The Bay (36 page)

Andrew and Letitia Sweetman were sitting over the remains of breakfast and scattered sections of the morning papers. Andrew was pouring coffee into Letitia's cup. Both were dressed for work, though Holly noted Letitia had no shoes on.

‘Good morning. Am I interrupting?' said Holly icily.

Andrew leapt to his feet, putting the pot down with a clatter.

‘Darling, what a nice surprise. We're having a bit of a breakfast meeting. You know Letitia, don't you?'

‘Not really.' Holly could only stare at them, the wild thought going through her mind, how come Andrew never had a leisurely breakfast with her?

‘We met when you came in to sign those papers and at dinner at The Bay,' said Letitia with a bright smile.

Andrew kissed Holly on the cheek. ‘Coffee? Still some in the pot. We thought it safer to meet here, bit of a hush-hush deal going on. Didn't want people putting two and two together.'

‘About what?' Holly went to the kitchen and got herself a cup.

‘It's a long story. Letitia put me on to a developer and we're negotiating a deal. A bit complicated,' smiled Andrew.

Holly sat at the table and held out her cup. ‘Well I'm not in a rush. See if I can follow your long story.'

‘Well, maybe later, we do have to get to another meeting,' said Andrew glancing at Letitia, who rose.

‘I'll get my things. My papers,' she added unnecessarily.

‘Why are you here, Holly? Why didn't you tell me you were coming down? I've got a really heavy schedule –'

‘Shall I make an appointment to see you then? I came down to speak to you, Andrew. About several things,' she said in a tight voice.

‘How's the house going? No problems? No more snakes?' It was a feeble comment and he knew it.

Letitia reappeared with a jacket, wearing shoes, carry ing a briefcase and handed Andrew a folder. ‘Your briefing papers. Shall I call a cab and meet you at Beard and Walshe?'

He glanced at Holly. ‘Can this wait, I have a bunch of people turning up for this presentation? What about lunch? I could cancel my dinner I suppose . . .'

Holly held her coffee cup with both hands so they wouldn't see they were shaking. ‘Let's do lunch. I'll come to your office.'

‘Right, round 12.30. There's a great new place close by. You'll like it. See you later.'

He escaped. She listened to the garage door open and close behind his car.

Holly waited before gathering her strength to walk slowly through her house.

Everything was in place as though the owners were away. She knew Judy had been in to clean, ornaments and pictures were lined up soldier-straight as she always left things after dusting. Distractedly, Holly repositioned a photograph and a vase on the small side table. The kitchen was clean except for a leftover croissant.

She opened the dishwasher. Inside were two wine glasses and a plate. She looked in the fridge, no leftovers, very little food. She peered in the dustbin under the sink. An empty bottle of one of the good old reds from Andrew's collection was all it held. She went into the lounge room. It was tidy save for the wine opener on the bar, which she put in the drawer with the others. There was a fat envelope in there too. Curiously she pulled it out and her mouth dropped when she saw it was filled with thousands of dollars.

But it was the note on top that puzzled her most. Why was Andrew being paid in cash? And who was the General? For a moment she was tempted to take the money and give it to Marcus, but instead she closed the drawer and continued wandering through the house in a daze. There were no flowers anywhere, Judy had emptied the vases.

Finally she reached the master bedroom. The cushions on the bed were not how she arranged them. But then Andrew wouldn't know that. No dirty clothes, nothing out of place. It was as if he hadn't been living here. But the shower was wet, the glass still fogged. There was a sweet unfamiliar smell, soap perhaps. Holly looked down and saw long dark hairs caught in the plughole. There was nothing else, no used tissue in the wastepaper basket.

A shower and breakfast and off to meetings. How cosy. Her plan to call Melanie and Marcus was pushed to one side.

Holly walked through the house again. Very slowly, remembering. Idly she picked up a small blue vase that had belonged to her mother, wrapped it in a tea towel and pushed it into her shoulder bag. She glanced at her watch – nearly 10 am. Two and a bit hours to fill in.

