My Magazine

On the previous Saturday, Jenni and Rhonda had worked on procedural documentation and discussing the hard-copy and filing systems and development of the magazine's website already underway.

When they had started this exacting task, Jenni had assumed that she'd simply dictate her comments and Rhonda would compile them as best as she could, then would present her finished work to Jenni for approval.

However, the considerable verbal outflow from Jenni, helped by occasional glances at key points in her notebook, was not allowed to go unchallenged.

Rhoda began to quietly make suggestions, beginning by saying "Alternatively, why don't you state ..."

As they progressed Rhonda began to understand that Jenni was creating a concept and then producing guidelines how to achieve it rather than produce documents of explicit instructions. She adjusted her thinking and her interjections became more relevant and discussion between them flourished.

When documentation was finally completed on the Saturday afternoon and they were drinking iced tea, Jenni thanked Rhonda is a way that made the younger woman flush with pride.

"You've been a great help on this project, Rhonda. I should have made you my assistant editor."

"Thank you Jenni, that was a very kind thing to say; it's why I love working with you. But you look exhausted you should get out of here – I know, I have an idea!"

She left the room and returned a few minutes later, smiling.

"It's all arranged, pack and overnight bag and we're off to sample of life in the country."

"Oh Rhonda. I can't – there's so much to do."

"Come on Jenni," said Rhonda, her blue eyes looking a little steely. "You'll fail before the finishing post if you suffer burn out, and I'm not about to let that happen. We'll take your car because it's more comfortable than mine, and I'll drive if you don't mind. I want you to sit back and relax."

"Well what can I say?" asked Jenni, raising an eyebrow. Rhonda had not revealed this bossy streak before. "All right, I'll have a bath and do my hair ..."

"We're leaving in fifteen minutes Jenni. Fifteen minutes."

"Right, boss," said Jenni, thinking that's pulled the plug on the bath idea.

"We are we going?"

"To stay the night with mum and dad near Bath. Mum is forever asking me about you and I thought it was time you two met."

"And your father?"

"He's never mentioned or shown any interest in my comments about you but when he sees you that will change. By the way, watch him."

"What does that mean?" Jenni asked, as Rhonda placed her carry bag and Jenni's two overnight bags into the car boot.

"Just watch him. Now, let's be off – the keys please."

Jenni had only seen Rhonda arriving and departing in her VW. She'd never been driven anywhere by Rhonda. She was confident, however, that her BMW would be driven well.

'Well' wasn't quite the right word for it. The car seemed to glide under Rhonda's hands and to give the feeling it was itching to gallop.

"Good gracious, who taught you to drive?"

"Daddy."

"My father also taught me, but you've seen the way I drive."

"Just like editors, not all drivers are born equal Jenni. Dad was a rally driver, and that's how he and mum met."

"At a rally?"

"No not quite although during a rally build up."

"Mum was sweeping the porch when dad – unmarried and an international daredevil and playboy in those days – came barrelling down the gravel road and lost control when the front left tyre blew out.

"The car rolled several times, crashing through the fence and flattening mum's newly planted vegetable garden."

"As she tells it, she raced down clutching her broom wondering how she could get the driver and co-driver out of the wreck before it exploded. But there was only one occupant and he seemed to be a little dazed. She reached across him to undo his safety harness when he grabbed her and kissed her."

"She was shocked. She leaped backwards, picked up her broom and started beating him. He howled with pain and that's when she realised he had a dislocated or broken left shoulder."

"Wow what a story. But she was married?"

"Yes but first let me finish. According to dad, he saw this incredible flaxen-haired beauty running towards the car. He pretended to be almost unconscious so that he could observe her reaction."

"When she leaned over to release his double harness and he saw her lips right in front of him, open with anxiety, he could resist so with his good arm he pulled her to him and kissed her."

"Then, as he tells it, 'The beauty turned into a bitch and started flaying my inquired arm with her broom. She looked absolutely adorable in her anger'."

Jenni glanced at Rhonda to say what a fabulous story that would make for

My Magazine

when she spotted a tear rolling down her companion's face.

