Before the Storm

by Morrissey, Di

  ‘Yes, that’s true,’ said Ellie. She felt torn. It was clear Kathryn O’Neill was not aware of the development rumours. She wondered if she should say that the park could be in jeopardy, but remembered Patrick’s words about treading carefully. Instead she backtracked.

  ‘My, you’ve had a magical life. Do you feel lucky?’

  A shadow momentarily crossed the elderly woman’s face. ‘I feel very blessed. And very fortunate. My family means everything to me.’ Kathryn looked off into the distance, lost in her memories once more.

  ‘When Seamus married Laura I was so happy for him, though she was always a frail girl. Then when Ronan, Linda and Benjamin came along I discovered the joys of being a grandmother. It was such a tragedy when Laura died, though not unforeseen. Of course, the children were grown by then.

  ‘Ronan was working on our cattle station in Queensland; such a clever boy, he managed the station superbly. That’s where he met Cynthia, whose parents owned the adjoining property. Ben went up and ran the O’Neill property when Ronan and Cynthia went on their extended honeymoon to Europe.’

  ‘I remember that wedding,’ broke in Heather. ‘Social event of the season!’

  ‘It was,’ said Kathryn with a faint smile. ‘Then when Ronan and his sister Linda had children of their own, and I became a great-grandmother, I was thrilled. I adore it when they all come to visit and our house is full of laughing, boisterous children.’

  ‘And Ben?’ Ellie was about to say more but Kathryn jumped in, smiling.

  ‘Ben is such a gifted and thoughtful young man. He’s a talented artist, you know. I think he was rather hoping to take over on the cattle station after Ronan, but Ronan told Seamus he didn’t think Ben could manage it . . .’ Kathryn trailed off, but then straightened in her chair and continued. ‘Their sister Linda married well and lives in Melbourne. Seamus spends a lot of time visiting his grandchildren there. I’m glad he still goes on the cruises he and Laura always liked; it’s an escape from real life for a moment, he tells me.’

  ‘Quite a tribe, isn’t it?’ commented Heather.

  ‘A dynasty,’ said Ellie. ‘So, how do you see the future for your family?’

  ‘The future? Continuation, dear girl. The sense of continuity, of overlapping circles. We move forward and each of us has a life but we are always joined to those around us. Family is the glue that holds us all together. It creates our world. Family is everything to me,’ she repeated firmly.

  ‘For better or worse. Amen,’ said Heather.

  Kathryn shifted her position. ‘Is it time for a break yet, Heather?’

  ‘Of course it is.’ Heather grimaced as she straightened up. ‘Can’t paint for as long as I used to.’ She then peered at the canvas. ‘Hmm. This is coming along. It’s been interesting watching your face as you talked to Ellie, like seeing the years peel away.’

  ‘Oh, good. Ladies like to hear that!’ said Kathryn, laughing.

  ‘I’d love to include a photograph of the finished portrait with the article, if that’s possible,’ Ellie said.

  ‘I can’t see why not,’ Kathryn responded. ‘Especially if, as Heather suggests, she has managed to work miracles.’

  Heather smiled as she put down her brush and looked at Ellie. ‘When an artist gets a glimpse into the heart and soul of a subject it can be very revealing. I hope I’ve captured that vulnerability.’

  Ellie watched Heather help Kathryn down from the chair, wondering what had caused the sense of vulner­ability that Heather had seen in Mrs O’Neill. Most people would not consider this privileged woman to be fragile in any way other than because of her age. But Ellie thought that she, too, had seen something behind Kathryn’s eyes as she’d spoken.

  ‘Thank you for your time, Mrs O’Neill. You must feel very proud of your family and the gift of the Botanic Gardens.’ Ellie paused, then decided to probe just a little further. ‘So there are no plans to change anything at the river?’

  ‘No. Whatever for? It’s perfectly lovely. Our gardener looks after the Botanic Gardens. I think it has worked out well, as the caravan park people look after the other section. It’s a very happy arrangement and asset for the town.’

  Ellie’s heart sank. Kathryn knew nothing about the rumours.

