Whitsunday Dawn

by Annie Seaton

  ‘See the goats up there?’ He leaned forward and gestured to the rocks. ‘They reckon they’re the descendants of the goats that Byron’s great-grandparents used to have here back in the 1940s. Aunty Tat’s parents.’

  ‘And Liliana’s.’ Liv closed her eyes for a moment. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the water on the side of the boat. ‘This place is pure magic,’ she whispered softly.

  When she opened her eyes, Fynn was looking at her and his brow was creased in a frown. ‘Gulnare?’

  ‘No, this whole place.’ Liv made a wide arc with her arm. ‘The islands, the mainland, the Passage. I honestly don’t think I’ve seen anything so beautiful in my life.’

  ‘It’s a shame you have to go back and work,’ he said slowly. ‘We could spend the night here.’

  Liv straightened and moved away from the casual arm that was draped over her shoulder. ‘The night?’ Her voice was icy.

  ‘Yeah. There’s going to be an almost full moon rising’—he looked down at his watch—‘in about five hours. It’ll be pretty spectacular.’

  ‘Thank you, but no. I do have work to do. And I have to go back to the mainland tomorrow. I should have taken my gear with me today. I could have stayed over there. It would have saved you a trip back.’

  ‘I had to come back anyway, darlin’.’

  She nodded and looked away to stare over the water. Casual sex was one thing Liv had no experience in. Working a fifteen-hour day, it was all she could do to go home and feed herself, let alone find time for anyone else or a social life.

  ‘Okay, let’s take you home.’

  ‘And I owe you for the taxi,’ she said as she turned away.

  CHAPTER

  13

  30 April, 2018

  By the time Liv had dressed in her navy-blue pencil slim skirt, her white shirt, her jacket with the Sheridan Corp pin and slipped on her high heels, she was a bundle of nerves. No matter how many times she’d called her father, Rod and the guy from Zenith, none of them had answered their phones. She felt disconnected; it was as though she wasn’t a part of the company. She’d gone through the replacement PowerPoint, flagged any areas where she wasn’t sure of the figures, and then read back through her notes. As instructed, she had left it exactly as it was. She was surprised to see there was very little information about the new location. The only difference was that the model had been moved to a different bay on the map. She’d wing her presentation, and any difficult questions, she’d simply refer to the others.

  Liv had pre-booked the 7.15 am Cruise Whitsunday ferry to get to Port of Airlie in time to pick up a taxi, make the call, and still leave her half an hour before the meeting began. She chewed on her bottom lip as she sat in the electric buggy on the way down to catch the ferry at the marina. Her stomach churned; she hadn’t been able to face a coffee yet. To add to her grey mood, the weather had turned and even though the sky was clear, the wind was blowing from the south-east at a vigorous twenty-five knots, according to the weather board in the hotel.

  The receptionist had sympathised when she had dropped her room key off on the way out. ‘Do you get seasick?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Liv shook her head. ‘I’ve been okay out on the water over the weekend. Do you think it will be rough this morning?’

  ‘Oh yes, very rough. The swell will be big, from the wind change we had overnight and with the wind against the tide, it’s not going to be pleasant out in the Passage. And the ferry trip to Port of Airlie takes almost an hour. I’d take a seasick tablet if it was me.’

  ‘I didn’t think of that.’ Liv frowned. ‘Is it too late now?’

  ‘Give me a minute. I think we’ve got some in the office.’ The young woman walked into the back office and came back and passed Liv a small packet. ‘No charge. The reps leave us sample packets.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  When Liv got into the buggy, she read the instructions packet, swallowed two of the tablets and washed them down with the bottle of water she always carried in her bag. Nothing would be worse than being sick before the meeting.

  The journey across the Passage was nothing like the two days she’d spent on the water over the weekend. The ferry was a large vessel, over twenty metres long, and Liv was grateful that the passenger area was enclosed once they headed out into the open water. The vessel lurched not only up and down, slamming into the troughs between the huge waves, but a couple of times it slewed to the side when a rogue wave came from another direction. She sat on the edge of the cushioned seat, clutching her bag and her briefcase to her chest, unable to see out of the window because of the spray surrounding the ferry from the wind and the high waves. A couple of small children were crying, and the volume of their screams increased as the journey progressed. Every time one of the crew opened the door to the outer deck, a strong smell of diesel pervaded the enclosed cabin.

  By the time the ferry entered the calm waters of the Port of Airlie marina, almost an hour later, Liv’s head was throbbing, and her mouth was dry. Once the vessel docked and the doors were opened, her legs were shaking so much she had to support herself on the back of the seat in front for a moment before she was steady enough to walk.

  With a deep breath, she joined the queue of passengers waiting to disembark. As she finally stepped off the boat onto the concrete wharf, she glanced at her watch. It was close to eight-thirty. The coffee shop in the ferry terminal building was not too busy, maybe a coffee and something to eat would settle her stomach before she headed over to Abell Point Marina, where the meeting was scheduled for ten o’clock.

  Five minutes later, Liv sat at the table staring at the coffee and pastry, willing her stomach to settle and her headache to ease. Pulling out her phone, she tried her father’s number. Again, it went straight to voicemail. She pressed speed dial for the office and sipped at her coffee while she waited for front reception to pick up.

