Paycheque (18 page)

One thing Claire McIntyre hated was being patronised. ‘And why is my position available again after becoming redundant?'

‘I had a word to the new manager – he's actually not a bad bloke, as it turns out.'

‘And said what, exactly, Derek? Some sob story about poor Claire McIntyre who's already lost her husband this year…?'

‘Jesus Claire, I tried to bat for you before they let you go, I've gone in again for no reason other than you're damn good at what you do and I like you. Why are you making it so damn hard for me? Is this some kind of feminist hoop I'm meant to jump through? You'd better tell me if it is because I don't have a fucking clue.' He stepped off the verandah and strode over to his car, pressing the remote as he went.

Claire felt like a sulky schoolgirl and had no idea why. ‘You could have asked me instead of wasting time…'

He sighed. ‘All right. Claire McIntyre, would you like the position of Client Relationship Manager, including managing the AHG Recruitment account?' He paused. ‘And it wasn't a waste – I like you, Claire. It was nice to see you.'

‘Probably.' Her voice came out as a squeak.

‘Probably what?'

‘I probably would want my job back if it weren't for…'

‘I know: your father.'

‘No, not Dad. Well not
just
Dad.'

‘What, you want more money, is that it?'

Claire shrugged.

‘God, Claire. Give me a break. Now I
am
wasting my time.' He got in the car and through the open window said, ‘I'm not into riddles – you either want the job or you don't, and clearly you don't.'

Suddenly Claire felt a strange feeling of sadness overcome her. She really didn't want him to leave – at least not without understanding. She rummaged in her jeans pocket, pulled out the grubby and tattered folded piece of paper and passed it to Derek.

He stared at her, frowning as he unfolded the paper. His eyebrows rose and his mouth curled into a grin as he read. ‘Right, I see. I think,' he said, carefully refolding the note and handing it back. ‘Bernadette from the garden shop in town, right?'

Claire nodded. ‘She made me sign it to try and stop me worrying about things for a while.' She shrugged. ‘Bit silly, really,' she said, quickly folding the note and shoving it back into her pocket.

‘Not at all. Whatever it takes. You're lucky to have such a good friend looking out for you.'

‘I know,' Claire said, looking down. Where Bernadette's note sat felt warm and comforting. The feeling spread through her when she looked back up and noticed Derek's expression.

‘Would you think about it if it weren't for that?' he asked, nodding towards the hand still in her pocket.

‘Probably,' Claire admitted.

‘You never know – if it's meant to be, it'll be there for you in a year.'

‘Jesus, you sound like Bernadette.' She glanced at her watch. ‘Oh shit! I'm meant to be meeting her for lunch in twenty minutes.' She still had to have a shower and drive the ten minutes into town.

‘I'll leave you to it, then.' He turned the car on. ‘See you round,' he called, waving as he drove off.

Claire was red-faced and beginning to sweat when she rushed into the small, cluttered café ten minutes late. Bernadette looked up from a battered women's magazine with a knowing smirk.

‘I'm so sorry.'

‘No worries, just catching up on two-year-old Hollywood gossip,' Bernadette said, tapping the magazine.

Claire pulled out a chair and sat down with her bag on her lap.

‘Claire, put your bloody bag down and relax!'

‘Sorry, it's just…'

‘I know, you hate being late. But it doesn't matter – what's ten minutes in a lifetime? And I was beginning to think you were slipping back into country life.'

Claire sighed and put her bag on the floor, willing the muscles in her back to loosen.

‘So, was it a tête-à-tête with that sexy man who came looking for you that held you up?'

‘Sexy! Derek?' Claire snorted. ‘Hardly!'

‘Oh, I don't know,' Bernadette said, putting on a dreamy expression and fluttering her eyelashes.

‘You need to get out more, Bern.'

‘I thought it was Derek from the office – I only met him that once. So, what did he want – to ask you out?'

‘Are you girls ordering or are you just going to sit there making this place look untidy?' David, the café owner, stood over them smiling, pad and pencil in hand.

‘David, hi. Sorry, I haven't even looked at the menu,' Claire said, becoming flustered again.

‘Well it hasn't changed since you two were in last week. Usual, Bernie?'

‘Yes, thanks.'

‘Tuna, lettuce and mayo baguette coming up,' he said as he made a note on his pad. ‘I'll give you a few more minutes, Claire.'

Claire looked up and noticed Bernadette had a strange flushed expression on her face.

‘Bernie!'

‘What?'

‘You
do
realise he's gay, don't you?' Claire hissed. ‘Camp as a row of tents, that one.'

‘Well I think he's gorgeous. Anyway, we don't know for sure.'

‘You know they don't just switch sides, so there's no point fluttering your eyelashes at him!'

‘I wasn't! Anyway, just because he's the only well-turned-out man in town does not mean he bats for the other team. Why don't you worry about ordering? I'm starving – you kept me waiting ten minutes, remember?'

Just as Claire folded her menu, David reappeared at the side of the table very near Bernadette. He smiled warmly at her, or was it sympathy for being kept waiting by her friend? Or had she imagined it? He was the café owner, it was just part of the service.

‘I'll have the chicken, lettuce and mayonnaise baguette, thank you,' Claire said.

‘Excellent choice. Drinks?'

‘Just water thanks,' Claire said.

‘Actually, would you try my homemade lemonade? On the house, of course. I need some honest feedback before adding it to the menu.'

‘Sure,' Bernie said, beaming at him. He
was
giving her special treatment – she was not imagining it.

