The Bay Page 12

  ‘It’s okay, Lynn,’ said Holly quickly. ‘That’s how all our friends back in Sydney think. Enjoy every cent and live the lifestyle you want – even if you can’t afford it – and let the kids make their own stash. Property is something you keep trading up, a commodity for a more glamorous life, a status symbol of what you’ve achieved. Andrew has always regarded houses as investments. I never felt we gave the children a sense of roots, of belonging to a place. We moved from the Northern Beaches to the Eastern Suburbs and then to Mosman. Andrew never kept up with old neighbours, just the property prices. That’s why this place means so much to me. It’s got a family history, I feel I belong here. Silly, I know, when I just moved in but I want to make something of it.’

  ‘You want to show your old man you can be as astute as him,’ said Stolle. ‘You just picked a difficult way to do it. But this could be a real showplace if you can stick it out.’

  ‘Oh, I’m going to do that,’ said Holly with a sharp edge to her voice. ‘If only to show you blokes that I can rescue this place and make a financial go of it.’

  ‘Bugger them, Holly. You do it for yourself,’ said Lynn. ‘You only have to prove things to yourself, no one else. Anyway, Mitchell said he’d probably get up here tomorrow to see you about taking over the building renovations, if you want.’

  ‘Well, I hope he’s reliable. Time doesn’t seem to mean much up here. “Probably tomorrow” could be a week or more.’

  ‘Don’t stress. Things all happen when they’re meant to,’ said Stolle.

  ‘See you soon,’ Lynn called as they left.

  Holly was grateful for their help. Thinking back to their first meeting, she wondered what Andrew would make of them now being her best friends. He would regard them as hired help, not social equals, that was for sure.

  Holly changed then hesitated as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Tailored grey pants and a pale aqua silk-knit sleeveless top, tasteful heavy gold bracelet and chain with a small antique medallion. Understated, elegant, expensive looking. Suddenly she felt all wrong. There was a certain ‘look’ here that she couldn’t put her finger on. Perhaps it was just the fact that anything went. She pulled down the smooth French roll and let her hair flick onto her shoulders, framing her face, hoping she looked less dressy.

  Then she hurried outside as she heard a car – someone arriving far earlier than expected. But that would be right, she figured. Lynn had told her that guests in The Bay turned up early, or very late, often with a bunch of friends in tow you weren’t expecting. Or not at all, as in – ‘Things came up. You know how it is.’ She opened the French doors onto the verandah and was surprised to see Eddie get out of the car.

  ‘Hello, Holly. Remember we met at the Goddess Night ding? I was wondering if I could gatecrash your tea party?’ He strode across the lawn with a disarming smile.

  ‘It’s my first tea party and you have the honour of being my first gatecrasher. Welcome aboard.’ They exchanged exaggerated handshakes, which conveniently masked Holly’s slight shock. She had tried to accept that values, attitudes and behaviour here were very different from those she had lived by in the city. The Goddess Night had confirmed that beyond any doubt. But it was still very difficult to adjust, especially when these differences came marching through the front gate . . . like Eddie. She noticed that he gave her outfit a quick once-over, a look that confirmed her earlier concern about her choice from the wardrobe. Too bad, on with the show. ‘So what is the big attraction here for you? I’m quite mystified.’

  ‘Pictures,’ he announced. ‘I’d like to get some shots of the tea party.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ exclaimed Holly with a smile. ‘This is not the stuff of even regional news.’

  ‘I told you the other night about making a doco based on The Bay, didn’t I? Well I think I’m onto an angle that will sell, or at least get up some interest among the right people with the money bags.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ said Holly, ‘I have star potential. Hollywood is waiting.’

  Eddie chuckled. ‘No promise of stardom, Holly. No, it’s as much the house as you. It’s one of the few originals around and a good link between the past and the present, and perhaps a clue to the future of the area.’

  Holly could see how a short sequence of a tea party in the garden of the unrestored historic house could work for the storyline. ‘I’m sure it will be okay with the guests,’ she said. ‘But I’ll have to tell them what’s happening.’

