Travel had oiled the hinges of his mind. He had seen a significant part of the world, an experience that had equipped him to handle it, and himself, with a confidence he’d never had before. Humility and pride: that was what he’d discovered, and was a more complete being because of it.
He’d been to the famous places – Athens, Rome, London, Paris – not as a tourist but a pilgrim.
There had been enlightenment in the bells of Notre Dame, the frowning battlements of London’s Tower, the marble pillars of ancient Greek temples, but also in the side alleys and back streets of small towns and countries.
Speaking not a word of the local language, he had boarded a bus in the Hong Kong New Territories, handed the conductor a fistful of coins and travelled until the man indicated by gestures he had used up his fare. He had stood at the roadside, watching the bus drive away in a belch of diesel fumes. He had no idea where he was, no language in which to ask, no one to ask. There was the white-painted wall of what looked like a fortress, an open gateway through which he walked. Silence. A long straight alleyway between shuttered windows. An old woman, black-clad, squatting with a bowl of washing at her feet, who saw the stranger and, gathering her possessions, disappeared silently through a terraced door. The slam of the door echoed between the walls. Silence, mystery, a hint of what might have been menace: impressions that posed a question without any possibility of an answer.
He went to England, to Stratford’s theatre. He bought the cheapest seat he could get. Watched a performance of Hamlet. Afterwards talked to a woman of his own age, ironically a Dane, who like him was travelling to learn. Was Hamlet mad? No answer. What was the significance of the Mona Lisa’s smile? No answer.
Andrew learnt that the most significant art and experiences, often coming from nowhere, posed questions but not answers. Answers, if they existed at all, lay within the pilgrim.
There was, after all, a well-established tradition in such things. What had Flecker said? For lust of knowing what should not be known…
He travelled with the Danish woman for some weeks. They’d had a good time together but found no answers in the places they visited, or in each other. They parted friends, knowing that the chapter, in both their lives, was closed. He visited the Scottish Highlands, the Welsh mountains of Snowdon and Glyder Fawr.
He returned home, energised, confirmed in his belief that business was his true vocation. He no longer thought of seeking answers to the questions of the universe but perhaps, with humility, increasing knowledge and endless patience, some might nevertheless be found. At the very least, business ethically conducted could result in the creation of wealth that would benefit not just himself but the community as a whole.
When he met his mother, loaded as he had anticipated with questions, he said his travels had been OK. Any adventures? None to make a fuss about. Favourite countries? He’d liked them all. Girlfriends? Private life? Private, as it had always been, locked away like jewels in a vault. His program was set; he was living in the future as he spoke, but he had always been pragmatic, lacking her sense of wonder. Two plus two equalled four: that was Andrew’s bible.
He would graduate, gain some experience with one of the big accounting firms, join Maitlands, if Auntie Shannon would have him. A neat and tidy future for a neat and tidy man.
As his uncle, too, had become a neat and tidy man, far removed from the hero who’d fought the Japanese to a standstill in the New Guinea forests. In the absence of his biological father, Hal became his substitute. Neither of them was a conversationalist but they communicated in a shared silence that sometimes spoke more loudly than speech.
1974–77
Shannon
On the first day of July Aaron Davies came to see her and told her he had decided to call it a day at the end of the year.
‘Seventy-five next week,’ he said. ‘Reckon that’ll do me.’
Shannon wasn’t surprised; Aaron had once been a ball of fire but recently the flames had been dying.
‘You’ve taught me so much,’ she said. ‘We would never have got where we are without your guidance. I’ll always be grateful.’
‘I’ve done what I could. But you’d have managed anyway. You’re today, I’m yesterday. That business of the high-rise showed that.’
‘I took a risk.’
‘That’s what you do when you’re young. You take risks. Sometimes they don’t work out, but sometimes they do. That’s what young people do. You’re today’s woman; I wouldn’t have taken the risk. That’s why I’m getting out: it’s time. That could be my last advice to you: know when to hand over to the next generation.’
He was right. And seventy-five was a fair age to move on; she’d promised Hal she’d quit when she was ten years younger than that and maybe she would.
‘I’ll miss you.’
‘For five minutes you’ll miss me,’ Aaron said. ‘After that it’ll be full steam ahead. But remember what I said. You’re set now. The company’s going to make a lot of money but don’t think you’re finished. Now’s the time you should start thinking about moving out into the world, while you’re still got the fire in you.’
‘I remember you telling me. Hong Kong, right?’
‘Got it in one.’
‘I don’t know anything about Hong Kong.’
‘With Mao dead it could be your stepping stone into China. I don’t know anything about Hong Kong, either, but there’s a simple solution to that.’
‘Which is?’
‘Go there. Smell out the opportunities. They’re there; I know it. I feel it in my bones. And may I suggest something? Hong Kong is due to go back to China in twenty-five years’ time. If you want to look that far ahead I would recommend taking in a Chinese partner. Show your heart’s in the right place, yes?’
She thought about it. She took advice from people who knew the colony. She spoke to Jess, who’d made Chinese friends during her time in Singapore and worked with them, too. She spoke to Andrew, who’d been there. She obtained the name of a Hong Kong resident, a Chinese businessman who she was assured could be trusted to give her sound advice.
