Dust of the Land

by J. H. Fletcher

  It certainly was. Martin Dexter, ever mindful of the pennies, had suggested that everything could be arranged at long range, but Bella had always been a believer in personal contact.

  ‘This is the first time we’ve dealt with them. Face to face will be best.’

  ‘If you’re going you’d better go now,’ Martin warned her. ‘Or you won’t be back for Christmas.’

  ‘I mustn’t miss that. This could be one of our last Christmases together as a family. My God, Martin, I’m getting old.’

  ‘You certainly don’t look it.’

  It was so nice to get compliments; it made looking in the mirror less of an ordeal. But I am still forty-five, she thought. Maybe not ancient but not a kid any more, either.

  She lived on the phone for the next two days and then flew out. She told Martin she did not expect to be away long, nor was she. Ten days later she was back.

  ‘Tokyo, Wakayama, Nagoya and finally Nagasaki,’ she said. ‘I am utterly exhausted.’

  But was not; she was radiant because she had won contracts with three of Japan’s major steel companies. The trip had been a huge success.

  ‘Deliveries to begin three months from the date of signature,’ she warned. ‘We’ll need to get our skates on. And won’t Pete Bathurst be mad we’ve beaten him to it!’

  She had Christmas with her children, as planned. She took them hiking in the forests around Cape Leeuwin, on the far side of the Blackwood River, where she and Peace had gone once before. It was a lovely time. Even Peace lived up to her name for once. Bella wondered whether the boyfriend she mentioned, ever so casually, might have something to do with that but there was no way to be sure; Peace had never been one for confidences.

  After the holiday, they all got on with their lives.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Peace had taken up with Ian Lassiter three months after Garth’s death.

  She thought afterwards she had done it to fill the gap left by her father’s loss. If that was the case it was a mistake because never in a million years would Ian measure up to the man she had revered above all others. Ian was caring, considerate, patient and, above all, respectful of authority. A gentle soul with qualities that were supposed to be pluses in any relationship. Garth had been a larger-than-life man whose personality had dominated everyone he had known with the exception of his wife; Peace had never been able to make up her mind whether she resented or admired her mother for that. Both, probably. And perhaps that had been another reason why she had taken up with Ian: because of the qualities possessed by neither of her parents nor, in truth, by herself. He was a shoulder to cry on and would no more have rustled his neighbour’s cattle than jump off a cliff.

  Within twelve months Peace had known they were going nowhere but they remained an item – more friends than lovers – until Peace’s final year, when she used her need to study as an excuse to break off with him.

  It was an uncomfortable parting but Peace, having made her decision, stuck to it and it was soon over. She could have had any number of other boys, had she wanted them – she knew she was no beauty, but there was something about her that drew them to her like a suction pump – but she had set her sights on a post-graduate course at the Camborne School, which meant getting good grades in her finals. Socialising was out.

  For six months she worked eighteen hours a day without distractions and came away with a first class honours degree and an air ticket to London.

  Mother came to the graduation. They caught up on each other’s news and were good mates together and Peace wished with all her heart that darling Dad had been with her.

  They talked about the mine. Things were coming along nicely, Bella said. The Japanese contracts were on track. Pete Bathurst was still trying to cause trouble but so far Bella had managed to fend him off.

  ‘What kind of reserves does the mine have?’ Peace asked.

  ‘Unlimited.’

  ‘There is no such thing as unlimited reserves,’ Peace said.

  ‘Scientifically speaking, maybe not.’

  ‘What other way is there to speak about mining?’

  Bella ignored that. ‘There is enough to keep us going until you come back from Camborne. Then you have my permission to be as scientific as you like.’

  There was a graduation ball that night. Peace was going with a friend. No doubt he would want to grope her before the evening was over, probably try to talk her into bed, too. Since the advent of the pill girls had been expected to play along with these casual adventures but Peace and no one else was in charge of her life. Maybe she would and maybe she wouldn’t. The chances were she wouldn’t. By the end of August she would be in the UK and wanted no complications in her life. If he didn’t like it, tough.

  She had found that a measure of physical activity helped her to think. Concentrating on her studies, she had dropped out of hockey a few months back. Instead, after Mother had left, she wandered down to the squash complex, found an empty court and smacked a ball around for a while.

  She moved automatically, paying no real attention to what she was doing. As she sent the ball crashing about the walls, she thought about the Carlisle Mine.

  She had read Saul Rich’s original report. He had thought the reserves of high-grade ore were huge. What a challenge it would be if he proved to be right. She had a vision of a development like a mighty city, of terraces and mountains. Machines the size of multi-storey buildings crawled along the terraces, creating and exploiting them; mountains of ore were loaded in a controlled frenzy of endless activity into rail trucks, bulk carriers, the gaping maws of blast furnaces. Transformed into shining rivers of steel, then into pipes and beams and bars and bolts without number, into sheets of plate, the ore from Carlisle would transform the world.