"That's one of the most romantic stories that I've heard. Now your earlier comment about you father begins to make sense."

"I don't think he's too bad these days Jenni and mum got used to his witnessing his wandering hands many years ago. She says she had a taste of what he was like from the moment they met."

"It's just that daddy has that one weakness."

Well, if the brute puts a finger on me she'd knee him, thought Jenni.

"This car handles so beautifully," said Rhonda, accelerating along the on-ramp to the motorway.

"Barely in my hands but let's get back to your parents. How did they get together – I must be told!"

"One night mum's husband was driving home after being drinking at a bar and ploughed straight into a bridge abutment, killing himself. His family tried to seize the farm from mum and finally the parties agreed under mediation that the farm would be sold and mum would walk away with half of the net proceeds. She was entitled to all of it according to the will but in her upset didn't wish to go through a legal battle."

Jenni began to fantasize.

"Then she went to a car rally and was working in the pits as a grease monkey where your father tripped over her and kissed her?"

Rhonda laughed. "It was nothing like that."

"Two years after becoming a young widow – she was still only twenty-three – mum was working as a beauty consultant in a department store and on Saturday afternoons would often do charitable hospital visits with a friend – you know, those people who visit patients without visitors."

"They were walking through a ward when mum jumped sideways to avoid two children who were rushing to see their father. She bumped into a group of men standing around a bed that was up on blocks as the patient was in traction. It jerked the pin through his leg that was part of the traction process on his broken femur and he howled with pain. You can guess the rest of the story."

"It was the rally driver and thereafter you mother only visited the one patient. They kissed one afternoon and he said, 'Darling, will you marry me.' The end."

"Well, that's almost correct."

"Mum realised that they would likely commence an affair when he was discharged from hospital – they kept people in as patients for a long time in those days. She wanted that to happen, but she didn't want him to lose him after the passion died, so she proposed to him and he accepted."

"Your mother proposed to him?" Jenni yelped.

"Yes but it won't seem strange when you get to know my mother."

"Well," sighed Jenni. "Perhaps I won't have that privilege if she decides I'm not a suitable person to be in the company of her daughter."

"Mum will adore you Jenni; I know my mother."

* * *

At Zephyr Media, CEO Ron Wiggins dictated a memo to his PA and asked her to email it to all executives and to pin it to the noticeboard in the production department and a copy on the noticeboard outside the staff cafeteria and to post it on the staff password protected section of the company's website.

Later in the day when going into the production department he checked that the notice was on the board. It was and simply announced that a new publication called

My Magazine

would pass through the company's production and distribution system on behalf of the publisher, Jenni Giles, a former employee of Zephyr Media.

Ron shook his head, thinking that Jenni was getting into something far too risky. The odds were stacked against her. As always happens in new ventures in publishing, her costs would balloon far head of budgets and the income stream would come in under budget, spelling out a ruinous times ahead of her.

He'd dearly welcome it if she were to call and ask him to go over her budgets with him outside of work hours. Ethically he could not do it during work hours for Zephyr.

She would have some success – he would certain about that. There were always readers out there looking for something new and Jenni could be relied upon to produce a stand-out new entry to the market. She'd also pull the right strings to maximum launch publicity for her product.

Nevertheless, he worried: the market that she was attempting to penetrate and prosper in was extremely fickle. Underneath it, out of sight and forgotten, were the mass burials of many failed publications. Still, when the inevitable happened perhaps she would find a rich widower to marry to restore her good fortune.

* * *

Across town in the magazine's temporary premises, Jenni held a series of meetings with key personnel.

She had just began the most important meeting of all – conferring with the design and production personnel – when she noticed through the entrance to her large cubicle Nicolo Brajnovic walking towards Rhonda's cubicle.

"We'll stop for a couple of minutes – there's someone here that I'd like everyone to meet."

Jenni walked out into the largest area and called for a temporary stop work. She then asked Rhonda if she could bring their landlord, Mr Brajnovic out to be introduced.

"Nico please. Everyone should call me Nico."