Aaron had told her she was the right age to take risks, but at fifty-five she was hardly a kid any more, and the risks here were vast. A serious disaster could destroy everything she had worked so hard to obtain. Unlike Jess, she knew nothing about Asia. Did she have the courage to risk everything on the roll of a dice called Hong Kong?
There was a saying, wasn’t there? Something about nothing ventured, nothing gained? But nothing lost either, she thought.
She spoke to Hal, telling him what she was considering.
‘Whatever you decide, I’ll back you,’ he said.
An Australian Stonewall Jackson. She valued him beyond price.
She slept on it. She awoke with her mind clear, the decision made. Before she could change her mind, she phoned a travel agent and booked her flight.
There were mountains and a runway set seemingly in the middle of the sea, the aircraft slowing, turning, taxiing to the terminal. Kai Tak airport. She emerged into a world vibrant, noisy and colourful, whose energy seized her by the throat, and she knew she’d been right to have come.
As arranged, the agent was waiting for her at the hotel. Mr Ong Pak Shee was large rather than plump, with shrewd eyes and a welcoming smile. Maybe genuine, maybe not: Shannon was not one for instant judgements, but the vibes from the big man were good.
‘You wish to build hotel complex in Hong Kong,’ Mr Ong said.
It was a statement rather than a question.
‘I wish to investigate the possibility of making that sort of investment in the colony,’ Shannon said. ‘Investigation only; I make no commitment at this stage.’
‘Investigation only: of course, I understand. Only sensible to do this. But I tell you now: it will be most wise decision if you decide to proceed. Hong Kong going ahead fast. Good investment, right site for building: most profitable venture, I am thinking. But need to go ahead now, before best si
tes snatched up.’
‘Then let us see these sites,’ Shannon said.
‘I shall arrange for one of my staff to escort you.’
‘Not a member of your staff, Mr Ong. You. I prefer to deal with principals, not their employees. That is the best way to avoid misunderstandings. You agree?’
Ong’s eyes did not flicker. ‘Understand. You will be tired after your flight. Shall we say tomorrow to inspect sites?’
Shannon was certainly tired but it was imperative that Mr Ong understood who was in charge. She smiled at him. ‘Shall we say now?’
She spent three frenetic days inspecting sites with Mr Ong. Sites on the island and in Kowloon. Sites in the city and on its outskirts. Everywhere new buildings were rising high and still higher, squeezing together in a forest of concrete and stone. Singlet-clad labourers staggered under the weight of buckets of cement balanced on long wooden poles across their shoulders or clambered about rickety scaffolding, their thin bodies seemingly filled with inexhaustible strength. The dusty air was heavy with the ear-shattering clatter of pneumatic drills and the roar of diesel engines. Buildings seemed to grow as they watched and the air was electric with energy.
She inspected properties in Kowloon’s Nathan Road and along the harbour front. At Ong’s urging she visited Tsim Sha Tsui and the red-light district of Wan Chai.
‘I’m not investing in brothels!’
‘No brothel. Understand fully. But that area will see rapid development very soon.’ He beamed. ‘Tear down old, put up new. Opportunity for huge profit.’
Shannon settled on a two-hectare site in the CBD one street back from the harbour. Before signing she talked to lawyers, urban planning authorities, engineers and construction companies. Three firms of architects were invited to commit their thoughts to paper. With that all tidied away and satisfied that the project was feasible, she spent two days negotiating the price for the site and in discussions with the banks who would be putting up the finance: Hongkong and Shanghai, Chartered and Bank of China. A construction timetable was agreed.
Contracts were drawn up. Shannon scrutinised every word before handing the documents to the lawyers for final approval. The documents were signed – with the vendors and the banks – and at last the deed was done. Shannon was the owner of a large site where she was determined to build the finest complex in the colony.
‘Golden Phoenix,’ she said to Mr Ong. ‘It has a ring to it, doesn’t it?’
Although the amount of the loans might have terrified her, had she permitted.
Within hours the bulldozers were clearing the site.
It was 31 August and she told the contractors that she would tolerate no corner cutting but that she wanted the job completed by 31 December 1976.
‘Impossible,’ they said.
‘I’m willing to pay over the odds,’ she told them. ‘But only if you meet that deadline. Miss it and bonuses will be out of the window.’
That settled, she appointed consulting engineer Chung Choo Yok as her on-site manager and flew back to Queensland. Millionaire or bankrupt? she wondered as the Boeing thundered down the runway. Only time would tell. Either way, the deed was done.
The architects came up with their proposals. Shannon picked the one she liked best, then spent weeks arguing with the winner about the modifications she thought necessary to his plan.
Having got what she wanted, she spent the best part of the next two years commuting between Queensland and Hong Kong. Every two weeks saw her landing at Kai Tak and grabbing a taxi to take her to the site.
She had promised the construction gangs a one hundred per cent bonus if the Golden Phoenix was ready for business by the deadline, with an extra handout on top of that to the site engineers and foremen, and the central tower, all eight hundred feet of it, went up as though it had been sprayed with accelerant. One typhoon had savaged the colony in that time, forcing a three-day shutdown, yet by 29 December, two days before the deadline, the Golden Phoenix Complex was complete.