  ‘That’s fine. I don’t want to bother anyone. Just shoot it wild, as we say in the business. Fortunately I took a couple of shots when the house was up for sale with the big signs outside. And now the rebirth, so to speak.’

  ‘Initial labour pains only,’ said Holly.

  While Eddie went back to his car for his gear, Holly poured them both freshly squeezed orange juice and pondered on the big arguments for and against development she had heard so far. Some claimed that tourism, like the current backpacker boom, guaranteed the town’s economic future. Others argued that the place would become overrun with tourists and accommodation development, destroying the laid-back appeal of the place. She was glad she wasn’t the mayor straddling both arguments. Her plans for Richmond House would be approved by all sides, she hoped.

  Eddie accepted the orange juice with a clinking of glasses. ‘Good luck, Holly. And I hope Richmond House helps you find what you came here for.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Holly with a slight note of doubt. ‘And what did you come here to find?’

  ‘Still working that out, believe it or not. It’s a kind of elimination process. Knowing what I don’t want before I find out what I really want. Now back to business, I’d like to get some shots of the guests arriving.’

  ‘You’re excused. Go and hide in the bushes.’

  To her surprise he almost did exactly that, and set up in an overgrown area of the shrubbery that provided a slightly elevated angle on the table. He was such a charming man, mused Holly. Thirtyish, obviously creative, comfortable with technology and a determined battler. She wondered about his personal life. Yes, at the full moon evening he had made a reference to an ex-wife, and a child.

  She’d never been curious about knowing the personal details of people’s lives before. You met and chatted about where you lived, what your husband did, what school your children went to, what new restaurant had opened. Even over long lunches with women friends nothing too personal was ever exchanged. It would be considered prying and very poor taste. Gossip about third parties was different. Yet up here, it seemed personal sharing was de rigueur.

  ‘I can see it. Oh yes.’ Nola Florens stood in a theatrical pose in the centre of the sitting room. The women had wandered around Richmond House exclaiming at its possibilities, the views, the lovely old wood, the ambience. Holly wasn’t sure if Nola was going to break into an operatic solo or a recitation. But after clutching her turbaned head she pointed at the small window alcove.

  ‘Make it bigger, frame that view. Make the windows floor to ceiling, it’s the focal point of the room. And I know just the fabric to frame it.’ She spun around. ‘That little fireplace opposite should be huge and above it – an enormous mirror that reflects the view from the bay window. Let the light in, to hell with fading the cushions.’

  She placed a plum-coloured fingernail against her matching lips. ‘Mmm. I think pale lemon and duck-egg blue. Sun, sky, water. Flowers of course. But subtle, a bit olde worldy. Bit of the William Morris meets Nola Florens, eh?’

  ‘Sounds lovely,’ Holly said, smiling. ‘But I’m not sure that my budget will run to it.’

  ‘I know exactly what will fit in here because I have yards, rather metres, of it, my dear. Mouldering away in my warehouse in Sydney. What say we get it up, with a couple of things that might suit the bedrooms? The wallpaper too, of course. Just as a trim here and there. This humidity plays hell with the stuff. How are you going to cool this place?’

  ‘I’m relying on the ocean breeze and fans.
They’re romantic and with the house opened up more it should be comfortable.’

  ‘Windows were meant to be open. I hated living in a sealed house in the city. Curtains have to move and dance, not be rigid, pleated in place. You know, you don’t even need curtains up here . . . it’s so private. Just token drapes to frame each beautiful picture through every window.’ She patted Holly’s shoulder. ‘A lot of love went into this place, make sure you have a builder who will give it the attention it deserves.’

  Once they were all settled in the garden, Amber passed plates of sushi to the other guests and Lynn handed around cool drinks while Holly poured tea.

  Mac was in deep discussion with Kimberley. ‘So what is going on with Bonnie if you’ve got Erica staying with you and Matty?’ she asked.

  ‘Erica is such a clam. All she is saying is that her mother has gone to a health farm for a couple of weeks. Her mother disappeared for a short time, maybe that was the catalyst. Anyway, Erica is staying with us on weekends. How she stands that madhouse during the week when she has homework to do I don’t know. I’ve told her to bring her washing with her on Friday night and I send her back with food to snack on during the week. She’s starting to unwind and relax a bit more. She and Matty enjoy each other’s company. I get the feeling Erica hasn’t spent a lot of time just being a carefree teenager.’

