by Jojo Moyes
'Jeez, you've got a poor opinion of me,' I said.
'No, I'm just careful.' She closed her hands into two tight fists. 'These days I'm just careful.'
Del was happy to host the meeting - he knew he'd get a few extra all-day brekkies out of it - but he'd told me straight beforehand that he didn't oppose the development. Sited where he was, within a few feet of it, he said, wiping his hands on his apron, he stood to make a killing. Like the kind of clientele they were talking about would stop by an old greasebucket like MacIver's for lunch. I knew I wasn't going to sway the old bugger, but I guessed correctly that guilt might make him good for a bacon roll and, as the time approached, I sat outside and ate it, washed down with a good strong coffee.
I had put the word round, and a few local hotel owners, fishermen, the whalechasers, people who were likely to be affected by it all, were coming. We sat and stood outside MacIver's, waiting for people to straggle in. A few clutched copies of the newspaper. Some murmured to each other, while a few chatted normally, as if the town weren't about to be changed completely.
I didn't talk to Liza when she got there, and she didn't seem in a hurry to talk to me. But I waved at Hannah, who came over and sat next to me. 'Your boat's still in the lock-up,' I said quietly, because I wanted to see her smile.
'Will all the dolphins move away?' she said.
Kathleen had arrived, and put a hand on her shoulder. 'I'm sure they've seen worse than this,' she said. 'In the war we had warships in the bay, bombers going overhead, submarines . . . but we still had dolphins. Don't you worry.'
'They're smart, aren't they? They'll know to keep out of everyone's way.'
'Smarter than most people round here,' said Kathleen. I didn't like the way she looked sideways at me when she said that.
Lance got up and began to speak. We'd agreed he'd be better at all that stuff - I was never one for public speaking and we all knew Liza would have died rather than put her face about. He said he appreciated that the development would have some economic benefits for the town, but the watersports school would run the risk of destroying the town's one area for tourist growth: the whales and dolphins. 'I appreciate a lot of you guys won't care one way or the other, but this is the one thing that marks out Silver Bay from a lot of the other destinations, and most of you will know that when the tourists come out on our boats, they'll often stop off in the cafes or shops on the way home. Or they'll stay in your hotels and motels.'
There was a murmur of agreement.
'This thing is foreign money,' he said. 'Yes, there will be a few jobs, but you can bet your life the profits won't stick around in Silver Bay. Not even in New South Wales. Foreign investment means returns to foreigners. And, besides, we don't even know the full nature of this development. If it has its own cafes and bars, well, hell, you guys will lose as much as you gain.'
'It might boost the winter trade, but,' came a voice from the back.
'At what cost? If the whales and dolphins go, there isn't going to be any winter trade,' said Lance. 'Be honest. How many people would come here in June, July, August if it wasn't for Whale Jetty? Huh?'
There was silence.
Beside me Hannah was reading the newspaper. I swear that kid's getting so grown up it'll be two ticks before she's driving. 'Greg,' she said, frowning.
'What is it, sweetheart?' I whispered. 'You want me to get you something to eat?'
'That's Mike's company.' Her little finger was on a bit of the print. 'Beaker Holdings. That's the one that has his picture on their website.'
It took me a minute or two to work out what she was saying, and a little longer longer to work out what that meant. 'Beaker Holdings,' I read. 'You sure, sweetheart?'
'I remembered it because it was like a bird beak. Does that mean Mike's bought Silver Bay?'
I could barely see straight for the rest of that meeting. I just about held it together while Lance organised a petition. I managed to raise my hand when they voted to call up the planning guy and register a complaint. And then, as everyone drifted away, I asked Kathleen if she knew whether Mike was at the hotel.
'He's in his room,' she said. 'I think his girlfriend's gone shopping.' She sniffed. 'She likes shopping.' She looked up at me. 'Greg? You okay?'
'Can you get Liza?' I said, trying to keep the edge from my voice in front of the little one. 'There's something you need to know.'
