by Peter McAra
‘You didn’t give me the lecture.’
‘I rescued you?’
‘Yes.’
He stared into her face again. ‘It’s coming back. The little red bikini, the long blonde hair. The big scared eyes. You couldn’t have been more than—’
‘Sixteen.’
‘So that’s it.’ He beamed. ‘Ever since you showed up this afternoon, I’ve had this…feeling.’
Erin began to feel something too. Something that came from thinking about a certain lifesaver’s taut, tanned body. Lying over her own near-nakedness as he paddled her back to the beach. She must click back to the Golden Dragon, the here-and-now.
‘I had the feeling too,’ she admitted. ‘Right from when you talked to me in the parking lot.’
‘But you figured it out faster than I did.’ His smile told her he was relaxing at last. ‘Women,’ he grinned. ‘Like all the books say, they’re quicker on the uptake than guys.’
‘Well then.’ She’d take the opportunity that had come on a plate, so to speak. ‘Now we’ve put that to bed, can we talk a bit more about my property?’ she said. ‘I’d like your ideas, please. About what I should do with it until it’s ready to sell.’
‘I already told you. You have a very valuable piece of real estate, and…’ He looked away.
‘Yes, but I sensed that you were holding back. Making sure you didn’t say anything out of place. Being all — professional.’ She smiled, giving him some space. He smiled back, still silent. ‘Can I have some more of your unprofessional advice? Not the five-second grab this time. We have all night.’
‘My advice will be…biased.’
‘Do go on,’ she said.
‘Okay. But first, a legal disclaimer.’ He actually grinned. ‘You should know I’m a member of Luna Bay Landcare. The secretary, actually.’ His grin widened. ‘Sorry, I don’t have a tidy hairdo and nice nails.’ He flexed his hands and she looked at them. They were man’s hands — big, work-toughened. Not like you’d expect a lawyer’s hands to look. She recalled again those hands hauling her out of the rip onto his surfboard. Then she pictured Todd’s merchant banker hands — pale, fingers tending towards chubby, nails perfectly manicured.
‘Luna Bay Landcare? What exactly is that?’
‘Hmm. City types. They couldn’t be expected to know.’ He drew breath. ‘All over the country, locals get together to care for their land. Replace wicked invasive foreign plants with local good guys — get the ecology back into shape. Australia’s had some serious ecological disasters — rabbits, cactus, cane toads. And more around the corner if we don’t fight them. The government puts literally billions into Landcare to pay for plants, tools, professional managers.’
‘No kidding?’
‘Yep. And often, we Landcare people have a fight on our hands,’ Hamish continued, turning his own hands palms upward. ‘At the moment, it’s a special bit of remnant wetland. An endangered tree frog species. And a bulldozer-happy developer.
‘Tell me more,’ she said. He’d changed. His eyes glowed. He flexed his hands again, drawing her eyes to them.
‘Well —’
‘Go on. I’m all ears.’
‘Actually, that battle’s pretty much won.’ He eased back in his chair. ‘I warn you. If I get started on Landcare, we’ll be here all night.’
‘We have all night,’ she reminded him. ‘I need to know local stuff. Local heroes.’
‘So you’ve decided to move in?’
‘Well, no. I just got to own a bit of real estate for a moment in time. That hardly qualifies me as a local.’
‘Such a pity you’re not moving in. I simply can’t understand it.’ She sneaked a look at his face. Anger glowed beneath the forced fake smile.
‘Well, I have a job in the city, friends, my own little pad. And I told you about my sick mother.’
‘If you have the tiniest smidgeon of your grandmother’s genes,’ Hamish said, ‘you’ll find you can’t bring yourself to sell it.’
‘Mmm.’ Erin must tread carefully. ‘I remember the cliff-top walks we used to do. Grandma always carried a plastic sack and secateurs. When we came to a weed, she’d snip it and throw it into the sack. When I grew big enough, she promoted me to chief sack carrier. That sack got pretty heavy by the time we made it back to the cottage.’ She sneaked another look at him, saw his eyes caressing her as she talked. She needed a breather. ‘Tell me how a nice boy like you got mixed up with Grandma.’
