Monsoon (33 page)

‘These look so lonely sitting in a glass case, yet once they were probably used every day in a family,' Anna said, looking at the unglazed pots and jugs.

‘A lot of Vietnamese ceramics were traded to Thailand, Burma, the Philippines and Indonesia as burial pots,' said Rick.

Anna laughed. ‘I know all about re-burying the bones of ancestors after staying in a mausoleum one night!' She studied some of the pieces, then turned to Rick. ‘How do you suppose they invented pottery?'

‘I suppose primitive people noticed when fire went through it left the ground baked hard,' said Rick. ‘Then they started digging holes, making simple shapes. See these old bowls for holding rice are shaped like cupped hands.'

‘I like the blue-and-white pieces. I love this dragon: it's a standing jug.'

‘It's a fifteenth-century ewer, a pouring vessel, from Hanoi. The dragon is a common theme in Vietnamese mythology,' said Rick. And, reading from the label on the glass case, he continued, ‘This was from a shipwreck found about fifteen years ago off Hoi An.'

‘Wow, would there still be treasures under the sea waiting to be found?' asked Anna.

‘I guess. They call that coast the Dragon Sea because of all the typhoons. So there're probably old junks sitting around the bottom of the South China Sea filled with ceramics from Vietnam's golden age between the twelfth and sixteenth centuries. The blue-and-white ones you like so much, they're worth a mint. Before this scholars hadn't realised the skill, scale and quality of early Vietnamese ceramics. Despite ten thousand years of Chinese domination, the Vietnamese still made ceramics in their traditional way, and just adapted some Chinese styles and motifs.'

‘I saw an old one like that at Mr Thinh's,' said Anna. ‘And in a shop in The Royal Hotel in Hoi An. Well, I think they were old.'

‘These are the rare ones collectors and museums are after. The nineteenth-century blue-and-white ceramics are more common and not worth as much.'

‘A hundred years seems pretty old to me for a dish.'

‘Nice, but not nearly as valuable as some of the older pieces. My discerning customers in New York really only want these pieces. Compare the glazes and the work done on them and you'll see there is a difference.'

‘It's an amazing blue,' agreed Anna. ‘And these yellow-and-green ones?'

‘Various areas specialised in different pottery styles and glaze colours. Though the terracotta red is probably the earliest. And some of those ancient ceramic centres are still going, like Bat Trung. But now it's become an industrialised business using imported techniques. The sorts of places Carlo would be dealing with,' said Rick.

‘After seeing this, those modern urns and pots seem rather clumsy,' said Anna.

‘Functional. And cheap. Anyway, if you come on Friday night, you'll see some truly beautiful stuff.'

‘I must get Carlo to come, so he can appreciate the history and background to ceramics here. Rick, thanks so much. This has been great.'

They walked outside into the heat and humidity. ‘Hope I didn't bore you. I'll drop the invitation off at Barney's. See you Friday.'

Anna watched him walk off, head and shoulders above the bustling locals, thinking what a nice American he was. She hoped Carlo would come to the show. Carlo always jumped first, thought later. It would be good if he could do a bit of research, acquire some knowledge, not only about the ceramics industry, but about how to deal with people and do business in such a traditionally polite society.

When Anna arrived in the kitchen, Ho greeted her and said, ‘You cook; me teach.' Anna grinned and put on an apron.

Under Ho's watchful eye Anna learned to fold sweet sticky rice cakes in dried banana leaves ready for steaming.

Carlo stuck his head around the kitchen door. ‘Ciao, bella, I'm hooome. What's for dinner?'

‘Nothing – you've missed lunch. How was it? You're back early.'

As if to reinforce the point the cafe was empty and most people were at work or taking a siesta, Ho took off his apron. ‘I go home. Come back five o'clock.'

‘Bye, Ho. These steam for two hours, yes?'

As the chef nodded and hurried away, Carlo came behind Anna and gave her a squeeze. ‘So, baby, miss me?'

‘You've only been gone five hours. What did you think of Bat Trung?'

‘What a dump. Hideous pollution. But there's a new industrial area nearby and that's where they're making all the garden stuff. Statuary, pots, fountains. Have to say it puts Rome to shame.'

‘Is it heavy? Expensive? What about shipping it to Australia?'

