‘As always,’ she grinned. Unlike him, she was the perfect heir of property money. No one else could have carved out their own little niche of eccentricity like Cassie. This crowd would have ridiculed anyone else for their free-spirited lifestyle, but Cassette was indulged by the money end of town because her surname was Morgan.
‘And you look as miserable as always,’ she remarked to Craig. ‘No wait a moment, you actually look more miserable than usual. What’s the matter? Someone broken your heart? Oh no. No, it couldn’t be that. You’d actually have to have a relationship with someone for that.’
‘Knock it off, Cassie.'
They were interrupted by one of the agents Craig had been working with on the north side of town. By the look in his eye, he’d come over to salivate over Cassie, but he did so under the pretence of talking business with Craig. Craig caught Cassie looking furtively for an escape. He stepped deliberately but discretely on her foot, their private signal for ‘you must stay here with me.' She complied, it was a lifelong pact neither of them had ever broken, and for the duration of the boring conversation that unfolded, he cherished her for her honour.
When the race was announced Craig hung back, as Cassie, the realtor and the rest of the crowd drifted off towards the cinema screen. There was much excited chatter as the horses were shut into their gates.
As they galloped around the track, he watched the swarm on the Hamilton hillside whooping and cheering. He wondered how much money had been parted with this afternoon from this group alone. Probably enough to feed a starving African nation.
Then the race was over, and some people were shouting for joy while others were shaking their heads in mock despair. Others still, were looking a little pale. All of them immediately got back to the business of drinking and schmoozing.
Much later that night, the guests had thinned, and only the very drunk and very important remained. Craig was helping clean up while Keith was having closed-door discussions inside the house. He'd just interrupted the north side realtor kissing someone’s daughter up against a tree in the far corner of the yard. ‘Time to move on folks,’ he said, giving the realtor a convivial slap on the back with camaraderie he didn’t feel.
Cassie was following him around the backyard with her heels swinging from her fingertips, chatting away with only a faint slur. She really could hold her bubbles.
‘You know you don’t have to do this,’ she said, gesturing to the plastic bag in Craig’s hand. ‘Daddy pays the groundskeeper to clean up.’
‘I know, but it keeps me busy and out of the way.’
Cassie didn’t press any further but moved on to gossip. ‘Did you see Mrs Armitage eyeing off Charles Thompson? Silly old bird. As if someone that hot would even look twice at a leathery old bat like that.’
‘Hmm,’ murmured Craig, disinterested in her chatter. ‘If you think he’s so hot, perhaps you should go and find him to follow around instead of me. But if you must hound me, would you please put your shoes on. There's broken glass everywhere.’
Cassie pouted and slipped her heels back on. ‘I don’t need to chase after Charles Thompson,’ she led and waited for him to ask more.
He entertained her, because out of all the people he’d had to endure tonight, at least he could be himself with Cassie.
‘Please do tell, Cassie, why don’t you need to chase after Charles Thompson?’
She exploded with joy. ‘Because I’m seeing someone!’
Craig tied the top of the plastic bag and dropped it next to the overflowing wheelie bin. He grabbed another and returned to the lawn, Cassie following him like a loyal pup. ‘That’s great Cass, who is he?’
Cassie drew in her lips and tipped her head to look at him coyly. ‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Why not?' Craig sighed.
‘Because he’s married!’ she exclaimed, almost gleefully.
Craig stopped, an empty beer bottle in his hand. He looked at her. ‘Really, Cass? Are you serious?' Not again.
‘Oh, don’t be such a fuddy duddy. His marriage is over, and he’s about to leave his wife. She’s got depression, so he is just waiting for the right time. He won’t be married for much longer.'
Like a word of that was true.
‘Kids?’ Please don’t let there be any kids involved.
‘No. Thank God. I wouldn't be in it if there were kids, even if they were already divorced.’
He watched her in silence until she squirmed. She might tease him about his love life, but hers was a shambles, a key contributor to the wrecked state of her emotional well-being.
