Francey studied Mitchell’s fair hair, inherited from his father, and his dark blue eyes which came from Meredith’s side of the family. For a moment she tried to imagine herself with a baby of her own, but couldn’t. She wasn’t ready yet, and wouldn’t be for a few more years. There remained buildings to design, and CJ’s business to learn properly.
“I’ll put this little man down then we’ll have a cup of tea,” Meredith promised as she took a sleepy Mitchell to his room.
Left alone, Francey’s thoughts returned to Steve. She hadn’t believed she would meet someone she would be so compatible with, not after Bryan, but she had. One thing niggled at her consciousness though, she knew that he kept a part of himself to himself. She was sure it had something to do with what had happened during his time in the NSW Police Service. She knew about the bungled drug raid and how his partner had almost been killed. Sam Bianchini had gone to great lengths to tell her the tale at Pierre’s birthday party. But she sensed that wasn’t all. Perhaps Meredith knew more, but would she tell her?
Meredith wheeled the tea trolley out, complete with an array of iced cakes arranged on a china plate, and broke her train of thoughts. “Motherhood suits you,” Francey complimented as she watched her friend pour two cups of tea.
“That’s what everyone says. Even the guys from my section can’t believe how maternal I’ve become. They rib me unmercifully, of course. I love it though, being with him, watching him grow and learn to do new things every day. Going back to work in a couple of months will be hard, but it’s a financial necessity.”
“Brett’s finding it tough? Not much work around?”
Meredith’s shoulders shrugged. “Doubtless you know the building trade’s tight at the moment. We’re getting by, but with the mortgage, I don’t have the luxury of choosing to stay at home. Hopefully it’ll be just for a few years.”
Francey nodded in sympathy. She was no stranger to life’s struggles. She’d watched her parents labour for years to pay off their mortgage and while they had, they still worked long hours to bring in a reasonable income. “Now that I’m working for CJ I might be able to push some work Brett’s way — if he comes in with the right price. CJ’s asked me to look at some Sydney real estate while I’m here, with a view to either building or renovating a home somewhere on the harbour. He wants a mooring too, naturally. I’m not quite sure why he wants a Sydney home when he spends about eighty per cent of his time at Murrundi, but who am I to argue with the boss? I’ve looked around a bit already and it’s interesting, seeing the market place from a different angle, a purchaser rather than an architect.”
“So that’s why you’ve been running all over the place. Seen anything you like?”
Francey laughed. “Plenty. I’ve been in and out of so many mansions my head’s spinning. I’ve found two pieces of real estate that could suit. One at Kirribilli, near Careening Bay. The other’s at Point Piper, a stone’s throw from Felix Bay. Both properties are old, they need a lot of work, so perhaps it’d be better to bulldoze and start from scratch. The potential’s there, with million dollar views to boot.”
“And you’ll do the design, of course.”
“Of course. CJ will have to give final approval and he’ll decide which property and whether it’s to be renovated or totally rebuilt.” She grinned. “You know, I’ve always wanted to design a mansion on the harbour.”
“CJ Ambrose keeps you busy. How do you find time for Steve?”
“Oh, we manage. I don’t mean to make CJ sound like a slavedriver, he isn’t. If you do what he wants when he wants you to do it he doesn’t interfere with your social life. If he did I’d have something to say about it.”
It was Meredith’s turn to grin. “I imagine you would.” Her friend had never been backward about laying her cards on the table, or righting a wrong when she’d perceived one had been done.
“Meredith …” she began tentatively, the need to know had been building inside her since they’d had their first cup of tea. “Tell me about Steve. You know about him, don’t you? The real reason he left Sydney.”
Meredith stared at her friend, seeming to deliberate for a long moment. Finally she nodded, “If you want me to. You know, I’m sure a lot of what happened has been blown out of proportion. Cops are the worst or the best gossips in the world and keeping a secret if you’re in the job is impossible. As it was told to me, Steve was knocked about emotionally by what happened to his partner, or rather nearly happened to her. And you probably know that his superior put him into another section. Time passed and he seemed to settle, though, reputedly, he hated shuffling papers.
