The Bay

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Publicity director for a hotel chain. It would involve a lot of travelling to the South Pacific, maybe Asia. Upmarket places.’

  ‘That’s right up your alley,’ Eddie said. ‘So what about Alice? I think she should stay here, she’s settled in school.’

  ‘I think so too. I’ll be down every month or so for a weekend, or she could come up. In school hols I could take her to one of the resorts. If I get the job.’

  ‘I really hope you do.’ He meant it. ‘I agree about having the arrangement on paper. Get old Paul Maynard, he’s a good man. What are you doing with all your stuff, the unit here?’

  ‘The renters are out, and I was wondering if you knew anyone who might want to take it over and keep a bedroom free for me. So I can stay when I come to see Alice, keep a few clothes, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Off the top of my head, I’m not sure.’ Then a thought struck him. ‘Bonnie might. She spends a lot of time out in the hills but she was saying she was ready to have a base back in The Bay; feels she’s ready to get cracking in the shop, part-time at least –’

  ‘Has she got her act together?’ asked Laura dubiously.

  ‘Oh God, yes. Amber has helped her a lot. Since Erica died Bonnie seems to have found some sort of focus and strength.’

  ‘You’d think it would be the other way around. I’d lose the plot if anything happened to Alice,’ Laura said, suddenly sounding genuine and soft.

  Eddie reached out and touched her hand. ‘Laura, nothing is going to happen to Alice. You do trust me? I love her like my own.’

  She squeezed his hand, unable to speak for a moment. ‘Thanks. That’s the best thing that’s happened to us – her and you. I’m really grateful. Maybe when she’s older and I’m settled, she and I can have our time together.’

  ‘Laura, I really wish you well. You go for it.’

  ‘I’ve told Alice, we’re having a girls’ day out before I go. Big pizza feast, I imagine.’

  Eddie couldn’t resist a little laugh, and Laura joined in. It had been a long time since they had laughed together.

  ‘Sounds good. Keep in touch.’

  ‘Of course I will. And Eddie, I hope you sell your film.’

  ‘I think I will. It’s a doozie. So many things have happened during its making.’

  ‘So what’re you calling it?’

  Eddie thought for a moment, how to braid together all the threads of the complex stories he’d been following, then it came to him. ‘The Bay. I reckon that sums it up.’

  Matty was minding the shop for Amber when Billy dropped in. ‘You got another after-school job?’

  ‘No, Amber had some big meeting at the uni. She went off – as my mother says – like a chook with its head chopped off.’

  ‘Why’s she in a dither? Going to do a course?’ Billy was surprised she hadn’t said anything to him, he liked to be up with all the news. People expected it.

  ‘No. Said it was business.’ Matty was rubbing lotion on her hands. ‘Want to try her new cream? It’s got apricots in it.’

  He looked at the label. ‘Hmm. Maybe she should add a line like “it’s good enough to eat”, eh? So how are things going with you? We never get a chance to gossip on Saturdays, always so busy.’ Billy sat in the chair by the door and lit a cigarette.

  ‘Why don’t you give them up, Billy? It’s disgusting, bad for your health. What do Paula and Hope say about it?’

  ‘Don’t you nag as well, Matty. I’m not allowed to smoke at home. That’s why we live near the beach.’

  ‘I hope you don’t leave your stubs on the sand,’ she admonished him. ‘We have a campaign at school to clean up the cigarettes. “Get Your Butts off our Beach” is one of the slogans.’

  ‘I get the message. In fact I’m thinking of going to hypnotherapy.’

  ‘Bonnie knows some people in that line,’ said Matty helpfully. ‘Amber says she is doing well at kicking the habit.’

  ‘Well, if Bonnie successfully kicks the habit, or more correctly, habits, then I might just follow up on that. But for the present, please excuse my weakness,’ he said with a smile. ‘You had a go at fags yet?’

  The question took Matty by surprise, but it was asked so casually and uncritically that she found it easy to respond with honesty. ‘Yeah, of course. Everyone has a go once they get to high school.’

  ‘Rite of passage stuff, eh? I can remember having my first drag down behind the toilets one lunchtime. When did you first light up?’

