Inconsolable

1: House Hunting

Nowhere in Foley's job description did it say lean over a railing on top of a scary cliff to talk a homeless hermit squatter into living somewhere else.

Community relations managers didn't do spelunking as a rule, nor did they force evictions in the face of pending public outrage.

Foley's job description said sensible, definitive, measurable things that you could put a key performance indicator against and bank a salary on. It said present the public face of council with integrity and professionalism. It was about recreation, community engagement and the environment. It was parks and beaches, family, historical and cultural events.

It wasn't sweating and squinting in the February heat haze with her stomach whirling and her palms so slippery the railing might as well have been made of butter while she yodelled off into space.

"Hello, are you there?"

The midday sun burned her forehead as she tried again. "Hello, I'm Foley Barnes. I'm from council. I'd like to talk to you if you've got the time."

Got the time. Idiot. He was an unemployed squatter, what could he possibly be doing but deliberately avoiding her. This would be funny if it wasn't something Gabriella wanted her to fail at.

Foley wiped her hands on her pants, put them back on the railing and leaned a little further over. She couldn't see the man's camp site. That's how he'd managed to live on the cliff face undetected for so long. He was tucked away in a cave that must extend back under the rock ledge, perhaps even beneath the walkway and Marks Park, where she stood.

Of course, now she'd said she was from council he'd probably think he was in trouble and he'd stay hidden away down there, so that was another dumb move.

"Hello, you're not in trouble or anything. I want to introduce myself."

Oh yeah, sure. That was going to work. He'd be sitting down there laughing his homeless head off.

She sighed. Even in this she was Frustrated Foley. Nat was going to love it.

"Okay, I'll come down to you."

There were two ways she could go and they both involved the railing: under or over. That's why the pants suit and the sensible shoes, instead of a lightweight dress and heels. If she had to be a billy goat on work time, she'd be a practically dressed one.

She clamped her back teeth together and ducked under the metal rail, stepping out on the rock ledge. One of the world's most famous beaches was spread out in front of her, along with a good deal of the coastline. It was blue on blue where the sky met the sea and it sparkled; blindingly awe-inspiring, spectacular, and though she saw it often, the beauty of it never got old. Now it was especially breathtaking, but for all the worst reasons. From the wrong side of the safety railing it was simply bigger, more ferociously beautiful and potentially deadly.

She took a steadying lungful. She'd wanted a life less ordinary. She could've been in her comfortable air-conditioned office, at her ergonomically sound desk, working on the Beach Film Festival or the Winter Wonderland, or she could walk along the coast, a very safe distance from the edge, and check Sereno, the heritage-listed house she was trying to save from greedy agents and developers, but no, here she was, back to the wall, thrill-seeking on a rock ledge.

Nat was going to piss herself laughing.

From here Foley could see the ledge had two tiers. The one she was standing on and another that jutted out beneath. The cave must be between them. The edge and the drop off into the ocean was a good car length away, but it was still the edge to a sheer cliff and no next birthday. Sensible shoes or not, her knees locked.