“One night, he was off-duty but still had his gun on under his jacket. The story goes that he went into a local bottle shop to buy a carton of beer and got caught up in a robbery in progress. Apparently he froze, couldn’t respond, and he did nothing because both crims had guns. He was, according to some, in a position where he could have drawn his gun and taken control. He didn’t. Theoretically, and the opinion’s divided, he did the right thing by playing it safe and not putting the shopkeeper in danger. The shopkeeper could have been hit if shots were exchanged, but the other school of thought, from the gung ho brigade, was that he should have taken more positive action but chickened out.”
“Did he get into trouble with, what do you call it, internal affairs?”
“There was the inevitable inquiry.” Meredith’s eyebrows rose. “Steve was unofficially reprimanded for not taking the initiative, mostly because the crims got away and haven’t been caught. He had another psychological evaluation which decided that he was fit for duty and was moved to yet another department.” Meredith thought for a moment. “I guess those in command were making it clear to Steve that he’d let the force down.”
Francey looked at her friend. “How do you know all this? I mean, you’re in forensics, it’s not your field at all.”
“I checked a few things out myself. I had to know because I wanted to make sure my friend wasn’t getting tied up with someone who, maybe, had some unresolved problems.”
“Do you think he has problems?”
Meredith’s expression remained thoughtful. “I think he had problems, but after meeting him and from what you’ve told me about how he handles his work in Mt Isa, how he rescued you and everything, I’d say his problems are in the past.” She didn’t add, but couldn’t deny the thought … Providing he didn’t become involved in any life and death situations in which guns played a part. That could prove stressful to him.
Meredith saw that Francey needed more convincing. “Look, Steve’s an okay guy and a good cop. Policing is tough these days with so many crazies around and the politics of it all. Everyone’s under pressure, especially cops in the front line. Sometimes, it all becomes too much and when it does one never knows how one’s going to react. What happened to Steve could happen to anyone.”
“You could say the same for most professions today, there’s pressure everywhere.”
“Right,” Meredith agreed.
“You know,” Francey decided it was time to change the subject, “I might get Brett to come with me and look at those houses on the harbour. I’d value his opinion.”
“I’m sure he’d love to. Over the Christmas and New Year break there’s not much work being done.”
Francey stayed on for dinner and didn’t leave until well after 10 p.m., but she returned to her parents home in Glebe with a lighter heart. She had gleaned more information about Steve, what made him tick, what made him tense. She understood why he hadn’t wanted to tell her what had happened. He had his pride which had been dented by the experience of learning that he was fallible. Knowing about it would help her in her relationship with him, she was sure of it.
Francey stood in the conservatory looking out as the rain sheeted down, obliterating everything beyond three metres from view. She had never seen rain like it. It went on and on, relentlessly. Day and night. Occasionally it stopped, which lulled her into a false sense of hope t
hat it was over, but then more dark clouds would roll in and down it came again. Les had said they got such weather every few years and often it went on for weeks. Unbelievable.
Thank goodness the mini conference centre had the roof and walls up, which meant some tradesmen could do internal work under Pierre’s supervision. Pierre had to use a cane to support his still weak leg, but at least he was back on the job and so was Lisa. Her efficiency at running the day-to-day affairs of CJ’s business had been sorely missed.
She was glad they were leaving on a commercial flight tomorrow for Singapore. She enjoyed the light, the sun, the warmth. Days and days of rain and mud and slush had caused her personality to wallow, making her understand the meaning of the phrase, “gone troppo”!
She went into her cubbyhole office to survey the half finished building plans for CJ’s art museum. Goodness knows when she would get the opportunity to finish them, especially now that CJ had exchanged contracts on the Kirribilli property and wanted the house torn down and a new, illustrious mansion designed and built by the end of the year.
