The Bay (25 page)

Scotty, the maître d' at Vincent's had reserved his best table on the terrace for Nola Florens. The French champagne she'd ordered was chilling, her special menu prepared. Scotty was curious about Nola's companion. She rarely dined out unless it was with a group. But he was quite surprised when she arrived in her queenly style accompanied by a handsome younger man wearing Armani and a little too much expensive cologne. A family member? No, he was being too attentive in an almost flirtatious manner.

Scotty unfolded the damask napkins. ‘An aperitif?'

‘Just bring what I've ordered, Scotty dear, thank you.' Nola turned her attention to the man opposite. ‘So, Wesley, tell me more.'

A
LIGHT NOR'-EASTER OFF THE SEA MADE THE TEMPERATURE
on the beach perfect for sunbathers. The waves rolling in at the Point were not big but beautifully shaped for excellent breaks as they reached the surfers sitting astride boards and surf skis, or paddling boogie boards. It was a rising tide and the surf was going to get even better over the next couple of hours. Days like this were common enough at The Bay for the locals to take it all for granted, but for visitors out there positioning themselves for the next good break it was a time, a place, and a surf that kept them smiling. And what's more, being a Monday, it wasn't overcrowded; no crush of schoolies, no weekend mob.

Holly was sitting on the sand watching Melanie and Marcus, who were waiting side by side on their boards for the next big wave.

‘The view almost beats Bondi,' said Marcus, deadpan.

‘Yep,' Melanie replied. ‘A spread of apartment towers just above high tide would make it perfect.' They exchanged grins. ‘Mum's got it made. I mean that house is just so well situated and she can come down here any time, any day. God, what a life.'

‘Except we're not here, or Dad,' said Marcus. ‘I wonder how much she misses us.'

‘I thought she'd never manage this on her own. In Sydney Mum seemed to like the idea we were in the same city, even though we didn't see her much. Now it's like she's making a new life for herself.' Melanie sounded faintly aggrieved.

‘So you keep saying,' said Marcus, signalling an end to the conversation by throwing himself flat on his board, shouting, ‘Out the back. Out the back.' He began paddling towards a wave that was building up for a break, and Melanie took off after him.

Holly was so happy to see her children enjoying themselves. They each led such separate lives these days. Richmond House was absorbing all her time and she was feeling fulfilled, but she realised it hadn't always been that way. She thought back to when the children were young. They had made her feel fulfilled, too, but in those days it seemed it was her time that was occupied, not her head, her spirit or her soul. Of course she loved, adored, her two children. But now she wished she'd also taken time out for herself. She might have been a more interesting and happier mother.

The children, and their father, had accepted her role without question. She devoted all her attention to the home, their entertainment, ferrying them and their friends to school, sport and social functions. And then one day they were out the door with scarcely a backward glance, on to university, living with friends, driving themselves, hardly any time to come home and visit. This was good, she kept telling herself. This was expected. So why had she felt resentful? Slowly it had dawned on her as she talked with her new friends in The Bay: she felt that she was a shell, she had never explored her inner-self. What did she want from life? She'd never dared dream great dreams, the women's movement had never touched her. There also came the sneaking thought that to dive into the dark waters of her soul would require more courage than she felt she had.

‘What are you daydreaming about, Mum?' Melanie carefully put down her surfboard, dropped to the sand and began drying her hair.

‘I was thinking how my life has changed since I came to The Bay.'

‘Yeah, it's a fantastic place, like being on holiday all the time.'

‘It's more than that. Much, much more.'

‘Like?'

‘Heavy stuff, Mel,' she warned with a smile.

‘Test me. See if I faint.'

‘It's about feeling I belong to a community, and knowing that a sense of community really matters and helps makes individual lives more meaningful. How's that for starters?' She passed the sunblock, then went on. ‘I'm still coming to grips with what it all means, but there you are.'

Melanie said with a smile, ‘Go on. I'm coping.'

