Clementine pulled up in the car park. It was just after five o’clock. The warehouse sheds to her left were quiet, the cavernous doors closed for the evening. A few people were still trickling out of the office into the car park, including one she recognised: John Wakely. She hadn’t seen him since the loss to the Eels. He hadn’t been there for the last home game, which was odd, as he was such a big supporter—anyone who’d ever had anything to do with the Cats had been there.
She got out of the car and hurried across to talk to him, the report for the committee under her arm. ‘John!’ she called out.
He stopped and turned towards her. His face looked grey, but maybe it was the late-afternoon light. He gave her a stiff smile.
‘We missed you at the game last week,’ she said. ‘Everything all right?’
He was standing by a white Toyota Camry, one hand in his pocket as she approached. ‘Yeah, yeah, all good. Todd tells me it was a ripper of a game.’
‘I didn’t think we were going to get there midway through the last quarter. It was touch and go. Really tough doing it without Clancy.’ Having heard Todd’s views on the subject of race, she wanted to test Wakely Senior.
‘Oh yes, he’s a big loss. Yes.’ Agreeable, but not his usual talkative manner, she thought.
‘Can I ask you something, John?’ she said, squinting into the sun. ‘Would anyone have wanted Clancy off the team?’
He jammed his other hand in his pocket, arched his back away from her. ‘Couldn’t say, really. Why do you ask?’ Definitely less talkative than the first time they’d met.
‘I was just wondering if anyone would have wanted Clancy off the team. Maybe some of Todd’s old mates from Earlville wanted to settle the score with Clancy?’
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘Todd’s changed since then. He’s not the same lad anymore.’
‘Yes, I can see that. I just thought perhaps his old friends…’
Wakely shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glanced across the car park, turned back towards Clementine. ‘Look, Todd got sucked into a bad crowd back then—thugs they were. It was a tough time for Todd. They were a ruthless bunch, seriously nasty. If they had an idea like that, to get revenge for Clancy taking them on in court, well, yes, I wouldn’t put it past them to do it. But Todd’s out of it—he doesn’t have anything to do with them anymore. He’s out running and doing weights half the bloody day—no time to drive over to Earlville.’
‘Are you sure that’s what he’s doing, John, working out?’
Wakely looked uncertain for a moment. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure. Why would you say that? Has he done something?’
‘No. Todd’s doing really well. I think his fitness is one of his stronger points, and it’s improved as the year’s gone on. But it could just be the training I’m giving him—with the team, I mean. These boys have never worked harder. We’re dead serious about winning this thing, John. So just because he’s fitter, it doesn’t mean he’s been lifting weights in his spare time, does it?’
‘Well, no, I guess not. I just assumed he was…well, that’s what he told me…’ There seemed to be an argument going on in Wakely’s head. His eyes narrowed. ‘He’s done something, hasn’t he? Tell me what it is.’
Clementine hesitated, but felt the moment was right. ‘It’s just Todd said a few things the other night, and I thought maybe he was keen to have more, well, more white people on the team.’
‘Oh, for Pete’s sake. The flaming idiot. Look, Todd’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, and he’s got a big mouth. Those Earlville mugs filled his head with that rubbish back then, and he’s too much of a young dickhead to shake it off. Yeah, he’s probably glad Clancy’s gone so some whitefella can take his spot, but there’s no way he had anything to do with Clancy leaving.’
‘But you think maybe the Earlville heavies might have been involved?’
Wakely shrugged. ‘From what I know, Clancy left of his own accord, to be with his wife and new baby…’
‘We both know that can’t be right, though, John—it just doesn’t make sense.’
‘Look, I can’t speak for that bunch of hooligans. They might have. It’s definitely possible and it’s just the sort of thing they enjoy. Seeing the Cats have a good year, yes, they’d see that as an opportunity, the bastards—a good time to make Clancy pay for his part in court, threatening him so he’d leave. Who the hell knows? But one thing I do know, Clementine—my Todd has no part in anything that mob does these days. He’s finished with all that.’
He was getting worked up, she needed to keep him on side—she had another line of questions to pursue. ‘I’m sure you’re right, John,’ she said. ‘Todd’s doing so well. It’s really been a breakthrough season for him. I couldn’t be happier. You must be proud of him.’
Wakely looked relieved. ‘Oh, yes. I’m very proud. It’s a shame his mother isn’t here to see it. Wish he’d get a job, though. I’m stuck with him at home until he does.’ He laughed awkwardly.
‘So he didn’t get the apprenticeship, then?’
‘No, missed out on that one, but he’s got another interview next week down at the meatworks. Not his cup of tea—beneath him, he reckons—but I think it’s his best chance now the mine’s closed.’
‘No jobs going around here at CTS, then? I hear you’re not replacing Clancy?’
‘No, there’s nothing open here. Keeping the headcount tight for the sale.’
‘Must be difficult to manage.’
Wakely grinned. ‘Nothing an old dog like me can’t handle.’
She sent out another probe. ‘I guess with your share options it’s worth it, though. Could be lucrative, hey?’ She smiled, trying to sound cheeky rather than nosy.
‘Options!’ he snorted. ‘I think you have me placed a bit too high up the pecking order, Miss Jones. It’s them folks in the ivory tower have the options’—he flicked his head towards the office—‘not the likes of me.’ There was a hint of resentment in his voice but mostly just resignation.
‘Oh, that’s a shame. I expect Bernadette and Gerard are a rung below the serious money too, though.’
He seemed to think it over for a moment. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right—I wouldn’t really know. Ask me a question about the warehouse—that’s all I know about.’
In the time she’d spent in the car park with Wakely the sun had almost disappeared behind the hills. The office was quiet, only a few cars left in the car park. She headed down the corridor towards Gerard’s office, her report under her arm setting out the reasons why Richie Jones, with his bag of twenty-eight goals in the reserves, deserved a place in the seniors. She stopped. Raised voices coming from Gerard’s office. She took two more steps, hung back behind the secretary’s desk. The frosted-glass door to Gerard’s office was closed, but she could tell from the voices that it was Bernadette and Gerard, arguing.
Gerard’s voice was faint—she couldn’t quite catch what he was saying, only certain words clear enough. Something like: ‘All because…couldn’t keep…shut.’
Bernadette was nearer to the door, easier to hear: ‘Oh and you’re the saint, then? One rule for men, another for women?’
‘Spare me…fucking timing…’
Silence. A static in the air, making her skin prickle.
Gerard began again: ‘Anyway…coming again…more…next…’
‘Not our place, you fool. Go somewhere private.’
Clementine could just make out a few words of Gerard’s reply, indignant, angry: ‘what…expect…can’t control’.
Bernadette: ‘We can’t…until…’ The sound of her voice was trailing off as she moved away from the frosted glass, then increasing again. Pacing?
Gerard again, from the back of the office, his voice calmer. Clementine caught the tail end of it: ‘…how much?’
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Bernadette replied, the rest of her words too faint to hear.
Clem strained to hear above the thump of her heart pounding in her ears. The tone was lower, they were finishing up. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought Gerard said the word ‘million’. She saw a shape—Gerard this time, purposeful, very close, moving towards the door. She stepped out from behind the secretary’s desk, pretending she was just coming in.
As he opened the door Gerard’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open just a fraction before, in an instant, he had composed himself.
‘Ah, Jones, come in—you’ve got that report, I take it?’