On one of her brief visits Natalie had expressed amusement and some derision that CJ was building another something — but not something he could make money from, snidely implying that he was doing it just to keep Francey in work. CJ’s stepdaughter had snubbed her time and time again during her two days at Murrundi, making it clear that she couldn’t stand the sight of her.
What was the woman’s problem? she wondered. She appeared to be, ridiculous as it seemed, jealous of her relationship with CJ, which didn’t make any sense to her. Francey chewed her lip thoughtfully as she studied the plan on the drawing board, making some pencil notes on the side of the paper. She wasn’t too cut up about Natalie’s behaviour; she hadn’t been overly taken with the self-indulgent woman, her dislike was something she could live with. As long as they weren’t in close proximity to each other very often.
Her thoughts turned to something more pleasurable: the forthcoming trip. A shiver of childlike excitement raced through her, she was looking forward to seeing new places and meeting new people. Oh, she knew it would be a working holiday but she was equally sure that there would be compensations along the way.
Singapore lived up to Francey’s expectation of being all and more than she had hoped it would be. The sights, the sounds and even the smell and bustle of the place enthralled her.
They were ensconced in the luxurious penthouse suite of the Meridian Mandarin hotel, which had a panoramic view of Singapore’s busy harbour and parts of the highrise buildings surrounding the city.
In the afternoon, Les, who’d visited the city many times, took her on a personal tour of the more popular places: the zoo and the botanical gardens. That night they dined at one of CJ’s favourite haunts then nightclub-hopped until the wee hours. Tomorrow, though, would be all business: a day-long meeting with the Yakismoto consortium to thrash out final details and then sign the contract for the Cooktown development.
Francey studied the small conference room assigned to them by the hotel’s management. Ash panelled walls, a long teak-topped conference table, leather chairs, panoramic views of the harbour from the floor to ceiling windows, several tastefully subdued watercolours on the walls and a beverage making facility in a timber panelled alcove completed the picture. All very pleasant and efficient. She was very nervous but very excited also.
She would be addressing four topnotch wealthy businessmen led by Nikko Yakismoto, a renowned Japanese industrialist, on the design aspects and building schedule of the Cooktown project. She had given presentations before, some to illustrious Sydney clients, but this would be her most important presentation. And in a way it didn’t help that CJ had absolute confidence in her. She wished he didn’t, for if she fouled up, he would be all the more disappointed and, strangely, she didn’t want to disappoint him.
Les came into the room with a sheaf of documents, portfolios and a set of rolled up plans under his arm. He glanced at the presentation clipboard and the overhead projector, saw they were ready, then nodded at Francey.
“They’re on their way up, CJ has just met them in the foyer.”
Francey nodded.
“Nervous?”
“You bet!”
“Don’t be, you’ll be great.” He came up to her and took both of her hands in his. “The consortium wants this project to go ahead, they know it’s an excellent financial deal for them, otherwise they’d be investing their money elsewhere. We’re doing all the hard work and they’re just putting in a chunk of the capital. Out of all of them,” he confided, “Nikko is the one to watch. He’s sharp and he’s known to be hard-headed. He was educated in England so he’s fluent in English, the others only have a smattering so they’ll have an interpreter in tow. Oh, yes, remember to allow extra time for that during your presentation.”
The door opened and several men, including CJ, filed in. Immediately, one of them caught Francey’s attention. Immaculately dressed in a white shirt and patterned tie and a beige lightweight suit for the tropics, the man exuded an air of self-confidence and importance. He was about Francey’s height, with black, short-cropped hair flecked with grey at the temples. Very distinguished. She looked from him to CJ and back again. Two strong-willed, successful men. It would be interesting to see who would eventually gain the upper hand.
CJ made the introductions. “Francey, I’d like you to meet Nikko Yakismoto, and his associates Ti Masuku, Oke Narishima and Edmund Kope. Mr Chee, on your left, will translate as necessary.”
Each man bowed slightly in turn to Francey.
