The moon was silvering the water as they walked back to the bungalow and the air was still and warm. There was a mosquito screen on the bedroom window so Hal turned off the lights and pulled back the curtains to open the window. They lay in the big bed with the ceiling fan revolving slowly overhead and the sea sound came in to them as they turned to each other at last.
It was the first time they had made love for so long and it was like coming home at the end of a perilous voyage. Shannon closed her eyes as she felt him enter her, holding him tight and knowing that Hal was safe and she was safe and that after all they were still one person and the innumerable traumas of their lives had made no difference to how they felt for each other.
Still he had not told her why he had brought her there but she was content to wait. In a way she quite liked it. They were on holiday; that might not be the reason for the trip but that was the fact of it and the wait somehow gave added pleasure to the whole.
‘Not an exploration,’ she said softly to herself in the night air, ‘but an adventure.’
She loved the idea of being on an adventure with Hal Maitland and told him so, but Hal was asleep and did not hear.
She lay for a while, feeling the good blood circulating through her body and listening to the regular sound of the waves, then she too slept.
After breakfast they went out again. Beyond the café a rough track led inland. They followed it, climbing steadily through pine trees. It was an easy climb and pleasant walking, with the soft ground springy beneath their feet and the tree smell pungent in the warm air. They reached a patch of open ground where they sat and looked back the way they had come. The dunes and beach continued as far southwards as they could see, with only the odd building visible along the narrow road that ran parallel with the coast. The sea extended to the horizon, tongues of surf probed the sandy shore and Shannon could hear the sound of the breakers in the still air.
‘This is what I wanted you to see,’ Hal said. ‘I said I was bringing you here to show you our future. And there it is.’
Shannon waited.
‘The American who told me about this place was into surfing back in the US. He said these beaches were the best he’d seen anywhere in the world. Just waiting for someone to develop it, he said. The first in here will make the big bucks: that was what he told me. And now, with the new rail link to Brisbane… So I thought we could check it out together, see if it really has the potential the Yank was claiming. Now you’ve seen it. What do you reckon?’
All this was unfamiliar territory to Shannon, yet she felt a stirring of excitement, as she contemplated what might be their future. But first she must understand. ‘You said development. What do you mean?’
Hal chewed on his thoughts as though he, too, were venturing onto unfamiliar ground. ‘The war’s been a hard time,’ he said. ‘Not just for soldiers, for everyone. Now it’s over I believe people will be looking at the world through different eyes. I don’t see the bad Depression days coming back. There’ll be plenty of work and people will want more than they had in the past. They’ll want proper holidays. Places where they can enjoy the sun and sea. Have fun.’
‘A chance for the mothers to join in, instead of still having to do all the work,’ Shannon said. It was a slippery idea, skidding around in her mind, yet Shannon could see it. Oh yes. But there were questions, too. ‘There are boarding houses.’
Even as she said it she was thinking, No, if Hal is right and lots of people will be looking for more than they had in the past, existing boarding houses, like Wavecrest, won’t be able to cater for them. New bungalows will have to be built. Serviced apartments. Even – possibly? – a hotel. Or hotels?
It was like dipping her toe into an unknown sea. Would there be gold coins under the surface? Or sharks?
‘There’s a problem,’ Hal said. ‘But it might be an advantage, too.’
‘Money,’ Shannon said.
‘Not that,’ Hal said. ‘If the idea’s good, money can always be found. In any case, with my trust fund and what my mother left me, I should have more than enough.’
‘What’s the problem, then?’
‘Planning permission. We’ll need that. I’ve checked it out and for the moment the regulations won’t allow development.’
Shannon looked at him crossly. To conjure up ideas, get her excited, and then say it couldn’t be done… Though she had never been the sort to give up an idea when it had taken hold.
‘It’ll take a while, a few years, maybe, but they’ll have to give permission eventually,’ Hal said. ‘As soon as that happens we’ll be able to make a move.’
Was he right? Of course he was. He was the son of a man who had made a fortune by getting money to work for him. Hal had been raised in that environment; he had to be right. Her father was a labourer. Sure, she was running the Regency Hotel, but that meant nothing in terms of using money to make money.
Words trembled on her lips. Shannon was scared of them but they demanded to be heard. ‘If we can see the potential others will, too.’
‘Not much we can do about that,’ Hal said.
She stared down at the beach stretching so far into the distance; at the sea stretching so far to the horizon. The cloudless sky encompassed the earth and at that moment Shannon felt bigger than all these things as the conviction grew strong in her.
‘We shouldn’t wait,’ she said. ‘You say you’ve got the money. We should find out what’s available and buy now.’
There. She’d said it and, watching Hal’s face, she felt power well up in her. She had the power and had used it and knew she was right to have said what she had.
‘We can’t do anything with it,’ Hal warned. ‘I told you: it could be years before they allow development. It makes no sense to tie up our funds like that.’
‘It makes every sort of sense. People are keen to sell: we saw the signs. It’s best to buy now. Land prices may be down in the cellar at the moment but, if that American was right, they’ll go through the roof once the council starts issuing permits again.’