‘I grew up not ten kilometres from here.’ He waved towards the range. ‘My people raised beef cattle. Which is why I wanted to get into law school.’
‘You didn’t like beef cattle?’
‘I didn’t like what happens to your favourite cow when she reaches a certain weight. In other words, I was a misfit around these parts.’
‘I must confess to enjoying a steak now and again,’ Erin admitted, remembering Hamish had ordered vegetarian. ‘But do go on.’
‘It all began ten years ago,’ he began. ‘When Edna first heard about Landcare. She couldn’t wait to set up a local branch. Tore round town like a wild animal, sinking her fangs into anybody who wasn’t quick enough to run. I was one of her first victims. I spent summer holidays on the farm with my folks while I studied, and in my early years in the profession, with one of those big international law partnerships.
‘Those huge firms with fancy names and hundreds of lawyers on their staff?’ Erin asked. ‘I thought they hired only the crème de la crème of law school graduates. And paid them squillions.’
‘Well…I did do pretty well at my studies,’ he said. ‘I was the nerd from Central Casting.’ Erin mentally smacked herself for her gaffe. ‘They grabbed me, sent me to New York for a year. Told me I’d make it to partner — and zillions of dollars — in a few years. If I behaved myself.’
‘So you misbehaved?’
He took a bite from the tangle of noodles on his chopsticks. ‘When Edna showed me what was really going on around The Bay, I saw a huge disaster looming. I saw that if no one took a stand, the place where I was born would be a weedy jungle in a few years. Or a great big quarry. Or else, another slab of suburbia. The habitat for our beautiful Aussie wildlife would be gone forever.
‘That would be terrible. But…’
‘So I quit my city job and came home.’
‘But —’
‘I know, I know.’ He spread his hands. ‘If I’d stayed, I’d be a millionaire by now. Probably living in one of those glitzy high-rise apartment blocks on the harbour. Know the price of everything and the value of nothing, as the old saying goes.’ Erin cringed as she remembered her last dinner with Todd.
‘Soon Edna told me I was the only one in The Bay who could take on the heavyweights — get a grip on the legal fine print of what they were doing. Then organise protests to stop those wicked developers raping the place. Write applications for government grants — all that stuff.’
He paused. She sensed his guilt over letting his hobby horse gallop away with him, his awareness that he should get back to being civilised dinner company. He twirled another bundle of noodles onto his chopsticks.
‘Then one summer Edna just happened to leak a bit of local gossip to me. Old Tom Parker, The Bay’s one and only lawyer, was selling up and moving to an old folks’ home. It seemed Tom liked me so much, he sold me his practice for a song. I reckon Edna had something to do with that. So here I am.’ He stopped to draw breath as he captured the last few noodles on his plate.
‘Don’t you, well, miss some of those fancy creature comforts that go with city living?’ Erin asked, struggling with the revelation. The man had turned his back on a millionaire lifestyle most people would kill for.
‘I’d rather work on saving habitat for an endangered frog than help some greedy multinational corporation gobble up another innocent local company,’ he said. ‘And now I’m getting more and more of the work I like, from bigger and bigger outfits. So it’s not such lean pickings these days. All round the wor
ld, people are realising that we’ve only got one planet, so we’d better look after it.’ He took a breath. ‘Anyway, now it’s your turn,’ he flicked a hand towards Erin. ‘What are you going to do with that beautiful property of yours?’
Hamish had bared his soul to her. She’d better reciprocate.
‘I will have to sell it. Sooner rather than later.’
‘As you told me this afternoon,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t believe you. Not that beautiful place. It’s unique, spiritual.’
She caught the feisty glow in his eye before he turned away. Erin had hit the nerve she’d sensed lay just under the man’s genial skin. Now the truth was out, she’d continue. ‘My mother…my parents split when I was eight…she has a heart condition. It will soon become life-threatening, her specialist says. Years of struggle as a single mother, a mortgage that’s a dead weight round her neck.’ She paused. ‘And there’s my job.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I write children’s books. Write and illustrate. It’s mostly drawing, actually.’
‘Can’t wait to see your work,’ he said. ‘But couldn’t you draw pictures here in Luna Bay? Maybe better pictures than you do now? Isn’t it just possible the view from your workbench might inspire you?’