  ‘What health farm? Do you think someone talked her into drying out? Poor Bonnie, let’s hope she’s getting her act together. I’ll ask Billy, he’ll know what’s going on, I’m sure.’

  ‘Now, Mac, I never thought you’d be running to the hairdresser for gossip,’ said Amber, who was walking by with a platter of finger food.

  ‘There’s gossip and there’s caring concern. You know how it is in a small community. Newcomers or not, we have to look after each other.’

  ‘Indeed we do.’ Amber smiled politely, not wishing to argue with the older woman, but Mac gave her a shrewd look.

  ‘There’s something you’re not telling. But I won’t try to find out.’

  Amber turned away, avoiding Mac’s gaze, wondering just how psychic she really was. Reading tarot cards and handwriting was one thing, but sometimes Mac had ‘flashes’ that were prophetic.

  So far there hadn’t been any chat around town about Bonnie’s incident at the beach. Amber had simply backed up her story to her daughter – a foolish morning plunge to help wash away a big hangover, and a misreading of the surf. Amber had fortunately been nearby to help her escape from the rip. The three of them had agreed to keep it to themselves. There was no need to explain her retreat to the Dolphin Centre for ‘treatment’. Bonnie’s reputation for wild living over recent months could be the cause of anything. Erica had no idea her mother had attempted suicide and was able to give her emotional support without the burden of that knowledge. Amber was touched by just how much Bonnie responded to Erica’s help, and how sensitive the young girl was to her mother’s need.

  Thanks to Amber’s contacts, admission to the Dolphin Centre was arranged with a couple of phone calls. The following day they all drove to the therapy centre high on a hinterland hill with remnant rainforest and filtered views of the distant ocean. A scatter of cabins ringed the main house, where they found the admission office and were shown around the counselling rooms and gym.

  It wasn’t until they were walking away from the car towards the front steps that Bonnie showed signs of breaking down. Tears flowed and she mumbled in a confused state. ‘Oh, no. Oh, God. What’s going to happen? I’m frightened.’

  Erica threw both arms round her mother and hugged her tightly. ‘It’ll be all right, Mum. You’ll be safe here. Nothing to worry about, Amber has told you that. Really. C’mon, Mum, show ’em a bit of your old self. This is a chance for things to change for us.’

  ‘She’s right you know,’ said Amber. ‘Let’s go. No turning back.’

  Bonnie recovered, wiped the tears away and smiled in gratitude at them both. ‘That’s what I said when I first arrived at The Bay, full of hope, full of problems. No turning back. Not as easy as it sounded then. It’s all become such a mess.’

  ‘We’ll make it, Mum. You’ve just got to get a bit stronger.’

  Bonnie looked at her daughter with pride and love, then turned to Amber who linked arms with her and steered her towards the front door. ‘She’s a strong girl, Amber. Maybe these past few months have helped make her that way, so it’s not all bad, huh?’

  ‘Same goes for you, Mum,’ added Erica gently.

  It had been a hectic twenty-four hours for Amber and Erica. Arranging the Dolphin Centre had been the easy part. More complex was getting a three-minute course on running Bonnie’s faltering shop, which Amber had agreed to manage for the time being. ‘All care but no responsibility, Bonnie.’

  That had been the simple foundation of the deal. Along with an invitation from Bonnie. ‘Put some of your products in there too. Might help a bit.’

  ‘Done deal,’ said Amber as they had hugged.

  Now came the hard part, kisses and tears. A gentle, smiling man with a name badge that said ‘Cheyne’ took Bonnie to her room, and Amber and Erica walked back to the car holding hands.

  ‘They’re not going to do anything . . . awful to her, are they?’ asked Erica.

  ‘Of course not. But it’s going to be hard for your mum to get her willpower functioning again. They’re very caring and careful. They look after people with all kinds of problems, from grief to addiction, to just losing the plot a bit.’

  ‘How come you know them?’ Erica asked, catching Amber off guard for a moment.

