The Bay (34 page)

The others laughed, but Kimberley noticed Nola always kept out of the sun and only ordered a freshly squeezed fruit juice. Her discipline had kept her slim, fit and amazingly youthful looking. She doubted anyone would pick her as over sixty, let alone over seventy.

‘Now, there's a reason I've gathered you all together this morning,' said Nola, acting as chair of the meeting. ‘I hate to seem a nosy parker and, in fact, this is so unlike me! I kept to myself and never had many real women friends before –'

‘Coming to The Bay!' interjected Holly. ‘I can relate to that.'

‘So then, if something has grabbed your curiosity it must be worth sticking our beaks into,' added Mac.

‘You start, Nola,' Kimberley said, ‘because we've already talked and I've done some nosying of my own.'

‘It's just a whole lot of small things that I didn't worry about at first. But I did notice there were some comings and goings in an apartment up the road. Some well-to-do Asian gentleman was staying there and he had quite a few visitors, which made me think he wasn't on a holiday. Unless you count the glamourpuss who arrived in a white limousine with Queensland numberplates,' said Nola as an aside, which made the others chuckle knowingly.

‘What kind of people?' asked Lynn.

‘A lawyer, that young good-looking woman. I met her at your dinner at Vincent's, Holly. Sam Mann was there on several occasions. And so was Andrew.' She turned to Holly. ‘Can you shed any light on this?'

Holly was surprised. ‘Well yes and no. The Asian is a mystery. But Andrew did play golf over Easter with some local business acquaintances. I think he first met them when we were buying Richmond House last year. But there's nothing unusual about that. He's got an eye for networking and drumming up business wherever he goes.' She was a little defensive and still in shock at the news she'd received from the family solicitor in Sydney.

‘Nothing unusual indeed,' said Nola, clearly enjoying the little drama. ‘Until Mr Mann paid me a visit. He was desperate to dissociate himself from a young man who'd brought me a business proposition.'

‘I thought you'd retired,' exclaimed Lynn.

‘My dear girl, when a handsome young man invites you to dinner, the least one can do is listen.'

‘You're an inspiration. I'll remember that,' laughed Lynn.

‘What was Mr Mann's objection to him?' asked Holly.

‘Oh, he was a bit of an unsavoury character and he and Sam had once had some business affiliation which Sam didn't seem too happy about. And here is the crux of all this, Sam was nervous because he is in the middle of some negotiations with a group of movers and shakers currently in town to do the biggest deal ever seen in The Bay.' Nola paused and looked around the table. ‘Now what do you suppose that could be?'

‘Sam is a wannabe,' Lynn said. ‘Grew up here, was a shonky builder who went north. He came back a couple of years ago after working on the Gold Coast in development. He's never done anything of any size, or quality. Stolle worked for him once on a building project and said he'd never work for him again.'

‘Holly might ask Andrew if he knows anything,' Mac suggested.

‘Of course. He's been working on big hotel projects in Asia, and did all the paperwork when I bought up here, as I said. So he knows some local people through that. He had dealings with a Bay solicitor.' Holly tried to make it sound casual, but Mac saw through the smokescreen.

Nola missed the subtle signal and moved on. ‘Now let's get back to the agenda. I came to The Bay for tranquillity in my old age. I didn't want to see lots of people, or get involved in local affairs. I can afford to sit in my ivory tower. So how I got involved with you lot . . .' she shook her head and laughed. ‘But anyway here I am now, deeply concerned about what happens to this place.'

‘Gets them every time,' Lynn said to Mac with a wink.

‘I'd like to know just what is going on,' finished Nola. ‘Kimberley, take over.'

‘Nola spoke to me about all this and asked me, well, to snoop.'

‘It's part of your job,' said Nola. ‘Investigate community concerns.'

‘What did you find out?' Lynn leaned across the table.

‘Not a lot. But because there was such reluctance to talk in several quarters, I became very suspicious,' said Kimberley, pausing to sip her coffee.

‘Go on,' urged Mac.

‘Well, after a few lunchtime chats with paper shufflers, no names no pack drill, I found out that an application for rezoning has been lodged with council for a big slab of real estate in The Bay. Not sure where, but it's big, and worth a lot of money.'

