Dust of the Land

by J. H. Fletcher

  The lift took her up. She walked down the corridor, went into her suite and picked up the phone. ‘Perth, Western Australia,’ she said, and gave the number.

  The suite was furnished in the Ritz’s signature colours of blue, peach, pink and yellow. The drapes were luxurious, the antique furniture ivory dressed with gold, the chandelier fine crystal. It was a very comfortable suite. While she waited she looked out at Green Park. The traffic went up and down Piccadilly and she wondered what the calls were about.

  The phone rang. She picked it up. Deborah might have been in the same room.

  ‘Martin is in Sydney about that new banking facility and I can’t get hold of him,’ Deborah said. ‘So I thought I’d best phone you.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘Mr Bathurst’s office has been on the phone twice today. They say it’s urgent.’

  That was Pete Bathurst all over: wait until she’s out of town, then put on the screws.

  ‘What does he want?’

  ‘Some problem about the terminal.’

  ‘That was settled before I left!’ Dealing with Pete Bathurst was like picking your way through a pit full of vipers. ‘Let Martin handle it when he gets back from Sydney.’

  ‘They asked specifically for you.’

  She was the decision-maker, after all.

  ‘In that case they’ll have to wait.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t think it’ll be long.’

  ‘I get the impression they think you’re stalling.’

  ‘If he wants a doctor’s certificate,’ Bella blazed, ‘tell him I’ll arrange it.’

  Fuming, she slammed down the phone.

  Her own mother, for God’s sake! Surely even Pete Bathurst could understand that? Although there had been times when she had asked herself whether Pete had ever had a mother.

  The next day she drove back to Whitstable. There was no change in Mumma’s condition but this time she met Luke Such. His likeness to Peace was unmistakable. So Jenny had been right; Bella was definitely his daughter. She looked at him but felt nothing. The fact that he had impregnated her mother – by accident, you might say – did not make him her true father. As she had told Peace, that was Anthony Richmond. And Grandpapa was even more her family, because he had been the one who had truly cared for her.

  Luke was a stranger in every way. A good man, no doubt, but – like most men – useless when it came to sickness. He had survived shipwreck and storm, for years had dragged a living from a hostile sea, yet now he was as much use as a bull in a milking parlour. He stood around, getting in the way and looking anxious yet doing nothing, until Bella could have screamed at him. The only reason she did not was Jenny and the obvious affection that existed between the dying woman and the ineffectual man. Luke might be useless but he was there, and ultimately that was what mattered.

  ‘Sometimes I ’as to get out,’ he told Bella. ‘Library, mostly. It’s hard to watch when it’s someone you care for. When I can’t take no more, I ask Mrs Nunes to come in. She’s always willin’. Good woman, that. I wouldn’t leave her with just anyone.’

  Two days passed. Jenny did not speak. Her eyes remained closed. She breathed, but that was all. One evening, as Bella was getting ready to head back to the Ritz, the breathing stopped.

  It was a quiet funeral at the local church. Bella wasn’t sure what Mumma would have thought about a church service but Luke wanted it. She felt sad but not devastated; life had separated them too long for that. Now Luke was the one to be consoled. For the first time Bella felt something for him. It made her feel better about him, and herself.

  ‘Will you stay here?’ she asked him.

  He looked about him as though at a strange and stricken world. ‘I reckon.’

  But he was lost and she thought it would not be long before he followed his wife to the grave.

  Three days after the funeral, she flew back to Australia. She did what she could to put England and the past behind her. Instead she thought about Pete Bathurst.

  Trust him to make more trouble.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Bella got home at six in the evening after flying halfway around the world. She had a hollow ache in her stomach whenever she thought of Jenny – you only have one mother, after all – but she was in bed by nine-thirty and slept well, as she always did. By eight the following morning she was in her office and in conference with Owen and Martin. The subject of the discussion, as far too often in Bella’s view, was Pete Bathurst and his latest objections.

  ‘What is that wretched man on about now?’ she said.

  This time it was the exact terms upon which BradMin would be willing to allow Tucker Mining to use their loading terminal just outside Port Hedland.

  ‘Owen and I spent the best part of three days with Sinclair Smythe, getting that sorted out,’ said Martin Dexter crossly.

  ‘With BradMin nothing is ever sorted out until Bathurst has given it his okay. Quite often not even then,’ Bella said.

  As always it ended with her having to get together with Pete Bathurst and thrash everything out yet again. It was a tense meeting. It was seldom anything else; Pete had never forgiven Bella for opening up her own mine and thus depriving him of the potential for huge profits, or for poaching his mine development manager.

  Possibly even for having found the Carlisle deposits in the first place. Every time she sat across the table from him he did his best to give her a hard time, but Bella knew how to be patient. She would get her own back one day but not yet; she needed BradMin’s facilities to fulfil the contracts she had with the Nippon Steel and Blast Furnace Company.

  They got things sorted in the end, but she knew it would not be long before he dreamt up another excuse to harass her some more. So it proved. The next time he was fussing about the rail link and how the maintenance costs were to be shared in view of the increase in traffic on the line, and the matter came up the very day Su-Ying went into hospital to have her baby.