‘Well, I have to spend a lot of time with my publisher, so it’s —’ As his words hit her, she realised he had a point. She mustn’t give in.
‘Luna Bay’s only a few hours’ drive from your publisher’s office.’ Hamish chased an imaginary noodle around his empty bowl. ‘And there’s technology, remember. Lots of Bay locals work from home these days. Anna Kershaw, my neighbour. A financial journalist for AMC Press. She finds a Sydney visit about once every second Pancake Day is enough.’
For no reason, Erin grimaced. She’d seen the slick journalist’s photo heading her column. Dressed to kill, the often-quoted Anna Kershaw was Hamish’s neighbour. Why had she taken an instant dislike to a woman she’d never met, Erin asked herself. She didn’t get a straight answer.
‘It’s my mother,’ she continued. ‘She really needs to feel I’m there for her. Know that I’ll call around every few days.’ She’d always loved her mother, the woman who’d overcome so much to raise her. ‘She could end up in care at any time. Or…worse.’ Erin stopped short. Every time she remembered her mother could die suddenly of a heart attack, she reeled from a vicious stab to her stomach. ‘Her doctor’s warned her often enough, and told me she really needs expensive surgery. I have to be there for her.’
‘Bring her down here for a few months. Until you get the house into shape, ready to sell.’ Hamish wasn’t a quitter. ‘There’s a big hospital half an hour’s drive from here. Your cottage is big enough for two. And a sight healthier than the smog-choked city.’ Whatever that annoying man said, it made sense. It was putting her off her dinner.
‘All her friends live in her neighbourhood,’ Erin countered half-heartedly. ‘And she, well, she says she’d die without her friends.’
‘Which is more important, her friends or her sweet, caring daughter?’ Hamish fired back. He’d morphed into a lawyer putting a case to court. ‘And I assure you, the Luna Bay ladies will take her under their warm feathery wings the minute she shows up here. You don’t understand the horsepower that team can churn out when they decide to help someone.’
Erin accepted that it was time to give up. Sure, she loved the idea of spending an occasional week in Luna Bay’s rustic peace and quiet. But the city, with its 24/7 pulsing life, its shops, cafés, theatres, and people, its chemistry, had shaped her life since birth. At heart, she was, would always be, a Sydney girl. Hamish Bourke would never understand that. Erin liked Luna Bay, but she loved Sydney. She couldn’t live two lives — city and country. She’d change the subject.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Sounds like you’re the perfect guy to advise me about my property. How to tidy it up.’
‘I did suggest that you spend some time on the place — real time, not the quick sprint along the cliff-top path. Listen to what the land has to tell you.’
‘You mean listen to the trees? So trees really can talk?’
‘Sure they can. The ancient Druids said they could, and anybody with half an ear open can hear them.’
Was this smart lawyer telling the truth as he saw it? She’d assume he was just dangling a cute metaphor to draw her in — better that she play along with it.
‘Fine. So I can hear what the trees are trying to tell me if I go for a walk through the property? Maybe hug one or two as I go?’
‘That might help,’ he said. ‘But I hear them loud and clear every time I take a walk there, and I haven’t taken to hugging one yet. It’s all about being open to listening.’
‘And how do I get to be open to listening? Remember, I’m pretty new to tree talk.’
‘Well…’ He hesitated. ‘I suppose it’s alright to tell you this. Since you own the place now.’
Erin looked hard into his face. What was he holding back?
‘Did your grandmother ever tell you about the Sea Eagle’s Nest?’ he asked eventually.
‘No.’
‘Well then. I suppose I’d better.’ He leaned back in his chair. She sensed he was less than sure about sharing this secret with her. ‘You know your land falls away pretty steeply towards the sea? Right at the highest point, where the cottage overlooks the ocean.’
‘Yes. I’ve never been down there. It’s scary. A sheer cliff.’
