A Woman of Courage

by J. H. Fletcher

  ‘You think you can turn this around?’

  ‘Maybe yes, maybe no. But definitely worth a try.’

  ‘Riddle time again?’ Hilary said.

  ‘No riddles. Absolutely straightforward.’

  A long silence while Martha leant forwards on the edge of her seat, body tense like a dog waiting for the rabbit.

  ‘Very well,’ Hilary said eventually. ‘I’ll give you your head on this. But make sure you keep me in the picture, OK? And Martha, we’d better come out on the right side of this. That is important both for the company and for you.’

  ‘I understand, Hilary. I’ll get back to you. One or two days, no more. OK?’

  She hung up.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Sara asked.

  ‘Speak to the big shots.’ Martha saw the confused look on Sara’s face. ‘When we deal with China,’ she said, ‘we have to think like they do. That is very important.’

  ‘But you are Chinese too.’

  ‘I am Singaporean. Very different. So I too have to learn. First lesson: respect is very important. Respect for each other. Also getting respect from the outside world. What the Lennox brothers have done, they have cheated foreigners. Worse still, foreigners wishing to invest in China. Wishing to create business in China. Charlie Lennox and his brother lose respect not only for themselves but for China also. It could make the world say China is a bad place to do business and that would be very bad. If we prosecute them and they go to gaol, the whole world will know what happened. Chinese officials won’t want us to do anything like that. But if they know what happened and know too we are protecting their good name by not prosecuting these men, they will respect us too and reward us for our consideration. That is how China does things,’ Martha said.

  ‘So we write off the money –’

  ‘And in return win their respect. I promise you, that will be worth many times what we lose. Oh yes, Sara, that is the right way to handle this.’

  ‘I am glad you are here to teach me these things,’ Sara said.

  1970

  THE ISLAND AND THE JETTY

  1

  Hilary was cross. Lance had raised the question of Rottnest Island. She had liked the idea of seeing a new and interesting place with a new and interesting man yet so far nothing had come of it. Before Lance had mentioned it she had never given Rottnest a thought but to be given a half-invitation and then to have nothing happen was aggravating.

  Write it off to experience, she told herself. She had more than enough to keep her busy; what was she doing, thinking of a relationship with a married man? It was madness.

  She went out to yet another meeting. When she came back there was a message on her answering machine.

  ‘Rottnest Island. Saturday suit you?’

  Just my luck, she thought. She’d arranged to meet Haskins in Busselton to check progress on the new mall. The feedback had been good but she wanted to see for herself how things were going. She had never cancelled a business meeting before but the mall wasn’t going to fly away, was it? It would be no hardship to reschedule to a day in the week.

  She left a message on Haskins’s answering machine. She returned Lance’s call. She said yes.

  She arranged for Agnes to come in. On Saturday morning Lance picked her up early and they headed west to Fremantle and the Rottnest ferry.

  The sea was calm and blue with the occasional flicker of white from a foam-toppling wave.

  ‘People say you can see blue whales sometimes,’ Lance said but today they saw only seagulls squalling and circling in the ferry’s wake.

  He hired two bicycles. ‘I never thought to ask if you can ride,’ he said.

  ‘It’s been a time.’

  She managed, though. They rode through the flat green landscape. There were no hills; the highest point of the island was only 150 feet above sea level. They passed trees that Lance said grew nowhere else. They caught the distant blink of salt lakes shining in the sunshine. They found an isolated beach, as empty as he had promised. The hot sun burned her shoulders; it was a day of magic, with a snack meal at a café whose owner was full of smiles and brought the food to them where they sat beneath an awning on an outside terrace. Afterwards they walked again and saw many birds, including what he told her was the famous curlew sandpiper.

  ‘No quokkas,’ she said.

  ‘They are nocturnal.’

  They saw a reef heron, though, dark and solitary on a coastal flat of round white stones.

  ‘The mussel-pooled and heron-priested shore,’ declaimed Hilary, who was having a love affair with Dylan Thomas.