It took eighteen months for me to get Liza McCullen into bed and nearly two years more for her to trust me enough to tell me about her daughter.
That was why I couldn't believe it when, the day after the whale calf died, I drove up to the hotel to bring her keys, which she'd left at mine in her usual hurry to get home. It's why I haven't been back to the hotel since - because the image still burnt in my imagination, tormented me no matter how many beers I poured down my throat: her sitting in the car park of the Silver Bay Hotel, soon after she'd got out of my bed, bold as brass, held tight in the arms of that Englishman.
As it turned out, he was sitting in the kitchen - where only Kathleen's family ever goes, like he had some kind of rights over the place. When we appeared in the doorway he looked up. He had been reading an old guide book and was wearing a smart shirt. Just the sight of him in that space made me want to smack him.
It took him a second or two to register. But Liza didn't give him any more than that. She slammed the newspaper on to the kitchen table.
'That how you do your research, is it?'
He looked at the headline and actually went white. I've never seen it happen before, but the colour ran out of him so fast that I almost found myself looking down in case a puddle of blood was leaking on to the floor.
'Sit in our hotel for the best part of a month making friends, asking questions, chatting up my daughter, and all the while you're planning to ruin us?'
He stared at the front page.
'Of all people - of all people! Knowing what you knew, how could you, Mike? How could you do that?'
By God, I'd never seen her so mad. She was electric, fizzing. Her hair almost stood on end.
He stood up. 'Liza, let me explain--'
'Explain? Explain what? That you came here pretending to be on holiday and all the while you've been plotting and planning with the bloody council to destroy us?'
'It's not going to destroy you or the whales. I've been working on putting all these safeguards in place.'
She laughed then, a hollow, crazy sound. I have to admit she was a little scary at this point.
'Safeguards, safeguards. How is a bloody watersports park bang in the middle of our waters any kind of safeguard? There'll be speedboats whizzing around pulling skiers, jet-skis, you name it. Do you know what this is going to do to the whales?'
'How is it worse than what you do? It's just boat engines. They'll know to steer clear of the migration path. There will be rules. Advisories.'
'Rules? What the hell do you know? You think an eighteen-year-old boy with a jet-ski wants to talk about rules?' She was shaking with rage. 'You watched us try to save that baby whale, and now you can stand there and say your bloody watersports park won't affect anything? Worse, you got my daughter to tell you what was most needed so you could suck up to the planning department and win them over.'
'I thought it might be something good,' he protested. 'She said they were things they needed.'
'They were things you needed to get the bloody planning department on your side. You're sick, you know that? Sick.'
'It's not my decision,' he said helplessly. 'I've been doing my best to make this thing work for everybody.'
'You've been doing your best to line your pockets,' I said. I moved a step closer to him, and I saw him square, as if he were preparing himself for a blow.
Liza turned back, tearful now. She shook her head and said bitterly, 'You know . . . everything you said you were is a lie. Everything.'
That was the first time he looked angry. 'No,' he said urgently, reaching out a hand. 'Not everything. I wante
d to talk to you. I still want to talk but--'
She brushed him off as if he was toxic. 'You really think there's anything you have to say that I'd want to hear?'
'I'm sorry. I wanted to say something about the development,' he continued, 'but I had to get it worked out first. Once I realised what the whales meant to you guys, I wanted to find a way to keep everyone happy.'
'Well, congratu-bloody-lations,' she spat. 'I hope you're happy, because this thing's going to destroy us, and it'll destroy the whales. But, hey, as long as your investors get a good return, I'm glad you're happy.'
I offered to hit him then.
'Oh, don't be such a bloody fool,' she said, and with a dismissive wave that seemed to include both of us, she pushed past me and out of the kitchen.
A girl was standing in the hallway, blonde with expensive clothes and a diddy little handbag held close to her chest. She stood back to let Liza pass. 'Is everything okay?' she said. Another Pom. This must be the girlfriend, I thought. Too good for the likes of him.