Finding it necessary to exchange a few words with everyone, Nico finally had met the entire team. It had taken twenty minutes, making Jenni very restless though she concealed it well.

She hurried the key personnel back into her office. They were the deputy editor and chief writer, the chief subeditor, the designer, chief photographer and the part-time artist/cartoonist.

"Rhonda!" called Jenni, and Rhonda escorted Nico out of the building and then joined Jenni's meeting with the draft format of the magazine. She handed a copy to everyone and then joined the meeting to take minutes.

"Right, at the end of one hour I want the definite format decided" Jennie said. "You have my draft format before you and let's have your solid as well as far-out ideas delivered as briefly as you can, and I can allow only limited discussion. We have so much to do. But first, let's start at the beginning – Felix, please show us the design that you and I chose from your selection earlier today."

The self-employed graphic artist, who particularly liked producing line drawings and cartoons, held up the dummy front cover done in water-colours.

"Excellent Felix – you've even improved on what you and I discussed this morning. Well everyone thanks for those murmurs of approval but there's no time for discussion – this is the cover format I want and I'm being old bossy boots over this."

"You will notice the title masthead is in gold which means five-colour printing as vibrant gold cannot be produced well with the four-colour process. But I'm relaxed about the extra cost because it means we can offer five-colour on other sections for our more discriminate advertisers. We also need a cover that shouts out, 'Pick me up and sample what's inside'."

"Now, I have paid a small fortune for exclusive rights internationally for a supplied article that will rock the nation – I prefer you do not discuss that comment with anyone, not even your partner or parents as the case may be. We need people to think yet another magazine is coming on to the market, and then wham-o! Most of you will not see this article until we get our copies on distribution day when that article to be used to stimulate public interest in the launch of our new magazine."

"Only Felix, Mae as designer, Tina as chief subeditor and myself will be involved in the production of this article and the teaser for it on the front cover. All of the pre-print production work will be done under tight security at Zephyr. I have to exclude you others because the fewer people in the know the more successful we'll be at keeping the lid on it."

"So thanks Felix for your artwork and you Mae for your design concepts. Now let's get into the guts of our first publication," said Jenni, enthusiastically.

At five o'clock Jenni told everyone to call it a day. The had worked through the entire magazine layout, deciding on the fall of features, the basic design of the contents page, the choice of typefaces, policy about turns when it was necessary to 'jump' and article to continue past advertising booked for specific pages. In addition were the decisions on many other finicky things that cement consistency and order in a publication that most readers would not be aware were embodied in the publication they had in their hands.

Jenni was emotionally exhausted but wish to work on for another couple of hours. Although she and Rhonda had arrived at work separately, Rhonda refused to go home until Jenni left.

"I'm not having you left alone in this area where nasty things could easily happen."

"Right, I won't argue."

While working on accounts and developing office systems further, Rhonda thought about the meeting between Jenni and her mother. It was exactly as she'd predicted. Her mother was excited and didn't care that it showed. It was a little embarrassing for Rhonda.

"Oh, Jenni," Rhonda's mother gushed. "I'm delighted to meet you at last. I have never known Rhonda talk so enthusiastically about anyone – not even her own mother. She absolutely adores you."

Jenni was equal to the bouquet tossing moment.

"Rhonda's often talking to me about you. I have pictured you looking like a saint."

"Oh Jenni, what a kind think to say but you'll embarrass Rhonda if you go on like that."

Rhonda came from behind the car carrying the three bags.

"Is Jenni in the guest room or the guest house?"

"You choose Jenni – in the house with us or over in our luxury lodge tucked in the trees. It has a beautiful sea views and you'll be surrounded by the dawn chorus of birds."

"In the house is fine thank you."

The family lived on a lifestyle block that supported Rhonda's aged horse Sebastian, two steers aged a year apart being raised to be 'home killed' for beef, twenty-one sheep, a sow called Miss Piggy, an arthritic dog refusing to answer to her name of Percy and a henhouse from which an assortment of poultry free ranged in daylight hours.

