Part 7
877 Words
SEVEN
Better today than tomorrow, I told myself after Jo left. What were the chances of them finding me the day before I left this house for good?
I breathed deeply as the phone rang, my eyes fixed on the letter though I'd memorised the words on it by now.
"Hello, Australian Security and..."
"Hello, my name is...Caitlin Lockyer," I said, wincing as I said the unfamiliar name aloud. It had been a long time since anyone had called me by my real name. "I received a letter today about an ex gratia p*****t and I'd like to discuss it."
I wanted to ask if it was a joke. There were a lot of zeroes after the dollar sign in this letter and it seemed too good to be true.
No amount of money could pay for my pain, but it sure could help to make me feel better about it afterwards.
"Yes, Ms Lockyer. I'll put you through to Legal now...one moment, please."
The phone rang again. I tapped my fingers in time to the tune in my head, a remnant of last night's rehearsal.
"Hello, Mike Lawler speaking," a pleasant male voice answered.
I took another deep breath. "Hi, my name is Caitlin Lockyer and I received a letter from your office."
"Ah, Miss Lockyer. If you're concerned about the delay, I assure you our office did everything in their power to locate you, but the witness protection records were corrupted and we were unable to find information about your current name or address for quite some time. The delay was factored in when we calculated the sum in your letter." He cleared his throat.
"So this isn't a joke?" I asked weakly. The sum he referred to was more than I'd received for my TV interview. It was more than people got when they were sent to jail for crimes they didn't commit. Wrongful imprisonment and more besides. They'd set a price on r**e. My skin crawled at the very thought.
"I assure you, ASIO's budget doesn't allow for jokes this expensive. After this incident, we'll be lucky if Treasury allows us a stationery budget before next year. We almost had a fight break out between two office girls over the last ream of printer paper." He coughed out what sounded like a laugh. "We'll be lucky if the government doesn't decide to cut their losses and privatise us next. But that's not your concern. Yours is to read through the offer and the conditions attached to it. If the offer meets with your approval, you need to sign it in the presence of a witness, get them to sign it, and send it back to us."
I waited in silence for him to say more, but he didn't. After maybe half a minute, I chose to speak. "If this offer is genuine, then I do have some questions before I sign."
"Ask away," Mike said.
I hesitated. "This...media clause. The one that says I can't discuss past events with the media. You know that, in my line of work, media contact is inevitable."
"But not as Caitlin Lockyer. Under your new name, any and all events that involve your new persona are excluded. It's detailed in the conditions down in...ah...fifteen...no, sixteen point three..." I heard him flick through pages – this old-school lawyer still preferred paper copy to electronic.
I flipped to that section in my own papers and read it with some relief. "Then I'll have no issues signing it. I do have one more question, though." I paused, debating whether I should bother. But I wanted to know so much.
"Ask away," Mike said again.
"The...other...parties involved in this...incident. Were any other offers or payments made to other people for this?" I couldn't bring myself to say Nathan's name. His rejection still hurt, even five years later. He'd saved my life, set me well on the way to recovery, dedicated months of time to my wellbeing...and then walked away from my offer of more.
"Miss Lockyer, due to the sensitive nature of this matter, I can't disclose information about any other offers or payments made in relation to yours." He sounded like he wanted to say more.
"So there are other offers?" I pressed, crossing my fingers.
A heavy sigh blew into his phone. "Yes. One other offer was made."
"How much was it for? Did he accept it?" I burst out, dying to know. If I deserved compensation for what happened to me, so did Nathan. Duped by his boss and forced to do horrible things...
"Miss Lockyer, I can't discuss the terms of someone else's offer or p*****t. He's not similarly constrained – I suggest you ask him." Mike cleared his throat. "Was there anything else?"
Disappointment welled up like a sprinkler in my chest. I couldn't ask Nathan – he hadn't spoken to me for five years. "No," I mumbled.
"Then, if the offer meets with your approval, sign the paperwork, have it witnessed and send it to the address detailed in your offer letter. p*****t will be processed and you'll receive your cheque in a few weeks."
We both said polite goodbyes and I hung up.
I slumped to the kitchen table, wanting to cry or beat my head on its surface. I needed to discuss the offer with Nathan before I accepted it – needed to know he'd been compensated enough for the hell we'd been through. Nothing could pay for my pain – and his was greater than mine.
- Writer
