The Bay (2 page)

H
OLLY STIRRED IN THE PASSENGER SEAT, GLANCING AT
her husband who was driving with his usual grim concentration. His profile lit by the dawn light showed a faint shadow of stubble and the beginning of a slackening of his jawline. But Andrew was still a handsome man in his late forties. Holly was forty-five. Did he think she was still as attractive as she had been when they'd met? She had been pretty enough at twenty-two to be offered a modelling contract overseas. Andrew had proposed when she told him about it. So she'd chosen Andrew. It was many years before she realised he had given her no choice.

She'd dabbled at things, but two children quickly came along and there had never been time for her to consider a career. A devoted mother and the wife of a successful architect, she had spent her days running a beautiful home and garden, and smoothing out the wrinkles in her family's lives.

Now it was time for a change – a decision she had made and gently orchestrated. She was still amazed Andrew had agreed to the whole Bay idea. Although, he had made vague remarks about ‘perhaps doing some business with people from up that way'. She knew Beacon Bay was regarded as a gem for anyone in the building, design and development arena. Just as it was for those dedicated to preserving its tranquillity and natural beauty.

‘Happy New Year. Where were we at midnight?' Holly stretched as best she could.

‘No idea. I didn't bother to wake you, seemed a bit pointless. We must have been around Kempsey. Saw a few fireworks in the distance. We're nearly there, I might stop and stretch my legs soon.' Andrew yawned.

‘It's been a long drive for you,' she said, ‘but I think it was best to drive through the New Year's Eve madness and leave them to their parties. Much traffic?'

‘Um, some in local pockets, but the freeway has been pretty clear. I'm ready for breakfast though. Not that I've seen much in the way of places to eat. Petrol stations are about it. Last McDonald's was at Grafton, must be due to hit another.'

‘Not in The Bay. They stopped the fast food people and the big hotels.' Holly sounded approving.

‘Bloody madness. The place is taking off, that's what tourists want. You'd be better opening a smart takeaway food joint than a dinky B & B.'

Holly was calm. ‘It's not a dinky bed and brekkie, it's a guesthouse. And it's going to be charming when I'm done. Now, find a place to stop, I have a surprise in the back.'

‘Yeah? Well, there's one in the seat behind you. The dog threw up some time ago.'

‘Oh, poor Curly.'

‘It didn't sound too horrendous. But she probably wants to pee. What's the surprise?'

‘Pull off the road somewhere pretty. I have a New Year's picnic in the Esky. I thought we could start the new year with champagne and orange juice, smoked salmon and cheese on pita followed by sliced mango. And there's coffee in the Thermos.'

‘Sounds good,' Andrew said, trying to be enthusiastic. Typical of Holly – always the nurturer, full of thoughtful gestures. A cutesy picnic was so her; never mind that it had been raining and was a grey dawn. After eight hours driving all Andrew wanted was a feed, a cold swim, a hot shower and a soft bed. He hoped this homespun, rustic, back to nature trend that Holly seemed bent on was only a phase. How long was she going to last in some rundown old house on two overgrown acres, even if it was near the beach? Soon enough she'd be glad to get back to their mansion on Sydney's North Shore with its luxury and convenience. But he'd agreed to this plan of hers of starting up a guesthouse. It suited him very well, in fact. Not that he could ever imagine seeing out his days in some small beach resort. He had a business in Sydney that was expanding into Asia and taking up all his time. But property values were going through the roof in The Bay so it would be a good investment and give Holly an interest. They both knew their marriage had hit a stale patch, and he wanted to show his wife of twenty-three years that he was supportive and prepared to make an effort – though he considered it more like indulging her whim. She'd put up all of her inheritance and what she'd saved for her ‘old age' to buy the place, so it was her money she was playing with, not his.

It was ironic that he, too, was quietly embarking on a new project that was linked to The Bay. But Holly was completely unaware of this. He'd let her continue to think their involvement in the area was all her idea.

‘There, look, isn't that lovely?' said Holly.

Andrew pulled over and parked in a cleared area with a small shelter that faced the distant ocean. It was the turn-off to a scenic drive that skirted the hills above The Bay. ‘Come on, Curly,' he said, trying to make amends with the dog. ‘Stretch the old legs and take a look at your new home.' He clipped the leash on her collar as Holly pulled sheets off a roll of paper towels to mop up the dog's blanket.

Andrew stared at the few twinkling lights that were shining in the small town which clung to the fringe of the crescent-shaped bay. The moon was still visible as the first dawn streaks lit the clouds. Suddenly a flash of light pierced the sky. The lighthouse. The beam swung around, and in its wake Andrew felt his spirits lift. He turned to Holly. ‘So here we are, kid. The world is at your feet.'

‘Bit late for me to conquer the world. And I smell burning bridges somewhere back there.' She gave him a faint wry grin. ‘It will be all right, won't it?'

Andrew dropped his arm awkwardly around her shoulder; affectionate gestures did not come easily. ‘Let's hope so. Happy New Year.'

She leaned against his chest, feeling a rush of love for him. This had been her idea, she knew she'd never get him to slow down and make time for her, for them, unless there was a good financial reason. She hated to admit it, but unless there was a profit in something Andrew didn't see any sense in being involved. Ever since she'd turned forty, her frustration at having never done anything on her own, to be someone, had grown till she was at a point where she felt she had ceased to exist. The children were at university and out of the nest, Andrew had become more involved with expanding the business and spent even less time at home or with her, and when he did he was tired and not interested in what she had to say. And Holly had realised she had little to say. She went to lunch with her friends, who always seemed to talk about the same things. And she had taken to going on her own to the movies during the day several times a week, and found herself telling the plots to Curly. She fretted about her looks, her stagnant marriage, her future. Then, leafing through a lifestyle magazine she'd come across an article about The Bay.

