The Bay (44 page)

‘Hopefully the rezoning won't happen, but I have to tell you, Andrew, I was elected president of the action committee to save Mighty Beach.'

He was so stunned that he slopped coffee into the saucer. ‘You! Head of a rebel rabble! Don't make me laugh,' he scoffed. ‘Well, we'll all quake in our boots. C'mon, Holly, what are you and your pals going to do? You have no idea of the immensity of the backing, the scope of this thing.'

‘Don't underestimate me like you've always done. Or the people of this town,' she said evenly. ‘So just how big is big and what is the whole thing?'

Andrew felt he was on the back foot. He hadn't planned to go into details at this point. With some irritation he recognised the significance of Letitia's earlier remark about calming Holly, and cursed her for not telling him of Holly's leadership role in opposition.

Now he had to win her over, impress her, ruffle that cool exterior that was so annoying him. He wished she'd get mad, hysterical, weepy. Anything other than this almost serene arrogance.

‘Okay, here are the essentials. The development is called the Beacon, after the first navigational aid in The Bay, before the lighthouse,' began Andrew. ‘It's a new way of looking at community living – your own private realm where everyone is still linked to one another like spokes in a wheel. The concept is designed for those who want security, support, entertainment, health care in superior surroundings.' He was conscious that to a large extent he was reciting much of the presentation speech he had carefully rehearsed for the public briefing later in the day, but pressed on. ‘It's mainly for people at a time in their lives when they want to savour the fruits of years of work.'

Holly handed him a slice of cake. ‘So it's a private community that's expensive, exclusive, and for secure do I read “gated”? And given the factors of health care and entertainment at a special time in your life – what you're building is an up-market retirement village. Am I right?'

Andrew swallowed his mouthful of cake and sighed. ‘It's far, far more than that.'

‘That's what I thought,' said Holly. ‘I figured a resort, expensive holiday townhouses or units. Just who do you envision moving into the Beacon?'

‘Baby boomers. It's big business. They're starting early retirement in droves and they are not about to settle for the kind of places they put their parents!' Andrew leaned forward, genuinely enthusiastic for the first time in the conversation. ‘I tell you, Holly, this will be an international prototype for living out the last third of your life in real style. Believe me, people from all over the world are going to want to live there.'

‘Andrew, the so-called “community” you're talking about is exclusive and elite. How will those people blend in with the rest of The Bay?'

‘They don't have to! They will be self-contained in many respects. The best food, fresh produce, basic commodities will be sold in the Beacon Store – more up-market than anything in Sydney. Plus an internet service means that anything they want can be whizzed to their door.'

‘So the bourgeoisie don't have to mingle with the plebeians. And the locals in The Bay get to do the menial jobs,' said Holly but Andrew missed her facetious tone.

‘It's beyond anything you can imagine. It's a definite goer. It's going to make me.'

Holly stood and moved away from the table, then turned to face her husband. He clearly didn't know what to do or say next. She looked at him in silence, a penetrating look that disturbed him, reinforced in him that new awareness of how much she had changed, and how much about her he no longer understood.

‘Andrew, if you think your slick slide show is going to win over the people here, you are so wrong. You haven't said one word about the environment, the coastline, the wildlife, the contribution that place makes to the total mood, feel, even thinking of this community. Not one word. It's against everything The Bay stands for – one for all and all for one,' was all she could think to sum up the unique spirit of The Bay community. ‘I'm afraid your concept has only strengthened my resolve to stop it.'

‘You have no vision, you're just doing this to spite me.' He slammed his cup down. ‘You've never supported my ideas.'

Holly bit her tongue at the injustice of his remark. Then angrily she snapped, ‘Don't talk to me about vision. You should talk to Bonnie about what's happening with the Creative Collective out here, now that's a community vision. One that embraces everybody, those less fortunate, those who are comfortable, who want to share beauty and tranquillity and have a quality lifestyle. Where a sense of generosity of spirit, open hearts and open minds rule. A true community needs youthful energy, creativity, it needs to embrace a diversity of views, of culture. Not just who can afford to live here – which in your world means just rich people.'

Andrew shook his head in amazement at his wife's outburst. ‘I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. You're living in a total fairyland, so far removed from what's happening in the real world. For God's sake, get with it, Holly. This dreamy stuff you're coming out with is absolute crap.' He stamped out of the garden without looking back. But he heard her final question.

‘Who is behind your scheme, Andrew, who really owns it? If I were you I'd ask a few hard questions.'

He drove angrily back to the apartment. Holly's question had unnerved him. Despite Sam's, the General's and Letitia's assurances, along with those of the respectable old solicitor in Sydney, he didn't have a clue who actually owned the land on which his dream plan was to be built. To worry him even more, his mobile rang and General Chidchai was on the line from Bangkok, dispensing with any preamble and sounding tense.

‘Andrew, I am deeply concerned at the news I hear from Australia. You know I don't like problems. I thought you were looking after my interests in this project.'

‘Everything's under control, General. You're referring to the slight public concern in the local media . . . it was to be expected.'

‘Perhaps. But I don't like my affairs being mentioned, even in the local press. I prefer to keep a low profile. This business could cause trouble if it gets picked up by the national media. I am a little disappointed that you didn't call or even email me about developments. We have an arrangement, remember.'

Andrew stiffened and silently cursed his lapse. The pressure of events in The Bay as well as the emotional complications involving the two women in his life had dulled his usually sharp attention to such detail. ‘Of course, General. Your interests are indeed being watched. Later today we are making a media presentation on the rezoning application.'

‘Good. You're my man on the spot . . .' Unsaid was the implication that Andrew was a paid hand to do the General's bidding. Andrew could feel himself sweating. He hadn't forgotten the late-night visit from the heavyweight mystery man ‘Tony', who'd delivered the package of money. ‘I can expect matters to be dealt with quickly and efficiently, yes?'

