Page 116 of Love, Just In

‘Hey, baby daddy.’

I laugh. ‘Poor Pete,’ I moan for the zillionth time. ‘How’s Ashton?’

‘He’s divine,’ she coos, and I can tell she’s gazing at him. Her voice drops in tone. ‘But darling, I’m afraid I’m calling with some not-so-great news.’

Oh god, what now, I think, but I remain peppy for Christina. She’s in new-baby heaven, and I’ll do nothing to ruin it.

‘Oliver has hired someone to cover me,’ she says with a sigh. ‘It’s Meghan Mackay from NRN. That’s why you spotted her in Sydney recently. She was therefor a meeting with Oliver, and she’s already started the role.’

‘Oh my god, you’re kidding me!’

‘I know, I’m ticked off about it,’ she replies with more frustration in her tone than I’ve ever heard. ‘You’re much better than her. To be honest, I don’t understand it at all. But upside: it’s a woman.’

‘I know why,’ I say as I turn onto the promenade, shivering in the wind gust. ‘It’s because Meghan can handle herself through anything on air, and I can’t. It’s as simple as that. And it’s the way it should be. I had my chance, and I blew it. I can own that.’

Silence falls between us. ‘Did you hear from the doctor yet?’ Christina asks.

All the blood in my face drains away. ‘Not yet. It’s supposed to be today, though.’

‘OK. Well, when you want to, you tell me how it went, OK? I’m thinking of you, darling.’

‘Thank you, my friend.’

We hang up, and I drop my phone into my bag before turning to face a sandstone wall and screaming into my arm.

Meghan Mackay, really??

After a few deep breaths, I suck it up and head upstairs to work. It’s the first time I’ve shown my face since my viral gaffe, so I inch into the newsroom with my head ducked, but Man-Bun-Colin greets me with a grin, and was that an actual wave?

‘Good timing,’ he says as I pass by his desk. ‘Remember the West Wallsend baby woman who was charged with murder? Her husband’s just been charged with being an accessory after the fact. He’s facing court today. Can you head out there with Gus?’

I swallow a chuckle at being paired with Mr Unmotivated for one of my last reporting shifts up here. But at least Colin’s kindly ignoring the humiliating on-air blunder that’s now up to forty-seven thousand views on YouTube.

The shoot at the courthouse goes smoothly, apart from nearly missing the accused man’s departure because Gus was having a natter with a security guard. I still manage to secure a comment from the accused man through some clever questioning, and my story ends up leading the afternoon news bulletin.

It’s all been the perfect distraction from the relentless silence of my phone, and I’m giving it another check to make sure I haven’t missed a call from the doctor’s office when Natasha Harrington sidles up to my desk.

‘It’s good to have you back,’ she says, handing me my favourite afternoon drink—a caramel hot chocolate—from the downstairs café.Wow, OK. Why is she giving me treats instead of murdering me in my sleep?

‘Thank you so much,’ I reply, open-mouthed.

She leans against my desk and crosses her arms. ‘You’ve heard about Meghan?’

‘I have.’ I force out a smile that I intend to turn into something genuine as soon as I’ve gotten over mydisappointment in myself. I also remind myself how much of an ass Oliver Novak was towards me and that I’d rather pluck out my own fingernails than work for him directly again. I’m planning to contact another news network about job openings when I get back to Sydney.

‘I was surprised,’ Natasha says carefully, the look in her eye delivering a message that she doesn’t think Meghan was the right pick. Her voice then lowers. ‘But, Josie, what I came here to say is that I’m sorry for reacting so strongly to the blunder you made on air. There is a lot of pressure on me in this role, and I’ve been given free rein to choose my own presenters. So, when something like that happens, it makes me look like I can’t do my job.’

I stare at her, trying to stop my jaw from hanging. I’ve never had a TV executive be this honest and vulnerable with me. Natasha then shifts like she’s about to scamper, so I blurt her name.

‘Have you got five minutes?’ I ask, standing up. ‘There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.’

She checks her watch. ‘Why don’t you come into my office?’

My heart inches into my throat as I trail her up the hallway, taking my phone in case the doctor calls. I settle into the chair that has, strangely, become a familiar place of comfort.

Natasha sits opposite me with her full attention, and I draw in a deep breath and admit everything about my health anxiety. I tell her how long it’s been going on,how severe it is, how terrifying I find certain topics, and how much I want to get better. I don’t tell her about the breast lump because, if it does turn out to be cancer, I need to think through how I want to handle work before beginning that conversation.

Her surprised eyes move over me like she’s seeing me for the first time. ‘Thank you for telling me, Josie. And I really hope you are getting the support you need. Will you let me know if there’s anything I can do to help?’

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