‘What?’
‘You know what.’ He paused and then continued. ‘Look, I’m not going to give you a lecture. You’re an adult, and you can make your own decisions. But Jesus, Cass, these are people’s lives you're playing with. It’s not just a bit of fun to keep you amused for a few months.’
‘Thanks for the advice, grumpy bum. What would you know anyway? How long has it been since you’ve been with anyone, Craig? You don’t even connect with other human beings any more. Relationships are complicated.’
Craig sighed and thought of the last human being he’d connected with, much more recently than anyone who’d harassed him today would suspect. Cassie didn’t need to tell him about complications.
He scanned the backyard slopes, checking for more stray beer bottles. It was clear, so he tied a knot in the bag and made his way back towards the house, Cassie trailing behind him. He dropped the bag next to the bin. The groundskeeper could take care of that in the morning. Craig was ready to call it a night.
‘Are you coming to the community meeting tomorrow night?’ he asked Cassie as he washed his hands in the outdoor sink on the back patio. The backup wouldn’t be unwelcome; though he wasn’t too sure how welcome Cassette the performance artist herself was, in West End.
‘Nah. Daddy said I have to stay away. You do know you're going to get savaged by the local hippies don’t you?’
‘I can handle it,’ he said.
And usually he could. But this time, after last night, he wasn’t so sure. There was one ‘local hippy’ in particular, whom he was expecting to be especially savage.
Chapter five
The West End Community Centre was humming when Charlotte arrived at 6:45pm with Emily in tow. The Centre occupied an old Queenslander just off Boundary Street, and it was the hub of the socially-active local community. On any given night, one community group or another was meeting there to discuss how they might lobby the local council to stop, or start, something. When something threatened them, the locals came out in droves, waving placards and chanting, in the name of preserving the status quo.
Charlotte didn’t really mind change per se, only that which threatened her livelihood. It wasn’t because she was a regular community agitator that people greeted her as she walked through the throng assembling on the footpath. Over the course of the morning, a steady stream of locals had dropped in on her, Ben and the Hoangs to ask about the community forum and speculate on what to expect. By mid-afternoon, an informal committee had formed, and before she knew it, Charlotte was nominated as their spokesperson.
Despite the reservations of the crowd, the atmosphere was generally jovial. A cool change had come through late in the afternoon, refreshing the air. A summer storm threatened, though far off in the distance. The locals were using the event as an opportunity to catch up; to ask after each other’s kids and work and to chat about politics. And they were confident because they had someone to count on.
It was enough to give Charlotte a stiff neck.
Wondering if there was a masseuse in the crowd, Charlotte made her way across the scratched wooden floorboards to Ben, who was leaning against a poster-covered wall by the water cooler. Emily hung back by the door chatting.
Ben had come straight from work. He was still wearing his standard black t-shirt, black jeans and his apron. Charlotte tugged at the latter, and he groaned, rolled his eyes, and removed it.
Tonig
ht the centre was fitted out with mismatched, donated chairs arranged in rows facing the front of the main room. There was no way there was enough seating for everyone. The people with placards would need to stand at the back. One part of Charlotte wanted to join them; to conceal her face behind a sign and chant, ‘Hell no! We won’t go!' But her peers would be having none of that.
‘How did you go?’ Ben asked.
‘Nothing,’ Charlotte reported, pouting glumly. She’d spent the last few hours researching planning and development legislation, city codes and development approval processes, looking for a loophole to shut this proposal down before it even started. Previous approvals for the area offered nothing but discouragement. It appeared any loopholes generally worked in the developer’s favour, and not the other way around.
There was little she could do while the project was only a concept. She needed a formal proposal to be submitted before they could object. Perhaps tonight she might get an idea of when that might be.
The cynicism she was dragging with her wasn’t born of faithlessness. She treasured the cultural texture of the streetscape along Boundary Street. It was why she’d chosen the area in the first place. But her research indicated history did not bode well for well-meaning community agitators. A precedent of demolition had long been established. Her arguments about preserving the cultural heritage felt feeble.