They stared at each other. To tie up so much of their money on what was no more than a hunch… But the power of Shannon’s conviction overcame doubt. Eventually Hal nodded.
‘We’ll contact the estate agents, see what people are asking for waterfront land. Maybe pick up one or two blocks. If the price is right.’
The agent’s office was in a blue-painted shack a mile down the road. It had the air of a place where business had never been done and none was expected. The door was closed and locked. On a fly-specked window a handwritten sign read Back at 2.
‘You reckon it’s worth coming back?’ Hal said.
The expansion of Shannon’s power had also brought her faith. ‘Of course it is,’ she said. ‘The agent will be here. You’ll see.’
They had lunch in the café where they’d eaten the previous evening. At five minutes past two they were back at the estate agent’s office. A small car was parked beside the shack and, when they tried the door, they found it open. Inside, a middle-aged man, overweight and with thinning hair, was reading a newspaper. He glanced up at them as they came in. His lack of interest was manifest.
‘Help you?’
Amazing how he perked up when he discovered he had serious buyers in front of him, especially when he learnt Hal was the only son of Sir Stoddart Maitland, the well-known millionaire.
‘Get in first? That’s the way to do it! Beat the rush! Very wise thinking, sir!’ More effervescent than champagne.
Shannon guessed they were the only ones the agent had met for a while who knew about the permit problem and were still keen to buy. Not so keen they weren’t willing to haggle, though.
He took them out in his little car and showed them the prime blocks. They listened to his sales talk but knew they were still going to make their own decision.
The formalities still had to be completed but by the time they had beaten him down over prices they left the agent dancing. In their joint names
Hal had bought one hundred acres of the best land along the coast.
For Shannon it was a stunning experience to have become, between one hour and the next, the co-owner of such a huge chunk of real estate. As the train carried them back to Brisbane, she stared out of the window at the passing countryside and thought how a signature on a piece of paper could change their lives so absolutely.
A big-time landowner: it was hard to get her head around that. Hard to believe, too, that Hal trusted her to the extent of giving her a half-share in it. That was the most amazing thing of all.
It was lucky, she thought, that she wasn’t into shedding tears; if she had been, she would have wept buckets. To be so trusted, so loved… She suspected a tear or two might not be far away, after all.
‘My dad will go ape,’ Hal said.
‘Because until the restrictions are lifted we can’t develop?’
‘Exactly.’
Shannon suspected he was right. His father would be as mad as a plague of hornets, but not because for the moment they could do nothing with the land. She thought his problem would be more personal: that by putting the major part of his inheritance into the land Hal was declaring his independence from Sir Stoddart and his business.
That would have him snarling in his soup, no error, and she thought it might mean problems down the track. Not only because she was now joint owner of the south coast property – although he certainly wouldn’t like that, either – but because, back at Wavecrest when they had finished packing, Hal asked her to walk down to the beach with him. Not their land but not far away, either.
‘So,’ Hal said. ‘We’ve done it.’
‘Yes.’
‘Happy?’
The true answer would have been yes, she was happy but scared too, standing on the edge of a cliff whose base was too far away to see. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.
‘Ecstatic,’ she said. ‘It was the right thing to do.’
‘I hope so.’
He took her hand but otherwise did not move. Facing the sea at Hal’s side, Shannon waited as a truck, engine grinding, drove down the road behind them. She took no notice. A bird flew on white wings, dipping over the gently breaking seas. She took no notice but her heart was telling a different story.
Hal, modern Hal, to hell with tradition Hal, went down on one sandy knee and asked her to marry him.
Hal Maitland and Shannon Harcourt: flying to Mars would have seemed more likely.
The wave that was sweeping her forwards now filled her with warmth and light. The unimaginable had happened and she did not hesitate.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes.’
Sir Stoddart wouldn’t think much of his son’s choice but she was tranquil about that. In time she would hopefully win his approval; if she couldn’t, they would have to live without it. Either way, they would get on with their lives. She would have her hands full at the Regency; Hal would go back to work at Maitland Enterprises. After all, as he said, the Regency might provide the bread and butter but Maitlands would be the jam on top, and they agreed they were both fond of jam.
The Alfa roared as they left the Proserpine railway station. Hinschen Street was shining in the rain. At the junction Shannon expected Hal to head for Airlie Beach but instead he turned left into Faust.
She looked at him. ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘I think it’s time you met my father.’
Oh God.
‘But I’m not dressed. My hair’s a mess –’
‘You look gorgeous, as always. I know he’ll be delighted to meet you.’
A lie if she ever heard one. ‘I doubt he knows I exist.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
That was supposed to make her feel good? She stared at the passing countryside. If she hadn’t loved Hal so much, she would have hated him at that moment.
They turned through the entrance gates and down the tree-lined drive, and Shannon remembered Hal telling her how he’d watched her stealing Charlie Hong’s watermelons in those long-ago days before the war.
You couldn’t see the house from the road so that was new to her but the grandeur of the place came as no surprise. From what she’d heard of him, Hal’s dad was not one for a modest dwelling.
Stoddart Maitland was standing at the window staring out at the rain. He turned as Shannon and Hal came into the room. He stood by the window and did not move and Shannon saw this was a man who would always expect the world to come to him.
