Catier's strike Read Online Free Page B

nails by now.'
    Whatever Sarah would have said, that wouldn't have altered her first refusal, was not uttered, for Sean Cartier had come up behind her. 'You're going to be late for duty, Miss Helm,' he said harshly, giving her a chance to get away.
    Before she walked through the canteen entrance, Sarah looked back and saw that Sean was still talking to Charles, and judging from the tight expression on the Clarion reporter's face, he was not amused, neither was Sean Cartier.
    Sarah's new quarters were not so very different from the room that she had been allotted to share with Martha, but this time she was on her own, and Sarah was not complaining about that. The only other difference was that there was no means of communication. No telecom system to keep the room-mates in touch with the big boss whenever he wished to summon them to a press conference. In other words, Sarah was completely cut off from as much as a whisper of the progress of the project.
    By the time she had finished work that evening, she was too tired to care one way or the other. She just wanted peace from the clatter of cooking pan lids, steam, and the general hubbub of a frantically busy kitchen.
    On the one low table in her room sat a tray with a covered dish, to keep the supper Mrs Pullman had insisted she took to her room, for she had noticed that Sarah had only grabbed a sandwich to keep her going during her working hours, and she didn't want what was turning out to be an extremely reliable worker collapsing at the sink through lack of sustenance.
    Sarah didn't want that either, but somehow the thought of food was repellent to her, and she would have preferred a plate of sandwiches, in fact, anything that wasn't cooked.
    After one or two jabs at the now congealing lamb stew, Sarah gave it best, and took a shower,
    which somewhat revived her, then, not bothering to dress again in her day clothes, she slipped on her nightdress and dressing gown, since she might as well be comfortable as she wasn't going anywhere, she thought, as she stretched out on her cot bed and considered her future.
    A future that didn't look too bright at this point in time. Charles Ashley had hit the nail on the head when he had pointed out that she could lose her job. Sarah's smooth brow creased, and her eyes narrowed. There wasn't anything she could do about it. She would lose her job. Of all the bad luck, she thought miserably, that she should have been given this assignment. There was another reporter who could have covered it, and he was a bit more familiar with the scientific terms used on such projects, but no, Eddie Lyall had elected to keep Eric Morris kicking his heels around the office waiting for any sudden story that might crop up, and sent Sarah instead.
    Eric would now be on standby, she thought, ready to take off at a moment's notice, then she shook her head, making a golden curl fall over her right eyebrow. If she knew anything about her boss, Eric Morris would be in Darwin, with their editor burning up the telegraph lines to keep him informed and ready to make his debut at the site at the first given opportunity.
    Not that Sarah could see any such opportunity occurring. If anyone meant what they said, Sean Cartier did; he wasn't the type to change his mind. She drew in a deep breath. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that such a situation might arise, where she would meet
    someone who not only knew Don but was actually related to him. She had moved on from the small paper she used to work for and was now at the top of her profession, based in Sydney, and although the paper was privately owned, it was one of the city's most respected journals.
    Or had been, she thought with a twist of her soft lips, until Sean Cartier had come on the scene. Sarah's thoughts roamed on. Sean Cartier had not known of her connection with Don when she had first arrived with her fellow reporters, and that meant that someone had made a point of passing on the news to him.
    Her