Always an admirer of Rhonda's blonde hair and sparking blue eyes, Jenni didn't have to look further than Brigetta Flagstaff to see the origins. Although about in her mid-fifties Brigetta's hair was still a striking bone blonde colour and from a photo inside the house Jenni was later to learn that Rhonda's late grandfather had been a blue-eyed and blond Swede. Within the hour Jenni could see where Rhonda had inherited her lively and yet soft personality. Ignoring age difference, when standing arm in arm mother and daughter mirrored each other.

After afternoon tea Jenni went to her room for a rest. She thought that while Rhonda was so much like her mother, almost the exact opposite could be said about the similarity between her and her parents.

Jenni knew from photographs that her late mother had mousy coloured straight hair and was plump with short fingers and Auntie Mae said her sister had a nervous disposition but was 'basically a very nice person". However, Jenni faint memory as a 12-year-old – when her mother died – was that her mother never praised her unduly nor ever chastised her in real anger.

Her late father had been no less deficient in projecting real warmth towards his daughter. Thin and stooped slightly from an early age, he'd spent working all his life in the same job – working in accountancy or bookkeeping as it was called when he first began with the firm.

She remembered the proudest moment in her father's life, according to him. That occurred when the managing director – B.J. as he was known – called him to his office on the executive floor where her father had previously never set foot. Her father recalled returning to his office absolutely overwhelmed as B.J. had invited him to buy in as a partner, marking Rex Giles' 15th year with the company.

It was only when she'd left home that Jenni finally accepted that she'd been brought up in a loveless home environment. She had countered that as a youngster by accepting to stay with anyone who invited her to visit and especially to stay over and recall doing that with great excitement. She'd often mused later in life that she was not cynical as a child – she'd simply accepted her parents as being normal while acknowledging some other children's parents always seemed to be laughing and having fun together.

Was that emotionally barren home-life yet another real reason why she'd not married? Jenni preferred not to dwell on that poser and never really thought about her medical problem that would have presented her conceiving a baby naturally.

With the afternoon sun shining in to cover half the width of her bedroom, Jenni lay on top of the bed and stretching her legs managed to wriggle her toes into the penetrating sunlight. She was happy, she thought, well pleased in coming to that conclusion. Rhonda had done well in bringing her there to wind down

Jenni's mind slipped into work mode, and a tingle of excitement flashed through her, lifting her pulse rate a little. She knew that many people – including some of her own staff – believed she was taking a huge risk in launching the magazine. But last Friday afternoon she'd upped the ante, doing a deal that she herself still went slack-jawed in wonderment when thinking about it.

She'd been at the offices of Moonglow Advertising and was being shown drafts of her TV, radio, newspaper and billboard advertising campaign for

My Magazine

when the agency principal Snowy McKissock went by.

He saw Jenni and came back, kissing her on the cheek and telling his people – "Do your best for Jenni guys. She's a former work colleague and will really make this mag sing and dance its way to success."

Snowy told Jon his media director to pull in some favours to get a few top clients to try a run of ads in this new upmarket magazine. Then he asked Jennie to call in for a chat on the way out.

"You're got something we haven't got, Jenni," Jon grinned. "We, the ones making money for him, virtually have to make an appointment to see him."

Jennie explained, "Years ago we bonded in working and drinking together."

"What Snowy? He's as dry as a bone."

"That may be so, but not when I knew him in New Zealand. I was a pretty good drinker but he'd have me legless."

"Well I'll be damned, Mr Goody Two Shoes was a reprobate in his younger days was he?"

"Your Snowy was a hell-raiser. That's all I'm saying."

Jenni and the blond-haired Vincent McKissock – almost universally known simply as Snowy – had worked together for five years in the Auckland bureau of the

Southern Star

. Jenni was office manager/senior journalist in charge of three reporters and all communications and Snowy was in charge of advertising admin as well as heading a team of four advertising reps who sold space for all publications owned and produced by Southern Star Press Ltd.

As the working relationship developed between Snowy and Jenni they occasionally ended up in bed after some wild 'nights on the town' after getting primed at a formal social function.