Not quite in Queensland, the subtropical paradise was on a peninsula with a sweeping protected bay, surrounded by lush rolling hills that rose gradually to become a steep volcanic range. Everyone had heard of The Bay – its beauty, its tranquillity, its laid-back, alternative population. It had been through many phases. When she mentioned it to Andrew he'd immediately summed it up: ‘Hippies, protestors, beach bums, backpackers. Not my idea of a holiday.'

‘I wasn't thinking of a holiday. It's becoming very trendy, not too yuppie like Noosa, but interesting. I've done some research on the Net and got some stats through the real estate agencies, the tourist boards, the newspapers –'

‘What on earth for?' Andrew had cut in.

Holly continued as if he hadn't spoken. ‘I became interested in the history of The Bay and started reading about one of the original companies, the Richmond Whaling Company, which the district was named after. I was put in touch with an old fellow, a local historian, and he told me that one of the original homes was going on the market. There'd been a bit of a fuss as developers wanted to knock it down and put up apartments.'

‘That's life these days.'

‘There speaks an architect,' Holly said, and smiled gently. ‘Anyway, I rang Trudy James, the local real estate agent, and she filled me in on what had happened. So I said I'd buy it.'

‘You did what?' His eyes were suddenly less glazed and he'd started to pay attention to what Holly was saying. She had a folder in her lap. This was most unusual.

‘The land and environment people have upheld the heritage value of the old home and it can't be pulled down, so that's put paid to the big developers wanting it. We talked quite a bit and I asked about restoration, which Trudy said few people would want to take on.'

‘That'd be right. Cost a fortune, never get your money back.'

Holly took a breath and continued speaking, opening the folder and shuffling papers, avoiding Andrew's eyes. ‘I had her send me some photos. I thought we could revamp the home into a guesthouse that kept the Richmond name alive, which is what the locals want. So I told Trudy we'd go up and have a look and make an offer.'

Andrew had gasped at his wife, who had never made any decisions on her own in their entire marriage. ‘What the hell for? It's a mad idea.'

Patiently, Holly had run through the reasons why she thought the potential investment was good, the amount of money she would put in from her savings, that it would give her a sense of satisfaction to be in charge of something, and why it would be wonderful for the kids. It would give them a long-term investment and a place they could stay for summer holidays, bring their friends.

Marcus, their 22-year-old son, was a keen surfer and Melanie, their twenty-year-old daughter, would appreciate the walks in the rainforest. She might even dabble in painting again. She was unsure what she planned to do with her fine arts degree when she graduated, perhaps spending holidays in The Bay would inspire her. And deep down Holly hoped that they could share more family time together, as a group of adults. Since her son and daughter had left home they'd all been leading very separate lives. Holly was the one who'd felt left out – until she'd found the old house in The Bay.

She'd rushed on, ‘Andrew, I know you can't put in a lot of time but you'll be available to back me up. If they accept my offer, I think it could really be something special. I'll need your advice, of course, but I don't expect you to move there, just come up every other weekend or something. Here, look at the photos . . .'

Andrew had ignored the pictures and stared at her. ‘Are you mad, Holly? You're moving up there? And I'm expected to zip up and down over 700 ks a weekend to help you out of some crazy scheme. You know nothing about renovating, running a business. It's sheer madness. Nice idea, honey, but,
sheesh
. . .' He'd tried to laugh it off but was not prepared for Holly's steely persistence.

‘I had the bank manager look at the deal. He thinks it's a good idea. They'd give us a loan to lock it in place.'

‘You spoke to the bank? Of course they're going to give you money. They know I'm around to bail you out.'

‘I'll do the work, well, get the right people. At least come and see it.'

When Andrew hadn't been able to dampen this fire Holly was fanning, he agreed to fly up with her and look at the house, crazy as it sounded. But when he'd arrived at The Bay, he had been intrigued. It was as beautiful as he'd been told – by someone in Bangkok of all places, only a few months before. The setting was magical, the weather perfect, they stayed in an elegant unit across from the beach, ate a delicious seafood meal at one of the better restaurants, swam in crystal-clear water and made love like they hadn't in years. A proposal that had been dangled in front of Andrew in Bangkok now assumed more interesting possibilities.

Back in Sydney he'd rationalised that it had been a nice weekend, they'd flown up with no hassle, rented a car to explore the environs and hinterland and, yes, the old house had potential – if one wanted to get into the nightmare of starting a business from scratch. Gradually, the idea of being a bachelor a couple of weeks a month began to appeal, especially when he worked out that he could play golf on weekends and tennis two nights a week. Things he'd let go because Holly didn't play and he was always too tired. Andrew decided to get fit again.

So here they were, sitting at a scenic lookout above The Bay at the start of a new year which was going to bring many changes. Where would they be twelve months from now? he wondered.

Holly was having similar thoughts. She patted the dog and gave her a slice of salmon then topped up their glasses. ‘Here's to the best New Year ever.'

Andrew clinked glasses and leaned over and kissed her lightly. ‘Here's to you, Holly. And to your big venture.'

‘Our adventure, you mean. I think it's going to be the most important thing we've done, Andy . . . apart from having the kids of course.'

‘This might turn out to be far more expensive than putting Marcus and Melanie through university,' he joked. But Holly didn't look amused, the worry about what she'd undertaken had descended. ‘Hey, come on, don't fret. You know I'll rescue you if it falls in a heap.'