  When Richard had been born Bella had ensured that it happened at Miranda Downs with old Maisie to help her and not a doctor in sight but when it came to her first grandchild only hospital and the best gynie in Western Australia would do. Bella had intended to be on hand to witness the birth but the way Pete Bathurst dragged things out she could almost believe he had heard about Su-Ying’s baby and was doing it deliberately to spite her.

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past him, the bastard,’ she fumed to Martin Dexter when they finally got away. She flung the Bentley through the traffic towards the hospital. ‘Get some decent cash flow under our belts and we’ll build our own loading dock and rail link.’

  ‘We’re already close to our limit with the banks,’ Martin said.

  ‘At least it’ll get Bathurst off our backs. And if we can pay for them out of profits, everyone will be happy.’

  They screeched into the hospital car park, almost collecting an ambulance on the way, and drew to a stop in front of the main entrance. Within seconds Bella was out of the car and heading for the doors.

  ‘Find somewhere to park it,’ she told Martin over her shoulder.

  Even financial directors had to play chauffeur, with Bella calling the shots.

  She knew where the maternity ward was. She took a lift to the third floor and stopped at the reception desk.

  ‘Mrs Tucker?’ she said.

  Lethargically the nurse examined a list.

  ‘Who’s asking?’ she wondered.

  ‘Mrs Tucker’s mother-in-law.’

  ‘The patient is in post-natal. If you care to wait, Sister will be with you shortly.’

  ‘I am asking you,’ Bella said. ‘Has she had the baby or not?’

  ‘She would hardly be in post-natal if she hadn’t,’ said the nurse, happy to put this pushy woman in her place.

  ‘So what is it?’

  ‘It is a boy.’

  ‘And they are both well?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  Bella smiled at her: a fearful sight.

  ‘A
nd you would have heard, I take it.’

  ‘Sister will be able to put you in the picture when she comes through,’ said the nurse, impervious to sarcasm.

  Bella looked around the waiting room, then opened the glass-panelled door and stepped out onto a railed verandah overlooking a small but pleasant garden.

  My first grandchild, she thought. She supposed the thought should make her feel old but it did not. The birth invigorated her, filling her with barely suppressed exultation. She had no shortage of challenges in her life but this was the most potent of them all.

  Before today, she thought, I was thinking simply in terms of the children and myself. Now I have moved beyond that, into the third generation. It will be up to me to build an empire worthy of the dynasty that will be my true legacy to the world.

  Excitement frothed like champagne in her blood. She couldn’t wait.

  The nurse was talking in the room behind her.

  ‘I believe your wife has stepped out onto the verandah.’

  Wife?

  Bella turned and saw Martin Dexter standing in the doorway.

  ‘It’s a boy,’ she said, deliberately ignoring the nurse’s remark. ‘Mother and child both doing well.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You heard what she said?’

  ‘I did.’

  Bella did not in the least mind the nurse’s misunderstanding.

  ‘Calls for a celebration,’ he said. ‘Drinks on me.’

  Of course it was no secret that Martin fancied her or at least the status that a relationship with her would provide. She had let him take her out to dinner that one time. She had enjoyed herself but had made up her mind that she would not repeat it. Martin was a valued subordinate and a friend but that was as far as it went. There were times when she ached for a man’s company and he was undeniably attractive, but having an affair with her financial director would make life too complicated, with the near certainty of problems down the track.

  ‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘We’ll have drinks in the boardroom with the others. I’ll get Deborah to organise it.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  A month later Peace came into Bella’s office very early one morning.

  Bella looked up from the memorandum she had been reading. Other papers were stacked in a neat pile in her in-tray awaiting her attention.

  ‘Are you busy?’ Peace said.

  Bella gave her a rueful smile. ‘The paperwork is ever with us,’ she said. ‘But it can wait. I’ve just ordered some coffee. Sit down and have a cup with me.’

  She looked thoughtfully at her daughter as she poured the coffee. She knew why she was here but would say nothing; it was up to Peace to start the ball rolling.

  ‘I have decided to move on,’ Peace said abruptly.

  ‘I am sorry to hear that, dear.’

  Bella had known for a long time it was inevitable. She would be sorry to see Peace go but knew it would be for the best and had no intention of fighting her about it.

  Rory McNab was doing a brilliant job for the company. He was going nowhere which meant there was no opening for Peace in the only place she was willing to accept: at the top of the tree. Also working in another organisation might give her the breadth of experience that she currently lacked.

  ‘Have you decided where you’re going?’

  ‘Vancouver. Canadian Shield has offered me a position.’

  Peace threw out the words as though daring her mother to challenge her decision but Bella had no intention of doing that.

  ‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ she said. ‘When are you planning to leave?’

  ‘Next month, if that’s okay with you.’

  ‘That will be fine. I always assumed you would want to go somewhere else to widen your experience. I shall be sorry to see you go, of course, but it won’t be forever and when you come back you’ll be even more valuable to the company than you are now.’

  ‘If there’s a place for me,’ Peace said.

