The Bay (47 page)

‘Now you can acknowledge and celebrate the fact the whales are here, that we are learning more about them. And you can contribute to that,' said Mac. ‘While you're here, doing your post-graduate work.'

‘I have such a strange feeling I will stay here. I think I knew that when I left,' he paused. ‘I think my mother knew it too, which is why she gave me my grandmother's material that she'd compiled about Hannah and Lars.'

‘Life here will be a bit of a change from back over there,' commented Sid, who hadn't quite grasped their talk about spirits.

‘Don't worry about change, Tor,' Mac said. ‘It's something that can happen so very beautifully around here, and often in ways you hadn't expected. You just wait and see.'

Eddie peered through the viewfinder at Tor on the track up to the lighthouse, lifted his arm and signalled to him to begin walking towards the camera. He had decided Tor made a perfect peg for his doco, which had been lacking a clear focus in terms of a central figure. With whatever came out of the protest rally, the council, and what the girls would be piecing together at their Sun downers meeting this afternoon, he knew he had the ingredients for a hot and colourful story.

By the time Tor had finished looking around the lighthouse, Tina had spread out Hannah's diary, some pages marked with notated tags, photographs and logbooks from the
Lady Richmond
. Then she left him to enter the distant world of his Australian-based ancestors. She knew it was going to be an emotional journey back in time.

Two hours later she and Eddie spotted Tor standing at the parapet of the lighthouse looking over The Bay. In his mind's eye he was seeing how it might have been when Hannah and Lars had first sailed in, and when Lars sailed out on that fateful voyage in 1908. He wiped away another tear, took a deep breath and waved to them.

When he came down he hugged Tina and shook Eddie's hand. ‘I can't thank you enough for what you've done to make this day such a memorable one. I'm sure Hannah and Lars thank you as well.'

‘It's not over yet. We've been invited to the Sundowners meeting. Let's go,' said Tina picking up Hannah's diary. ‘Apparently Kimberley has some big news.'

‘Is it too early for champers?' asked Nola, pulling the bottle from the ice bucket anyway. ‘Eddie, as we have gentlemen here today, you can do the honours. Stolle, pass the glasses.'

‘Shouldn't we wait for Holly?' said Lynn.

‘She'll be here soon,' said Mac. ‘What's your news, Kimberley?'

Kimberley stood up. ‘Well, first of all let's make a toast to welcome Tor.'

Nola recognised her oversight and resumed command. ‘Indeed, a very special guest. Welcome to The Bay, Tor.'

Mac gave him a special smile. ‘Welcome home.'

It was taken up by everyone. ‘Welcome home, Tor.'

Tor rose to his feet in acknowledgment. ‘Thank you all so very much for making me welcome. Today has been one of the most memorable in my life. Thank you again.'

As he sat down Holly bustled in and gave him a kiss and hug. ‘I've brought your family letters and papers,' she whispered and handed him the envelope.

Kimberley reached for her folder and suddenly everyone was attentive. ‘I've gone through all the records and paperwork that's available at this point. In summary, the Richmond Whaling Company was owned by an American group and managed here for a number of years by Lars Nilsen. Now, according to documents Buck got from the Registrar General's Office and the Lands Department in Sydney, at some stage early this century the ownership of the company passed to Lars and Hannah Nilsen; they acquired all the shares. With the ownership of the company went the ownership of Mighty Beach.'

There was a chorus of gasps and everyone started talking at once. Nola clinked a teaspoon on her champagne glass. ‘Order, please. Order. Go on, Kimberley.'

‘To avoid any confusion, I should point out that Richmond House was on a separate title and has changed hands several times since Hannah died. No problems there,' Kimberley said. ‘Hannah eventually sold the total shareholding of Richmond Whaling Company to Eureka Developments, a Bay-based company set up by Sam Mann. And with the deal went the land.'

