The Bay (46 page)

‘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 so 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 and 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.'

‘She was known as a bit of a recluse, alone in that house for so many years. She finally went into the Anglican nursing home,' said Sid.

‘And she never knew that Erik survived,' sighed Tor.

‘What was the story there?' Sid asked. ‘What did the family in Norway tell her? Why didn't they send the boy back?'

‘Ah, families, complex and emotional. I cannot make excuses for what happened, but my grandmother has put the story together from letters and diaries,' Tor said. ‘Lars fell out with his parents over the girl he wished to marry. So he sailed away and became a whaling captain. He married Hannah in Australia, had the two sons and over the years they exchanged just a few letters with the family in Norway.'

‘But he did take the sons back to visit. Trying to patch things up, no doubt,' said Mac as they walked slowly between the gravestones. ‘Tragic loss. A storm you said.'

‘Erik survived, and was sent to his grandparents in Norway. Lars's mother could not give him up, she had lost her only son when he ran away to sea. So they sent word to Australia that both sons had perished.'

Sid shook his head. ‘And what about the lad, surely he asked about his mother back in Australia?'

‘Hannah stayed behind because she was expecting a child. They told Erik she'd died in childbirth. A sorry story, yes?'

‘Bloody dreadful. Still, you're here. And I reckon Hannah knows you're here,' said the old man.

Mac linked her arm through Tor's. ‘I believe she knows you have come back. It will put her soul at peace. She has been lost and lonely for a long time. Trapped in that house.'

‘I saw her,' said Tor quietly. ‘Holly knew she was there.'

‘She is released now. The circle is complete. But then you knew that when you encountered the whale, didn't you?'

Tor nodded. ‘I felt a release. I never understood why all my life I have felt such pain and guilt over whaling when Norway is, you know . . . still whaling. And knowing my ancestors were whalers.'