He was hard featured, his plentiful hair as silver as the precious metal of which he had so much, in one form or another. His eyes were pale and watchful, showing nothing of his thoughts.
A formidable man, Shannon thought, one who would use his wealth to bludgeon what he wanted from life. He said nothing but stood by the window and waited.
‘Father,’ Hal said. ‘I’d like you to meet Shannon Harcourt. You’ve heard me mention her.’
The pale eyes peeled her. ‘I know your father,’ he said. ‘By sight. I believe he has a reputation as a horseman.’
She saw he intended to put her in her place, but life had taught her how to handle intimidation. ‘And a good one,’ she said. ‘Not everyone could ride a horse up those steps into the Clover Leaf bar.’
‘Nor would wish to, I imagine.’ He returned to the high-backed chair behind the large desk. He sat down. ‘I have an interest in the mill,’ he said. ‘I believe your father is employed there?’
‘He was a labourer there, yes,’ Shannon said. ‘After he lost his land in the Depression. But not any more. My father’s dead.’
‘I had not heard.’ The voice was polite but cold. ‘I’m sorry.’
A form of words: no more than that; there was no warmth in this man. Hal had said they would need his father’s expertise when the time came to develop their land but Shannon saw there was no guarantee they’d get it; Sir Stoddart Maitland would share with no one, not even his son.
‘Shannon and I are engaged,’ Hal said.
Did she imagine the hint of desperation in his voice?
The hard face showed nothing as he turned his head to stare at her. ‘You love my son?’
The pale eyes watched, the question a howitzer shell fired straight at her, but Shannon was reasonably sure her expression gave nothing away.
‘I would not have accepted him otherwise,’ she said.
‘Of course.’ He would not demean himself by a sneer, but it was close. ‘And when is the happy event to take place?’
‘Soon,’ Shannon said. ‘And with your blessing, I hope.’
‘You know your half-sister came to see me?’ he said. ‘After the Darwin raid? She asked me to find out if you were alive or dead.’
‘I heard,’ Shannon said.
‘I respected her for that. To approach an influential man she didn’t know? And she was still young, I recall. I thought it showed courage.’
‘I like to think it is a quality we share.’
For the first time a smile glimmered in the hard face. ‘I suspect you may be right.’
‘He’s not happy,’ Shannon said as she and Hal walked back down the stairs to the entrance hall. ‘He’d have preferred you to marry Bessie Bigbuds with a million in the bank.’
‘He respects you. That’s what matters. As for being rich and influential… We’ll be both, in time.’
‘You are now.’
‘So are you. You own fifty acres of prime beachfront land south of Brisbane.’
‘Which for the moment we can do nothing with.’
‘Our day will come,’ Hal said.
‘The sooner the better,’ Shannon said. ‘And in the meantime, I’ve a hotel to run.’
Hal wanted them to get married straight away but Shannon wouldn’t agree.
‘Spring’s the best time for weddings,’ she said. ‘Think of all those spring flowers.’
‘Think of cuddling up in those cold winter nights.’
‘You plan to cuddle up only in the winter?’
&nb
sp; ‘Might be a bit hot in January.’
‘I like to think it’ll be hot any time.’
A springtime marriage was only an excuse; she had another and more potent reason. Usually she didn’t care what other people thought yet somehow this was different, and she wanted no one thinking they were getting married only because they had to.
You must be more respectable than you thought, she told herself.
Respectable or not, it was the first Saturday in September when she walked down the aisle on Arthur Nimrod’s arm to marry the man she had wanted ever since she was eight years old, when he had belonged to a world as far removed from her life as the moon. Now she thought with wonder how she too had become a member of that world.
Not that everyone thought of her in quite that way. As she had anticipated, Sir Stoddart had done what he could to change Hal’s mind but, when that failed, had decided to make the most of what he no doubt thought was a regrettable error of judgement on Hal’s part.
The church was packed with Sir Stoddart’s business acquaintances, those who would have called themselves his friends in a world where true friendship did not exist.
Her side was sparsely represented. Jess was bridesmaid; in addition to Arthur Nimrod, several of the Regency staff were there; and even Hank Rankin, now out of the US military, put in an appearance. Her handful of well-wishers, though, could not match the mob of suits, the wives submerged beneath the be-flowered and broad-brimmed hats complete with ribbons that were the fashion of the moment.
It was the Airlie Yacht Club ball revisited. There were some whose faces smiled beneath the flowered meadows of their hats yet managed without a word to convey their disappointment that Hal Maitland, catch of the district, should have moved so far down-market in his search for a bride. Others seemed more genuine in their greetings, while the husbands of both categories made plain their indifference to the event while taking the opportunity to make their numbers with the bridegroom’s father. The son might, in time, prove his worth in the business world but for the moment could be ignored; of the bride, whose past career as a barmaid was well known, there was nothing to be said at all. Although Alan Watkins, whose amorous activities were known to all including his wife, eyed Shannon’s figure beneath the white silk wedding gown and speculated on his chances once the gilt was off the gingerbread. A barmaid, after all…
White Sands of Summer Page 23