This time there was a stunned silence. She went on: ‘Eureka took title of the land, and a year later sold it to Beacon Land Holdings. The Richmond Whaling Company went out of existence as a company with no assets.'

Holly rose immediately. ‘A question please. From what you've seen of the documents from Sydney and at council, is there any question about the legality of all of this?'

‘It looks completely kosher. All the legal work was done by the late Gordon Sweetman, an old mate of Sam's, apparently, and father of local solicitor Letitia Sweetman. Letitia is associated with both Sam and Beacon in the current Mighty Beach project.'

‘Are there any others?' Holly asked.

Tor had been leafing through the papers Holly had given him and comparing them with documents Kimberley had put on the table. ‘According to the paperwork you have here,' he said, ‘the ownership of the land passed from Hannah to Eureka in early 1966. Right?'

Kimberley checked her notes. ‘Yes. Correct.'

‘Well, that is very odd, because this morning I went to Hannah's grave and the headstone records her death as June 1965.'

Nola spoke what was in everyone's mind. ‘Oh dear. Hanky-panky.'

Eddie decided it was time to say something. ‘For some months now Tina and I have been going through the diaries and logbooks stored at the lighthouse, most of them related to the Nilsen family. Some time ago we found an entry in Hannah's diary that recorded Lars being given shares in the company as a bonus for a good year's production of whale oil. We didn't think anything more about it until now, but that entry certainly confirms the family had a strong financial interest in the company, and the land. It makes sense that later Lars would take up more shares, if he got the opportunity. What do you think, Tina?'

‘Well, I've read every entry Hannah wrote in those diaries,' she said. ‘Hannah and Lars clearly developed a great love of this place and had faith in the future of the whaling industry. They could never imagine the very different situation today. Yes, buying out the American owners would certainly make sense. What I can't understand is how the title deeds got into the hands of Sam Mann, after Hannah died. If that is what happened.'

The key documents were passed around, and Mac and Tor found themselves sharing views on what they were reading. He was surprised when Mac gave an involuntary shudder. ‘Something wrong, Mac?'

‘Yes, there is. The writing, Hannah's signature on the copy of the land title when it was transferred to Eureka, it's giving me bad vibes.' He glanced at her a little puzzled, then looked again at the signature. Without saying anything he went back through his family papers.

‘These are letters from Hannah to our family after she first arrived here. They somehow got handed down through the family and were eventually given to me. Have a look,' Tor said.

Mac took them, glanced through the content, and then studied the signature at the end of each letter. ‘Totally consistent signatures,' she said. Then she very carefully compared them with the signature on the deeds. ‘Different,' she announced. ‘Not by the same hand. A forgery, I'd say.'

A press of people clustered around the table, each studying the various signatures, each noting real or imagined differences. It was Holly who took the initiative and got the attention of everyone. ‘Friends, a little bit of quiet please,' she called. ‘We can all see what this is suggesting and it doesn't look good for certain people. On the face of it we have a forged signature on a transaction made with a dead person. We need to get a legal opinion before taking another step. We should not go public with this information until getting that opinion. Agreed?'

There was a murmur of assent, then Nola took over. ‘I believe this is going to be a sunset to remember,' she said waving a glass at the light show on the horizon. ‘Please help yourself to another champers and let's pray our luck continues.'

‘Luck?' said Mac quietly to Holly. ‘More than that, I'm sure.'

Holly nodded in agreement and their glasses touched in salute. ‘To Hannah,' they both said.

Street stalls were set up outside shops, market stalls were trading under umbrellas and canvas awnings were strung along the grassy verge of Beach Road. Busy Friday morning shoppers and tourists fossicked through the heaps of home-made gifts, clothes, food and knick-knacks. A chocolate wheel and raffles by local services clubs raising money for charities added to the atmosphere.

