The Bay (8 page)

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Authors: Di Morrissey

BOOK: The Bay
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She glanced back at the two workmen idly passing the time that she was paying for. Suddenly she remembered Mick's surname. ‘Well,
Mister
Langdon,' she interrupted firmly and loudly, ‘I'm sorry to tell you that my husband takes his orders from me on this job. I am terminating your involvement. I'll tell your men to leave immediately.'

‘You can't do that, lady,' said Mick, ‘I have a contract.'

Holly hesitated, Andrew had told her he'd hired them on a month to month arrangement. ‘I'll pay out the month as agreed.'

‘I have an agreement with your old man for six months work. I can sue, you know.'

‘So sue me. I'm saving myself money by getting these oafs off my property. They're doing more damage than good.'

‘That's not a smart move, lady. You won't get any other tradesmen to work there,' Mick growled.

‘I hope you're not threatening me, Mr Langdon. I'll manage, thank you very much.' There was a click at the other end of the line and Holly started to shake. What had she done? How could she do that? Had she really said those things to that man? A small sense of elation stilled her shaky legs and she headed to Kirk and Dick with a determined stride.

‘I've just fired your boss. You are free to leave any time in the next few minutes.'

‘What for? Why'd you do that? Mick said your old man was the boss.' Kirk was aggressively defensive.

Dick looked worried. ‘Not because of us. We haven't done anything.'

‘Well, what you have done isn't what I want. Good morning, gentlemen.'

She went to the kitchen and made a strong black coffee then sat on the steps savouring the caffeine kick as the two men loaded up their truck.

Her husband was on the phone an hour later. ‘Holly, what the hell is going on? I've just been pulled out of a meeting by your builder saying he's suing. What have you done?'

‘I'm sorry Mick felt he had to bother you, Andrew. I wasn't happy with the standard of their work, or the fact that they wouldn't listen to me. So I let them go. You said you had a month by month agreement, didn't you?'

‘Are you sure you know what you're doing?' There was a short silence. ‘Fortunately I did only agree to a month by month deal. You'll have to pay them out, and then what are you going to do? They could spread the word around their mates not to touch your place.' Andrew sounded exasperated.

Holly worked hard to keep her voice calm and pleasant. ‘I'll deal with it, sweetheart, no worries. How's everything down there? Haven't talked to you for two days.'

‘Busy. The big project in Thailand looks like coming off. I might be away . . . so you won't be able to reach me at the drop of a hat with any little problem that comes up.'

‘I didn't insist you run out of your meeting,' she reminded him sweetly. ‘I'm handling things. I'll call you tonight.'

‘I'll be late, dinner with the Thai bankers. Gotta run. Let me call you. Bye.'

She looked at the phone feeling suddenly alone. Brave words had fallen so easily from her lips. What the devil was she going to do now? She could feel the shakes returning. She made another cup of coffee, stronger than the earlier one.

Holly was washing up her breakfast plate and cup when an old utility rolled down the driveway with Lynn and Stolle in the front. As they turned to park she was amazed to see all the furniture from Richmond House.

‘Got hold of a friend's ute so figured we'd bring your stuff around, seeing you couldn't carry it the other day,' Stolle said, making no reference to money.

‘Oh, that's kind of you. I'm afraid it will have to go into storage in the shed, I've started all the renovations . . . well, I had until about an hour ago. What a day. What a night. How did you fare in the storm?'

They both stared at her. ‘Storm? What storm?'

Holly laughed, then stopped. ‘You mean you didn't get the rain and wind? It was crazy.' She looked around the garden and slowly it dawned on her – how tidy everything looked. No mess, no broken branches or fronds that one would expect to have blown down; it all looked very dry. She shivered and glanced up at the white railing around the widow's walk.

‘It was a massive storm . . . pelting rain, and the wind . . .'

Lynn and Stolle exchanged a look. ‘Ah, sometimes it rains on one side of town and not on the other. The hill attracts the rain clouds . . .' They changed the subject. ‘So how's the building, or rebuilding?'

Holly was glad of the distraction. There was no point in telling them about the dreamlike events of the previous night. And her immediate problem was pressing.

‘My husband hired a builder who started two weeks ago and was hardly ever here and his two sidekicks were a disaster . . . I fired them.' She gave a pleased smile. ‘Shocked them, and my husband, and me!'