‘Nah. It's mock stone and marble. Some real marble stuff but you can't tell the imitations from the real thing. Got to give it to these people, they can copy anything.'

‘They do have their own history of ceramics going way back; they didn't just copy Chinese or Thai stuff, you know,' said Anna.

‘Yeah, well, who cares? Getting your hands on that old stuff, that's not easy. Unless you know a source,' said Carlo, rubbing the side of his nose and giving her a conspiratorial wink. ‘I'm not an antiques dealer. I'm an ornamental garden supplier. I think I'll get a beer. Yeah, today was pretty productive. Mr Anh and Mr Mai know their stuff. They're going to be silent partners.'

‘Carlo, what does that mean? You don't have to put up the money, do you? Buy all the stock, the shipping of it? And where're you going to store it? Sell it?' Anna sounded worried.

‘Chill, babe. These guys know what's what: they have a business base in Sydney – a warehouse, the works.'

‘So what's in it for you? Why do they need you?'

‘Hey, c'mon,' he called from the bar as he opened a beer. ‘I'm the Aussie man. I run the operation. I just need to find a location big enough and in the right area where people are into landscaping. Not those Macmansion people with no yards. I'll hit all those fancy designer people who do flash homes.'

‘Carlo, are you sure you know what you're doing? This is a bit different from what you've been importing,' said Anna as she put rice cakes into the bamboo steamers over simmering water. She wiped her hands.

‘This will be my business, not my father's. I'm starting with this kind of stuff but I can see myself getting into all kinds of products – furniture, textiles, maybe even art. You wait.'

‘What about the legal side? You have to form a company with these men. How does all that work?'

‘Don't you worry about that side of things. Mai and Anh, we need each other and we got both ends covered.'

‘Talk it over with Sandy, maybe Charlie, people who know how things work over here.' Anna knew that Carlo tended to rush into things. Over the past couple of years there had been several enthusiastic ideas that hadn't eventuated or had fallen through because he had failed to think deeply enough and hadn't conducted feasibility studies.

‘Listen, my darling, trust me. I have the best advisor on my side. I feel really lucky. Coming here is going to set me up back home.'

‘So you should thank me. Or Sandy.'

‘I came because I missed you.' He gave her a hug and nuzzled her ear. ‘If Sandy wants to hang around here I could possibly find her a position. She could be useful. Speaking the lingo. Hmm.' He considered the idea. ‘Yeah. Could work. Say, what're you doing? How about going upstairs?' He gave her a playful pat on her backside.

‘I can't leave till Sandy gets back. Oh, by the way, we're invited to a smart party on Friday night. At the Fine Arts Museum, very upmarket.'

‘I dunno. Find out who's going to be there. Doesn't sound like my sort of thing – or yours. Fine arts, that's more Sandy's scene.'

‘I think it'll be interesting. I'd like to go. Rick and Charlie will be there. Sandy and I can't both go and she's been to these things. I mightn't get another opportunity.'

‘Whatever. I'll decide later. I've got to go and send some emails.' Carlo headed for Barney's small office leaving Anna pondering his latest idea. She wondered just what he knew about Mr Anh and Mr Mai, two of the obnoxious businessmen who'd been in the cafe the other evening.

Tom was watering his roses when Meryl brought the portable phone out to him.

‘A man about Vietnam. The story you're doing. A Mr Tassie Watts.'

Tom took the phone. ‘Hello, Tom Ahearn here.'

‘Mr Ahearn, Clarence Watts here, from Hobart. Just call me Tassie. I'm ringing about the Long Tan bash. I hear you're doing another story about it.'

‘Another one?' said Tom.

There was a hint of a chuckle down the phone line. ‘Yeah, you did one of the first news stories about the battle, I believe. In fact, I think we met back then. You remember that Col Joye show?'

‘I certainly do.' Tom sat down on a garden chair.

‘Do you remember being kidnapped? You and Col?'

Tom burst out laughing. ‘I certainly do, Tassie. You were the bloke who jumped us in the rain. Had Col singing for you and all your mates before we got out of Nui Dat.'

‘The very one. I've seen you on TV, heard you on the radio over the years. My wife never believed I nabbed you and Col.'

‘So what've you been doing with yourself? Did you stay in the army?' asked Tom.