‘You’re right. Which is a good thing. There’s a rope ladder tucked away in your shed. If you take that ladder, and your courage, in both hands, and head towards the cliff, you can hook the ladder to a tree, shimmy down, and find yourself at a pretty exciting place — Sea Eagle’s Nest, Edna called it. It’s a little cave — not much more than a cleft in the rock, actually. Don’t know how Edna found it, but she did.’ He paused, steepled his hands. Satisfied he’d hooked her, he carried on.
‘She set it up as a little shrine to her dead husband. Furnished it with the basics — bed, table and chair, running water. She showed it to me and said I could stay there any time. And I have, a couple of times. It’s a beautiful place. Spiritual, she called it. She’d go there when she wanted to sort out something in her life — something deep. She might spend a few days there. Take a backpack with food, drinking water, a few books, some writing paper. It was like going back into the earth’s womb, she said. So —’
‘You’re suggesting I go there? To figure out what to do with the property?’
‘Yes. It was made for thinking through big decisions.’
Erin stared at him. Was he telling the truth? Was he…weird?
‘You asked me for my advice about what to do with your property,’ he said. ‘That’s it.’
‘Mmm. I don’t know that I’m up for something that scary.’
‘I could show you. Help you with the ladder and stuff.’ He seemed genuine. And she’d pressured him for his advice, professional and otherwise.
‘Okay,’ she said quickly, before she lost her nerve.
‘When would you like to do it?’ At last, a friendly look flickered across his face.
‘I have all the time in the world,’ she said. ‘Your call.’
‘Tomorrow? Since it’s Saturday.’
‘Fine. Say around ten?’
‘It’s a deal,’ he said, and parked his chopsticks on the little china rest.
‘How was your dinner?’ she said, to change the subject.
‘Loved it. You like Chinese too?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Not that there’s much choice in Luna Bay.’
‘Oh, but there is, well, not exactly within walking distance.’ His face brightened. ‘Half an hour’s drive away, up in the hills, there’s the leafy ambience of Highlands Hall, weekend hideaway for the rich and famous.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘No. Best kept secret around these parts. The owners don’t want to attract local yokels. They restrict themselves to absolute highest level bus
iness clients. Secret government briefings and workshops with foreign delegations. The big international corporations use Highlands Hall too — for confidential dinners and such. Often, the attendees’ partners join them for post-workshop weekends. It’s a beautiful place to relax. Ornamental gardens, a lake, complete with a bridge straight out of a Monet painting. Fabulous cuisine. A spectacular ballroom even.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I often get speaking gigs there. Talking about forest regeneration, usually. My specialty. It seems conservation is showing up on the radar for big business at last.’
‘And the post-workshop weekends with partner,’ Erin asked. ‘How have you found those?’
‘Um…I haven’t…er…not…er…me.’ Hamish actually blushed. Erin winced in sympathy. So Hamish Bourke didn’t want to talk about his partner. Totally out of character for a smart lawyer, he’d fallen in an awkward heap when she’d asked him out of the blue.
He pushed his plate aside. ‘Must go. A grant application to finish. Excuse me.’ Erin watched him walk to the counter, pay his bill, and step out into the dark. So Hamish Bourke had a partner. Most people did. But what was he trying to hide?
Chapter 3
Hamish cursed with every step as he walked back to his office in the dark. Scowled at the way his stupid, inept, bungled answer had tumbled out. After their hour together, he’d begun to respect Erin Spenser, care about the impression he made on her. Then, when the conversation suddenly switched to partners, he’d fallen in an ugly heap. The way she’d bitten back her smile while he choked said it all. She knew he was holding back on something painful, private, embarrassing.
Why had he fallen apart? It was truth time for Hamish Bourke. The second Erin Spenser had stepped through his office door that afternoon, had he, well — fallen in love? Stupid word that — love. What did it mean? Years before, he’d felt he was in love with Honey Biggs, and what a disaster that overnight infatuation had turned out to be.
Of course he hadn’t fallen in love with Erin Spenser. No way. You couldn’t fall in love in five seconds flat. He’d felt attracted to her. An instinctive reaction. The human race had survived, like every other surviving animal species on the planet, because of that instinct. Creatures of opposite sexes felt attracted to one another. Then in the next breath, they got on with mating. So he’d felt attracted to his new client. Well he’d just better get over it. As he had with Honey.