  ‘Sheridan Corp. Would you please hold the line.’

  Liv tapped her fingers impatiently on the tabletop as she was put on hold. Finally, the music stopped and the receptionist came back on. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, how may I help you?’

  ‘Hi, Gloria, it’s Olivia Sheridan. Would you please put me through to my father.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ms Sheridan. Your father is not available.’

  Liv clenched her jaw and kept her words even. ‘It’s extremely important that I speak with him immediately, Gloria. Please connect me to his direct line.’ Liv had been asking for access to that number for months with no success.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ms Sheridan. He’s not in the office. Actually, he’s not in the country. He left for China on Saturday night, I believe. Perhaps you could try his mobile?’

  ‘Thank you.’ Liv disconnected and threw her phone into her bag with disgust. She sat back and put one hand over her eyes. It looked like she was going to have to wing it.

  Well, Dad. I’ll do my best.

  But she knew it wasn’t going to be good enough.

  ‘Olivia?’

  Liv sat up straight and lifted her hand from her eyes. The fluorescent light in the café made her eyes ache and for a brief second, her vision blurred. As it cleared, she stared at the two men standing beside the table. ‘Yes?’

  ‘You arrived later than we expected.’ The implied criticism stung and her reply was waspish.

  ‘I apologise but I don’t have control over the vagaries of the wind and tides.’ Liv swallowed as her stomach roiled. She tried to keep her head still as she stared at Anthony Collins. He’d been her father’s right-hand man for the past two years, and she’d never liked him. Not because he’d been promoted over her a couple of times, but because he was an underhanded, lying sneak. She still didn’t know what his exact role was supposed to be.

  ‘Where’s Rod?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m doing Andrew’s PR now,’ Anthony said.

  Andrew’s PR?

  ‘I wasn’t aware that Rod had left. Where’s he gone?’ Her question remained unanswere
d as she gestured to the chair. ‘You might as well sit down. We have an hour before the meeting and I have questions that need answering.’

  The other man—Phillip Garvan, she assumed—didn’t speak as he sat opposite her. His jet-black hair was slicked back from his face and despite being inside, he didn’t remove his wrap around dark sunglasses.

  Liv picked up her coffee, sipped and almost gagged at the bitter taste. She put her cup down and reached for the carafe of water to top up her glass. She shivered as another wave of nausea washed over her, but sipping the water seemed to settle her stomach a bit.

  ‘Right.’ She put the glass down and stared at Anthony. The other man hadn’t taken his eyes off her since he’d sat down, and she felt unnerved. ‘I tried to call my father, but he’s unavailable, so I need some questions answered before the meeting.’

  Phillip leaned forward and when he finally spoke, his voice was firm. ‘You have no need for questions. All you have to do is stand up and click through the presentation. You can reiterate any data on the PowerPoint, but you give nothing more than what is up on the screen.’ He finally lifted his sunglasses from his face and his eyes were cold. ‘If there are any difficult questions, you’ll pass them to us.’

  Liv frowned as she returned his intense stare. ‘Excuse me, I am the project manager for public relations. The purpose of this meeting is to make the local community more comfortable about the proposal, so of course, I’ll be answering all questions. And that’s where I need some clarification.’

  ‘You’ll do exactly as I direct you to.’

  Disbelief flooded through Liv as Phillip reached over and took her hand. ‘You will present the new file that you were emailed, and then you’ll hand over to the next speaker.’ His hand gripped hers tightly and the stone from his ring cut into her skin.

  She tugged her hand, but the pressure increased.

  ‘Is that quite clear?’

  Liv glanced over at Anthony but there was no help from that quarter. He was looking past her. ‘Is that Zenith’s directive or my father’s?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a directive that you’ll follow if you want to keep your job.’

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that.’ When he let go of her hand, Liv picked up the serviette and wiped her fingers without breaking eye contact.

  ‘Don’t push it, sweetheart.’ Phillip’s voice was full of steel. ‘The meeting will go well, and the community will be happy. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. The big players know what has to be done. And you will do as you’re told.’

  ‘Or I’ll lose my job? My father wouldn’t let that happen.’ She clutched at the serviette on her lap as Phillip stared her down. A ripple of fear ran down her back when he smiled at her.

  ‘Don’t be naïve. If you don’t do as you’re told, holding your job will be the least of your worries.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ Liv stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. She stiffened her back, but a wave of nausea rolled over her and she broke out into a cold sweat. She was so ill it was hard to concentrate.

  Liv stood and the shredded serviette fell to the floor but she was too dizzy to reach down and pick it up. ‘Right. Let’s go and get this over with. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can go back to Sydney and sort this out with my father.’

  She picked up her briefcase and strode to the door.

  * * *

  Lure, the conference centre where the community meeting was being held, was an elegant venue on the top floor of the building in the south marina precinct of Abell Point Marina. Fynn waited until most of the waiting crowd had entered before he went in and took a seat in the corner at the back of the room. The mood was tense, and a couple of small groups remained outside talking. The room filled quickly, and he nodded at a few locals as they made their way to their seats. John Blumer, the representative from the regional council, was already on the raised platform at the front of the room with a couple of other local identities but there was no sign of Liv Sheridan. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if her experiences over the weekend had brought her to the realisation that this project should not go ahead, and she’d pulled the pin.

