Читать книгу Australian Secrets - Fiona McCallum - Страница 17

Nicola scowled at the crude sketch of the hotel motel in cream on the gleaming chocolate brown plastic placemat. Despite scanning the Yellow Pages and finding a caravan park the only other option, she was still in denial. Surely there was somewhere else to stay.

She was also in denial about the amount she’d had to drink. Disconnected images flickered through her mind, vague and grainy like an old silent movie. It couldn’t have been the drink – the ham must have been off.

‘Good morning.’ It was Tiffany from the night before.

The kid was sweet enough but far too bloody cheery when one was suffering a hangover and stiff back. Nicola glowered in response.

‘Bread, butter and spreads over there by the toaster, cereal and milk on the table, plates and cutlery on the bench,’ Tiffany rambled. ‘Help yourself,’ she added. ‘Can I get you a coffee, or perhaps you’d rather a tea? I’ve just put a pot on.’

‘Coffee, thanks.’ As Tiffany bounded away, Nicola wondered if the pot she’d referred to was for tea, and instantly regretted her request. In her experience coffee that came in a pot was rarely drinkable.

Maybe there was a coffee machine hiding out in some back room and it wouldn’t be so bad. She hoped so, because the only thing she could see making her feel better was a decent latte or three.

She got up for a closer inspection of the breakfast offerings. The cereals were all in little boxes, brightly adorned to attract the attention of children. She sighed and stuck two pieces of grain bread into the nearby toaster, more for something to do to pass the time.

Nicola stared at the toast she’d just cooked. It looked about as nutritious as cement. Tiffany appeared beside her and put down a tray with a plain white mug of inky black coffee, a small ceramic jug of milk and a matching bowl of white sugar.

‘Thanks,’ Nicola said, and set about doctoring her coffee. Fingers crossed.

She took a tentative sip and almost dropped the cup as her tongue was burnt. She put the mug back on the table with a grimace. ‘Sorry, is it too hot?’ Tiffany asked. ‘Not your fault.’

The beverage’s temperature was the least of its shortcomings, but Nicola curbed her desire to point out its flaws. It was bitter, watery, and had almost no depth of flavour. Could it actually be the worst cup she’d ever tasted? It was a little hard to tell now that she’d burnt the taste buds off her tongue. Bad or not, she thought, it is caffeine; a vital ingredient for the treatment of the common hangover. She lifted the cup again and took a couple more sips.

Nicola put the mug down and looked at Tiffany who was still hovering – why, she had no idea.

‘Tiffany. Um, is there a B&B anywhere nearby, or maybe a …?’

Tiffany looked mortified. ‘No offence, it’s just that …’

‘We may not be all the frills floral but we’re clean and comfortable,’ Tiffany said defiantly.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to …’ Nicola began.

‘Anyway, there is nowhere else,’ Tiffany said.

Nicola wanted to know if the pun was intended, but was far too peeved to give Tiffany the upper hand by praising her wit.

As she stared at her mug, weighing up its drinkability versus her desperation, Nicola felt a slow sinking feeling take hold. If there was no B&B, did that mean there was no day spa either? It was all too awful to contemplate.

‘Is there by any chance a day spa nearby, or a masseuse?’ Nicola asked hesitantly.

Tiffany thought for a moment. ‘Well, there’s an old retired shearer does a bit of work on the footy players.’ Nicola stared at her, horrified.

Taking great joy in Nicola’s obvious discomfort, she chuckled. ‘Though I’m guessing that’s not quite what you’re after.’

‘Could it get any worse?’ Nicola mumbled, thinking aloud. She laid her head on her arms on the table.

Nicola was wondering just what the town did have to offer when Tiffany again materialised at her side and dumped a wad of photocopied and glossy brochures beside her.

‘This place might not have all the city finery but we’re an honest, down-to-earth bunch of good people who do our best with what we have,’ she said a little indignantly.

Tiffany looked like she was waiting for applause. Well she’ll be waiting a while, Nicola thought, sitting back in her chair and folding her arms tight across her chest.

‘You can get paracetamol at the chemist or supermarket. Both are down the street and open at nine-thirty,’ Tiffany said, before turning lightly on her heels and walking away. A door marked Private slapped shut behind her.

Nicola steamed in her chair. The place was a hick town full of country bumpkins and she hated it already. Damn Bill. Boy was she going to give him a piece of her mind! Right bloody now!

She got up and stormed out the door and across the courtyard. By the time she got to room eight she was a little out of breath.

Inside she grabbed her mobile from the bench, remembered there was no signal, and put it down again. Bloody thing; what’s the point of an iPhone if you can’t get any reception? She’d have to do something about that. If she was staying that was.

Nicola reached for the phone by the bed and was about to dial Bill’s office number when she stopped and put the handset down again. What the hell was she going to say, anyway? ‘Get me out of this shithole because I’m drowning in bad décor and crap coffee?’ She’d just sound like a petulant child; not an award-winning reporter prepared to get down and dirty for a great story.

And had he actually promised her a quaint chocolate box village? Hmm. What had he said exactly? Nicola nibbled at her bottom lip. ‘For all I know there’ll be day spas …’

He’d actually only asked her to go out to a town called Nowhere Else and do a story on the drought, hadn’t he?