They all laughed.

‘So what are you going to do? Got a lead on a good team?' asked Stolle.

‘No idea. They gave me dire warnings I'd never get anyone to work up here. I guess I'm blacklisted.'

‘Congratulations,' Lynn said, grinning.

‘Means you're a thinking person of integrity with standards above the grunge level,' added Stolle.

‘Well, thanks . . . I guess. But that doesn't help me, does it?'

‘No worries. We know just the person for you. Let's get this stuff unloaded, give us a cuppa and I'll make a phone call,' Stolle said.

Lynn glanced at him as he began untying ropes looped over the furniture. ‘Mitchell?'

‘Who else?'

Holly set up a small table and chairs on the verandah and poured the tea. ‘Sorry, I only have English breakfast. I'll get a selection of herb teas in.' Stolle had asked for green tea, Lynn for peppermint.

‘Cleansing, good for the digestive system.' Stolle reached for a shortbread biscuit. ‘Haven't had one of these for a long time. Loaded with fat, but what the hell, eh?'

‘So tell me about this Mitchell.'

‘Nice guy. Very creative, clever with his hands, good with people. Has a great bunch who work with him. There is one problem . . . well, we don't see it as a problem, but your husband might.'

‘I'm running this show, not my husband,' said Holly with some bravado. ‘So what's the problem? He does sound too good to be true.'

‘No piece of paper. Got the okay up here from the bureaucrats and local clients, but he's not, you know, official,' Stolle said.

Holly looked at Lynn who explained, ‘Not qualified. Never went to college, no degree in engineering, building whatever. Self-taught, just a natural gift.'

Holly looked worried. ‘I'm not sure the wink-wink, nod-nod approach sits too comfortably with me, Stolle. There are building regulations, council inspections, all that sort of stuff.'

‘Ah yeah, but don't let it get you down, Holly. You've spent too long in the city where everything needs a bit of paper – degrees, certificates, approvals – and there are enough rules and regs to confuse Confucius.' Stolle grinned, rather pleased with his reference to the Chinese sage. ‘Nah, Mitchell knows what's what when it comes to wood and tools. Born with talent, I reckon. Just went into the wrong career. He became a craftsman extraordinaire once he left his desk.'

Lynn nodded. ‘Trust us, Holly, he'll do the right thing.'

Stolle ran his eye over the house and scanned the garden. ‘Most of what you want done around here is repair stuff, doesn't need mucking about with council. He'll get the right blokes to make sure water doesn't come out of the light fittings and you don't get a jolt every time you turn on a tap.'

Lynn gave him a sharp elbow jab in the ribs. ‘Okay, funny man, stop trying to be the new millennium Paul Hogan.'

Stolle doubled up in mock agony. ‘Ouch! I'll sue, I'll sue!'

Holly laughed. ‘It seems to be a day for legals. That's the second threat of suing I've heard today. Must be the moon phase.'

‘Talking about the moon, it's full moon tomorrow night,' said Lynn. ‘There's a big women's thing happening, Goddess Night. You must come.'

‘Not sure that it's really me,' said Holly, a little embarrassed. ‘I've never been a group person. Hardly got past girl guides and parents and citizens.'

‘Fair enough, but it's not in the same league. You'll love the sense of community, and you'll make a lot of new friends. Every celebration is a bit different. Depends on who's the energy behind it this year. Come on.'

Holly hesitated, a Goddess Night sounded far too radical. ‘Where is it going to be held? Down at the beach?'

‘No. In a little church hall just out of town. Right by an avocado plantation. I'll give you more details later.'

‘A church hall!' exclaimed Holly in surprise. But she had already made up her mind to go along. Even though her experience of The Bay was limited, she figured that it was useless trying to cling to what was regarded as the norm by city standards. The Goddess Night wasn't going to be anything like a View Club dinner, that was for sure.

The full moon rose over the sea, fat, cheesy yellow, postcard perfect with the lighthouse silhouetted against it. Holly wondered what on earth one wore to a Goddess Night, and finally opted for white cotton slacks, a loose blue shirt and sandals. Lynn, no surprise, looked goddess-like in a floaty caftan with several rainbow-hued scarves, feathers in her hair and a rope of silver wound up her arm.