  When they got home darkness was tiptoeing gently down, like a quokka out of a tree. On the flat’s doorstep he kissed her and she felt her toes quiver.

  ‘Thank you for a perfect day,’ she said. And for the perfect end to a perfect day.

  2

  She discovered she couldn’t arrange a time during the week after all. She went through her diary with Sandy. It was obvious she couldn’t drive all the way to Busselton, inspect the site, talk with the site engineers and subbies, meet the council officials and drive back again all in one day and there was no way she could be away two weekdays. She phoned Haskins.

  ‘It’ll have to be next weekend,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll arrange for the planning officer to have a site inspection,’ Haskins said. ‘So make sure you’re here too. Don’t fuck me up a second time, OK?’ No ducking and diving with Haskins Gould; when he wanted to tick you off you got ticked.

  ‘Without fail,’ Hilary said.

  On Friday Lance rang to ask if she’d like to take in a movie with him the following day.

  ‘I can’t. I have to go to Busselton.’

  ‘Another time, then.’ He sounded quite cheerful about it. ‘How’s your week been, anyway?’

  ‘Busy,’ she said. ‘Jennifer had a bit of a cold too, which didn’t help, but she seems to be over the worst of it now.’

  ‘That’s good,’ he said. A pause while neither spoke. Then: ‘Better get moving, I suppose.’

  Hilary gave herself a lifeline, throwing out the words before he could hang up.

  ‘I was wondering whether you might like to come down to Busselton with me. If you’re free.’

  ‘What about Jennifer?’

  ‘Agnes will look after her.’

  It was a brilliant, dew-wet morning when they headed south out of the city. It was one hundred and forty miles to Busselton but seemed further, the road straight and for the most part uninteresting.

  ‘What’s in Busselton?’ Lance asked.

  ‘You should know,’ Hilary said. ‘It’s your job to know.’

  ‘I know the statistics. I know most of the shoreline blocks have been sold. I’m asking what the place is like. Its ambience.’

  ‘Its ambience?’ Hilary repeated. ‘My, what smart words you use.’

  ‘Incredible, isn’t it? I can read simple sentences too.’

  ‘Busselton has the longest wooden jetty in the southern hemisphere.’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘It’s a major tourist attraction, or so they say. The statistics indicate the town is growing fast.’

  ‘Hence the new mall. How thoughtful of you to provide for the future population.’

  ‘We live to serve,’ Hilary said.

  ‘And never a thought for the profit.’

  ‘The idea never entered our heads.’

  A huge truck roared past, shaking the car as it headed north.

  ‘There is an old gaol –’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘Which is said to be haunted.’

  ‘Wow again!’

  ‘Here I am giving you a conducted tour and all you say is wow.’

  ‘But heartfelt, I assure you.’

  ‘The town is the centre of a major wine-growing region.’

  ‘Now you’re talking.’

  They booked into adjoining rooms at the motel. Hilary freshened up, then went to the site.

  Lance sai
d he would explore. ‘Maybe pick up some wine,’ he said.

  The site was the usual bedlam: hammers, drills, concrete mixers, Haskins Gould yelling loud enough to drown the lot of them. Had she not known better Hilary would have been appalled, but Haskins had brought in the malls in Perth and Albany ahead of schedule and she did not doubt he would do the same there.

  ‘Everything under control?’ she said.

  ‘I’ll be having somebody’s arse if it’s not,’ Haskins said.

  It was a Saturday but the shire offices were open until midday. She observed proper protocol, paying court to the appropriate officials. She entertained the mayor to lunch.

  ‘More a public relations exercise than anything else,’ she told Lance later.

  ‘Don’t knock it. Public relations are important.’

  ‘And it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye on things.’

  She said no more but one of the subbies had been complaining about Haskins.

  ‘Cuts more corners than a grand prix driver,’ the electrician said. He claimed others felt the same but were more cautious about speaking out.