‘Okay. It's also about a new range of relationships between women, of trust and support, and exploration of oneself.'

‘Consciousness raising. Wow, Mum, better late than never. Is that what this deal with the old house is all about?'

Holly chuckled. ‘Well maybe your father would think so. I suspect he thinks it's all a bit self-indulgent. He can't see a fast enough profit.'

‘You could sell it after next New Year,' Melanie responded seriously. ‘Keep it through the holidays so we can bring our friends up, then sell. You'll make money on it, if you don't spend a fortune on the renovations. Bit of paint, plant lots of geraniums. Your builder seems very fastidious. That's expensive.'

‘Is that all you think I'm doing? Just trying to make a fast buck? And then what?'

‘Hey, don't get your back up. Do something else. Fix up another place somewhere. I mean The Bay is a nice place, for a holiday. But you wouldn't want to live here.'

‘Why not? You don't know what's here. There's a lot more than the beach. This is a cutting-edge community.'

‘Hello, Mum! Your home is in Mosman! With Dad. I can't see him fitting in with the greenie guru dopeheads up here. Can you? And you can't spend your days running a guesthouse. God, make some money and enjoy it.'

‘I am enjoying myself,' said Holly stubbornly. ‘Listen, I'm going up to the house to get lunch. You and Marcus come when you're ready.' She softened her voice. ‘Or do what you want. I just want you to enjoy yourselves. If you'd prefer to hang out here or eat downtown, do it.'

‘Lunch at the house will be great. I'll have a sunbathe first though.' Melanie was making amends too. So often there were these little sparks between them; if not stamped on they could burst into small fires.

When the kids had first arrived Holly had felt clingy, she had missed them and thinking about Erica made her appreciate how lucky she was. But soon enough the daily bickering had surfaced. It seemed they could never please each other. Holly desperately wanted them both to feel the way she did about Richmond House. But they didn't see it through her eyes, with all its romance and history. They saw an old place being renovated with perhaps too much adherence to its heritage; that it was in a stunning location where they could bring their friends to surf and party.

It occurred to Holly as she hiked up the hill to the house that perhaps she shouldn't snuff out the sparks, but let a healthy cleansing bushfire rush over them. Like in nature, when it took a fire to renew the country. She'd never had an adult confrontation with her children. There had been petty fights over childhood issues like keeping rooms tidy, coming in late, appropriate friends, but they'd never communicated on a serious level as adults. She didn't think they would have listened if she'd disagreed anyhow. She suspected her children didn't regard her as someone with whom to have any deep intellectual debate. But with her new feelings of self-confidence and independence, she would welcome it. Now she didn't feel she had everything to lose. She wanted to be her own person. And, she suspected, while there might be some conflict, they could only respect her for it.

Holly felt in her bones and heart that she was coming to terms with who she was, her potential, her aspirations, her value, her contribution to those involved with her on a regular basis, the community and, hell, the planet. Her children, and her husband, would have to understand and accept her on these new terms. She was undergoing a gentle transformation, which would affect them all.

She was surprised to find Mitchell at the house. He had said he would keep away while she had her children there so as not to disrupt the family, and he apologised. ‘I need the handles and brass hinges to try to match them. Stolle found a guy who can make anything from Asian antiques to copies of pressed-metal ceiling panels.'

‘Great. Want a cup of tea?'

‘Thanks, but no. I have to see a client.' He gave her a second glance. ‘Are you all right? You look tense.'

‘It's the old syndrome of being chief cook and bottle washer. And punching bag,' she said with a small smile. ‘I'd got used to just looking after me.'

‘Everything okay?' He knew she'd been anxious that her children love Richmond House as much as she did.

‘Kids. When the house has been fixed up they want to bring their friends here, then sell it and move on. I might as well be running a caravan park.'

