Now, out of the blue, Lydia had phoned, sounding utterly distraught, and saying she was in Sydney and would be flying up to visit her. She would be arriving in Proserpine, she said, at ten-thirty.
The last thing Shannon needed was to have Lydia descending on her but Lydia was her daughter, loved despite her trying foibles; Lydia was in evident distress, and she would not turn away from her.
She sent Maxwell the gardener in the car to meet her at the airport and at eleven o’clock Abby rang from the house to say she’d arrived.
‘Give her a coffee or something and tell her I’ll be with her in half an hour.’
In fact it was forty-five minutes before she made it and Lydia was not pleased; Lydia was in distress and, as always, expected Mother and the world to come running. Shannon went to hug her but Lydia wasn’t in a hugging mood.
‘Given the circumstances,’ she said, ‘I’d have thought you’d meet me yourself. Instead of sending some man I’ve never seen before in my life.’
‘I would have done, but I’ve been flat out over this Hong Kong business. Maxwell’s worked for me for five years. He’s totally reliable and I knew he’d get you here safely. Now: you want to tell me what’s going on?’
Deliberately brisk. Shannon knew you could never let Lydia take command of any situation; do that and she became impossible. She asked Abby to bring them coffee and they sat down. Chit-chat while they waited.
‘Good flight?’
‘Get any sleep?’
‘What were the meals like?’
The coffee came, with biscuits, on a silver tray.
‘So,’ Shannon said. ‘What’s the problem?’
Inch by inch, the sad tale came out. Or some of it; Shannon knew a half-story when she heard one.
‘You say Lyle despises you, treats you like a servant?’
‘Mother, you’ve no idea.’
‘But you’ve always known the type of man he is. It was obvious when you married him.’
A sulky look was the only response.
‘You married Lyle because you thought he’d end up as an ambassador and you fancied the idea of being Lady Curtis. Isn’t that the truth?’
‘They’re making him consul-general in Paraguay, Mother. Paraguay!’
‘And is that the reason you left him? Because you don’t like the idea of living in Paraguay? But he’s a diplomat, Lydia. That’s his job. It was always on the cards he could be posted somewhere like that. And if he’s consul-general he’ll be running the show, won’t he?’
Silence.
‘Tell me the truth, Lydia. There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?’
Silence.
‘How can I help you if you won’t tell me?’
And so, hesitantly, reluctantly, Lydia told her the rest of it.
What a sad, pathetic story.
‘This Clifford Thomas… Do you love him?’
‘I love being with him.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘I’m not sure I know what love is.’ Spoken defiantly: in-your-face Lydia.
Shannon thought that might well be true; not everyone found love.
‘Will he take you back?’
Lydia thought about that; shook her head. ‘Clifford’s not a man for commitments.’
‘I meant Lyle.’
‘Oh. I suppose so, yes.’
‘Then that’s what you need to do, isn’t it?’
‘Go back to him? I couldn’t bear that, Mother.’
‘What other choice have you got?’
Lydia had no suggestions, but couldn’t bring herself to say so.
‘You’re very welcome to stay here for a week or two, if you like. Or you could go and see your father in Brisbane. I know he’ll be delighted to see you. But eventually I think you’ll have to go back, don’t you?’
Lydia with downturned head, staring at the rug.
Shannon stood. ‘I have to get back to the office. You could probably do with a rest. Have a bath, if you want. Abby will fix you up with some lunch. And I’ll see you this evening.’ She took Lydia’s hands, looking deep into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry you’ve got problems. But I am delighted to see you, so very glad you thought to come to me. And we’ll sort things out, don’t worry.’
Andrew
With the Tans, father and daughter, running things in Singapore, and Shannon spending more and more time in Hong Kong, the families had agreed that for the time being it made sense for Andrew and Erica to stay on in Queensland. It would give Erica a chance to familiarise herself with the various arms of what in recent years had become the Maitland conglomerate, with separate divisions for the family’s sugar interests, the vast property portfolio, the hotels and restaurant operations.
‘Our set-up in Singapore is much the same,’ Erica said. ‘I think I should soon get the hang of it.’
‘Don’t forget we’re due in Hong Kong at the end of February for the grand opening.’
‘Golden Phoenix,’ Erica said. ‘As a woman, I approve of that name.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the phoenix is supposed to represent the female virtues of charm and beauty.’
‘Both of which you have in abundance,’ Andrew said.
‘My, my. Such compliments! I wonder what you’re hoping to get out of them?’
‘Guess.’
‘I like that, too.’
Shannon
Lydia didn’t go down to Brisbane. Instead, Hal came north.
‘Only a flying visit, I’m afraid. There’s a lot going on in parliament.’ He kissed her. ‘But it’s lovely to see you. Lovely. Where’s that husband of yours off to these days?’
‘They’re posting him to Paraguay,’ Lydia said. ‘Consul-general.’
‘That’s nice.’ He moved to the liquor cabinet. ‘Drink?’
