“He was such a beautiful boy. I’m glad that he didn’t die alone; he died with his friends. He loved his friends so much.”
(Editor’s note: This an eight-part fictional story about a little surf town that is forced to confront the real world effects of shark protection, the removal of shark nets and the obfuscation of public servants wildly out of their depth. It’s based on the experience of Ballina, if y’hadn’t worked that out yet. Read part one here. Part two here. Part three here. Part four here.)
Inside the Marpazzo residence, Titus introduced Noni to Frank’s parents, and she handled the situation perfectly.
“We spoke on the phone yesterday. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook Mr. Marpazzo’s hand, and she sobbed while hugging Mrs. Marpazzo.
“Hi, I’m Lorreta. I know you from your podcast.” Loretta introduced herself while wiping tears from her eyes.
“You can trust her. She’s not like the rest of the media out there,” Titus vouched for Noni.
What followed was every content creator’s dream come true. There were many tears, but also an unexpected celebration of Frank.
“He was such a beautiful boy. I know this might sound strange, and as horrible as this has been for everyone, I’m glad that he didn’t die alone; he died with his friends. He loved his friends so much. He did everything with them.” Mrs Marpazzo smiled.
Mr Marpazzo supported what his wife had said.
He was the best boy a father could ever wish for. A faithful friend to his mates. He would have given his own life for one of his friends. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to discover that he had.”
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Loretta shook her head in disbelief, cradling her daughter.
“How do you think you will survive this?” Noni asked.
“Like anyone survives anything, we will stick together and support and hold each other.”
Mrs Marpazzo wept, reaching out and holding the hands of her husband and daughter.
After such a moving first interview, Noni was on a high. She recognised the feeling of accomplishment laced with empathy and wondered if she might be addicted to it. Outside, after an emotional goodbye, even Brian was crying. Noni asked Titus if he knew the families of the other victims.
“I haven’t met them yet, but I have their phone numbers in my phone.”
“Why do you have their phone numbers? I mean, how did you get them?”
“Do you mind if Brian and I come with you?” Noni asked, taking Titus by the hand affectionately.
“No, that’s okay, I suppose. Would you like me to ring them now, and ask?”
“That would be great.” Noni nodded, seeing Brian silently acknowledge her professionalism as he packed his camera and sound gear into their car.
AT LEAST SHE DIDN’T SUFFER DURING SHARK ATTACK
Pete Silvestor, Penny’s husband, was alone in the flat he had shared with his wife, and still in shock.
“It’s not your fault, Pete. She swam every day, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, but usually later in the day. But she was so stressed, and on the verge of an anxiety attack, so I suggested she go and have her swim early to calm down.”
“Why was Penny so stressed?” Noni probed, discreetly.
“Well, to be honest, we’ve been trying to get pregnant. We both really want to have a baby. That’s one of the first things that attracted us to each other. We both wanted to have a family. Not that many people our age want to have kids. But Penny was having a lot of trouble getting pregnant and blamed herself. That’s why she was stressing so much. That’s why she was swimming so much.”
After a long and intimate talk about Pete and Penny’s life together, including Pete showing Noni the photos on his iPhone of their wedding and honeymoon in Thailand, Noni asked Pete if he could send her the shots.
“Of course, I’d love you to use them. You know, from what they tell me, it’s unlikely Penny even knew what hit her. I hope she didn’t suffer. As weird as it sounds, it’s nice to know that she’s at peace. At least she’s not beating herself up any more. I mean, if it turned out she couldn’t have kids, I don’t think she would have ever forgiven herself. I could see how depressed she was getting, and it was killing me not being able to do anything. I actually prayed that something would happen to relieve her of all the stress. And now I’m the one who’s going to have to go on…alone.”
It was another magnificent interview in the can for Noni [1] Fortescue. However, her next encounter, with Tanner Brewster, Jill’s husband, was different altogether. Tanner was angry. Noni didn’t even have to ask him any questions. He was furious and ranting.
“This is fucking bullshit!” he told Noni and Titus, as Brian set up his camera gear.
Tanner paced back and forth in his lounge room, chain-smoking.
His two eldest were isolating in their bedrooms, crying on their phones with their friends, while the younger two watched him, frightened about how he was going to take control of everything without the help of their far more efficient and resourceful mother.
“I can’t handle this!” Tanner admitted.
“The kids are devastated. Why wouldn’t they be? They’ve lost their mother. How can we keep living here? Across the road from where she was eaten by sharks? How am I going to earn enough money to support us? We need two incomes to pay for everything!”
He lit another cigarette and held it in his mouth while affectionately touching both of his present children, who were hugging one another on the couch. Noni’s cameraman, Brian, had his work cut out for him.
“Jill and I have been together since we were kids, childhood sweethearts.” Tanner kept walking about, looking out the window at the media in the street.
“What were they thinking? Why didn’t someone put up a sign at the beach to let swimmers know there’d already been three shark attacks that day? I mean, that’s their responsibility, isn’t it? Why do we pay our taxes? I’m going to have to do double shifts. Who’s going to take care of the kids while I’m at work? We don’t have time for this!”
The three interviews Titus had facilitated were captivating. Noni had everything she needed for her initial coverage of how the victims and survivors were coping. She also had the contact details of those she had spoken to and planned to follow up with in a few weeks.
She did a final interview with Titus and he described how fortunate he felt to have survived but described an odd kind of guilt that he didn’t understand.
“I mean, why me?”
Then Noni took Titus out to dinner at the Freeport RSL club as a way of saying thank you.
“That was so full on, I can’t believe you do this for a living.” Titus shared, between mouthfuls of pepper steak.
“Well, to be honest, today was particularly full on. Especially Tanner, the poor man, and those poor children. They’ll all spend the rest of their lives trying to overcome this loss,” Noni admitted.
“Why didn’t you ask if you could interview the kids? I mean, they were right there.”
“I don’t want to come across like a ghoul.”
“Oh, fair enough. Gee, you really know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
“I like to think so. How’s your steak? Not too rare?”
“No, it’s great. Just how I like it.”
“That’s good, God knows you earned it.”
“We work really well together, don’t we?”
“We sure do. You know, Titus, I can’t thank you enough for today. I quite literally couldn’t have done it without you.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I’ll edit this up and post it online, and then I’m heading up to Charter’s Towers, where I’m going to be catching up with some people who survived the hostel fire up there, twenty years ago. It’s the anniversary.”
“Can I come with you? Just to help, I mean.”
Noni wasn’t surprised by Titus’s question. In fact, she expected it. It wasn’t the first time she had led someone on and now had to cut them loose. Being as charismatic as Noni was, she had become adept at leaving people behind.
“I’m sorry, Titus, but I always work alone. Or to be more accurate, only with Brian.”
“I understand. It was worth a try, though, right?”
“Why not? You can only ask. We’ll see one another again anyway, in a few weeks, I hope, when we come back to do the next ep.”
‘Ep?”
“Episode.”
“Oh, of course. Episode. I look forward to it.”
“So do I! Let’s eat here again next time. It’s really good, isn’t it? My shout, of course.”
“That’d be great. Thanks!”
To be continued…