  Now the conversation was starting to hurt and Matty fussed with a display of cosmetics to mask her feelings. The sudden recall of that moment with Erica at their headland hideaway was more painful than she expected. She was close to tears when Billy sensed the tension and changed the subject.

  ‘How’s the horsey caper going?’

  Matty took a deep breath and forced a bright response. ‘Fine. Alice sure knows a lot and she’s a good teacher. She’s got me interested in doing dressage. At least learning about it. I don’t know that we’ll be able to afford the dressage gear, but that doesn’t matter, we’re having a lot of fun.’

  ‘That’s one of the nice things about living here, it’s so easy to explore new interests. Good to know that Alice has settled in so smoothly with Eddie.’

  ‘She thinks he’s a bit keen on Tina. An item,’ said Matty without prompting.

  Billy tried not to laugh. ‘An item? As in the gossip columns of The Beacon Bugle?’

  ‘Don’t laugh. Alice was scared it might mean she’d be on the move again, shoved off back to her mother. But her mum’s excited about starting her new job. Alice and me might go to an island resort in the holidays.’

  ‘Woo! Lucky duckies, let’s hope.’

  ‘What’s happening? Who’s lucky?’ Amber waltzed into the shop.

  ‘So what have you been up to? You look like the cat that swallowed the cream,’ said Billy.

  ‘Do I have news for you!’ she declared. ‘I can’t believe it. Now you must not say anything just yet . . .’ she looked at them both.

  ‘Scout’s honour, my lips are sealed.’

  ‘Can I tell my mum and dad?’

  ‘Okay, Matty, but I don’t want too many people to know until, well it’s all official and the money is in the bank.’

  ‘Money?’ Billy gave a huge grin. ‘Come on, spill the beans.’

  Amber sat down and kicked off her shoes. ‘Several months ago some guys from the new research centre at the uni here took some of my products home from the markets and their wives tried them, and then their friends. Then they did research in the R & D section and found my products are superb for the skin and very healing, and being free of any chemicals, very safe.’

  ‘We’ve always known that,’ said Billy. ‘No false advertising claims for Chaste. So are they going to pay you squillions for your secret formula?’

  ‘Something like that. Well not quite . . .’

  Matty squealed and jumped up and down and Billy looked dumbfounded. ‘Are you serious?’

  Amber took a breath and smiled. ‘Well the sequence is this – they are developing a huge industry in this region dedicated to growing herbs and plants for medicinal and therapeutic products. You know how big alternative medicines are up here – Chinese herbs, health foods like ocean minerals, barley and wheat grass juice.’

  ‘So are they going to manufacture your stuff? Buy you out? What?’ asked Billy impatient for the details.

  ‘I am more interested in working with them, developing products which I haven’t been able to afford to do. Some of the products cross over from making you feel and look good and healthy in a natural way, to being healing and medicinal.’

  ‘So how is that going to work? Do you hang out in a lab in a white coat, or dig in the lavender garden, or flog your stuff in a department store?’ Billy asked.

  ‘Are you going to be rich?’ asked Matty.

  ‘Probably yes to all those questions. But it’s all long term. I have to get a lawyer to draw up a contract s
o I understand things. Chaste will be a line of natural skin-care products and I’ll work with them in developing other things. They think I’m the right type to be the face of Chaste, so to speak,’ said Amber, grinning.

  ‘I can see that,’ agreed Billy, looking at the attractive, healthy redhead opposite him.

  ‘When can we tell people? This is so exciting, Amber, no more cooking up stuff in your kitchen. Will you have a factory?’ asked Matty.

  ‘Oh something like that is a long way away. I don’t want my products to get big and impersonal and have to put preservatives in them. We’ll see,’ she said. ‘We want lots of other people to come in on this too.’

  ‘This will be good for The Bay,’ enthused Billy.

  ‘Yep. They’re encouraging people to start herb and special farms to supply the research and develop ment people as well as the manufacturers who need the plants for their oils.’

  ‘You should tell Eddie,’ Matty said. ‘Maybe someone could get his avocado farm going again and grow herbs.’