There were five of them at dinner: Lydia, Shannon and Hal, with Andrew and Erica joining them in a pleasant but guarded evening. Briefed by Shannon, nobody asked what Lydia was doing there but treated her as a guest who had made a welcome but unexpected visit, and Shannon saw a side of her daughter that she had not seen before, the ability to charm and make pleasant conversation and do all the things a diplomat’s wife was supposed to do. It was a revelation and for the first time she realised how useful Lydia must have been in helping Lyle get as far up the diplomatic ladder as he had.
The next day the two women sat down and discussed what Lydia planned to do.
‘I thought I could perhaps stay here.’
That was what Shannon had been afraid of: not because she had ever thought of turning her back on her daughter but because she didn’t see how it could work.
‘And do what?’
A shrug. ‘Dunno. Help you?’
‘I don’t need any help. I have staff to do what’s needed. And you have no commercial experience.’
‘Neither did you when you started.’
‘The situation’s entirely different.’
Lydia didn’t take kindly to being turned down. ‘I don’t think you want to help me.’
‘I want to do what I believe is best for you.’
‘Go back to Lyle.’
‘Yes. There’s nothing for you here. You say your lover won’t take you back. But on the wine-and-dine circuit you’re a star. I saw you in action last night. You wowed us all, and I don’t think you were even aware what you were doing. That’s a skill for the diplomatic circuit. You didn’t leave Lyle a note, saying you were walking out on him?’
‘I said I was taking a break to catch up with you.’
‘There you are, then. Go back. Do what you’re good at. Never mind Lyle. Lots of wives can’t stand their husbands but somehow they get by. Mix with the high and mighty. Who knows, you might even become best mates with Alfredo Stroessner.’
‘The poor man’s Hitler.’
‘Who cares? He’s hardly likely to liquidate you. And I’ve read Heinrich Himmler was fond of babies. As long as they were the right kind of baby, of
course.’
Lydia sat for a long time. She sat quite still and did not speak, but Shannon could see that her eyes were turned inwards. Eventually she stood up. She looked more than tired; she looked weary to her bones.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. ‘Good night.’
‘Good night,’ Shannon said.
The night was coming on and she sat alone in the darkening room. Hal had returned south after breakfast that morning, Andrew and Erica had not stayed after last night’s meal, and Shannon felt lonely and sad.
She knew it would be no good for Lydia to stay. She did not want her to stay, for both their sakes. Lydia would have no life in Proserpine and they would end up driving each other mad. In any case it wasn’t feasible; Golden Phoenix was opening in a fortnight and, if things went as well as people were expecting, she would be spending a lot of time in Hong Kong. If Lydia went to Paraguay her life would have at least some meaning. She was right to have spoken to her daughter the way she had. Yet she still felt sad and a little guilty about it.
She went out and up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving Abby to turn off the lights.
The next day she confronted Lydia at her daughter’s first appearance. It was mid-morning and the weather was hot, the air like steam.
‘Have you decided what you’re going to do?’
‘Since you don’t want me here…’
Inwardly Shannon sighed but outwardly did not respond; blackmail, financial or moral, had never worked with her.
‘I’ll stay a week if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,’ said Lydia, working on her grievance.
‘You’ll be very welcome,’ Shannon said. ‘As always.’
At the end of the week she drove her to the airport herself: a gesture that, from Lydia’s response, might have been wasted.
At the gate they kissed each other. ‘I hope things work out,’ Shannon said.
Thursday 23 February was a chilly evening in Hong Kong, yet the streets around the new complex were swarming with cars, trishaws and people. People by the thousand. Most had come to marvel, the lucky few to participate, all hoping to be among the first to enter what was the biggest, tallest and most impressive building in Hong Kong.
The Golden Phoenix Complex. An auspicious name, for the golden phoenix, the fenghuang, had formed part of the Chinese tradition for thousands of years. That was why Shannon, seeking advice, had chosen that name for the new complex. Feng shui masters had been consulted to decide the day for the opening and had advised that 23 February, the day of the full moon, would be the most favourable day. The governor would cut the ceremonial tape in the vast entrance lobby, over fifty feet high and decorated in black, white, red, yellow and green, the traditional colours of the fenghuang. The wall opposite the main entrance displayed a mural depicting the golden phoenix and had been painted by the American-based artist Chung Liu. Displays of lilies and jasmine, both auspicious flowers, were everywhere.
The central tower of the complex had fifty floors, comprising both the hotel and office space. Rents were high, returns on investment remarkable, and many of the office floors were already let after Shannon had offered special terms to businesses that signed up before the opening date. There were three shopping malls, catering for both the wealthy and the less wealthy, and two restaurants. There was a state-of-the-art Cantonese restaurant within the hotel itself. This, the Lotus Flower, was Jess’s creation and love child, the kingdom or maybe queendom where she reigned supreme and even Shannon walked with deference.
A massive display of fireworks was planned for the evening.
In business as in life, there were no guarantees. People would come, oh yes. They would come, they would gawk, they would admire the fireworks, but would they spend money and would they come back?
The future of the whole operation depended on the answer to those questions, but there was no point fretting about it. Everyone had done the best they could. Now they could only wait.