She rang for a taxi and waited at the front porch with her overnight bag at her feet. She watched birds dart around the garden, diving among the shrubs, trees and flowers she'd planted. Or had Roger planted them? Those were what her children called her pointing days. All she had to do was point and say, ‘Put it there, please.' How different from life at Richmond House where she was using a shovel, dragging out old vines and cutting back dead branches with her new little handsaw.

She directed the taxi to the cinema complex near Andrew's office and bought a ticket to a film that finished at 12.15.

She barely remembered who was in it or what it was about. She touched up her hair and make-up in the ladies room and, still carrying her bag, made her way to the office.

His secretary buzzed her through and Holly firmly shut the door behind her.

‘What's with the bag? Aren't you staying down? Holly, what is all this about?' He came around his desk and embraced her.

She stood frozen to the spot, not returning his brief hug.

He drew back and seeing her set face with tears rolling slowly down said, ‘Oh for God's sake, Holly, you're not going to make a scene in here? Not in front of the staff. Sit down. Do you want a glass of water?' He led her to the sofa and sat opposite her.

‘Why, Andrew? How could you?'

She looked so bewildered, so crumpled, so pathetic, Andrew recrossed his legs and said aggressively, ‘What the hell are you talking about?' He was feeling shaky, unsure how much Holly knew, about everything.

He'd made a few phone calls since arriving at the office. Thomas had told him about Holly's phone call and that he'd had no option but to tell her what the situation was with the papers she'd signed. But did she know about Letitia? He'd been so careful. He'd stayed every night at Letitia's hotel, except last night when they'd celebrated with a bottle of one of his best reds after a late dinner at a restaurant up the road. He hadn't wanted to chance driving back to the hotel so they'd stayed the night at the house. He'd been careful to tidy up after them as Judy, the cleaning lady, would notice anything out of order which could get back to Holly. The last thing he'd expected was Holly to walk in unannounced. It was so unlike her to do anything off her own bat. He and Letitia had gone through it all when he'd called her from his car on the way in, and he felt their story of the breakfast meeting was a good one.

‘Andrew, I don't know where to start. When did it all begin to go wrong? What did I do? Was I that boring? Was our life so dreadful?' Holly asked tearfully. ‘I'm really trying hard to understand . . . how it's come to this.'

‘Come to what? I'm trying to understand what you're talking about.' He decided to take the bull by the horns. ‘Now look, if it's about the company directorship, I've been shuffling shares and things, it's only temporary. I didn't think you'd be interested –'

‘Why wouldn't I be interested in the fact I have been pushed out of the business and our joint assets?'

‘Do you need money? I'm just refinancing and restructuring. How much do you need?'

‘I don't need money, I wanted to invest in Marcus's venture.'

‘You're mad! He hasn't finished uni! Let him get on his feet like I did.' Andrew was angry.

‘You forget your father gave you a loan to go out on your own.'

‘That was different! I was married with two little kids.'

‘I happen to think Marcus's idea is clever and timely,' she persisted.

Andrew bit the retort that sprang to his lips, thinking what would Holly know about e-commerce. ‘How much does he want?'

‘Ten thousand dollars.'

Andrew got up and went to his desk and opened a drawer.

He's going to write a cheque, thought Holly. He's giving in too easily. Guilt. She wondered whether she should say anything about the cash at the house. But instead he pulled out a folder of business cards, extracted one and gave it to Holly. ‘Give this to him, this guy might be able to help. Very big in IT.'

‘Why don't you give it to him, show you're being supportive? I'm flying back this afternoon.'

‘Why are you here then, Holly?'

‘I was hoping we could renegotiate and restructure our business affairs. I guess I'm not very bright at all this. I'll have Paul Maynard, my solicitor, deal with it.' She stood up.

‘Who? We have a solicitor. Holly, that isn't necessary.'