  He shook his head. No chance of that—the only reason she was up in the Whitsundays was to deliver the company’s public relations spiel about the benefits of the Zenith coal loader to the local economy. Of that fact, he had no doubt. Any industry created in the region would have an economic benefit and increase employment. Since Cyclone Debbie had decimated the islands last year, the tourist dollar had taken a hit, and Sheridan Corp knew how to put the positive spin on their projects. He had no doubt that the presentation ahead would convince some of the community that this project was essential for the future of the region.

  But that was not the point.

  Tourism was recovering as the landscape regenerated, and the man-made structures that had been damaged were being repaired or rebuilt. Major rebuilds were still underway on Hayman and Daydream islands.

  If the coal loader went ahead, the project would cause irreversible damage to the reef—a reef that was already under threat from climate change and other human activities.

  Fynn settled back and waited for Liv to arrive.

  By the time she walked in—flanked by two suits—the mood of the audience was tense. Byron had arrived and taken a seat in front of Fynn. Low conversations were shared between groups, and frowns were the predominant expression. The audience was mixed: tourist operators, long-term locals, and yachties, young and old. He watched as Liv took a seat at the end of the row on the podium, but Fynn couldn’t help the interest that flared as he watched her.

  Liv Sheridan had none of the confidence and brashness he’d expect from the public face of a company like Sheridan Corp. Over the weekend, he’d found her to be a soft and caring woman, one who’d retreated into a dignified shell the couple of times he’d gone out of his way to push her buttons. Her face was set, her bright red lipstick accentuating the pallor of her cheeks. She sat straight and stared ahead. If he hadn’t have known better, he would have said she was terrified.

  The Liv Sheridan up on the podium was very different from the happy and relaxed woman who had joined in at the Ellis family lunch yesterday.

  Interesting.

  The usual introductions and formalities were completed, and Fynn took a breath as Olivia Sheridan was introduced as the spokesperson for Sheridan Corp. A dark mutter from much of the crowd swelled as she stood. Reluctant sympathy shot through Fynn as she stumbled on her way across to the lectern.

  As she stood at the microphone, the screen illuminated and the title slide saying, Sheridan Corp. Moving the Whitsundays Forward brought a renewed negative response from the audience.

  Liv began to speak, and the crowd quieted.

  ‘Good morning. And thank you for joining us here today. We’re excited about the future of the Whitsunday region.’ Her voice was steady, but as she brought up the first slide, she dabbed at her lips with a tissue.

  ‘Sheridan Corp has an outstanding reputation globally. Australia is an important part of our business and we hold significant interests in a range of commodity industries across all mainland states and the Northern Territory. We are a major Australian employer, with over twenty thousand people working across the mining sector including coal, copper, gold, nickel, and zinc. We are very proud of the role we play in assisting the economy and creating lasting benefits in Australia, and we look forward to including the Whitsunday region in our future.’

  Already, the crowd was sitting up and taking notice. Fynn wondered if they were aware of the percentage of Sheridan Corp owned by the Chinese company, Zenith. Greg’s investigation had revealed some increased investment in the region by the mother company recently, but he was sitting on that information until he needed it.

  Fynn leaned forward as the next slide clicked over, and again, Liv raised the tissue to her face. Frustration settled deep within him as he listened. Over the past six months, She
ridan Corp had come back with a slick answer to every concern raised. Some days, Fynn wondered if they would be successful, but then his determination kicked in. The coal loader at Double Bay would not go ahead. No matter what it took, they would beat it.

  Liv Sheridan’s spiel was practised and polished, and he could see her confidence build as she moved through the data. The figures were positive and the outlook exciting for the region, if you could believe the word of Sheridan Corp. The slide for the rail line flicked over and as Liv spoke of the benefit to the region, a man called from the centre of the audience.

  ‘Can you please explain how a railway line to the proposed coal loader is going to bring more tourists to the islands?’

  There was a rumble of support from the crowd, but the chairman moved across to the microphone and leaned forward. ‘Please hold all questions until Ms Sheridan has finished the presentation. There will be ample time for questions before the next speaker.’

  Liv continued and flicked through slide after slide. She seemed detached, her voice was almost disinterested. Fynn waited for the slide that he knew would cause the reaction from the audience: the proposed site of the coal loader at Double Bay. Even as he thought about the audacity of the proposal, his stomach burned. And he wasn’t alone. Everyone he’d spoken to was ready to fight the development of a coal loader so close to the islands and the reef. The high attendance at a meeting on a Monday morning bore testimony to that. How the company intended to justify the location to the community was going to be very interesting.

  The further Liv got into her presentation, the more Fynn was convinced that she had no passion for the content, and that she was simply going through the motions. He’d seen her spark over the weekend, but today, she was flat and there was little enthusiasm in her voice.

  He fought the sympathy that rose in him. He had to remind himself that Olivia Sheridan was the opposition—no matter how interesting he found her.