  The land would be ripped open by the machinery and changed thereby, as it would be changed by the men and women who would help in the development, their energies as much a contribution to the new structures as the ore torn from the reluctant earth. The wilderness would be destroyed in the mining areas but elsewhere much would remain, although in ever diminishing quantities. There was sadness in that thought, a dichotomy between seeking to preserve what was good and holy while utilising the earth’s resources for the improvement of humanity. It was a contradiction to which she suspected no one knew the answer, yet the excitement of the development rang in her mind like the ripple explosions of charges shattering rock, and she knew no regrets.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  University was behind her at last. It was seven o’clock in the morning and Peace was in her bedroom in Desire, getting ready for her first day at the office.

  During her time at university she had stayed in shared accommodation close to campus. Now she had eight months before she was due at Camborne and she and her mother had agreed it made sense for her to fill in the time by doing some work for the company. Bella had provided her with one of the guest suites – a living room and bathroom to go with the bedroom and its own separate entrance – so Peace had no gripe about the accommodation, but all the same she was glad she wouldn’t be staying here long. She was proud of her down-to-earth attitude to life and Desire was way too grand for her, but the main problem was that the suite, like the house, was not hers but her mother’s, the furniture was her mother’s, even her privacy was in her mother’s gift, which she could take away whenever she chose.

  She had forgotten what an overpowering place Desire was. Even living here was a challenge; every inch proclaimed power and wealth. No wonder Dad had preferred the rough-and-tumble of Miranda Downs. Now that was a real, no-nonsense home; Desire was a showplace, very tasteful, no doubt, and the treasures it contained were marvellous, but a constant reminder of Bella’s personality and the certainty that one day there would be a falling-out between them. That was guaranteed; Peace had to work because she could not imagine life without it, and she had to be number one. The problem was that in the Tucker empire Mother was already number one, and there was no room at the top
for anyone else. Also there was the fact that Bella was only forty-six and the last person on earth to hand over authority to anyone.

  For the moment it didn’t matter; Peace would soon be gone in any case. Even when she came back from the UK she wouldn’t have the experience to run the company – but that time would come. She would work hard, she would learn. She would give Mother until she was sixty. If she wasn’t willing to hand over then, Peace would move on: it was that simple.

  That was assuming she came back at all. With her qualifications she would be able to land a job anywhere in the world: Africa, the USA, even Brazil. She had no particular preference as long as she was free, eventually, to do her own thing.

  There was not much chance of that in Australia, at least to begin with. Bella would expect her to join the company and working for and not working with was the way things worked with Mother. Peace had only been back from uni twenty-four hours yet Mother was already bossing her about. Of all things, about what she should wear.

  ‘On site it’ll obviously be industrial boots and overalls, but your first day you’ll be in the office. A business suit might be best,’ Bella had said. ‘Something plain but stylish. You’re going to work, not taking part in a fashion parade.’

  Peace didn’t have a suit and had no plans to buy one; she hated business suits. You needed class legs to get away with that style and hers were nothing special. Instead she had decided on tailored slacks, a lightweight blouse in blue with a hint of bust, shoes with three-quarter heels. Blue suited her colouring and she suspected that, even without class legs, a hint of femininity would not hurt,

  even in the mining industry.

  If Mother didn’t like it, too bad.

  Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked through the vast reception room – like a museum, she thought – and went into the dining room. There was coffee perking on a side table, orange juice in a crystal jug. Chafing dishes contained eggs Florentine, bacon and mushrooms. There was no one about or any sign of Mother.

  Peace checked her watch. Seven-fifteen. Better get moving, old lady, she thought. The new girl’s arrived.

  A young woman, not above sixteen, appeared at the kitchen door.

  ‘Have you seen my mother this morning?’ Peace asked.

  ‘She’s in her office upstairs. You’ll have to catch her sooner than this, you want to speak to her. She left a message, though. She’s not to be disturbed, but you’re to go to the office, soon as you’re ready. When you get there, speak to Martin.’

  ‘Martin?’

  ‘Martin Dexter. The financial director. She said he’ll see you right.’

  Peace was so surprised that the girl managed to escape before she had a chance to ask her anything else. Clearly the competition had started already, and she hadn’t even got to the office.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Richard Tucker – tall and slender, dark hair a tangle across his forehead – came bounding down the steps of the commerce faculty at the university. There was a lecture on commercial law and if he didn’t get a move on he would be late. The lecturer had just stood up as Richard pushed his way into a row near the back of the hall. He found he was sitting next to an Asian girl of about his own age, whom he had never seen before. An older man was sitting on her far side, another Asian, who looked at him disapprovingly.

  ‘Just in time,’ Richard said cheerfully.

  The girl did not answer.

  There was an intermission halfway through the lecture; only then did Richard take proper note of his neighbour and for the first time saw that she was beautiful.

  He said: ‘There’s tea and coffee in the corridor if you’d like a cup.’

  The girl looked at him but did not speak.

  Her companion leant forwards. ‘Miss Lee appreciates your offer but regrets she is unable to accept.’

