‘Well, yes, we should definitely find out what they have to offer. Then we’ll need to work out if their information is legit, whether it can be backed up. And we’d have to ask how they obtained it and so on,’ advised Patrick. ‘It might be useful but we’d need to check it out carefully.’
‘Noted,’ said Ellie lightly, though Patrick’s advice made her nervous.
As if he were reading her thoughts, Patrick said, ‘We are insured against defamation, but even so, we have to be cautious. It only takes one rat to make a spurious claim and then you have to defend it, and imputations are a nightmare to prove. And it all costs. A claim against the paper would send our insurance sky-high. That’s why I won’t let us publish anything until we’ve done our research and can verify all the details.’
‘That’s wise,’ Ellie said, taking a sip of her coffee, which the waiter had just brought over.
‘Now, I had a call first thing this morning from David Ward, an old mate who owns The Horsham Times,’ Patrick said, leaning back in his chair. ‘It was good to make contact again. David’s son and daughter are now running the revamped paper. So encouraging to see independent papers doing well.’
Ellie smiled at her grandfather. ‘Yes, it’s terrific. Look how people value the Chronicle’s coverage of Peter’s rescue.’
‘Thanks, love.’ Patrick laughed but looked a little embarrassed by the compliment. ‘Anyway, David told me a bit of background on young Peter’s family. Seems the Jensens are doing it tough; they’re hard workers but struggle to make ends meet. The camping trip was their big holiday for the year, and, well . . . David has hatched a plan to do a fundraiser for young Peter’s future education.’
Ellie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Great idea.’
‘Certainly is. He’s thinking of a community fun run and fundraising day. They want Storm Harbour’s hero Ben to be there, to give out prizes.’
‘Fantastic,’ said Ellie. ‘Does Ben know yet?’
‘David said he’d ring him later today to ask him.’
‘Ben will be modest and downplay his role, but perhaps Sally will make sure he goes,’ said Ellie. ‘In fact, why don’t you do a profile on Ben?’
‘Good idea, but why don’t you?’ countered Patrick with a grin. ‘You went to school with him, if only briefly. The piece you’re writing on Kathryn O’Neill seems to be coming together well. So I know you can do it.’
Ellie was thoughtful. ‘A piece on Ben would be a good way to follow up on all that’s happened. Everyone is asking about him. I’ll give it a go, if he’s willing.’
Patrick looked up as a man came and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Great paper today, Patrick! Bloody wonderful outcome.’ He nodded at Ellie and moved on.
‘You know, Ellie,’ said Patrick thoughtfully, ‘when you interview Ben, you might find out why seems so different to the rest of the O’Neill family.’
‘Mmm, you’re right. I will certainly ask him.’ Ellie finished her coffee. ‘You should relax today and enjoy the sunshine here for a while, Poppy. I might take Sam for a walk.’ She blew him a kiss and went to the counter to pay for their coffees.
As she headed down the street with Sam, Ellie rang Sally, who thought the story on Ben was a great idea.
‘If he gets funny about it, I’ll give him a push,’ said Sally. ‘He’s very modest and doesn’t think he’s done anything special.’
Ellie also mentioned the invitation for Ben to go to Horsham for the fundraiser, explaining, ‘Mr Ward is going to ring him later today.’
‘Terrific, I’ll encourage him to go.’
‘Have you heard anything more from your source at the council?’ Ellie asked.
There was no reply and Ellie started to think the line had dropped out. Finally, Sally said, ‘I can’t say anything, Ell, so please don’t ask.’
‘Oh, Sally, are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine, but my boss has got involved and all I can say is that if I report anything more about the development rumours, it could cost me my job.’
‘That’s terrible –’
‘Listen, I have to go,’ Sally said, cutting her off. ‘I’ll talk to Ben about the interview and the fundraiser. Bye.’