  ‘Come on, Kathryn,’ said Heather, ‘let’s sit down for tea before Susan arrives.’

  ‘I’ll leave you both alone,’ said Ellie. ‘Thank you so much again, Heather, Mrs O’Neill. I’m looking forward to seeing that portrait!’

  ‘Me too. Lovely to see you again, dear. Incidentally, would you and your grandfather like to come to my birthday celebration? I’ll have Susan put an invitation in the post.’

  ‘Oh, that would be wonderful. Thank you.’ Patrick would no doubt go, but Ellie wasn’t sure if she’d make an appearance.

  She put her things in the little basket on the front of her bike and pedalled home deep in thought.

  *

  ‘So how did it go?’ asked Patrick as Ellie came into the office later that afternoon.

  ‘Well, Kathryn obviously knows nothing about any proposed plans. From the way she was talking about the Botanic Gardens and caravan park, I think she’d be shocked if she did. Nor did Heather; the two ladies live in a bit of a bubble.’

  ‘Half their luck!’ Patrick sighed.

  ‘She was very friendly and chatty,’ Ellie went on. ‘Loves her family, sees no flaws in any of them. Obviously adored her husband.’ She paused then added, ‘Actually, Poppy, the more I think about it, the more I realise that in that whole time, Kathryn only mentioned her background once, and that was in response to something Heather brought up. She deflected questions about her own family and hardly revealed a thing about herself. The only new thing I learned was that she loved playing golf. And Heather told me that!’ Ellie shook her head, bemused.

  ‘Clever or cunning?’ asked Patrick with a wry smile.

  ‘Why would she have to be either? What’s she got to hide?’ Ellie wondered. ‘In fact, she said her boss gave her away at her wedding, not her father. She was estranged from him, apparently, and her mother had died. They were the only other facts I picked up.’

  ‘Perhaps she feels her real life began when she met Boyd,’ said Patrick. ‘In a way I’m glad she’s being kept in the dark. The loss or development of that land would hurt her deeply, I think.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Ellie said as she picked up her phone. Out in the little back office, she sent a text to Sally: Interview over. No new info: neither Kathryn nor Heather seemed to have any idea about the development.

  Sally quickly replied: Okay thanks. Might have a lead. Want to investigate further before I say anything more.

  Let me know what you find. Ellie wrote back, but didn’t receive a reply.

  She decided she needed some time to think, so she headed out to her favourite café and sat at a table in the sun after ordering. She couldn’t bear the instant coffee Patrick and Maggie sometimes brewed up in the office.

  ‘Hello.’

  Ellie looked up and was taken aback to see Susan McLean standing by the table, smiling.

  ‘How’s your dog? I do hope he’s all right,’ Susan said.

  ‘Yes. Sam is on the mend. The vet put in a few stitches,’ Ellie said, not really wanting to get into a long conversation with the woman.

  ‘That’s good to hear. May I join you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Ellie felt uncomfortable. Why on earth was Susan being so pleasant? Did she feel guilty about what had happened to Sam? Ellie tried to read Susan’s expression but was at a loss.

  ‘I thought you’d like to know that we’re going to have a little media event prior to Mrs O’Neill’s birthday. On the same day, but before the family festivities start in the evening. There’ll be a presentation of her portrait. The Chronicle might like to come along.’

  ‘Thank you,’ s
aid Ellie politely. ‘I’ll let my grand­father know. He and Jon will definitely be there.’

  ‘Great.’ Susan paused. ‘Actually, I was hoping to speak to you and your grandfather about the Chronicle. We’re forming a group – a team – to promote the town. It’ll comprise a group of stakeholders; a sort of business hub. Each organisation will do their own thing, but under a team umbrella.’

  ‘What will you be promoting, Susan?’ Ellie asked, a little surprised. ‘Are you setting up a new business as well as working for the O’Neills?’

  ‘Oh, well, I work for the rest of the family too, in a way. It’s in all our interests to promote the area, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is. What do you have in mind?’