‘I believe it is. Thomas and your bank are in a serious breach of nondisclosure, failure to advise me and conflict of interest.' She picked up her bag, imagining the wheels spinning in Andrew's mind. She paused and said, ‘By the way, is this deal you and Letitia are doing the one your Asian friend and Sam Mann are also involved in? I'd be careful, Andrew, Sam is not highly regarded in The Bay.'

‘What the hell do you know about this, Holly? Who have you been speaking to?' Andrew was across the office in two strides, but Holly had the door open.

‘I'll be at home when you want to talk further. That's at home as in The Bay.' She nodded at his secretary and pulled open the glass door with the gold lettering:
Andrew Jamieson. Architect, Design and Development.

He caught up with her at the lift. ‘Holly, we need to talk. This is important.'

‘Then you come to The Bay. Oh, not for a week or so, I'm going whale watching. Goodbye, Andrew.' She stepped into the lift, relieved it was empty. Her bravado melted and she fumbled for her dark glasses but still the tears flowed down her cheeks.

H
ANNAH SAT BY THE SEA TRUNK LOOKING THROUGH THE
clothes and favourite belongings of her two boys. The idea of not seeing them for so many months was breaking her heart, but she tried to hide her fears and sadness in the face of their excitement. Lars had explained to them the potential boredom of life at sea on such a long voyage after the freedom they enjoyed at home. But to the boys it was looming as a grand adventure. And while they weren't on a whaler, they'd heard the old stories the whalers told of seafaring exploits. Lars had also, if reluctantly, tried to explain to Hannah the estrangement that had developed between him and the family in Norway.

It seems such a big mountain has grown from quite a small event. But I finally understand what caused Lars to sever ties with his family. It had not been a happy family, for many reasons, and Lars, when only nineteen, decided marriage to a younger relative was a way to escape and start a new life. There was a dreadful disagreement with his parents, he felt guilty because the girl too had been shamed and shunned, so before the wedding he ran away to sea. His father rejected him completely and when he finally wrote to his mother after many months, his letter was returned to the shipping company. He tells me he wrote to them on the happy occasion of our marriage, saying they would approve of his choice now he was a mature man. He heard nothing. He wrote again after Sven was born and received a reply from his mother telling him his father had died some time before. But she was pleased to know of the birth of her only grandson.

Lars says his mother is old and there are only a few members of his immediate family alive. Also, as Sven has been curious about his family so far across the world, he thinks it his duty to take the boys to Norway. Later in life they can choose where they wish to make their home.

I am relieved that due to the forthcoming baby I am not going on this journey. I do not speak their language and I secretly fear meeting such a strong old lady who rejected Lars's first choice of bride, even though he was a rash young man. I fear she might still be disapproving.

Lars has left the business in good order and I am well cared for with assistance for when our babe arrives. Another reason I like being settled here is the friendships among our small community.

I will sorely miss my beloved husband, from whom I have scarcely been parted. I should not complain about this separation when I think about those wives of captains who went a year or more without seeing their husbands. My days as a ‘petticoat whaler' when I accompanied Lars to sea were often tedious and difficult, though enlivened by the whale hunts and the rare occasions to gam with other wives. I selfishly believe our time here in this beautiful bay is reward for the hardship, but looking back I would not have exchanged one day. I truly count my blessings, especially when I stand atop the roof walk to watch the sunset. Such a peaceful time. I've told Lars and the boys that I will make it a daily habit to watch the far horizon until their ship returns them safely to my arms.

‘See, Hannah had the right idea. Watching the sunset and counting one's blessings. It's a Bay tradition,' said Eddie. ‘How about a sunset walk and a quiet drink? Maybe dinner?'

Tina gave him a luminous smile and he felt a shiver go through his body. Did he read more in her eyes?

‘Sounds lovely.' She studied him for a moment, then returned her attention to the paperwork on her desk.

Two days after her distressing trip to Sydney, Holly took Curly down to the beach very early in the morning. It was just on sunrise, but she had been awake for some time. Her mind was in a whirl of confused thoughts about the rift with her husband, and she hoped a dawn walk might clear her head. Mitchell was picking her up at eleven to set off to Hervey Bay. Mac had agreed to stay at Richmond House and look after Curly and Romany, and be there for the delivery of linen and china Holly had ordered.