  ‘There will always be a place for you,’ Bella said. ‘In the company and in my heart.’

  Although there were times Bella could have shaken her. Peace was brilliant at her job and had huge potential but one besetting sin: she was always trying to fly before she could walk. Bella knew Peace had been hoping she would move Rory McNab sideways to make room for her but that was something Bella would never do. Rory, too, was brilliant. She had another reason, as well. To Bella loyalty was sacrosanct, a sacrament she would not defile for Peace or anyone else.

  ‘This group has huge potential,’ she said. ‘Not only in iron. I am quite sure that in a few years’ time we’ll be able to offer you a top job worthy of your talent.’

  Later, after Peace had gone, Bella sat looking into space, the waiting papers lying disregarded on her desk, and asked herself why she and Peace had never been able to have a relaxed, friendly conversation with one another, as mother and daughter should. It shouldn’t be like that, she thought, but the fact was she had always found it easier to get on with her Chinese daughter-in-law than her own child, and that was a sad thing. Maybe it was her fault, but somehow there had always been a prickly hedge between them.

  Perhaps a few years apart would benefit them both.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Two weeks before Christmas 1972, Bella held a meeting with Owen Freeth and Martin Dexter to discuss floating Tuckers shares on the market.

  Owen was against it. ‘I cannot see the benefit of diluting your control of the group.’

  ‘We need the money,’ Bella said. ‘It’s that simple.’

  Owen was almost seventy now and had lost some of his edge but Bella had no plans to ease him out; she felt for him the indulgent kindness she might have had for an old dog – a bit slow, a bit stiff in the joints – but whose innate loyalty could not be denied. To humour him she set out the arguments again.

  ‘We need more capital to exploit the Japanese market. Opening up new areas will cost us a bomb. We’ll need another crushing plant, more earthmoving equipment, new roads, an extension to the rail link, more heavy-axle wagons, another stand-by locomotive… Do you know how much these things cost?’

  To say nothing of the terminal she was determined to have. She had her eye on a suitable site, had already had confidential discussions with the premier and had sounded out the principal landowners across whose property the rail link would run. It would mean millions in additional costs.

  ‘The banks will lend us the money,’ Owen said. ‘Iron ore is flavour of the month with the banks.’

  Bella raised an eyebrow at Martin Dexter. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I prefer outside capital, if we can get it without sacrificing control. We are too much in the banks’ hands already.’

  Two diametrically opposed views, but that was fine.

  ‘Thank you for your input,’ she said, smiling as she dismissed them. ‘You’ve given me a lot to think about.’

  The truth was that Bella had already made her decision and their opinions didn’t matter, but she liked to test the strength of her thinking by bouncing the pros and cons off those she trusted. It was also politic to let them think they had greater influence than they did.

  What was sure was that the company had to get massive amounts of new capital from somewhere. With the present price of ore, increased Japanese trade would generate enough profit, even after state royalties, to recoup most of the development costs, but she had studied Martin’s projections of the up-front investment that was needed and it was enormous.

  In the longer term she also wanted Tuckers to have its own railway. Once they had that they would be free of BradMin at last, but for the moment she thought it wiser to keep that idea to herself.

  There was another consideration, too, which she had not discussed with them. Iron ore was an international commodity, which meant that any problems on the international scene would impact on the trade. Helmut Muller had pointed this out when she had last see
n him in Frankfurt and had offered her the use of his various contacts around the globe.

  ‘Successful business needs reliable information,’ he had said. ‘And reliable information means ears to the ground around the world.’

  Spies, in other words, complete with encoded messages and a secret telegraphic address.

  Quite the James Bond, Bella thought.

  And now one of her Middle East spies had sent a report warning of rising Arab unrest at the USA’s continuing support for Israel.

  ‘We expect a strong response in 1973. Possibly even an oil embargo.’

  If that happened, there would be an international sell-off of shares and iron ore prices would go through the floor.

  If Tuckers were to raise market capital, it had to be soon or it might be too late.

  The listing was a huge success. With the issue ten times oversubscribed (it was not only the banks that regarded iron ore as flavour of the month) even Owen Freeth with his inheritance from Garth had few complaints. Not that he would admit it.

  ‘A nice nest egg for when you retire,’ Bella said.

  ‘What goes up can also go down,’ Owen said snootily. ‘In any case I am like you. We are not the sort to retire before we must. And then it’s likely to be feet first.’

  No matter; with the money from the subscription she was able to give Rory McNab the go-ahead for the development of the new areas. For several months the work continued on schedule but then the forebodings of Bella’s spy were realised, and in spades.

  On the sixth of October Syria and Egypt launched a surprise assault on Israel. Supported by military aid from the United States, Israel’s response was immediate, and devastating. Within days both Egypt and Syria were in full retreat, the United States pledged further aid and on the twentieth of October the Arab oil producers announced an oil embargo against the USA and its allies.

  The effect on the international economy was as catastrophic as Bella had foreseen. The price of iron ore collapsed. Tuckers were no longer looking at fabulous profits; instead they would be lucky to break even.