  Hilary had faith in Haskins’s ability to deliver a project on time but he was a ruthless bastard, no denying it, and ruthless bastards needed to be watched. She had more than a streak of ruthlessness herself but liked to think she was also a straight shooter. With Haskins she wasn’t so sure. It was something to tuck away in her mind for future reference, should it be needed.

  That evening she and Lance had a pleasant meal in town. It was dark when they left the restaurant. The night was warm and cicadas were singing in the undergrowth.

  ‘Going to show me this famous jetty?’ Lance said.

  They strolled along the wooden structure and the night was alive with the surge and sigh of the ocean.

  ‘What’s out there?’ Lance said.

  ‘Nothing till you reach South America.’

  ‘What about Africa?’

  She shook her head. ‘Further north.’

  They stood side by side at the end of the jetty. It was like being on a boat far from shore.

  ‘Three thousand feet,’ Lance said. ‘Over half a mile.’

  It felt a lot more than three thousand feet, Hilary thought. More like three thousand miles. ‘Alone, alone, all, all alone, alone on a wide wide sea,’ she said.

  ‘We did the Ancient Mariner at school,’ he said. ‘And you?’

  ‘Poetry wasn’t a big feature of our lives at Northcote,’ she said.

  ‘But you caught up later.’

  ‘I am still catching up,’ she said. ‘I’ll be catching up all my life.’

  They walked slowly back to the motel. Hilary wondered what she would do if he came on to her but he did not. Next morning, after an early breakfast and with the car boot packed with cases of wine, they would be heading back to Perth.

  Hilary was finishing her second cup of breakfast coffee when Haskins put in an appearance. She had not been expecting him and raised a questioning eyebrow as she looked at him.

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘Nothing we can’t handle.’

  But that was nonsense; Haskins wouldn’t be there if there wasn’t a problem.

  ‘Coffee?’ Hilary said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Lance caught Hilary’s glance. ‘I’ll go and finish packing,’ he said.

  The coffee came. Haskins gulped noisily.

  ‘Now,’ Hilary said. ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘I stopped by just to make sure you weren’t intending to come down to the site this morning.’

  ‘I wasn’t planning to. But it sounds as though maybe I should.’

  ‘I would recommend, strongly recommend, you don’t.’

  ‘Something’s happened. What is it?’

  ‘Nothing you need to bother your head about.’

  Hilary hated to be patronised by this man. By any man. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘One of the boys kicked a hole in a live electric cable last night.’

  A cold hand clutched Hilary’s heart. ‘He’s not –?’

  ‘Dead? No, he’s not.’

  ‘Thank God!’

  ‘Amen to that. We’d have had the damned inspectors all over us if he was.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of the inspectors,’ Hilary said.

  ‘Well, I was. I surely was. We got to keep this project moving and nothing mucks up your schedules quicker than a bunch of damned inspectors.’

  ‘Is he hurt?’

  ‘Shaken but that’s all. The story is he was drunk.’

  ‘Our story or the true story?’

  ‘Why, both.’ Haskins’s innocence would have charmed a death adder.

  ‘You’d better be right,’ Hilary said.

  Haskins smiled. ‘Babe,’ he said, ‘I’m always right.’

  ‘Is there likely to be any comeback?’

  ‘None. Like I said, he was drunk.’

  ‘So what do you plan to do about it?’

  ‘Pour oil on troubled waters,’ Haskins said.

  ‘And you don’t want me down there?’

  ‘I want you to stay away.’

  Hilary was troubled. ‘I shouldn’t. But I’ve a meeting this afternoon. Do I have your word he’s OK?’

  ‘My sacred oath, babe.’

  3

  When he got back on site Haskins called the previous night’s shift foreman to his office.

  ‘I think it’s time I wised you up to what it means to do business with Haskins Gould,’ he said. He stared with merciless eyes at Merv Beale and the foreman, tougher than most, flinched. ‘You’d better spell out what happened.’

  ‘It was no one’s fault,’ Merv said. ‘Endless rush, live cables everywhere… It’s a miracle it hasn’t happened before.’