‘I've got a plate of date slices, some cheese and fruit,' said Holly.

‘Great. The food is always delish at this thing. Now just go with the flow, girl, don't worry about it.'

Holly decided to drive in case she wanted to leave early. Lynn had said she could always get a ride home with any number of friends.

They parked the Forester in a grassy patch under huge Moreton Bay fig trees which formed a leafy arch over the dirt road. Groups of women were already clustered outside the cream-coloured, wooden church hall.

All ages of women were represented, from grannies – hippy to matronly – to young mothers with babies. Some women looked like schoolteachers, others were the characters Holly had seen in the markets, body pierced, coloured hair in dreadlocks threaded with beads and feathers. Their babies were often identically dressed in hand-painted clothes. Most of the crowd was wearing elaborate and fanciful gear and looked happy, expectant, and non-threatening. Holly saw Amber, the young woman who made the cosmetics, and she recognised some other women from seeing them around in shops and on the beach and the streets.

Lynn rushed over to a woman handing out leaflets at the steps of the hall and they hugged each other warmly, but Holly hung back.

‘We all look like a bunch of extras from a Fellini fantasy,' said a cheerful voice beside her.

Holly turned and saw Mac. Naturally she was in purple with glittery bits. ‘Glad to see you're hanging out with Lynn. Listen to what she and Stolle have to say, got their fingers on the pulse of this part of the world.'

‘So it seems. Thank you for arbitrating at the markets. We settled on a price and the historic mementos have been returned. I think Lynn and Stolle will be very helpful.' Holly had embraced Lynn and Stolle while Andrew was still a little suspicious. But so long as Holly was happy with the arrangement he wasn't going to fuss over some old household bits and bobs. She changed the subject. ‘So what goes on here exactly?'

‘Wait and see. Different people organise this every year so it's never the same. Cynthia is doing this one, she's big on drumming. Runs an interesting workshop to relieve stress by drumming. Frees the inhibitions and you can beat the shit out of a drum instead of your old man,' said Mac with a grin. A young girl dashed up to her and gave her a hug. ‘This is Matilda, known as Matty. This is Holly.'

‘Hi, Matty.' Holly touched the flower coronet she was wearing on her hair. ‘That's pretty.'

‘Thanks. Mum and me made it this afternoon. And she did the French braids.' She swung around to show them her hairstyle.

‘And this is Matty's stylist . . . her mother, Kimberley,' laughed Mac, introducing the attractive woman who joined them.

She shook Holly's hand. ‘Hello, I've heard about you. How are things at Richmond House?'

Holly did a mild double take. ‘Oh, you know about my plans?' She glanced at Mac but Kimberley broke in.

‘Don't think me nosy. This is a small community so everyone gets to know everyone's business, which can be good and bad. If I can help out in any way, let me know.'

‘Why thanks, er, what do you do?' asked Holly.

Mac patted her arm. ‘When you say “do”, you mean make a living in cityspeak. Here everyone does many things – hanging out at the beach is doing something. Ask people what their interests are and you might get closer to what people do.'

‘It's one of the dreams people come here to find,' said Kimberley. ‘To do what interests them. Follow their passion, to bliss out.'

Following passions. Blissing out. Finding dreams. Holly suddenly realised with a little shock just how far she'd travelled from Mosman, at least in terms of language and values. She couldn't recall anyone having mentioned share prices since she'd arrived. It was the first thing people asked each other back in Sydney. In Holly's circle what their husbands did immediately established who they were and where they all fitted into the social hierarchy. There were no such ground rules here. She turned to Matty. ‘And what's your big interest? Your passion?'

Matty twisted her mouth as she thought about it. ‘Singing, designing clothes, dressing up rooms . . . oh, lots of stuff.'

‘You might give me some ideas on decorating my new place, when it's ever finished,' said Holly. ‘I've had a disaster with the builders, but Stolle is introducing me to a fellow he says is very good.'

Kimberley laughed. ‘Stolle and Lynn know everyone all right. But seriously, if you want any design stuff, we have a very famous old bird up here.' She glanced around. ‘In fact she should be here. Have you seen Nola?' she asked Matty who was waving to another teenage girl.

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