'I'll have you, mate,' I said to him, pointing my finger into his face. 'Don't think any of this is going to be forgotten.'
'Oh, calm down, Greg,' said Kathleen, wearily, and pushed me out of the kitchen. Like it was my bloody fault. Like any of it was my bloody fault.
'Vanessa, perhaps you'd like to come in and sit down. I'll make a pot of tea.'
Thirteen
Kathleen
Newcastle Observer, 11 April 1939
The largest grey nurse shark ever caught in New South Wales has been landed in a fishing community north of Port Stephens - by a 17-year-old girl.
Miss Kathleen Whittier Mostyn, daughter of Angus Mostyn, proprietor of the Silver Bay Hotel, hauled in the creature on Wednesday afternoon out in waters near Break Nose Island. She landed it unaided from a small sculling craft while her father had briefly returned to the hotel to fetch some provisions.
He said: 'I was genuinely shocked when Kathleen showed me her catch. The first thing we did was bring it into shore and call up the appropriate authorities, as it was my guess that she had broken some kind of record.'
A fisheries spokesman confirmed it was the largest shark of its kind ever netted in the area. 'This is a considerable achievement for a young lady,' said Mr Saul Thompson. 'The shark would have been difficult to land even by a proper game fisherman.'
The shark has already become a considerable attraction, with local game fishermen and sightseers travelling some distances to see the creature. Mr Mostyn plans to have it mounted and placed in the hotel as a record of his daughter's estimable catch. 'We just have to find a wall strong enough,' he joked.
The hotel staff say bookings have trebled since news broke of Miss Mostyn's rize, and the record is sure to add to the area's growing reputation as a fine place for game-fishing.
I dusted the glass frame and put the yellowing newspaper cutting back against the wall, alongside the photographs of the stuffed shark. The taxidermy itself hadn't been particularly successful - I suspected my father had been in such a hurry to put it on show that he had not had it done by anyone of genuine skill - and the creature had fallen apart when it was moved from the hotel into the museum, stuffing oozing from the seams around the fins and along the joint of the tail. Eventually we admitted defeat and put it out with the bins. I watched out of the window with amusement on the day the bin men came.
It didn't help that it had been handled by pretty much every visitor who ever walked in. There was something about a stuffed shark that made people want to touch it. Perhaps it was the frisson of knowing that in normal circumstances they wouldn't be that close to one without amputation or death following hard behind. Perhaps it gave them some strange sense of power. Perhaps we all harbour a perverse need to get close to things that might destroy us.
I looked away deliberately from the photographs and ran the duster lightly over the other objects and curios, seeing the museum through the eyes of the kind of tourist who would be interested in a top-of-the-range watersports park. Or, as the newspaper had put it, a 'proper' Museum of Whales and Dolphins. I had not had a visitor in ten days. Perhaps I couldn't blame them, I thought, carefully placing a harpoon back on its hooks. This was increasingly less a museum than a bunch of old fishbones in a rackety shed. I was only keeping it going because of my father.
They were all up at the hotel, sitting outside, loudly discussing their ideas to fight the planning decision over beer and chips. I hadn't wanted to be among them, didn't want to feign sympathy for as yet uncommitted crimes against free creatures of the sea. My own feelings, my own reservations, were quite different from theirs.
I heard the door creak and turned. Mike Dormer was there. It was hard to see his face, as he stood against the light, so I beckoned to him.
'I haven't been in here before,' he said, glancing around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his normally straight-backed posture stooped and apologetic.
'Nope,' I agreed. 'You haven't.'
He walked around slowly, staring up at the beams, from which hung old lines, nets and buoys, whaler's overalls from the 1930s. He seemed interested in everything in a way genuine visitors rarely were.
'I recognise this picture,' he said, stopping in front of the newspaper cutting.
'Yes, well . . . One thing we do know about you, Mike, is that you certainly do your research.'