‘Rezoned from what to what?' asked Mac, who understood the way councils functioned.

‘Apparently it's currently rural, totally undeveloped, and the owner wants it to be zoned for urban residential and commercial.'

‘That will wake up the old town when it becomes public knowledge,' said Lynn.

‘Of course. But I got the impression, just a feeling mind you, that no matter what the public reaction might be, approval was in the bag.'

‘Some people on council have been bought,' declared Mac.

‘Wouldn't be the first time,' Nola said.

‘What about our green councillors?' asked Lynn.

‘Outnumbered,' Kimberley replied. ‘The question is, what do we do about it?'

‘Oh these things can be so tedious,' sighed Mac.

‘You don't know what the plan is or where it is,' ventured Holly. ‘Maybe we should wait and see, it might be a storm in a teacup.'

‘She's quite right, of course,' said Nola. ‘And I will be the first to climb down from my high horse. But, ladies, it seems I have discovered a new passion in life and I'm embracing it like a lover. I've tossed out the young man's proposal and I'm devoting myself to The Bay.'

Her companions broke into laughter and a scatter of applause in appreciation of Nola's enthusiasm and personality. ‘Raise the red flag,' quipped Lynn.

‘Order, order‚' commanded Nola. ‘Let's all keep asking questions around town.'

Lynn added, ‘Has anyone spoken to Billy at The Teepee recently? He hears all the gossip. In fact, maybe we should get some of the men on the case – Stolle, Eddie, Mitchell.'

Nola looked around the group with an air of satisfaction. ‘Well done. Give me a call if you find out anything and I'll send out smoke signals.' She rose to pay the bill, looking statuesque and formidable.

Bonnie and Amber were comfortably quiet as Amber drove past Brigalow golf course, the seed and agriculture supply store, the old Masonic Hall and the showground with a hoarding announcing, ‘Sunday Markets here next week'.

The road was dirt now, rising through small banana, macadamia and avocado plantations. Then they passed a long white fence with a large gate made from Indonesian carved wooden panels. Dangling incongruously between them was a brightly painted carousel horse and a sign: ‘Carousel Studios'.

‘What's that, way out here?' asked Bonnie.

‘Music recording and film editing studios. Pretty high-tech stuff,' said Amber. ‘A lot of well-known artists record there. Couple of studios and a fantastic house, a sort of music retreat. Whole gangs of people hang out there for weeks at a time doing their thing.'

‘You mean, like making records?'

‘Yep. Even international names plan gigs in Australia so they can work at Carousel, and have a holiday in The Bay at the same time.'

‘Wow. I've probably passed someone famous on the beach without even noticing.'

‘I saw Eartha Kitt at Tiny Bay Beach and Bob Dylan was here. There's a lot of movie people and pop stars who stay in The Bay. I guess they like it for the same reasons we do.'

‘Nice that they don't get hassled,' said Bonnie. ‘I love how everyone here does their own thing and appreciates others doing the same.'

‘Yeah, even performers. They don't have to have a paying audience . . . buskers in the street maybe are looking for a dollar or two. But you know how you see people just sitting on the beach or in a park strumming, drumming, playing the didge, making their own music because they enjoy it. Not everyone wants to get into a million dollar recording studio.'

‘I'd like to see around that studio some time,' Bonnie said. ‘This place is full of surprises.'

‘We can visit it. I've been meaning to bring Eddie out here.'

‘For his film?'

‘Yeah, when he's ready.'

Bonnie was silent and Amber guessed she was thinking about Erica.

They turned down a smaller track and drove under giant Moreton Bay figs and huge camphor laurels shading the road.

‘How beautiful, like a green tunnel,' said Bonnie.

‘I love those camphor laurels, the leaves have a wonderful smell. Beautiful wood for turning and furniture, but they've been declared a nuisance in most places. If they pulled them out of this district it would look like a disaster area,' said Amber as she swung the car off the track. ‘This is our place.'

The fence sagged, the old timbers were dried and split from a century of weathering. The farmhouse, restored years before, was classic bush simplicity: painted weatherboard with bullnose verandah roof, swing windows with panes of coloured glass, wooden steps flanked by neglected, old-fashioned garden beds.