Ellie stood staring at her phone, amazed at this latest development. Reading between the lines, it seemed clear that Sally was being silenced. What happened to freedom of the press? she wondered. And what did Sally mean about her boss getting ‘involved’? She’d talk to Patrick, but there was nothing more she could do about it now, so she decided to tackle Ben about the interview while everyone was on a high over the rescue. She wandered into the caravan park, looking for him, but he wasn’t at his campsite. Instead she went to ask Roly if he’d seen Ben, and found the two of them sitting outside Roly’s caravan. They waved her over.
‘We have muffins, courtesy of the bakery. A token of their esteem for the hero here,’ Roly said, smiling and patting Sam when the dog ran over to him.
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Ben. ‘I’m not used to all this attention. It feels weird.’
‘You’ll be forever known as “the fellow who found the lost kid in the forest”. So get used to it, my friend,’ said Roly.
‘That’s true, Ben,’ said Ellie. ‘People are curious to know more about you.’
Ben stared at her in surprise. ‘Yeah? Really? Why?’
‘Because you were the one who found Peter when the search parties all missed him. In fact, I’d like to interview you for the paper. At first my grandfather had planned to talk to you about the rescue, but we’ve decided it would be great to go further. Explain to everyone who Benjamin O’Neill is . . . talk about your art, growing up here, your very special grandmother . . . whatever you want to share,’ said Ellie.
‘Damned good idea, Benjamin,’ Roly said. ‘Ellie knows you; you can count on her to write it sensitively. Not many people I’d bare my soul to, but I reckon Ellie and Patrick would be the ones to trust.’
‘Wasn’t thinking of baring my soul to anyone, actually,’ said Ben. ‘Why would I?’
Ellie smiled. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to do that. But you’re a local boy, people are proud of you. You’re one of them. I’ll do it in a way that satisfies their curiosity,’ she said.
Ben looked at her and gave a slow smile. ‘Funny, we only knew each other briefly at school and we went off to do our own things. Never really thought we’d see each other again.’
‘And here we are,’ Ellie said. ‘Please think about it.’
‘Think I’ll have another muffin, for starters,’ said Ben, breaking off a morsel for Sam.
‘We’ll walk it off on the long way home, Sam,’ said Ellie as the dog swallowed the bit of muffin and looked hopeful for more. ‘Thanks, Ben, see you two later.’
As she walked away, Ellie hoped he’d agree.
She took a short cut along a back street of recently renovated older cottages with freshly painted picket fences and new landscaping. She was deep in thought, mulling over how she’d approach Ben’s story if he agreed to be interviewed, when Sam started barking and growling. A dog in a front garden suddenly lunged at its gate.
Ellie jumped back, dragging Sam away from the snarling, snapping dog as it threw itself at the fence.
‘Take no notice, Sam. Let’s cross over to the other side of the road.’
After she’d stepped up onto the opposite footpath, Ellie glanced back at the angry dog, its hackles raised and teeth bared, and she shuddered. It was the same dog that had attacked Sam before . . . Susan’s dog.
She looked at the pretty cottage with its drawn curtains and manicured garden, thinking that Susan should at least have a Beware of the dog sign on the gate.
‘C’mon, Sam,’ she said, gently tugging on his lead. ‘We know where we’re not wanted.’
*
Early that evening Ben called and agreed to sit down
for a bit of a chat the following afternoon. Ellie didn’t know if Sally had persuaded him to do the interview or he’d decided on his own, but whatever the case, she was thrilled he was willing to go ahead with it. She began work on the questions straight away.
The next day they met at the caravan park and sat at a wooden table at the edge of the river in the quiet afternoon. The wind had died down and the river was lazy and glassy before the turn of the tide.
‘What are your first memories of growing up in Storm Harbour?’ asked Ellie once she’d started the record app on her phone.
‘Good ones. Working in the garden at Craigmore with my grandmother, swimming in the river, fishing. I had my own canoe which I preferred to Dad’s big boat. Feeding a bottle to a baby lamb. Sitting close to my mother as she read to me. Occasionally going to town for treats with Grandy, especially when she took me to visit Aunt Heather. She wasn’t my real aunt, of course; she’s an artist friend of Grandy’s. I loved watching her paint. She always let me mess around with paints and brushes and gave me objects to draw like jugs and flower arrangements and things. I learned a lot from her without knowing it.
