The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots (12 page)

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 damn 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 countenance.

‘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.

Carl grunted. ‘Small dicks.’

Lena choked.

Just then Bulldog walked in. For an awful moment, Lena thought he might have heard what Carl had said. But he gave no indication. In fact, he gave no indication of any emotion at all, simply holding out his hand to Carl, who rose peevishly to take it.

‘I apologise for the wait.’

In these few seconds when his attention was engaged, Lena allowed herself to examine him. He looked different. Maybe it was because the last two times she’d spoken to him he’d been in casual clothes. His face seemed more set, the glint in his eyes a little harder, his jawline a bit tighter. He also hadn’t shaved.

And Bulldog always shaved.

‘No problem,’ Carl lied gruffly at his apology. Bulldog then extended his hand to Gavin and finally to Lena.

Lena tried not to make too much of the brief contact but found herself analysing every millisecond of it. His fingers were warm and firm. His shake, controlled. But his eyes were cool. Too cool.

I guess he still hasn’t forgiven me for the insult I dealt him in the laundry.

Bulldog’s mouth twisted into something that could not be described as a smile and Lena felt the sting of him telling her off all over again. She withdrew her hand before he completed the shake and sat down.

Carl and Gavin, who were still standing, each cast her a confused look before following suit. Bulldog sat down also, laying a black diary and a few data sheets on the table. Her
indiscretion had not fazed him in the slightest. He was straight down to business; all client; all boss. Though they were both managers, he had a presence that poor Carl could never hope to compete with. They had the same level of power and responsibility, but Bulldog held the room.

‘I didn’t know Ms Todd would be joining us.’ He looked directly at her, his gaze measured and a little accusatory. ‘Is there a reason for your presence?’

‘I had an idea for the skid that –’

‘Yes, Mike told me.’

Lena stopped. ‘Mike?’

‘Yes.’ Bulldog folded his arms. ‘He happened to be at the end of the wharf at the same time I was this morning.’

Happened to be?
Lena digested this with annoyance. Mike’s job was on the skid: he never just
happened
to be at the end of the wharf.

‘Well, I don’t know what he told you,’ she began, ‘but this new concept I’ve come up with could improve our progress speed –’

‘Not if you’re taking men off the skid.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Mike told me your idea involves taking men off the skid to fabricate a new platform. That’s going to slow us down.’

It was clear. Mike had completely sabotaged her. Bulldog’s distrust of the scheme was as plain as the mulish bend of his mouth. Mike had no doubt loaded him with as many negative views about the platform as possible.

She tried to inject a note of calm rationale into her voice. ‘Fabrication will slow us down temporarily but in the long term we’ll be better for it.’

‘
If
the men take to your new system easily. That will take leadership.’

What is he saying? That I can’t lead them?

He didn’t explain himself further, however, just stared at her as though waiting to be confirmed or denied. Lena licked
her lips and pulled her sketch out of her file. ‘I understand that. I have a sketch of my design. If you’ll –’

‘Your design?’ Bulldog’s long fingers rubbed his stubble, the sound of flicking bristles immediately conjuring images of white sheets, streaming sunshine and hot coffee.

Man! Where did that come from?

With iron effort Lena pulled her mind back to the office as he held out his hand.

‘Let me see.’

With relief she passed it to him. Finally, she was making some headway.

‘It looks too light.’

Or not.

Lena lifted her chin confidently. ‘I designed it to be light. We need something that can be moved with manpower.’

‘Yes but are the members strong enough?’ He scratched his chin. Again the sound of bristles distracted her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and she almost missed his next question.

‘What grade of steel are you using?’

‘Huh? I mean 450MPa.’

He frowned. ‘You’ll definitely need to specify that more clearly. Will these sizes work for 250 or 350 grade?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Well, then you’ll need to find out.’ His tone was impatient. He turned to Carl.

‘Has anyone checked this?’

‘I haven’t had time to crunch her numbers,’ Carl returned. ‘But I am confident that Lena –’

Bulldog interrupted him. ‘Lena is a graduate. I want someone chartered to check this.’

Would anyone
ever
believe in her? The helplessness of her case made her snap, a little more viciously than necessary. ‘It’s just a simple platform, not the Empire State Building.’

His blue orbs stabbed hers. Lena felt their impact like a bolt of lightning. ‘Every design on this project is important,
especially one that concerns the safe working environment of our men.’