  ‘That’s a great idea!’ said Amber. ‘They’re going to need suppliers because the uni wants all the big natural health companies to base themselves up here too.’

  ‘This is big vision stuff,’ said Billy shaking his head. ‘You’re really in on the ground floor, Amber. This could be huge. Really. You’ll make a million or more by the time you’re thirty!’

  Holly rang Sid Wainwright to tell him about Tor’s arrival and the documents he had brought with him. Sid was immediately intrigued and wanted to go through them at once.

  ‘There’s one especially grand photograph. I’m going to use it in my ads. Mr and Mrs Nilsen standing outside Richmond House. It’s just lovely.’

  ‘I’d like a copy of that. Better give copies of it all to Tina for her archives. Have you been through all her stuff yet, Holly?’

  ‘Oh, Sid, I’ve had so much to do here. But I will one day. Tor has letters . . . none of it has sunk in yet. I’m so delighted to have this missing link in the story of the house.’

  ‘Hmm, I’ll be very interested to see it all. Would the young man like to come around and see my stuff? Give him an idea of what it was like when his family first landed here.’

  ‘I’m sure he would. Thanks, Sid.’

  Kimberley had been working late at night and early in the morning, digging, ferreting, steadily stitching together clues and information from council records, uncovering pieces of the Mighty Beach puzzle. She was putting her notes in a folder to take to the Sundowners meeting when Councillor Tricia Rich popped into her small office. ‘Kim, you might be interested to know that someone from Sydney has been making inquiries about the history of that land parcel at Mighty Beach. No name was given.’

  Kimberley raised an eyebrow. ‘Hmm. I wonder why?’

  ‘Don’t know. Obviously not a reporter or someone official or they would have left a number. He was most interested to find out if we knew anything about a company called Eureka Developments. Before my time, I’m afraid. By the way,’ she paused and lowered her voice, ‘I’m not voting for rezoning. People everywhere are talking about it. How’s the protest march coming along?’

  ‘Going to be bigger than Ben Hur,’ said Kimberley. ‘But whether that’s going to change the votes in here is another matter. Thanks for the news, Tricia.’ Kimberley deliberately didn’t mention that the file in her hand contained notes connecting a company named Eureka Development to the land at Mighty Beach before ownership was moved to Beacon. She had learned since working for the council that discretion could pay big dividends.

  ‘Sam, it’s Jimmy.’

  ‘Why’re you sounding so worried? It’s a lovely afternoon for a round of golf.’

  ‘Seems to be a lot to worry about these days, Sam. The staff tell me they’ve been getting quite a few phone calls asking about Beacon Land Holdings.’

  ‘So what, it’s making news.’

  ‘Yeah, but these are calls from Sydney, not your usual curious or angry ratepayer. They’re also asking what we have on file about Eureka Developments and its connection with the land.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Sam, are you still there?’

  ‘Yeah. Anything else?’

  ‘A few of the councillors are getting nervy about the rezoning caper. Staff’re dragging their heels on this one, as expected. What’s this Eureka business all about, Sam?’

  ‘Forget it, Jimmy. Thanks for the call. Keep in touch. Golf’s off.’

  Mac took Tor to Sid’s old house where he had morning tea set out alongside piles of photographs, newspapers and scrapbooks of clippings going back decades.

  ‘Still living in organised chaos, I see,’ observed Mac with a wink to Tor. ‘Impressive chaos nonetheless.’

  ‘You can joke about it, but I know where everything is. Those piles mean something to me, even if it looks like a mess to you,’ said Sid defensively but in good humour. ‘She’s like most women, wants everything neat and tidy.’

  Tor laughed, delighted with the way Australians seemed so relaxed about sending each other up. ‘I’m not buying into the argument,’ he announced. Then he added diplomatically, ‘The delicious smell coming from whatever is under that cover is far more interesting.’

  Sid took a corner of the red chequered tea towel covering the plate and with a flourish flicked it aside. ‘Pumpkin scones,’ he trumpeted with pride. ‘Home made.’

  ‘You’ve just met the best scone maker in town,’ said Mac. ‘Let’s indulge in something you can write home about.’