‘Built in 1912. It has great pressed-metal ceilings, most of the original fittings. Mum modernised it twenty years ago but it could do with an update,' sighed Amber. ‘She doesn't have the heart for doing that sort of thing now.'

‘What happened to your father?' asked Bonnie.

‘He had an accident and was confined to a wheelchair for several years before he died.'

‘What sort of accident?'

‘Got a bad electric shock while he was working on powerlines out in the bush.'

‘Must be hard for an active man to see out his days in a wheelchair.'

‘Yeah. It depends a lot on your attitude. He kind of gave up, felt it wasn't much of a life. You'd ask him how he was and he'd say, “I want to die.” Mum thinks it's her fault, nothing she could do for him, she bored him to death. Sadly, he could have had a productive life with me.'

Bonnie glanced at Amber, hearing the catch in her voice. ‘You were close to your father?'

‘Very. I was an only child. He was the one who got me interested in healing plants, bit of an amateur botanist. He'd be thrilled at what I'm doing now with my beauty products.'

They walked up the steps to the open front door where a hallway ran right through the house to the back verandah. A voice called to them, ‘Round the side, Amber. Usual spot.'

‘Coming, Mum,' Amber replied, then added softly for Bonnie's benefit before leading her around the corner of the verandah, ‘That means it's morning tea time.'

Her mother sat stiffly at a small table set for tea. She glanced at her watch and gave a polite smile. ‘So here you are, I had almost given up on you. I'll reheat the kettle.'

‘Sorry we're a bit late, Mum. This is my friend Bonnie Bitternden, and this is my mother, Celia.'

‘Lovely to meet you. What an entrancing place you have here,' said Bonnie.

‘Do you think so? It's falling down around my ears, I'm afraid. I'm not able to look after things like I used to. The garden has gone, such a pity.'

‘I think it looks wonderful! A little unruly perhaps, but that's half its charm,' said Bonnie. ‘I miss my garden in Melbourne.'

‘Mum, I've said before, we can get someone to come and work in the garden whenever you want.'

‘I wouldn't dream of having you waste your money. You've little enough as it is.' She gestured to Bonnie. ‘Working for herself at her age. Can you believe it? Homemade cosmetics. Who'd be silly enough to buy them? She's no Estée Lauder. Amber, please put the kettle back on.'

Amber hurried into the house and Bonnie sat in one of the wicker chairs. ‘If we're late it's my fault. Since I moved to The Bay I've stopped wearing a watch. I operate on Bay time like everyone else.'

‘At least you have a reason to be somewhere. I never go anywhere these days. My health isn't up to it.'

‘Where would you like to go?'

Celia fiddled with her pearls, aware she was being put on the spot. ‘Too hard, Amber is so busy.'

‘We can take you out any time you want,' offered Bonnie. ‘Amber has been very kind to me. And I have to tell you, her products are excellent. She's taken over a little shop I lease in The Bay and once women, and men, try her stuff they're back for more.'

‘Is that so?' Celia looked genuinely pleased. ‘Her father studied plants, you know.' She was about to say more but Amber appeared with a jug of milk. The enthusiasm in Celia's face disappeared and the faintly irritated tone returned to her voice. ‘Well, I still prefer proper brands of cosmetics.'

‘Mum won't believe me when I tell her that so many of them are full of chemicals and the exorbitant price is for the packaging and marketing,' Amber said to Bonnie.

‘I can't afford good things any more anyway,' said Celia, handing Amber the teapot. ‘And bring the biscuits please.'

‘Whatever you're using, your skin looks fabulous,' Bonnie declared and Celia blushed at the compliment.

‘Would you like to see the garden?'

When Amber returned with the pot of hot tea and a plate of biscuits she could hear her mother chatting about the garden, where she got cuttings from, what she'd struck herself, what had survived from the original flowerbeds. She listened to the warmth in her mother's voice. Why didn't she ever speak to her like that? There was always an underlying accusation in what she said to Amber. She took a deep breath, glad at least that Bonnie was there. Visits with her mother on her own were stressful. She leaned over the railing. ‘Tea's ready.'