‘Great, thanks. I'll just go get some.'

‘You two are very buddy-buddy,' Claire said when David had gone.

‘Just small business people sticking together. Anyway, don't be jealous, you have Derek chasing you.'

‘I am not jealous, and I do not have Derek chasing me!'

‘So what brought him all the way up here, then?'

‘To offer me my old job back, actually,' Claire said haughtily.

‘What did you say?' Bernadette was eyeing her warily.

‘No, of course.'

‘What? Really! Why?'

‘What do you mean, why? I signed your contract, or have you forgotten already?'

‘Of course I haven't forgotten. I just didn't think you'd take it that seriously.'

‘You've never given me bad advice before, Bernie. Anyway, I'm enjoying being free of office politics and all the other crap.'

‘That's great. I'm proud of you.'

They barely noticed when David put a glass of cloudy drink in front of each of them and disappeared without a word.

‘Thanks, Bern.'

‘So, how's your dad doing? Not bossing him around too much, I hope.'

‘No complaints so far.'

‘And how's Paycheque – settled in okay?'

‘A few problems there.'

‘Oh?'

‘We think someone's beaten him, Bern – he's a bit of a nervous wreck to work with.'

‘That's terrible, what are you going to do?'

‘Just persevere – nothing else we can do. He just needs some understanding and a lot of time.' They sipped at their drinks.

‘Yum,' Bernie said.

‘Yes, very nice,' Claire agreed.

‘Now,' Bernadette said, pushing her glass aside and rubbing her hands together. ‘What are we going to do for the Cup?'

‘I'm not sure I want to do anything.'

‘Claire McIntyre, just because you can't swan it up in some swanky corporate box doesn't mean we can't have fun. And I will have no sulking, understood?'

‘Yes, Mum.' Claire offered a tight smile. What she wanted to do was just hide under a rock until the fireball that was the Melbourne Spring Racing Carnival had passed.

‘Well, we don't have long,' Bernadette said, ignoring her friend's mood. ‘We could just go to one of the pubs, but I feel like doing something ourselves.'

‘I'm easy.' Claire shrugged.

‘Don't give me that,' Bernadette laughed. ‘Claire McIntyre, easy you are certainly not.'

‘Why not?'

‘Oh, I don't know, combination of genes, upbringing – usual reasons,' Bernadette said, waving an arm.

Claire slapped at her hand waving about in the air. ‘Not
that
why.'

‘Oh well, let me see. Uptight, way too organised, incapable of spontaneity – shall I go on?'

‘Jeez, thanks best friend.' Genuinely hurt, Claire sat back with her arms folded tightly across her chest.

‘I wouldn't be a friend if I couldn't see your faults and love you anyway, now would I?'

‘Well I'm
learning
to be a “go with the flow” girl.' Claire scowled.

‘I know. So we'll have the party at your place then,' Bernadette said with a mischievous grin.

‘Yeah, why not?'

‘Really?'

‘I provide the venue, you provide everything else – fair enough?'

‘Oh well, I guess so,' Bernadette stammered.

‘Only kidding.' Claire laughed. ‘But seriously, it'll be better for Dad – he'll be able to wander off for a snooze if it all gets too much. He does that a bit nowadays.'

‘Good plan – but do you want to run it past him first?'

‘I'm sure he'll be cool with it. Anyway, I'm in charge now.'

Claire and Bernadette were hunched low over the table, trying to be heard over the lunchtime rush of the almost-full café. Claire was making notes on an old envelope she'd found in her handbag when David appeared.

‘So, does the lemonade get the thumbs up or thumbs down? Honestly.'

‘Absolutely thumbs up,' Bernadette said, smiling up at him. ‘It's lovely.'

‘Claire – verdict?'

‘Yes, two thumbs up – delicious.'

‘Brilliant, thanks. Hmm. This looks more like a meeting than a nice girly lunch,' he said, pointing to Claire's note. ‘Up to no good, I'm sure.'

‘Actually we're just starting to organise our Melbourne Cup soiree,' Bernadette cooed.

‘What fun,' David said, clapping his hands. ‘If there's anything I can help you with, just say the word.'

‘But you'll be too busy here, surely,' Bernadette said, waving an arm around.

‘No way – I'm having the day off. Can't compete with two pubs – no one wants to be civilised on Cup Day, and rightfully so.'

Claire thought if he didn't stop being so damn nice she'd throw up, right on his starched white linen. She drank the last of her lemonade in one large gulp. As she did, Bernadette's next words nearly made her choke.

‘Oh, well why don't you join us then? It's just a small gathering – a few friends, lots of champagne.' She giggled. ‘But of course, if you already have something else…'

Claire mentally crossed her fingers.

‘No, I'd love to,' David said, beaming down into Bernadette's face, which had the expectant glow and quivering eyelashes of a love-struck teenager.

Claire's spine prickled with annoyance. David surveyed his café briefly before dragging a nearby chair over and seating himself next to Bernadette. Claire felt her jaw tighten and her hands clench around the pen.

‘So, where, when, and what can I bring?'

‘Well, it's at Claire's – her dad's farm. I'll give you directions later. And we haven't organised anything yet. We've only just decided to do something.'

‘And you're sure I wouldn't be intruding?' he asked, looking at Claire.

‘Of course not. Don't be silly,' Bernadette cried, slapping his hand playfully.

‘Claire?'

‘Not at all, more the merrier,' Claire said, faking her enthusiasm.

‘Look, I'd better get back to it, but how about I call into the shop later and discuss it some more?'