‘Don’t look now,’ said Ben. ‘The show is about to begin.’
Charlotte turned around to see Craig enter the room with another, older man. As he swept into the room, there was a very audible and very feminine gasp. Well, maybe that was just her. Why did he have to be so good-looking? Tonight he was wearing a snug-fitting pair of denim jeans and a vintage press-stud, checked shirt. Glancing at his feet, she noticed a pair of black RM Williams boots completed the look. Cleverly casual for this kind of crowd but thanks to his physique, he still looked commanding. This was going to be harder than she thought.
Her mind wandered of its own accord, and she almost stumbled toward him under the spell of his magnetic pull. To recover, she averted her gaze and took in his companion, who was much less alluring and far surlier. She knew from her googling this was his father’s partner and consequently now his boss. The Morgan of the operation. He looked like a ball-breaker. On screen and in real life.
Thankful Craig had not seen her yet, Charlotte scanned the room and caught Emily do a double take. She may be happily married, but Emily always noticed an attractive specimen of the male persuasion. Catching Charlotte’s eye, she mouthed ‘Wow!’, and came racing across the room.
‘Cripes, Charlotte, you have to go up against him?’ she whispered in awe.
If you only knew, Charlotte thought. ‘So where did you say your husband was tonight?’ she asked.
Emily simply grinned at her. ‘He’s working late again,’ she answered. ‘Are you sure you can handle this guy?’
‘I can handle it,’ Charlotte said and herded Emily to a seat in the third row, beckoning to Ben to follow. Could she handle it? Beneath the simmering fury was a fine layer of hurt. Craig had given her no cause to be suspicious the other night. To think he'd been merely playing her all along made her doubt herself. Surely she should have picked up on his insincerity. Was he really that good of a player? Studying him now, taking his place beside his boss, all evidence pointed to yes.
A microphone and two chairs were set up at the front of the room. Keith Morgan picked up the microphone while Craig scanned the audience. When he came upon her, his eyes locked with hers. Summoning her anger, she didn’t hold back. Yes, I know who you are, you fucker, she glared, crossing her arms and legs.
He registered and looked away, scalded. Or so she’d like to think. Around her, the room quieted in anticipation.
Keith Morgan cleared his throat and started growling into the microphone, instantly raising the hackles of the people gathered. Maybe this would be easier than she thought.
‘Right then, good evening ladies and gentlemen, my name is Keith Morgan, and I am the CEO of Morgan Carmichael Property Developments. I understand you're all here tonight to find out about our new proposal for 165 Boundary Street.'
Keith was obviously uncomfortable addressing this kind of crowd and Craig winced ever so slightly as he delivered his opening address, before deftly intercepting and taking control of the situation. Her eyes wide-open now, Charlotte wondered if anyone else was witnessing what she was. He was a master manipulator: dressed the right way and astute enough to cut his boss off before he sabotaged the entire evening. She dreaded him opening his mouth because she knew firsthand how seductive that could be.
‘Thanks, Keith,’ said Craig, as he arrested the microphone. ‘And thank you all for coming. My name is Craig Carmichael, and I am the Project Director for the Boundary Street Project.'
‘We don’t want your stinking development!’ someone yelled from the back of the room. Charlotte indulged herself in a smirk. She hoped her own arguments would be more articulate.
Craig, however, let the remark slide. He'd done this before; that was obvious. Charlotte’s confidence floundered again. He would have all of the answers. She didn’t stand a chance.
As he continued, she noticed Craig met people’s eyes and gave them a sense that he was talking directly to them. She also noticed a few women in the room blush when he spoke to them. As he worked his charm on the entire room, her mission was becoming more and more difficult.
‘I appreciate you have your reservations,’ he was saying, ‘which is why Keith and I have come to talk to you tonight. To begin, I’d like to give you a bit of background on Morgan Carmichael Property Developments.’