On the last day of the year Shannon threw the usual New Year party. It was the one day in the year when the sisters were able to let their hair down together. Hal no longer had much hair to let down but he did the best he could and they all had a fine time.
The next day everything was back to normal. Shannon went to Jess and asked whether she would take over responsibility for the major restaurant that would be a significant feature of the Hong Kong operation. ‘I want it to be the best Cantonese restaurant in the colony. Other than that, you’ll have a free hand.’
‘Hiring staff?’
‘Whoever you want.’
‘Budgets?’
‘Come up with a plan and we’ll talk about that.’
Jess said: ‘I think I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.’
‘Then you’d better get over there, tell them how you want the kitchens and restaurant laid out.’
‘I’ll go next week.’
‘You don’t want it in writing?’ teased Shannon, smiling as she remembered what Jess had wanted when she’d brought her and Brandon back from Singapore.
‘Let me put it like this,’ Jess said. ‘If you renege on this, I swear I’ll find a way to blow up the whole complex.’
‘That would be a lot more convincing than a letter,’ Shannon said. ‘But forget about going next week. There’s something I want you to do first.’
Six days and innumerable phone calls later, Shannon and Jess flew to Singapore.
Andrew
When Andrew finished university, there’d been talk of his doing advanced business studies at the MIT in America but his grandfather had said stuff and nonsense. It was an opinion Andrew shared and, as he’d always intended, he put in a year with an international accounting practice to gain some business experience, and at the beginning of 1977, the day after his mum and aunt had flown to Singapore, he joined the Maitland Group.
Jess
They shared a suite on the top floor of Raffles Hotel. The furnishings were peach and green and the walls carried atmospheric prints of scenes from the island’s early days. There was an ice bucket on the table with a bottle of champagne with a card saying the bottle came with the compliments of Mr Tan Yew Kim. The windows of the suite were large and through them they could see over the tops of the trees lining Beach Road to the open roadstead, blue in the hot sunshine, where many cargo and container ships were lying at anchor, small craft busy around them.
They slept well that night. Next morning they ate their breakfast in a shaded portion of the patio. Mynah birds watched their every move, eager for scraps, and at ten o’clock a waiter came and told them Mr Tan Yew Kim was waiting for them in the lobby.
They went through to meet him and he was not alone.
Madeleine looked at Jess and laughed. ‘You don’t look any different.’
‘Neither do you.’
It wasn’t true. Twenty-odd years and two babies later, what else could they expect? Madeleine was wearing glasses and had put on some weight, yet her face was smooth and had a healthy sheen, as though life had treated her well, and her black eyes had the same in-built smile Jess remembered from the old days. She was carrying a black leather briefcase.
Mr Tan looked much as she remembered him – face more lined, perhaps, but eyes as bright as ever – and he still wore the same trademark open-neck blue shirt that had always given him his deceptively casual appearance.
The four of them walked through to the patio. The breakfast things had been cleared away and they sat in a shaded corner. They could hear the fountain’s water splashing into the large stone basin that surrounded its base, while the sunlight created sparks of rainbow-coloured light in the drifting spray. People were chatting in other parts of the patio, others going in or out of the shops, but they had chosen a spot well away from other people and could talk with no risk of being overheard.
‘You had a good flight, I hope?’ Mr Tan said.
‘Very good, thank you.’
‘I
hear good things about your new venture in Hong Kong.’
‘Thank you. But there is still a mountain of work to do before it’s open to the public.’
‘I am confident it will prove a very profitable venture.’
‘I believe it will,’ Shannon said.
Polite chit-chat before getting down to business.
Shannon and Jess had agreed how they would handle the meeting but had not expected Madeleine to be there. As Mr Tan now explained, Madeleine was becoming increasingly involved in the family business, a trend that Mr Tan said was likely to continue.
‘I fear old age is catching up with me,’ he said.
It was something of a shock to hear him say so – after all this time he still looked as fit as he had when she’d first met him – but it really wasn’t so surprising, Jess thought. She was getting on for fifty herself and Madeline, the same age as Jess, was not Mr Tan’s oldest child. That had to mean Madeleine’s father was well into his seventies, or older.
Mr Tan gave them both a genial smile. ‘I am here in an advisory capacity only,’ he said.
Of course he is, Jess thought. And I’ll bet they take his advice, too.
Madeleine adjusted her glasses on her nose and took a folder of papers from her briefcase.
‘You have made a significant investment in Hong Kong,’ Madeleine said. ‘We also have investments in that colony. The purpose of meeting here today is to consider what opportunities, if any, exist for co-operation between our two groups both in Hong Kong and mainland China.’ She looked at the two Australians. ‘You agree?’
‘Yes,’ Shannon said.
‘Yes,’ Jess said.
All very businesslike, Jess thought. And there I was thinking Madeleine would have turned into a wealthy housewife, playing mah-jong with her friends once or twice a week in her grand house outside KL. Although why I should have thought such a thing when I always knew she was as bright as a button I can’t imagine.
White Sands of Summer Page 33