‘Strike me, no. I was glad to get home. Ran the family farm outside Launceston then bought a small pub. Retired now, grow a few apples. Got grandkids. The usual domestic disaster.' He laughed.

‘You sound a happy man,' said Tom.

‘Yeah, we did all right, my wife and me. Can't say the same for all the blokes who were there. Like Phil Donaldson.'

‘Ah,' said Tom. So this was how Tassie had got in touch with him. ‘Did Phil call you? That's excellent.'

‘No. Patricia Donaldson rang me when the old fella wasn't around. Told me about your visit. She really wants him to go to the anniversary. He's been depressed for years and she thought a trip back would either fix him or stuff him completely. She sounded pretty keen.'

Well, good on you, Patricia, thought Tom. ‘Yes, I thought so too. Don't think she has much sway in that partnership though.'

‘She had the guts to ring me, hoping I could talk him round. I'm going to be at Long Tan of course.'

‘So, have you spoken to Phil? He was pretty dead set against the whole idea.'

‘No. I thought I'd pay him a visit as I'm coming to Sydney anyway. If that doesn't work I'll bring out the heavy artillery.'

‘What? Threaten him or kidnap him?' asked Tom.

‘No, I'll turn up on the doorstep with Maxie, the old chaplain. Don't know if you met him.'

‘I remember him. He must be in his seventies at least. Astonishing how it all seems like yesterday. I was just in Vung Tau. Bloody marvellous what some of those fellows are doing. Getting the vets to go back there, pay their respects, come to terms with things after all this time.'

‘Yeah, I know Baz and Cranky. Their group has done some good work for the local folk in Phuoc Tuy too.'

‘They told me after what had happened to the people, their villages, the countryside, they wanted to make some sort of restitution,' said Tom.

‘Reckon it helps the blokes almost as much as the local people, that's for sure,' said Tassie. ‘It's good to see something positive come out of all that mess. Yeah, most blokes I knew did their service and went on with their lives. But some old mates are still hiding nightmares.'

‘I couldn't agree more. I reckon a human-interest piece on the big event would make a good read. Do you think you can convince Phil to go back?' said Tom. ‘He's a very private man. Not very communicative.'

‘Let's hope Maxie can sort him out,' said Tassie cheerfully.

‘Phil's daughter is in Vietnam. Very bright, sensitive girl. Was working for an NGO. Maybe she has an idea,' said Tom.

‘Yeah. I'll bet her old man can't have been too easy to get on with. Patricia's had to deal with it all her married life. You know they were just engaged when he was conscripted for national service?'

‘So you'll let me know how the meeting with Maxie goes then? How are you going to handle that? Won't Phil baulk if Maxie turns up on the doorstep? And if you ring in advance he'll probably just go out.'

‘Ah, we can probably hijack him, get him to some do. Leave that to us. We're pretty resourceful,' said Tassie.

‘Yeah, I remember,' laughed Tom. ‘Give me your number and we'll keep in touch.'

The invitation to
A Celebration of Early Vietnamese Ceramic History
arrived at Barney's addressed to Sandy, Anna and Carlo. It was on thick expensive paper, trimmed in red and gold, and listed a string of dignitaries who would be the honoured guests as well as an outline of the evening's proceedings. The dress was
Cocktail
.

‘Sounds wanky,' said Carlo. ‘You girls go.'

‘One of us needs to be here,' said Sandy. ‘Anna, you'll enjoy it: the museum is stunning. The building was a French boarding school for the daughters of the wealthy. Now it is used to display the contemporary and emerging arts as well as paying homage to the ancient and folk pieces. It'll be a lovely evening.'

‘Right. Then I'll go. What will I wear?'

‘We'll find something. Carlo, you should go – it'll be a great experience.'

‘I have paperwork, meetings, a dinner with one of the partners in our new business venture,' he said importantly, making the invitation seem a frivolous non-event.

‘Ask Rick to escort you. Or Charlie,' said Sandy, a little annoyed that Carlo was opting out of the event.

‘No: I'll dress to kill and use a proper taxi,' said Anna, suddenly determined to make the most of the invitation. ‘I'll make it short and sweet and be back by eight or so.'

‘We'll have everything under control,' said Sandy, pleased Anna was going despite Carlo's indifference.