  After demolishing the scones covered with home-made jam and cream, they began passing around a selection of old photographs of the beaches and whaling station that were the focus of the local branch of the Nilsen family almost a hundred years ago. Tor was amazed at the amount of work Sid had put into recording the local history.

  ‘Yep, I’m a sort of one-man local hysterical society. People bring me stuff when the oldies die, or things turn up at farm sales. Few years back I started taping talks with some of the old-timers before they drop off the perch.’

  ‘The old people in town trust Sid, they’ve known him for so long,’ Mac explained.

  ‘Trust me so much they even let the family skeletons out of the cupboard a few times,’ laughed Sid. ‘Here, take a look at these pictures.’ He handed Tor a selection of large photographs, all browned with age.

  They presented a wonderful sense of what life had been like back in the era of his relatives. He now had a sense of the vibrancy of the town in the old days, the pioneers in the Big Scrub, people at picnics, swimming, galas in town. He tried to imagine Hannah and Lars living here, and peered at photographs of crowds wondering if they might have been among the blurred faces in the old prints. He was also fascinated by a more recent photo of the central beach in which the surf club and pub were the only buildings. ‘Look at how the beach is level with the road, the sand came right up to the main street,’ he exclaimed. ‘Now it is further back, what happened?’

  ‘Sand mining,’ said Sid bitterly. ‘Bloody disaster that was. Though it was big business at the time. Mining the dunes for minerals, mainly rutile. After extracting the rutile they used the sand for some of the streets and to fill in lots to build on in town.’ Sid looked at Mac. ‘I have my theories about the tailings, just like they filled in the cattle dips. Where do you suppose all the chemicals and poison went?’

  ‘I know what you’re saying. I bet if you ran a geiger counter over parts of town it’d go off the scale,’ Mac said. ‘Wouldn’t get away with it today. Contamination issues would have the mobs out in the streets, to say nothing of health issues and the environmental destruction. We’re sitting on a time bomb in parts of this town, only the newcomers don’t know it.’

  ‘Reckon we’ll have the mobs out soon anyway,’ said Sid. ‘Mighty Beach is becoming a mighty issue. C’mon, let’s take Tor to his great-great-grandmother.’

  The drive took them past a property filled with gardens growing all manner of plants, trees an
d vegetables.

  ‘Is that a farm?’ Tor asked.

  ‘Seed Savers, a great idea. They network with people from all over the world who save the seeds they grow and then share them to keep the pure old-fashioned lines growing,’ said Mac.

  ‘They also train people from developing countries in permaculture and agriculture principles that they can use in villages and not have to rely so much on technology and globalisation,’ Sid added. ‘There’s always a bunch of nice kids from somewhere in the world working and learning in those gardens. Typical of the passion in this part of the world for doing things differently and encouraging alternative thinking. Dunno what the wheeler dealers in New York would make of it‚’ he said with a chuckle.

  It was a beautiful spring day and as they walked among palm trees at the entrance to the cemetery Tor felt glad that Hannah was resting in such a peaceful place. He had been to the flower shop and bought a bunch of daffodils. He liked the cheerful colour and they were a familiar bloom.

  They found her grave, a simple headstone in a far corner with the words, ‘Hannah Nilsen. Born 1-11-1875. Departed 16-6-1965 to join her beloved husband Lars, sons Sven and Erik in Heaven, at peace.’

  Tor knelt down and touched the neglected grave, overwhelmed that here rested a woman who was connected to him by sons and time and distance. He felt moved and saddened that Hannah had lived so much of her life alone, perhaps always hoping she might be reunited with her family.

  Mac had brought a vase and bottle of water, and she knelt beside him and helped arrange the daffodils while Sid wandered off to pick a spray of wattle. Mac put a hand gently on the boy’s shoulder as he shut his eyes and silently prayed. When they stood up Sid was waiting nearby.

  ‘Wattle, perfect partner for the daffs,’ he said, handing it to Tor. ‘It’s an Aussie spring and summer flower, mate. I bet she loved it. There are a lot of wattle trees on the hill near the old house.’

  Tor nodded his thanks, admiring the clusters of fluffy gold balls. ‘She lived so long. Ninety years old. She was alone so many years.’