Lynn and Stolle had set up their stall and were pleased with how the morning sales were going. As it was a ‘townie' market they hadn't set out bulky antiques and furniture but limited their offerings to two long tables of old china, linen, books, silver, and a few ornaments and cushion covers. They were next to a stall selling honey and beeswax products and Lynn was talking to the stallholder about the medicinal virtues of jellybush honey.

Stolle leaned back in his chair thinking he might tackle a surf later in the day. Maybe Tor would like to go with him.

A heavy-set man who obviously worked out, judging by his bulging muscles and well-proportioned physique, strolled up to browse. He interested Stolle who fancied himself as a bit of a people watcher. This man didn't look like a tourist, he wasn't casually dressed nor was he a local. Definitely a city slicker – the mobile phone on his belt, the fancy watch, gold chain. Someone a bit different, Stolle concluded.

‘Howdy. You're new in town, on holidays?'

The man shrugged and studied the selection of ornaments. ‘Just passing through. Wouldn't mind hanging about, nice place. Bit quiet.'

‘Not if you know where the action is. We make our own fun. Do you want to know what's happening in town? Bands? Pubs? The tourist info people are down the road.' Stolle indicated the direction.

‘Ah no, thanks. You got any Disney characters?'

‘You mean like, Mickey Mouses, Goofy? Look over there where the toys are.'

A smile broke out on the man's face as he picked up a plastic Minnie Mouse in a spotted frock and big red shoes. ‘I'll take this.'

Stolle was surprised. ‘Gift for your daughter?'

‘Nah. Me. I collect 'em.'

‘Oh, righto. There you go, five bucks.'

The man looked pleased with his purchase and the price. You can't always pick 'em, Stolle decided, turning his attention to two backpackers.

Tor had wandered among the market stalls, then went down to see Billy. He wanted his long blond hair trimmed. ‘I am starting to feel like a local,' he said.

‘That's good. Doesn't take long to make friends in this town. Hop into this chair, got a slack time so you're in luck. So when are you off to uni?' asked Billy.

‘I have another month before I start. Tina at the lighthouse introduced me to the Southern Cross Centre for Whale Research. It interests me very much so I might do some volunteer work with them, help monitor the whales and record their songs – most fascinating.'

‘Yeah. We all love the big 'uns, wonderful creatures. But I tell you what, if that International Whaling Commission doesn't do the right thing, we can kiss the whales goodbye. It's nothing but a bloody fishing club.'

‘What do you mean?' Tor asked.

‘They're scrapping the South Pacific Whale Sanctuary which goes from here right across the Pacific. Soon it will be back to the bad old days of wholesale whale slaughter.'

‘That would be terrible,' exclaimed Tor.

‘It's greed. When the whales are gone they'll eat the dolphins. And if we can't save the whales and dolphins how can we fight for environmental issues that aren't so obvious?'

‘Well, I will raise my voice as best I can,' Tor said in a very decisive tone.

‘You sound like you've just declared war,' joked Billy. ‘That short enough on the top?'

Tor grinned and nodded approval. He had indeed made a decision – that he would use his skills and knowledge in marine studies to concentrate on cetacean research and the preservation of whales in the Southern Hemisphere. A brief stop in the hairdressing shop in The Bay had shown him his path for the rest of his life.

Letitia left her office to walk along Beach Street for a quiet lunch at her favourite cafe; it was a routine she followed most days. She was cutting through a carpark when someone called.

‘Letitia. A word.'

She stopped, surprised to see Sam getting out of his red Mercedes.

‘I thought you would be headed this way. The office tipped me off when I phoned. Hop in for a minute. Fairly important.' He opened the passenger door for her.

‘Sure, Sam.'

‘I'll make this brief. We've never talked much about the past, like when you were a kid, but as you know your father and I were old mates. We both came to town about the same time, bright, young and ambitious. We weren't even thirty. I was a builder, keen to get on council, your dad a smart new solicitor. We were a good team.' Sam nervously lit up a cigarette. ‘You don't mind, do you?'