  ‘We’ll start by inviting various businesses and organisations in Storm Harbour and the surrounding district to come together to map out ways to promote the area in a positive way. Showcase the opportunities here,’ she said, then added, ‘There are too many negative stories going around.’

  Ellie wondered what Susan was referring to, then thought she might be talking about the riverside land. ‘Well, I guess if you’ve heard negative feedback about local goings-on, it must be for a reason,’ she said slowly.

  ‘You really need to talk to my grandfather about your plans.’

  ‘Indeed. But I thought I’d run it past you first. After all, you know about social media, promotion, that sort of thing. I’ve noticed how the social media for the paper has sprung up since you came to town.’

  ‘I don’t have much experience with it; no more than most people, really,’ Ellie said. ‘I’m just across the technological aspects.’

  ‘Well, we all need to do our bit to stimulate and grow the local economy, Ellie. Bring more people to town to live here permanently or long-term as well as to holiday. To invest by starting a business. There are a lot of assets here that are never showcased or advertised. The town could grow substantially, which would benefit everyone. We need to get advice from good consultants in the city.’

  Hearing this, Ellie felt her hackles rise. She felt like asking why they’d need to look for expertise in the city, and how the local business community would cover the cost of these consultants. Why not find bright Gen Y and Z-ers in Storm Harbour who knew how to use social media to ‘influence’, and check out the savvy old-timers who could offer their advice? she wondered.

  Instead she said mildly, ‘Sounds interesting, but if you need this, it means there are issues to be addressed. Wouldn’t it be better to tackle the systemic problems first?’

  Susan had a swift answer. ‘The idea is to jump over the negative and not dwell on the problems as so many do, but to go straight to the solutions and future plans.’

  Ellie smiled to herself, thinking that there were probably just as many people who didn’t want to see the town ‘grow substantially’. Plus, she already knew her grand­father wouldn’t go for taking a side. It was the paper’s role to be objective. He’d write up issues as they progressed, but would not act as a promoter or be involved.

  ‘There is also the potential for decent advertising in your paper,’ Susan went on, dangling a carrot.

  This sounded like a veiled bribe to Ellie, but she bit back the heated response that was on the tip of her tongue, because it then occurred to her that she might find out more about the O’Neills if she showed some interest in the plan. It was a means of digging around, and innocently probing about the caravan park.

  ‘Sounds interesting. Let me speak to my grandfather.’

  ‘Excellent. We have a one-page flyer outlining the ideas. I’ll email it to the Chronicle with all the contact details.’ She stood up. ‘We’re all invested in this town, one way or another. So pleased the Chronicle can help. I’ll be in touch.’

  Susan gave a small wave and walked briskly away, leaving a perplexed Ellie sitting there. Shaking her head, Ellie picked up her phone and checked her messages.

  The chair opposite scraped as someone sat down.

  Ellie looked up, then did a double take when she saw Dave smiling at her.

  ‘Hi, stranger. Are you okay?’

  Ellie gave a small smile. ‘Yes, fine. How’re you?’

  ‘I’m wondering when you’re going to come out with me.’

  ‘I doubt that’s occupying your every waking moment,’ said Ellie lightly. ‘Sorry. I’ve been busy. Lot of things on the go at the moment. Hunting down information for an article for the paper.’

  ‘Yes. In a small town there’s not much that escapes scrutiny. Even when there’s nothing really going on. Or is there?’

  ‘That’s what newspapers are for, to find out what’s really happening. Not gossip and speculation,’ said Ellie firmly. ‘However, if you have any rumours to share, I’m happy to listen.’

  ‘My lips are sealed. I can’t reveal my customers’ secret money-laundering deals, and plots against the establishment.’ He smiled. ‘Just kidding. Seriously, let’s have dinner. Or try to have lunch again. You’re not that busy, are you?’ he asked, leaning towards her.

  Ellie shook her head. ‘Of course not. It’s just . . .’ She paused as she stared at Dave’s handsome face and winning smile. He was a decent man, affable, intelligent, comfortably situated, well liked in town and had a sense of humour. What was holding her back?

  He reached out and touched her hand. ‘Please, I’d like to get to know you better.’ He tilted his head as he scrutinised her. ‘Or is it me?’