Mitchell was tempted to remind her that he thought that seemed to have been her plan when he'd first met her. ‘It's the nature of children to be selfish. Which is why we should look after our own needs as well as theirs. You do what feels right and good to you. Unless there's a financial constraint –'

‘It's not that. Though I have sunk my own savings into this, and Marcus is pressing me to help him fund his own business.'

‘That's ambitious. He hasn't left uni yet, has he?' exclaimed Mitchell. ‘What kind of business?'

‘He's been designing websites and doing graphic work. Andrew thinks he's pretty good.'

‘There's probably money in it. But he's a bit young to be talking about his own business, isn't he?'

‘I don't really know. My world, our world, seems to have been left behind by this new generation. Do you think that, or is it only me? I can't help feeling the ground is constantly shifting under my feet since I came here, forcing me to review practically every aspect of my life, all my values.'

Mitchell had heard her talking this way before, and it hurt him to see her like this. With the memory of Andrew and Letitia Sweetman still vivid in his mind he was torn between whether to say something or hope Andrew would come to his senses and see the treasure he had in Holly. ‘Listen, Holly, we all go through periods of change in our lives. And this place tends to accelerate change, to bring about an awakening,' he said.

‘I didn't come here to change my life. I just wanted to add something,' she said, sounding very unsure.

Mitchell hesitated, then said quietly, ‘Would you like to experience something special? It's probably a once in a lifetime thing that I think you might enjoy, but it might also help you think about things – you, your life, your future – in a different way.'

‘Gosh, like climb Mount Hazard to see the sun rise, or spend three hours in a float tank?' she joked. Then said seriously, ‘Seeing as you put it that way, how can I say no? I'm game for anything these days.'

‘It's nothing scary or dangerous. But you need a week away. Come on the whale-watch expedition with me. I'm involved with the Oceania project so I go every year . . . it's really special. A week on a new catamaran sailing off Hervey Bay watching the whales. There's a group of us that go for research, collecting skin samples the whales shed for DNA testing, all kinds of things. But paying guests come along because it's, well, phenomenal.'

‘Do you see whales? For sure? I'd hate to wallow around without seeing a whale. Like, close up?'

Mitchell laughed. ‘Oh, yes. They know us, we have the same ones come to us each year. We know them all. There's even a rare white female that puts in an appearance if we're lucky. They come right up to the side of the boat. It's something that's hard to describe. You have to be there, as they say.'

‘It sounds fabulous. I think I've earned a break. I was planning to go back down to Sydney but now I have the children here, I don't feel the need . . .' Her voice trailed off.

‘Listen, think about it and we'll talk more. I'll introduce you to Trish and Wally who run it.'

‘Great. Oh, Mitch, Mac asked me if a group of ladies from the aged home could come up for a tour of the house and I'd show them what I'm doing. I'm not ready, nor is the garden, but they seem to love any outing so I agreed. But I thought maybe we could get rid of the old timber and some of the building stuff from the garden.'

‘Sure thing. No problem. See you in a couple of days. Cheers.'

After videoing yet another wedding of a Japanese couple on the lighthouse reserve Eddie wandered over to Tina's office to take up her invitation for ‘a cuppa'.

‘Another session of creative shooting?' Tina asked as he entered.

‘Don't knock it,' Eddie said. ‘Bread and butter stuff, and it helps kick along the town's tourism business. At least it's better than doing a wedding on top of Mount Hazard at dawn. Did that once, and don't want to repeat the experience.'

‘Milk and one if I remember.'

‘Ta. Have you brought over any of the old things from the lighthouse yet?'

‘Knew you'd ask. Over there.' She pointed to two large cardboard boxes of papers, books and folders. ‘I've already given in to temptation and spent a few hours browsing, and it's fascinating. I'm starting to make an archival index on the computer.'

Eddie sipped his tea and glanced at Tina, then walked over to the boxes. ‘Some pretty dry stuff amongst all this. You prepared to wade through it all?'

‘History was my favourite subject at school and uni,' she said. ‘For a while I contemplated becoming a history teacher.'