The governor came in his plumed hat and all the pomp of his office. Standing amid a family gathering – Shannon, Hal and Jess, Mr Tan and his daughter Madeleine Tan and her husband Clement Soong, and Andrew and Erica – he made a speech appropriate to the occasion. A group of little Chinese children performed a ceremonial dance. The ribbon was cut. The doors were opened to the human flood that poured through the complex. Shops were jam-packed, with shopkeepers recording huge sales.
All this within two hours of the complex opening and before the fireworks.
But, ah, the fireworks… They lit up the night sky in deluges of brilliance: red, yellow, white and green. The faces of the awestruck spectators, turned skywards, reflected the multi-coloured splendour of the display, while all the way up the steep climb to the Peak the buildings quaked with explosions that seemed they might continue forever, driving waiting devils away from the magnificence of the new building.
There was a banquet for the hundred most influential guests, preceded by a display by a team of Chinese drummers, whose rhythmic sound rose to a frenzied climax that rivalled the concussion of the exploding fireworks in the streets outside.
Still the crowds poured in; still the tills in the shops rang as sales and still more sales were recorded.
Shannon and Hal, Mr Tan and daughter Madeleine, stood with the governor on the red carpet as he made his departure.
‘Looks like it’s off to a good start,’ His Excellency said as he stepped into the back seat of the Rolls Royce. ‘Good show. Very well done.’
He raised a lordly hand as the car drove away. Shannon and Hal looked at one another and Shannon felt the weight of ten thousand anxieties lift from her strong shoulders.
The four of them walked back into the building. Alone for a moment, Hal turned to his wife.
‘You’ve done it.’
‘We’ve done it,’ she corrected him.
He laughed. ‘What did I have to do with it?’
‘Everything. Without you, none of this would have happened. I’d still be serving behind the bar at the Clover Leaf pub.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ he said, eyes twinkling.
She indulged him, her smile ready. ‘Why not?’
‘Remember telling that flat-chested creature at the yacht club ball that you needed tits to be a good barmaid?’
She remembered the incident very well. ‘What about it?’
‘How are your tits, these days?’
‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘As you should know. Not what they were when I was twenty, but not bad.’
‘You’d have made it somehow, with me or without me,’ he said.
‘You gave me the courage to believe in you, in myself, in us. I meant what I said. Without you, none of this would have been possible.’
They went in to rejoin the party.
Even now Shannon couldn’t relax, knowing that the next day would be the testing time. The fireworks, the splendour of the opening, the awestruck crowds: all would count for nothing without the money passing over the counters of the shops. Success was separated from failure only by the ringing of the tills.
It was therefore not before lunchtime that Shannon was able to get a handle on how things were going. Staff had been instructed to collate returns from the shops, differentiating between sales on the opening day with those for the next one. Jess had already told her how the opening night at the Lotus Flower had gone – huge – with solid bookings for two weeks ahead.
‘The phone hasn’t stopped ringing,’ she said.
Then came the returns from the shops in the three malls. All reported fabulous sales for the opening night, but with the fireworks display that was not unexpected. What was significant was that the complex was still crowded and that sales were if anything running higher than they’d been the day before.
Shannon drew the deepest of deep breaths. Aaron Davies and Ong Pak Shee had been right: they were on a winner.
Shannon stayed on for a month, to make sure everything was properly bedded down, and then headed back to A
ustralia.
Flying from Hong Kong to the Whitsundays was quite a performance. First, the taxi to Kai Tak airport, followed by the long haul to Sydney. There was no direct flight from Sydney to Proserpine so Shannon had first to fly to Brisbane and then wait over an hour for the connecting flight to Proserpine. She’d phoned ahead so Abby had sent Maxwell with the car to meet her at the airport and bring her the final fourteen kilometres to the town.
The road ran through paddocks where the cane was in full flower and the green of the growing plants was so bright and hard that it hurt her eyes to look at them. It was good to be back, for all that.
Andrew and Erica had been holding the fort and seemed to have everything under control but the news from Singapore was not good.
‘Grandfather has had a stroke,’ Erica said.
‘I am so sorry. When did this happen?’
‘We only heard this morning.’
‘How serious is it?’
‘All strokes are serious. But it hasn’t affected his speech or his limb movements or anything like that, so it can’t be too bad.’
‘Do you want to go up there to be with him?’
‘I was going to ask.’
‘Of course you must go. Arrange the ticket. The company will pay. Give him my best wishes for a speedy recovery.’
‘I will. Thank you. Thank you very much.’
‘And let me know how he is.’
A week later Erica phoned and said her grandfather wanted a meeting.
‘He’s much better but the doctors have told him he shouldn’t travel so he’s asking if you’d be kind enough to meet him in Singapore.’
‘What does he want to talk about?’
‘He thinks we need to make decisions about the future. He also asks that Jess and Andrew should be there. And Mr Maitland, of course, if he can manage it, since he has a major interest in the business.’
Mr Tan was being treated at home. It was the same house that Jess had visited when she’d been invited to the Tans’ Chinese New Year party all those years before. Mr Tan, still wearing his signature open-necked blue shirt, looked frail, his features drawn.
White Sands of Summer Page 36