  ‘I’ll decide that,’ Haskins said. The chair creaked as he sat down. His massive shoulders were hunched, fists loosely clenched on the desk in front of him. ‘So tell me.’

  ‘The late shift had just started. Somehow Bluey Morris tripped over a live cable. It came unhitched and the shock flung him halfway across the floor. It’s a miracle he wasn’t killed –’

  ‘Late shift comes on when?’

  ‘Ten o’clock.’

  ‘And this accident happened when?’

  ‘About ten-thirty. They came runnin’ to me in the store at ten-thirty-five.’

  ‘Ten-thirty, eh? So Morris had been on about half an hour when he fell over the cable?’

  ‘About that.’

  ‘I hear Morris likes a drink.’

  ‘They all do. But he wasn’t drunk –’

  ‘You a doctor, Beale?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not a doctor.’

  ‘You didn’t check him out, I mean? Breathalyse him, anything like that?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then you’re not in a position to say whether he was drunk or not, are you?’

  ‘He didn’t act like he was drunk.’

  ‘Until he fell over that damn cable. I’ll tell you how it was, Beale. He’d had a few drinks before he came on. Not sufficient to make him incapable but enough to impair his judgment, you get me? He stumbled – anyone in that state could do it – next thing you know he’s halfway across the floor and lucky to be alive.’ Haskins paused, his eyes on the foreman’s face. ‘On your shift.’

  Merv bristled. ‘No way you’re pinning this on me –’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it. I mean, a man has a drink too many, how are you to know?’ A smile with teeth, like the gates of hell. ‘Not a good look, though, is it, and you with a good job here. Doing well too. In fact I’ve been thinking of giving you a raise. Pity to mess up because some feller should know better comes on shift half-cut.’

  They looked at each other.

  ‘Trouble is, we get the inspectors in there’s no knowing where their fingers will end up pointing. You get me?’ His fingers tapped the desk. ‘Morris married, I hear?’

  ‘Wife and three kids,’ Merv said.

  ‘Maybe I’d be
st have a word with him.’

  Bluey Morris was prepared to be truculent but was scared too; everyone was scared of Haskins Gould.

  ‘Sorry about what happened but we’re always in such a rush. And that cable –’

  Haskins held up his hand. ‘Nobody’s blaming you, Bluey. In fact I just wanted to say how thankful we all are you’re not hurt. But you had a fright. We understand that.’ He took a cheque out of a drawer and pushed it across the desk. ‘Five hundred bucks. Buy something nice for your kids, why don’t you? A token of appreciation for all your hard work.’

  Bluey Morris turned the cheque in his hands. ‘For the kids, you say?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Well… Thanks very much. Much appreciated.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  Haskins tilted his chair against the wall and watched as Morris went out.

  Late in the afternoon he phoned Hilary in Perth.

  ‘Done and dusted,’ he said.

  ‘What was it all about?’

  ‘Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,’ Haskins said.

  He knew how much she hated that.

  ‘And if I insist?’

  ‘Sometimes it’s best not to know.’

  Partners they might be but he was glad he’d talked her out of coming on site. Next thing you knew she’d have wanted to talk to the people involved and he certainly wouldn’t have wanted that. Even at the best of times, having a woman under his feet tended to inhibit him. He went back into the mayhem of the work area beyond his office door. He started yelling. ‘C’mon, you bastards. Think you’re all on holiday, do you? Get moving!’

  ROLLER COASTER

  1

  Once again Lance had taken her by surprise. Now they were sitting on the settee in Hilary’s living room. They were not touching but not that far apart either. He leant forward and recharged their glasses. Hilary picked up the bottle and looked appreciatively at the label.

  ‘Margaret River cabernet,’ she said. ‘Are you a connoisseur?’

  ‘I like a nice drop.’ He took a sip and put down his glass. Hilary took a sip and put down her glass.

  He looked at her; they looked at each other.

  ‘I like a lot of things,’ he said.

  Heart beating; she felt like a marsh. ‘Give me an example,’ she said.