  She hesitated, then replied. ‘My mother spent some time here, too.’ She didn’t say any more but seeing Erica’s questioning look, she added, ‘Yes, they helped her. A real lot.’

  While the other guests were still enjoying tea in the garden, Mac wandered into the kitchen and found Holly on her own. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘Thanks, Mac, I’m just boiling more water. More juice needed out there?’

  ‘Wouldn’t go astray. A lot of chatting going on, makes us dry.’ She glanced around the old kitchen. ‘This will have to go. Can you imagine cooking on that wood stove?’

  Holly sighed. ‘I get a bit overwhelmed sometimes with what I’ve taken on. I’m hoping the new builder Lynn and Stolle are sending will work out. I need someone who can see what I can. I’m afraid Andrew’s designs are very clinical. When you walk around the house, you start to make small changes in your mind as you see things. Nola gave me some great ideas.’

  ‘And where is your husband? Down at the beach? Avoiding the ladies’ tea party?’

  Holly gave her a curious look. ‘No, he’s in Sydney and heading off to Bangkok soon.’

  Mac frowned. ‘Oh, I thought I saw him in town yesterday. I could have sworn it was him . . .’ She shrugged and gave a bright smile. ‘Oldtimers setting in. I’ll pop back outside. That devastatingly handsome Eddie wants to talk to me for his film.’

  Eddie had framed Amber in his viewfinder several times during the tea party shoot. She was just so damned beautiful and full of youthful energy that his creative instinct told him to get the shots. Creative instinct, bullshit, he thought when changing angles. Sex urge more likely. Sort that out later, get it in focus.

  ‘Get it all in focus,’ Amber said in opening the conversation when he put down the camera and joined the women. The line was so close to what had just gone through his mind that the shock almost made him drop the scone he had bitten into.

  ‘Ah yes. In focus. Are you a blow-in like me?’

  ‘Sort of. I’ve been back from Sydney a couple of months, the old folks had a farm that went bust. I’m a fully qualified beach bunny, done the horse riding bit in the hills.’

  ‘Well I have similar qualifications,’ responded Eddie. ‘I’m going bust on a farm too. Probably because I let the fruit and avocado trees do their own thing. I just hope the camera yields a better meal ticket.’

  Amber smiled and picked up a platter. ‘Hav
e some cheese.’

  ‘I like the way you smile when you say cheese.’

  She blushed, was unable to think of a smart response, so settled for a real smile.

  ‘Where’s your farm?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘Up where the developers will never find it, I hope,’ she said with some bitterness. ‘It makes me angry that so many farming families that worked hard for several generations had to leave before they could get the benefit of the boom in real estate. My folks were among them. Sold their land too cheaply. Still, Mum has the old house and her garden.’

  Eddie had heard the story so often in the past two years. It was the story of The Bay, but it applied to a lot of other places along the coast as well.

  ‘Gotta circulate with the cheese,’ said Amber. ‘See you.’

  Tina Cook finished the paperwork in her office at the lighthouse reserve and set out on another scheduled patrol. ‘Showing the flag’ she called it. A few tourists were around as usual, hanging over the railing or looking through the mounted telescope. An overweight woman draped with a big shoulder bag, camera and binoculars hailed her in a broad American drawl. ‘Say, ranger, where are the dolphins? We were told they’re always here. We’ve been on all the beaches round about and haven’t seen one.’ She sounded irritable, and her remark seemed to suggest that Tina, as ranger, could make them appear.

  Tina gave a shrug and smiled nicely. ‘The dolphins choose when to appear, ma’am. They’re not on the payroll. You’re really lucky, because you have the chance to make yourself comfortable at one of the lookouts and do the relaxation and meditation bit while you’re waiting for them. A chance to get in tune with nature, you know what I mean. People pay big money for that sort of opportunity. Enjoy your day.’ She turned and went down the walkway before the American could reply.

  A dilapidated car rolled up to her and Eddie leaned out the window. ‘Hi, we spoke on the phone. Eddie Harley. Can you spare me a few minutes?’

  Tina swallowed the flippant remark that came to mind. Who wouldn’t spare time for this attractive man? ‘Of course. You’re after some archival stuff for your film, right?’