Sunlight etched the outline of the clouds low on the sea with hot rose gold. In a few minutes the sun would burst above the horizon and the day would be on its way. But for the moment all was still and dreamy. Curly yawned and sniffed the sand; she might be slow but she was thorough. Holly laughed to herself as the dog stopped to sniff around a spot of grassed dune. Another dog had been this way and left its mark and Holly was convinced Curly was interpreting the smell to determine its breed, size, sex and age.

Suddenly Curly looked up, ears alert, and her tail began to wag as she scanned the beach and gave a small bark. Holly looked around and saw Romany in the distance, startling seagulls and dancing into the pink waves. Mitch was standing on the sand close to the water, going through his morning ritual of tai chi.

In slow fluid movements he went through a series of graceful, balancing poses. Arms outstretched, his deep concentration was evident all the way to his fingertips as he turned his palms upwards then drew them to him. It was extremely personal. Holly felt like she was spying on him, and her physical response to his lean and agile body surprised her. She quietly called Curly and turned and walked back through the dunes, the puzzled dog reluctantly following.

As she made her way home, Holly couldn't help comparing what she knew of Mitchell's life with her own and Andrew's. Mitch had walked away from a successful advertising career, and his wife and son apparently had accepted the dramatic turnaround. It seemed he was determined to embrace values that gave more meaning to life than those he had seen worshipped in the boardrooms, agencies and trendy restaurants around the city. Several times over coffee breaks at Richmond House he had remarked on how utterly stupid it was to worship the ‘god of greed'. The remark usually followed references to the latest news story of a corporate crisis or the exposure of dubious moral standards of some, if not all, of the key executives. For Holly these remarks helped her to articulate her own searching for something new.

‘I think many people are searching for those good old-fashioned values that guided our parents, and their parents,' she'd once remarked, but felt uncomfortable about trying to elaborate.

Mitch had laughed when she said it. ‘Hey, welcome to the club.'

She wanted him to keep the conversation going, but he finished off his coffee and went back to work.

His wife Veronica, who had been an art director in the same ad agency in Sydney, was quiet and intense. Since moving to The Bay she had become increasingly absorbed in creating pottery and ceramic figurines. Holly had met her a few times, most recently at an exhibition of local craft work in the Community Centre. Veronica had stunned her by remarking out of the blue, ‘Mitch tells me he's trying to talk you into communing with whales.'

‘Yes, absurd isn't it, but I'm intrigued with the idea. He's so enthusiastic about whale watching that I'm tempted to do it.'

‘It's his annual escape from the world,' Veronica added without any hint of criticism. ‘We all need to escape from time to time. Something to do with having our own space, you know what I mean?'

‘Yes, I think I do. That's partly why I'm here and not in Sydney.'

‘Well then, are you going?'

‘Going where?'

‘Whale watching with him.'

Holly was taken aback with the relaxed way in which Veronica endorsed the idea of her and Mitch driving off together to spend a week whale watching. It convinced her, though, that she should go, and she felt no embarrassment whatsoever.

It was sunset when Mitch and Holly arrived at Hervey Bay, three hundred kilometres north of Brisbane. It had been a pleasant six-hour drive. They walked to the Urangan Boat Harbour where the sleek, purpose-built eighteen-metre catamaran
Oceania
was moored.

The Franklins greeted Mitchell warmly and he introduced Holly to the tall, white-bearded, gentle-eyed Wally and his petite, energetic and enthusiastic partner, Trish.

‘Good to see you back, Mitch. How's your year been?' asked Trish in her soft English accent.

‘So far it's been a very good year,' he said and winked at Holly.

