on the main line, tell Him what you want,’ Meredith completed the trio.
‘You can call him up and tell him what you want.’
They were on the road early next morning. Nina wasn’t saying much as she battened down the hatches for the day’s motoring. She’d made a call to her boys, but she wasn’t forthcoming on the conversation. She was quiet and that was unnerving. Meredith and Annie had become used to Nina’s running commentary on all things domestic: ‘The dustpan and brush go here. Hang that towel out to dry! Give that mat a shake!’ Her silence was unnatural. The drone of her nagging was as much a part of their daily routine now as the annoying buzz of a blowfly over their breakfast bowls. A Nina who had given up nagging had given up on life.
The company was pushing on for Scotts Head, some two hundred and fifty kilometres north, for the night’s stay. During the next hour or so in the van, as they headed into the blanched light of another hot day on the coast, there was no conversation. The drab twinned towns of Forster–Tuncurry—joined at the hip by a massive concrete bridge—passed by without comment. More dumped rocks. More fast food franchises. More cheaply built apartments. Another beachside paradise lost to bad planning and ugly development. What was there to be said?
By 10 am they were at the settlement of Taree, looking for coffee and diesel. Nina was standing at the counter of the BP service station when she caught sight of the front page of the Daily Telegraph.
‘HUNTIN’ CHEYENNE’ screamed the strap headline in red: ‘See Sports’. Nina snatched up the paper, turned it over and there, on the back page, was a grainy image that made her day. The young woman in almost-focus was Cheyenne Neck. No doubt about it—snapped in the dim light of a toilet cubicle, the flash from a mobile phone camera had caught the heart-shaped stud in her nostril. She was bent over the toilet lid. What was that substance she was putting up her nose through a straw?
Meet Miss Cheyenne Neck, the woman who claims to be a credible witness to Kyle ‘Tabby’ Hutchinson’s drug excesses. This photograph of her was taken in a toilet cubicle in a Melbourne nightclub some hours after the Richmond Tigers’ recent heartbreak loss to the Sydney Swans at the MCG.
Ms Neck has made a string of sensational claims against the embattled Tabby Hutchinson—including that the Richmond team management covered up the discovery of cocaine and ecstasy in his dressing room locker.
Team manager Brad ‘Kingie’ Brown said last night the claims were ‘a complete fabrication’. The further accusation that the star midfielder had approached the club for an advance on his salary to fund breast implants for his model girlfriend was also ‘ridiculous’, he said. ‘Miss Neck is obviously troubled. She is at best misguided, at worst malicious,’ he added.
Hutchinson’s girlfriend, Emma Pang, also came to his defence. ‘Cheyenne has been dating one of the Swans players since Christmas. She got dropped by one of the Tigers reserves players and I can only think she’s done this to get back at him and the club,’ said Ms Pang. ‘I’ve got no idea where she would get this stuff. It’s all just evil gossip,’ she added.
Ms Pang also denied that she had undergone any surgical enhancement of her assets. ‘Check me out in the April issue of Zoo Weekly. Have a look for yourself!’ she challenged.
Hutchinson has been charged with possession of a prohibited drug and will appear in the Melbourne City Magistrates Court next week. ‘The idea that his drug use was known about and condoned by this club is outrageous,’ Brown said. ‘Anyone who repeats this disgraceful lie will face swift legal action.’
Nina could have cried with relief. Instead, she executed a neat soft-shoe shuffle around the metal display stand of chocolate and grabbed herself a celebratory handful of Cherry Ripe and Crunchie bars. As she was heading for the cash register, Nina’s mobile rang. She fumbled in her handbag.
‘Hello, Nina Brown speaking,’ she answered in her best professional tone, just as she had been trained to do.
‘Did you read it?’ Brad’s mood was ebullient.
‘Just now!’ Nina was elated to hear him so upbeat.
‘Not bad, eh? Now for Miss Corinne Jacobsen. We owe her one.’
‘Oh, Brad, don’t do anything that—’
‘All’s fair in love and war, babe! I love you, and this is war. As Six Evening News might say—stay tuned. You just