. And those toys had brought her luck. Even in their sun-damaged state, she’d never throw them out.
She got in the car. It was only a five-minute drive down a gravel track that ran alongside the red beach and through the port facilities. Like TCN, there were three Barnes Inc office dongas. An odd looking flag with an extra thick circular pole had been pushed into the ground in front of one of them. The flying emblem of the company was bolted rather than strung on the pole and a group of guys were having smoko underneath it on a couple of sad looking park benches. Two more were sitting in the back of a ute, chowing down on Mrs Mac’s pies still half in their plastic microwaveable wrappers. When they saw her car, they immediately all stood up and waved. She parked and they cheered as though she had stopped for them.
Oh brother! Clearly they hadn’t seen a new female face in a while.
She alighted cautiously from her vehicle, mentally noting that maybe at some stage (sooner rather than later) she should move those stuffed animals into her boot.
‘Hey, love, where you going? Wanna stop for a bite?’ One of the guys grabbed his friend’s pastry as it was on his way to his mouth and held it up in the air like a trophy. ‘We’ve got a spare one!’
She chuckled at the pie owner’s expression of outrage and watched him snatch it back before pushing the thief away. Maybe it was the thief’s lack of attention or the roughness of the shove but the man fell out of the side of the ute and landed starry-eyed in the dirt.
The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots Page 34