It came out harder than I'd intended, but I was tired and I still felt unbalanced because I'd had him under my roof for so long yet failed to get the measure of him.
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I deserved that.'
I sniffed, and began to dust the souvenirs on the trestle table, next to the old till. They seemed tacky and pathetic all of a sudden: whale key-rings, dolphins suspended in plastic balls, postcards and tea-towels featuring grinning sea creatures. Children's gifts. What was the point when no children came here any more?
'Look, Kathleen, I know you might not want to talk to me right now but I do have to say something to you. It's important to me that you understand.'
'Oh, I understand, all right.'
'No, you don't. I wanted to say something,' he said. 'Really. I came out here expecting it to be a straightforward development job. I thought I'd be in and out, that I was building in an area that no one would be fussed about. Once I realised that wasn't the case, I was trying to work out a solution that would keep my boss happy in England and you lot happy out here. I needed to find out as much as I could.'
'You could have shared that with us. We might have been able to contribute something. Especially since I've lived in the area for seventy-odd years.'
'I know that now.' I noted with a weird satisfaction that his shoes had become very scuffed. 'But once I got to know you all it was impossible.'
'Especially Liza,' I said. Call it a wild guess.
'Yes,' he said. 'Yes, and Liza.'
'Well, Mike, for a quiet man you've made a big impact around here.' I kept polishing, not sure what else to do with myself. I didn't want to stand there in front of him. We were silent for a few minutes, as I worked with my back to him. I sensed him staring at me.
'Anyway,' he said, coughing, 'I appreciate that this probably changes things. I've been ringing around. There's a place up the coast that will have me - us. We'll go this afternoon. I just wanted to say how sorry I was, and that if there's anything I can do to - well, to mitigate the effects of this development, you should let me know.'
I paused, my duster raised in my hand, and turned to him. My voice, when it came, sounded unusually loud in the cavernous space. 'How do you mitigate killing off a seventy-year-old family business, Mike?' I asked.
He looked shattered then, as I'd guessed he would.
'You know what? I don't really give a fig about the hotel, no matter what you might think. Buildings as such don't hold a great deal of importance for me, and this one's been falling down for years. I'm not even that fussed about the bay. And the whales and t
he dolphins, I'm hoping that the busybodies who look out for them now will see they're okay.'
I shifted my weight, passed my duster into the other hand. 'But there's something you should know, Mike Dormer. When you destroy this place, you destroy Hannah's safety. This is the one place she can be in all the world where she doesn't have to worry, where she can grow up safe and untouched. I can't explain more than that, but you should know it. Your actions will have an impact on our little girl. And for that I can't forgive you.'
'But - but why would you have to leave here?'
'How can we afford to live in a hotel with no customers?'
'Who says you'll have no customers? Your hotel is completely different from what's planned. There'll always be customers for a place like yours.'
'When there are a hundred and fifty rooms with en-suites and satellite television next door? And winter three-for-two offers and a heated pool indoors? I don't think so. The one thing we had going for us here was isolation. The kind of people who came here wanted to be in the middle of nowhere. They wanted to be able to hear the sea at night and the whisper of the grass on the dunes and nothing else. They didn't want to hear karaoke night in the Humpback Lounge, and the sound of forty-eight cars reversing in and out of the car park on their way to the subsidised buffet. Come on, Mike, you deal in hard figures, in commercial research. You tell me how an operation like this stays afloat.'
He made as if to speak, then mutely shook his head.
'Go back to your masters, Mike. Tell them you've done their bidding. You've sealed the deal, or whatever it is you City types say.'
I was close to tears and this made me so furious that I had to start dusting again, so he couldn't see my face. Seventy-six years old and about to cry like an adolescent girl. But I couldn't help it. Every time I thought about Liza and Hannah disappearing, about them having to settle somewhere far from here, having to start over, I got short of breath.
I had half expected him to leave, I'd had my back to him for so long. But when I turned he was still there, still staring at the floor, still thinking.