‘The development industry certainly does not have a reputation for environmental, social or cultural awareness. Particularly in this city, with its history of demolishing heritage buildings in the middle of the night. But Morgan Carmichael is not like other developers. We are aware that value can be measured in more than dollars.'
‘We have a keen understanding of how buildings add or detract from the community as a whole. They are not stand alone structures, but they are part of a street, a neighbourhood, a community, a suburb and a city.'
Unwittingly, Charlotte found herself listening intently, slowly being hypnotised. Maybe this new development would be okay after all. They might make sure it fits with the streetscape and the locals were going to have a chance to provide input.
On her left, Emily gave her a sharp dig in the ribs and hissed in her ear. ‘Are you sure you can handle this guy?' Charlotte glared at her, then shook her head clear as Craig continued.
‘Our philosophy is to build on existing social assets and support them, rather than destroy them. We have an entire division dedicated to managing what is known in the industry as inner-city infill developments. And by managing I mean more than managing financially. We have a researcher on board who looks into the history of the area. We also contract a futurist, a consultant who predicts not only the growth potential of an area but the social and cultural significance of our proposed developments. Finally, one of our core philosophies is to develop sustainably, using materials whose manufacture is not resource intensive and designs that minimise the impact on the environment.’
‘Bullshit!’ Ben fake-sneezed on Charlotte’s right, causing the people around them to snigger.
Craig paused to smile, throwing it at both Ben and Charlotte, before continuing.
‘We also undertake a rigorous community consultation process which, for the Boundary Street development, is beginning tonight. Through this process, we ask the community to air their concerns and offer them the opportunity to shape the development planned for their neighbourhood.’
Over the course of his speech, the crowd had gradually fallen silent, buying the sales pitch, just as Charlotte had found herself doing. Damn him and his mesmerism.
Craig paused heavily and the crowd began to murmur. A number of eyes turned in Charlotte’s direction. Craig picked up on the cue expertly. Ooh,
he was good.
‘Ms Evans,’ he said, letting the crowd know he knew her. ‘As this proposal directly affects you, I’d be very keen to hear your thoughts.’
Charlotte glared at him so he couldn’t fail to interpret those thoughts. You had plenty of chances to hear them the other night, you arsehole.
But when she cleared her throat, it was with trepidation. As angry as she was, she wasn’t blinded by it. She knew she was going to get shot down. Was it too much to expect to retain her dignity in the process?
‘Mr Carmichael,’ she said, using his name as deliberately as he'd used hers, her voice deceptively controlled. ‘I’d like to know more about how you came to choose this site for your proposal. Surely there must be vacant land in the suburb that could offer you the same financial return?’
Craig eyeballed her and paused for thought. Good. She had surprised him.
‘It’s a matter of timing, Ms Evans,’ he replied. ‘The opportunity arose to acquire a prime site, and we jumped on it. While you're correct in that there's plenty of vacant land in the area, none of it is, or was, for sale.'
‘So for all of your declarations about looking out for the community, you’ll only do so if there’s an opportune profit to be made?’ she noted.
Behind him, Keith, who had squirmed nervously throughout Craig’s entire speech, was now suddenly incensed. He leapt out of his seat. ‘Of course we’re out to make money, we’re a bloody business for Christ’s sake,’ he barked.
The room erupted, and half of the crowd got to its feet.
‘You can’t buy us off with your bullshit!'
‘You’re all the same, capitalist bastards!’
Keith shrank back into his chair, startled by the onslaught, mumbling something about bloody commies. Charlotte watched Craig for his reaction, getting ready for her next move.
But this time he avoided her eye. He ran his hand through his hair. Though far from defeated, he suddenly looked desperately weary. With most of the crowd hurling insults at Keith, Charlotte wondered if anyone else had observed this momentary dropping of his guard. But before she could even identify her reaction to it as empathy, Craig took charge once more and began to call the room to order.
Set Me Free Page 5