  Richard was taken aback. ‘Perhaps Miss Lee can decide that for herself.’

  He looked enquiringly at the girl.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I am grateful for your offer –’

  ‘The answer is no,’ the man said.

  ‘Answer is no,’ Miss Lee said.

  Denied her company, he went out and had a coffee by himself. Had it not been for the man’s intervention he would not have given the girl another thought but now remembered her remarkable looks and wondered who she was. Richard had an acquaintance in the office. After the lecture he asked him about her.

  ‘Name’s Lee. Just arrived from China. Father’s some big shot in Beijing.’

  Which would explain why she was so closely guarded.

  ‘I’ve always been interested in China,’ said Richard. ‘Art, ceramics, stuff like that.’

  The acquaintance grinned. ‘And of course you wouldn’t happen to fancy her, too, would you?’

  ‘Looks like that, it wouldn’t be hard,’ Richard said.

  Two weeks passed before he saw the girl again. The same man was with her so he kept away but several days later he saw her sitting by herself at the end of a row.

  He could see no sign of the man so during the interval he changed seats. The one next to her was occupied but the one behind was not, so he sat there. It gave him the chance to look at her properly for the first time.

  Black, glossy hair fastened by clips above the ears. Ivory-coloured, smooth-textured skin. An inexplicable radiance. He could not see her hands but was sure the fingers would be long and elegant; everything about her breathed elegance. She was exotic, too, excitingly so.

  He thought: We have barely spoken and already I am drawn to her.

  It was a foolish reaction yet he did not feel a fool. He felt brave.

  The lecture reached its dusty conclusion and the ranks of students surged up the gangways to the exits. He waited until the Chinese girl stood and turned to leave before stepping into the gangway in front of her. She was dressed like the other women students, in blue jeans and white T-shirt. Her figure was slight, but good. For a moment they faced each other while the rest of the students surged past them.

  An island of silence, he thought. Simply by standing there she has silenced the mindless noises of the mob.

  She looked at him gravely, and he thought: She knew I was there all the time. He was filled with elation, thinking how she could have brushed past him but had not. He looked at the oval face almost painful in its symmetry, the almond-shaped eyes beneath finely drawn eyebrows, and she was everything he had remembered or imagined or desired. He felt his heart turn over.

  That is it, he thought, I have heard of it but never thought to experience it. I felt my heart turn over.

  ‘We spoke briefly once before,’ he said. ‘You may have forgotten.’

  ‘Not forget,’ she said.

  ‘I offered you a cup of coffee. On that occasion you refused. Perhaps you would like one now?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Something else, perhaps?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘do you say no to everything?’

  ‘No.’

  He was convinced there was a smile and a challenge in the dark eyes. Daring him to do… What? He felt the breath tighten in his chest. ‘I would like to see more of you. If that is possible.’

  He waited for her to say no again, but she did not.

  ‘We both student here. We see each other often. Yes?’

  The accent was a challenge to him as the language clearly was to her, but it was enough, for the moment, that she had spoken. That she had not said no.

  ‘Of course we shall.’ He spoke slowly and clearly, watching to see her response. ‘Here, in the lecture hall. And outside it.’

  They walked side by side to the exit but, before reaching it, she moved away from him, creating space between them. Richard walked into the sunlight and saw at the foot of the steps an illegally parked car. Waiting beside it was the man who had been with her before.

  He stopped and stood watching her back as she walked on down the steps. The man opened the car door
and she got in. The door closed. At the last moment he thought she might have looked back at him but the movement of her head, if that was what it had been, had been so brief that he could not be sure. The man got behind the wheel and the car drove away.

  He had let her go yet she had not left him. He would see her again, because she had spoken to him. The man would have wanted her to walk away from him but she had not. She had spoken. Only a few words but that did not matter. She had spoken and he would see her again.

  Surrounded by a chattering crowd of students, Lee Su-Ying walked down the long flight of steps towards the waiting car. She was thinking about the young man who had just spoken to her. She wondered who he was. She wondered why she should care, but there had been something about him…

  A strange western boy in a strange western country. Tall, with a kind face. Su-Ying knew she must be very careful. She was in Australia to learn so that when she returned home she would be better able to serve the Party and the People. She was not here to make friends.

  At their last meeting Father had stressed what an honour was being paid to her and the family by her being entrusted with this mission.

  ‘Remember what you are.’

  What, not Who. The Great Helmsman had taught that the individual did not matter. The individual did not exist. Only the Party mattered. The Party and the People.

  ‘Every day you will repeat that to yourself,’ Father had instructed her. ‘Lee Su-Ying does not exist. There is only the Party and the People. Be on your guard at all times. You will be surrounded by class enemies. Make friends with none of them.’

  Walking down the steps beside her, a woman student, blonde hair flying, was laughing amid a crowd of boys. Laughing, joking, all happy together. Students of her own age, having a good time. She saw Su-Ying and gave her a big smile. Happy…

  You will be surrounded by class enemies.

  She caught herself before she could smile back.

  Lee Su-Ying does not exist.