‘No problems, General. Sam has it all under control.'

‘I expect that you also keep on top of Sam, yes? This is not the time for friends to fall out. Business is business, Andrew.'

‘I understand.'

‘By the way, does the name Eureka Developments Limited ring any bells with you?'

Andrew thought for a few seconds. ‘No, afraid not. Why do you ask?'

‘Oh, it has just popped up.'

‘Like a jack in the box,' responded Andrew in an effort to lighten the exchange.

‘Yes, but perhaps not quite as amusing. Goodbye, Andrew.'

The line went dead. God, thought Andrew, that man trusts nobody. And it came to him that you wouldn't get a second chance if you put a foot wrong with the General.

The briefing for councillors and media began with Sam welcoming everyone to what he described as ‘the prescription for curing the long-term economic and employment ills facing the local community'. It was a project that ultimately would involve hundreds of millions of dollars to develop fully, he explained, and at every stage only the highest environmental and design standards would be accepted by the owners of the land and the financial backers. He then invited Councillor Bright, chairman of council's Planning and Development Committee, to speak.

Bright emphasised that the rezoning of the land from rural to residential/commercial would be a long process. ‘I want to point out that the concept drawings being displayed are not related at this stage to a development application. What is presented in the development application, if rezoning takes place, will be subject to another round of planning and staff reports. Furthermore, the State Government will also have an overriding say, given that the land in question is sensitive coastal property. Having said that, may I add that personally I think the project has tremendous potential and the community will benefit significantly from an appropriate development of the area.'

Andrew then made a presentation with elaborate architectural sketches and graphics that suggested the development would have a higher than required percentage of open space, significant sections would be devoted to walkways and cycle paths for public use, and there would be more points of public access to the beach, whereas there now was only one trail from an improvised parking lot.

Letitia stood at one side of the conference room concentrating on the reaction of the media. All the regional stringers for radio, television and metropolitan dailies had turned up.

Question time had no surprises until Stolle's turn came.

‘Only one question, Mr Jamieson. Is General Chidchai definitely associated with the project and to what extent?'

Andrew glanced at Sam, who reluctantly gave him the nod to answer. ‘Yes he is. He has seen the project concepts, walked over the site, and is enthusiastic about putting substantial finance into it. That, I can assure you, is good news for The Bay. I have worked with him on other projects, and he has very high standards and appreciates the need for achieving a balance between economic development and environmental protection.'

Sam felt good. They had anticipated that question and Andrew got the answer word perfect.

‘One more question, if I may,' said Stolle, still on his feet. ‘Who really owns this big slab of land? Who is behind Beacon Land Holdings?'

Sam grimaced, Andrew stayed perfectly calm. ‘A Sydney development company that has been waiting a long time for the right circumstances and the right funding source to make this development a success – for investors and the community. I am sure that at the development application stage the owners will be going very public indeed.'

Over drinks afterwards Sam, Jimmy Bright, Letitia and Andrew agreed that the presentation had been a resounding success.

Holly sat in the front garden overlooking Tiny Bay Beach. She had been mulling over the advertising material Mitchell had drawn up and while she liked it, she wished she had some historic photos of Richmond House. She'd asked Sid to see what he could find, but so far he'd had no luck and no one could ever recall seeing old pictures of the house or its original family, the Nilsens.

She closed her eyes in the warm sun. It was a moment of peace in what had been a hectic and emotionally draining few days. Why had she become involved in this anti-development movement? What had happened to her marriage? How was she going to manage financially? Could she forget the whole thing and just go back to life with Andrew in Mosman?

Holly opened her eyes with a start. God, no. What was she thinking? When things seemed too hard her answer had typically been to run back to the familiar – no matter how miserable – or stick her head in the sand. Too late for that, she chided herself. She stood up and went back into the house. As she put the kettle on Curly began barking and there was a call from the driveway. She peered through the French doors and saw a young man calling out, and as she opened the door she recognised the tall blond boy.

‘Tor! You came! How lovely.' Holly embraced the shyly smiling Norwegian. ‘Welcome, come on in, I was just making tea.'

‘That is so Australian,' he said, grinning, as he shifted the bulky backpack from his shoulders. ‘Always making tea.'

‘I can make coffee,' laughed Holly. ‘How are you? Where have you been since Hervey Bay? Come and tell me your news.'

Tor gazed around. ‘Oh my, this is wonderful, so lovely. I thought you were rebuilding some old, what do they say here – shack.'

‘It was very rundown. I'll show you photos later from when I started.'

Tor followed her to the kitchen and when he saw the front garden he stopped. ‘The sea. You can see it . . .' He was at a loss for words to express his obvious surprise and joy, and went outside to take in the view until Holly called that the tea was ready.

‘This is so very beautiful. You are open for customers now?'

‘Not quite, but I insist that you stay here as my first guest. Mitchell would love to see you, too. Perhaps we could ask him for dinner tonight. Do you have plans? Obviously you haven't landed anywhere yet if you're still carrying that big backpack.'

‘Oh, that is so kind of you. Are you sure? I don't wish to impose.'

‘Of course not. Now tell me what you've been doing.'

‘I went to Cairns and then back to Townsville and met with the professor at James Cook University. I can begin my studies. I will be there for eighteen months. After that I hope I can work out here.'

‘Your family will miss you.'

‘They understand that it's important I come here,' he said quietly. ‘Maybe they will visit me in the summer here.'

‘Good idea. Escape the European winter.'

They chatted more and Holly showed him the photographs Mitchell had taken on their whale-watching trip. ‘Now I'll show you to your room, then I have to go into town. Have you looked around The Bay yet?'