‘I thought Grandy was so special. She was very devoted to her Botanic Gardens. My father worked in the family business with my grandfather, Boyd, but I loved it when my grandparents looked after us while our parents went on their annual cruise.’
‘How come you stayed here to go to school?’ asked Ellie, knowing that Ben’s brother and sister had been sent to the best schools in Melbourne as boarders.
‘Well, I tried boarding school, but I hated being away from home, so they eventually agreed I could go to high school here in Storm Harbour. After that, Dad wanted me to do an Ag course at uni to help out at Craigmore in the family business. I was keen to work on the family property in Queensland but my brother talked Dad out of that. Ronan, being the oldest son, was expected to take over the business,’ Ben said, then added, ‘Maybe don’t print that bit. Anyway, if I couldn’t learn how to run the Queensland property, I didn’t see any point in studying Ag.’
Sensing that Ben wouldn’t be drawn much further about this, Ellie stopped herself from asking him for details about his relationship with Ronan. After all, this was meant to be an article to celebrate the local hero, not an investigation into the workings of the O’Neill family, she thought.
‘What were you interested in? What was your passion?’ Ellie asked, wondering for a minute how she would answer that question herself if someone asked her.
‘I really wanted to do art. That surprised Mum and Dad, my father in particular, and we had a bit of a battle over it. But he finally agreed to let me do what I wanted, and paid for me to go to art school in Melbourne.’
‘And your sister, what did she do?’
‘She was never keen on farming so when she left school she studied Accounting and got a job with a friend of our father’s in Melbourne.’
Ellie nodded. ‘So what did you do after art school?’
‘I travelled, did odd jobs, painted when I could. Then after a few years I went up to Queensland after all. Straight after they got married, Ronan and Cynthia were going on a flash honeymoon to Europe, so my father asked me to manage the place while they were away. Perhaps he thought it was a way to make up for not letting me be more involved in the property before then.’ Ben smiled. ‘I discovered that I’m not as fond of cattle as I am of sheep, but I love being in the open spaces.’
‘And what about your art? Did you keep up with it while you were there?’
‘One of the old fencers used to sit around and whittle wood every night. When he saw that I was interested in what he was doing, he taught me how to use a chainsaw to carve and showed me which wood to use. There was also an Indigenous stockman who taught me about trees and what was special about them. How to “read” them, as he explained it. Did you know some trees are sacred?’ he asked Ellie, then went on. ‘He showed me the way his ancestors made bark canoes and carved tools and even containers to carry food. I was totally hooked and that led me into the wood carving.’
‘And you mentioned that you paint, too, when you can?’ asked Ellie.
Ben gave a shrug. ‘I’ve experimented a bit; I like doing charcoal sketches. I always keep a little art book and charcoal and pencils with me to sketch outdoors. Sometimes I set up an easel and paint with oils or do a watercolour. But the wood carving was what caught people’s attention, and I’ve been able to make a living from it. Not exactly steady, reliable work, though.’ He grinned. ‘But enough to survive on, and I get to work outside.’
‘So you feel at home in the bush. Did that help you when you were looking for Peter?’ said Ellie.
‘Yes. I feel confident in the bush. I felt like a bit of
a goose slipping down the gully, but it turned out to be a lucky fall as that’s when I heard Peter crying.’
‘I had a funny experience when I fell while we were all searching for him,’ Ellie said. ‘Like the trees were protecting me. All of a sudden I wasn’t scared, I felt safe.’
Ben gave a small smile. ‘Yep. Trees communicate, they breathe, we need them. Do you know, I can tell from their wood if they’ve been stressed or had a good life? Mind you, I don’t cut them down. I only use a tree after it’s fallen,’ he added.
‘Is that what you’re going to do now?’ asked Ellie. ‘Continue with the wood carvings?’
‘I’ll always do it when the right wood turns up. The other thing I’m interested in is creative natural buildings. I might try to do a course or some sort of training in building eco-friendly structures. I suppose it depends where I end up. Sometimes I still wish Dad had made me manager of the cattle station but, as I said, Ronan didn’t think I was up to it . . .’ His voice trailed off.