  ‘Oh, no, not at all,’ Ellie exclaimed, feeling embarrassed. ‘It’s maybe just . . . oh, I don’t know. I came down here for a lot of reasons. I left my job in some truly horrendous circumstances, and I handled it badly. I’m dealing with a few different things, I suppose. I’m just not sure I’m ready for this.’

  ‘If you only “suppose”, then you need to address whatever it is, confront things head-on and deal with them and move forward. Listen, I get it. We all go through stuff. Don’t let it beat you.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘And if you don’t want to have a meal, then come surfing with me!’

  ‘Thank you, Dave,’ said Ellie. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘I’ll call you before the end of the week. Take care, Ellie.’

  ‘You too, Dave. Thanks again.’

  He left the table as Ellie looked into the dregs of her coffee cup. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Dave’s words echoed in her head. Don’t let it beat you.

  *

  Ellie watched Sam walking along the empty windswept beach. He was still moving a little gingerly after his injury, but that didn’t seem to stop him from having fun.

  He came back to her with a found stick, joyously waiting for her to throw it into the waves.

  ‘It’s too rough and too cold for swimming, Sammy,’ she said ruffling his ears.

  The sunset had been smothered by windswept grey clouds scudding low over the tossing waves. To some this may have seemed a desolate, cold setting, she mused. A depressing place to be. But for Ellie this was a place etched into her heart and memory. During the Christmas holidays when she was thirteen she’d had her first kiss in those dunes while her family picnicked below. It was the place she came to in times of joy and sadness. A place to scream at the cliffs, shout at the waves, and sing to the sky. A place where she could be herself.

  Suddenly Ellie flung out her arms, and cried to the wind and the sea, ‘Who are you, Ellie Conlan? Why are you here? What are you running from?’

  Sam rushed as quickly as he could to her, cocking his head, looking worried as he dropped the stick at her feet.

  She crouched down, hugging the dog. ‘It’s just me, Sam. I’m running from me.’ She stood up, snapped the stick in half and flung it on the sand in front of the bewildered dog.

  ‘Let’s go home, Sam. We have stuff to do.’

  *

  When Sam and Ellie arrived home, P
atrick was on the phone in his study and a beef stew was bubbling on

  the stove. Ellie fed Sam, who fell into his bed in the kitchen as she poured herself a glass of wine and set the table.

  Over dinner, Ellie recounted her meeting with Susan. ‘So, what do you make of that?’ she asked Patrick.

  ‘All sounds like hype. Someone comes up with these ideas every few years. Most of the town likes things the way they are and wants to let the place grow and change organically. If some big-shot developer were to get their way and slap up a monstrosity of a hotel, a high-rise, a hypermarket, a factory or a mall, the little guys would close down. Times have changed. What your Mike said about caring, integrated, clever communities is the way to go. But it does no harm to listen to ideas and assess them. I say worm your way in to hear what that Susan is all about. There’s more to this than meets the eye, as someone wise once said.’ Patrick leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s a sure bet: if she’s involved, so are the O’Neills.’

  7

  Ellie heard her grandfather walk into her room and her eyes snapped open. It was dawn.

  He leaned down, whispering, ‘Hey, Poss, wake up, sweetie.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ She struggled with the covers as she sat up and Sam stirred on the end of her bed. ‘Are you okay, Poppy?’

  ‘Yes, love, I’m all right.’

  ‘What’s happened? It’s so early.’

  ‘There’s a story breaking. We need to go. I’ll make a quick cuppa and toast.’

  ‘Do we have time? What’s going on?’ Ellie leaped out of bed as Sam tried to do a down dog stretch, but opted to sit down again instead.

  ‘Warranghi National Park, a kid is lost. A little boy, four years old.’

  Ellie stared at Patrick. ‘Oh no, that’s a pretty wild place. I remember we went for a picnic there once. And there’s a big lake up there.’

  ‘I got a call from one of the men who’s going out to join the search. The sergeant told me when I contacted him that they’ve been looking for about an hour already.’