She’d been the one who had assumed the accommodation would be a posh little B&B. Just heard what she wanted to hear. Fine journalist she was!

Well, she should at least let him know she’d arrived safely. She picked up the phone and dialled his office.

‘Bill Truman.’

‘Hey Bill, it’s Nicola.’

‘Where the hell are you calling from?’

‘Nowhere Else – I’m on assignment, remember?’ ‘Of course I bloody remember; your mobile didn’t come up.’ ‘Oh yeah, right. There doesn’t seem to be any reception out here.’

‘Right, might have to change you over to the national carrier – I’ll check the coverage.’ Nicola could hear him scrawling notes. ‘Everything else okay?’

‘It’s fine,’ she said with a sigh.

‘What? What’s wrong?’

‘It’s just not what I was expecting.’

‘Have you had a good look around yet?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Well, you never know what you’ll find; it might surprise you with what it has to offer.’

A fleeting image of Alex from last night passing through her mind caused Nicola to smile. That had certainly been a pleasant surprise.

‘Oh well, you got there safely; that’s all that matters.’ She told him about the lack of food stops on the road in. ‘It’s that remote? Who would have thought?’ ‘Came as a bit of a shock to me as well,’ Nicola said with a chuckle.

‘Accommodation okay? Too bad if it’s not ‘cause I hear there’s nowhere else.’

‘Ha ha. I’ll be fine, Bill. I’d better go before I blow your budget.’

‘Well, keep in touch. I’ll let you know about the phone.’

‘Thanks.’ ‘And Nicola?’

‘Yes?’

‘Go find me a killer story, there’s a good girl.’ ‘I’ll do my best, boss.’

‘Oh, and be friendly to the locals. See ya, kiddo. Take care.’

‘See ya.’

Nicola hung up and sat smiling, thinking how lucky she was to have a boss like Bill. She felt so much better. But she did feel a little guilty for her behaviour towards Tiffany earlier. She hadn’t been rude, had she? Not quite. But she hadn’t exactly been gracious.

With the words, ‘Be friendly to the locals’ in her mind she got up, left the room, and pulled the door shut behind her.

As she crossed the courtyard back to the pub, Nicola wondered if she’d been a bit too friendly towards another local she’d met – Alex. She was a little fuzzy on the detail of last night.

The dining room was empty when she re-entered. Her untouched plate was where she’d left it, along with toast, mug, and cutlery. She drained the last of the coffee, which, as expected, had deteriorated as it had cooled.

‘Sorry. I wasn’t sure if you had finished or not,’ Tiffany said, appearing beside her. She nodded at Nicola’s plate.

‘Had to quickly phone my boss.’

‘So do you want it or should I take the plate?’

Nicola looked at the toast. She hated cold toast, but didn’t want to add to her already poor standing with Tiffany by wasting it.

She picked up her knife, tore open the packet of butter she’d collected earlier, and started buttering.

‘Don’t suppose you’d like another crap coffee?’

‘Another coffee would be lovely, thanks,’ Nicola said, smiling broadly up at her. ‘Tiffany, look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot – too many late nights …’

‘Whatever.’ Tiffany shrugged, collected the mug and left.

‘Well that went well,’ Nicola mumbled to her toast.

After a few moments alone, she looked around to find Tiffany had returned. She put the mug down but remained standing beside Nicola.

‘Um … er,’ Tiffany stammered awkwardly, her face reddening. ‘Yes?’ What now? Is she going to tell me where to stick my coffee?

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped,’ Tiffany blurted. The glower was a dead giveaway that the apology was being issued under duress.

‘No, I deserved it,’ Nicola sighed. ‘Bloody hangover,’ she muttered, taking a swig of coffee and cringing.

‘I’m not surprised,’ Tiffany grinned, sitting. ‘You enjoyed yourself last night.’

Nicola raised her eyebrows.

‘I never expected you to be so … so relaxed. I mean here, of all places. I think Alex was quite … Sorry, I’m rambling.’

Nicola wished she’d keep going. She hadn’t been that drunk; certainly not drunk enough not to notice the mattress springs poking her in the back and the bathroom tap dripping all night – almost, but not quite.

‘Bugger, I must have made a bloody fool of myself,’ she groaned and laid her head on the table.

‘Nah, everyone loved you,’ Tiffany enthused. ‘The blokes never thought you’d be so normal. You were great. Pretty pissed, but you were great,’ she added, grinning shyly.

‘Do I want to know details?’

‘Probably not,’ Tiffany laughed.

Nicola shot her a quizzical frown. She was actually beginning to like this girl; the cheeky forthrightness. ‘Just kidding, nothing to worry about.’ ‘You’d tell me, right?’

‘Promise – cross my heart. So,’ Tiffany said, banging the table, ‘last night you mentioned you’re here to cover the drought. Maybe I can help. There’s practically no one in town I don’t know. You just have to ask.’

‘Well, I think I’d like to start with the editor of the local paper. Can you point me in the right direction?’

‘Easy – I’ll mark his office on a map,’ Tiffany said proudly, leaping up.

‘Thanks,’ Nicola said, smiling warmly at her new friend.