Ellie looked closely at Ben, and decided to have a go. ‘I know this is personal, but can I ask you, how do you get on with your brother? I saw you arguing with each other in the forest,’ she said carefully.
Ben glanced at her and then away. ‘Well, off the record, and only between us, I’m a bit pissed off at Ronan.’
Ellie paused the recording on her phone and nodded for Ben to keep talking.
‘He said I couldn’t go to see my gran in the hospital. Such bullshit.’
‘That’s what you and Ronan were talking about up in the national park?’ Ellie said.
‘Yeah, among other things. I wanted to let Dad know that Grandy was in hospital, but Ronan said that he didn’t want to interrupt Dad’s cruise.’
‘That was probably reasonable, in hindsight, as it turns out it wasn’t too serious. And it would be hard for him to get back home from a cruise ship,’ Ellie said.
Ben shrugged. ‘You might be right, but Ronan just doesn’t like me getting involved in anything. He’s always resented how well I get on with Grandy and done whatever he can to get in the way of that. Now that Susan’s on the scene, it’s the worst it’s ever been. She makes it so difficult to see Grandy and I can’t work out why. I’ve spoken to Dad about it but he said he didn’t want to make waves.’
Ellie nodded and was about to say something about Susan, but when she noticed that he was patting Sam, she kept quiet. She didn’t want to upset Ben even more by telling him about Susan’s dog’s vicious attack.
‘As I’m asking personal questions, can I ask about you and Sally?’ she said, changing the subject.
Ben grinned and shrugged. ‘It’s okay. I’m not sure what’ll happen there. It kind of depends on what Sally wants. She’s got her eye on a stellar career in the city, so who knows where we’ll end up? Besides, I still have an offer of a big carving job in Queensland, the one I was telling you about the other day.’
Ellie leaned forward. ‘My grandfather’s mate who runs a newspaper in Horsham wants to do a community fundraising day for the Jensens to help Peter with his education,’ she said. ‘Has he rung you yet?’
‘Y
es, yesterday. Mr Ward, wasn’t it? It sounds like a great idea,’ said Ben. ‘They want me to be guest of honour.’ He laughed. ‘And Sally’s talked me into it.’
‘You’ll be treated like royalty,’ Ellie said, laughing with him.
‘Gee, I hope not!’ He smiled. ‘Is there anything else?’
‘Oh, for my story! I was forgetting, it was just nice talking,’ said Ellie with a chuckle, pressing ‘record’ again on her phone. ‘Okay, last question, where would you like to settle down one day?’
Ben looked away, and Ellie noticed that he was staring at the river. ‘It’s funny, I never thought I was the settling down type. I came to do the carving for the fish co-op, then I got together with Sally, so maybe I’ll stick around for a bit after Grandy’s birthday. Both of them are pretty special women.’ Ben gave a small smile. ‘Anyway, we’ll see.’
*
When Ellie got back to the Chronicle office Maggie was just finishing a call and Ellie could hear raised voices in Patrick’s office.
‘Visitors?’ She nodded towards the cubicle door.
Maggie said quietly, ‘Susan McLean and friend.’
‘Friend?’
‘Some stooge councillor,’ said Maggie in a whisper. ‘Not my sort.’
Ellie leaned against Maggie’s desk and asked in a low voice, ‘What do you mean? Oh – don’t tell me they’re trying to get Patrick in on their talk-up-Storm-Harbour good news business scheme? He won’t like that.’
‘What’s it all about?’
Ellie shook her head. ‘Susan tried to talk me into getting involved when I was at the café the other day. I think it’s their way of, let’s say, encouraging the paper to lay off criticising the council. They want Poppy to only run “positive” stories. Which of course he will, but only when they turn up and are worth telling. I reckon what they really want are targeted stories that are just fluff pieces to promote some of the town’s businesses, especially the top-end ones.’
Maggie sighed. ‘I can’t see Patrick going along with that. And how would that help the whole town, anyway? People would see through stories like those.’
Before the Storm Page 24