“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Spinetti,” Nikko took over the conversation as he shook her hand in western tradition, “I have been most impressed with your design work.” He studied her features openly then turned to CJ, “You are most fortunate to have such an attractive as well as clever assistant.”
“Thank you,” Francey said as a matter of form, and despite her inclination to make spot decisions on people, reserved her opinion of Nikko Yakismoto. She had caught something in the way he looked from CJ to her and back again. As if he wanted to say more but Japanese politeness forbade it. With her curious nature she longed to know the relevance behind the look.
“Well, gentlemen, we’ve a lot to get through. If you don’t care for refreshments I suggest we get started,” CJ said authoritatively. He wasn’t going to relinquish the head position to Nikko. What’s more he didn’t particularly like his sly glance at Francey. Nikko was known to like the ladies, even though he was, supposedly, a happily married man. He’d bear watching during the negotiations. “I’ll hand things over to Francey Spinetti. She’s going to go through the design with you and explain the building schedule.” CJ grinned as he gestured with his right hand for Francey to take the podium.
“Thanks, CJ.” She waited for everyone to be seated then she began. “You each have portfolios in front of you with scaled down drawings of the project site which includes sketches of the first golf course, the accommodation complex and the five star hotel. I know you’re familiar with the plans but there are several additional changes I should point out.
“Stage two will consist of a second golf course and the third stage will be another group of condominiums close to the hotel complex which will form a triangular arrangement of rented apartments, privately owned condominiums and the hotel itself. The details are marked as stage three.”
“If I may enquire, Miss Spinetti, what is the overall building time for the complete complex?”
“That’s covered in the appendix to the specifications, Mr Yakismoto. The estimate is five years.” She noted a low murmur from the Yakismoto team.
Nikko frowned. “That is a long time. My colleagues and I were hoping that —”
“Keep your shirt on, Nikko. The reason it’s being spread over five years is explained in detail. We want to minimise capital outlay by building the first golf course, the condominiums and the hotel. The hotel should, on expected use, pay for itself in fi
ve years. We’ll sell the condominiums off the plan and as they’re built they’ll pay for that part of the project and the golf course.” Frowning, he took a breath. “Later, we’ll borrow capital for the second golf course and the third stage will, when it’s sold off, pay for stages two and three. I think five years for all stages is a reasonable time frame.”
“Yes, admirable, CJ.” Nikko paused, his gaze still focused on Francey. “My colleagues and I believe the demand for such condominiums will be great in my country. We believe we could sell all the condominiums, stages one and three, at the one time which would repay the loan and pay for the golf course and the hotel. Then we could borrow to build the second golf course and use profits from the hotel to pay off the second loan. All this could take place, we believe, over a period of three and a half years, four at the most, rather than five.”
“Mr Yakismoto, if I may,” Francey regained control. “One reason why it’s proposed to take the five years is that this is a project of considerable size. Labour, freight and supply of building materials, council permission and the weather itself — for several months of the year Cooktown is unseasonably hot and there’s the monsoon period as well — will slow the project’s progress.”
“I understand, Miss Spinetti, but surely all this is debatable, a matter of how we prioritise the building of the complex?” Nikko queried.
“Of course, of course,” CJ replied with some impatience. Nikko either had some bee in his bonnet or he was trying to take control of the project for himself. Well, he’d see about that. “That’s what we’re here for, to iron out any last minute problems or glitches. Les, what do you think about Nikko’s shorter time frame?”
The discussion between what was optimally desirable and not possible due to the siting of the complex raged on for the next two hours, with Francey doing on the spot rough calculations on re-costing the project the way Nikko’s consortium had suggested. She could tell from CJ’s tight expression that he wanted things his way, though Nikko’s plan had merits. Unfortunately Nikko hadn’t taken into consideration the difficulties of the site and the weather. She could also see that both men were rapidly reaching an impasse and by lunchtime negotiations had all but ground to a halt.
Heart of the Outback Page 28