‘Some of the others on the trip are having dinner ashore. Seven o'clock at the Oriental Palace on the Esplanade,' Trish said. ‘We have four high-school students from The Bay with us this year. Our youth program is becoming very popular.' She explained to Holly, ‘Engaging the hearts and minds of young people around the world is one of the more rewarding aspects of this work.'

‘While you're with us you can hear as much as you like about the work of the Oceania Project on cetacean research, or just enjoy the whale and dolphin experience,' said Wally.

‘Sounds lovely.' Then a sudden thought struck Holly. ‘I hope I don't get seasick.'

‘It's one of the first things you have to get used to on board – the constant movement,' Wally said. ‘But you soon tune in to the rhythm of the sea.' He and Trish exchanged a glance. ‘You might find you adapt to nature in a whole new way. And we have plenty of remedies in case you do feel squeamish, but the waters are very tranquil. That's why the whales like it here.'

Trish showed her to the cabin she'd be sharing with three others and how to flush the ‘head'. Holly threw her bag on a top bunk and grabbed her jacket and handbag. She looked in at the saloon, marvelling at how spacious yet compact everything was. The fascination with discovering even the fundamentals of small boat living, added to the unknown pleasures ahead, made Holly wonder why she had never taken advantage of living on Sydney Harbour and made an effort to get some experience on yachts. She'd hated the dinner and cocktail cruises Andrew had organised for clients, but this was different.

She joined Mitch up on deck and they decided to stroll through the township, which was built around the harbour where many pleasure craft were moored.

Mitchell paused at a selection of postcards on a stand outside a bookshop. ‘Look at all these whale photos. Did you bring a camera?'

Holly nodded. ‘Although if a whale comes as close as this I'll probably drop the camera overboard with excitement.'

Mitchell merely smiled.

They decided to eat by themselves as they'd be in close quarters with the others for the next week. Over their noodles and beer Holly asked, ‘Why do you do this every year? If you have one great experience one year, the next mightn't be so good and then you're disappointed.'

‘It's hard to explain. You'll find out. Many people come back again and again, from all over the world. Wally and Trish have been doing this for twelve years. They know how to make it memorable and their research for the Oceania Project is fascinating, and valuable.'

‘What's involved in the project? Obviously it helps save the whales.' Holly had only recently begun to get an inkling of how important the whales and dolphins were to the culture of The Bay. Using dolphins and whales as a logo for products and businesses was one thing, but she was beginning to learn from Mac and others that they had a deep significance for people who lived along the coast.

‘Essentially it's a non-profit education and research organisation dedicated to saving the whales and dolphins.

It's also a way to study them, learn about them as individuals, their behaviour and what they can teach us. It works to protect their environment, too.'

‘How did Trish and Wally get involved?'

‘Well, it didn't come about by chance, but it's another case of people leaving one life to start another.'

‘Doing what you truly want and believe in,' said Holly softly, almost to herself.

‘I don't have any regrets,' said Mitchell, catching her mood. ‘I could be making a mint in advertising back in Sydney or working on my mad dreams while enjoying life in the open air, using my hands . . . and meeting wonderful people like you.'

It was a light remark, but Holly felt the intensity of his blue eyes burning into her and she didn't trust herself to speak for a minute. How long had it been since she had felt so special?

Too long, she answered herself. Andrew and the children took her for granted, understandable of course, but it was nice to be appreciated as a warm and intelligent friend. And there was no harm in feeling like this, she decided. Holly raised her glass. ‘Here's to happy days at sea.'

The following morning they sailed north-east towards the ancient beaches of Fraser Island, the world's biggest sand island, at the southern end of the Barrier Reef. Wally told them it marked the gateway to the reef for the whales.

Two hours later he navigated the big cat into the southern shallows of the lower reaches of Hervey Bay. ‘We'll stay in this area of the bay for the next six days, anchoring at night on the sheltered western side of Fraser Island,' he explained.

It took Holly the first day to adjust to the rhythm of the sea, then she stopped noticing it. There was no television, no radio – other than the communication radio in the wheelhouse – no newspapers, no phones, no contact with the world outside their sheltered waters.