Grace hit Melanie’s FaceTime number and her smiling face appeared on the screen.
‘Hi, Gracie, what’s happening?’
‘I’m thinking I will go to Bali and check out this hotel campaign.’
‘Good on you. It sounds fantastic. Of course, it could be a nightmare too. But don’t go, won’t know,’ she added.
‘That’s what I thought. Mum’s happy to take care of Daisy for a few days.’
‘Does Lawrence know you’re going away?’
‘Not yet. Do you think I have to let him know? It doesn’t affect Daisy’s routine. Mum will drive her to school. I don’t want Lawrence throwing a spanner in the works, as Mum says, before I even know anything about this job.’
‘Legally? I don’t know. I guess not, but perhaps check with your lawyer. Bringing Daisy up there later could be more of an issue. Just take it one step at a time. You might hate the place. Or the people. Or the job.’
‘Mum was talking last night about her time there. She was very nostalgic. I’d love to take her back sometime.’
‘Really? When was she in Bali?’
‘In the late seventies, before she married Dad. In the hippy era.’
‘Go, Tina!’ Melanie said, laughing, then sounded more serious. ‘The client is paying for your travel, I assume? You can’t afford to be out of pocket.’
‘I know! My work is paying initially. We’re all keen to get this job, it could be massive. Big-bucks budget, I’m told.’
‘So what’s the process? Do you have to prepare the pitch before you go?’ Mel said.
‘I’ll do some research but really the most useful thing at this early stage will be to meet the client’s marketing team and hear what they have in mind.’
‘Right, I suppose they want to find out what you’re like and discuss some of your ideas too.’
Grace smiled. ‘Yeah, no pressure! I’ll have to think on my feet from the moment I land.’
‘You’ll wow them, Gracie,’ Mel said. ‘I’m sure you’ll get this contract . . . if you want it.’
‘I wish you were coming,’ Grace said. ‘Okay. I’ll keep you posted.’
‘See ya.’
Grace spent several quiet hours making notes, doing some research and ordering books on Bali, until her mother stuck her head in the study door.
‘Mr Jamison rang. The family lawyer he recommends is a Mr Judd.’ She dropped a piece of paper with all the details on the desk and rested her hand gently on her daughter’s shoulder. ‘I think going to Bali is a good idea. You know Daisy will be fine here. And I can deal with Lawrence. He’s always been very polite to me. No fun and a pain in the bum, but polite.’
Grace couldn’t help laughing and pressed her mother’s hand. ‘He’s scared of you! Thanks, Mum.’
*
Allan Judd was a calm man. Middle-aged, with sandy hair greying at the temples, he came across as steady, thoughtful and seemingly unflappable. He took neat notes while Grace outlined her situation, stopping her only to ask for clarification or more detail. Grace wondered if he had always been like this, or whether the job had just inured him to hysteria and trauma. Later, when she described him to Mel, she suggested he might be on tranquillisers. Or Bourbon. ‘Family law must be very draining,’ she said soberly.
When Grace had finished briefing him, Mr Judd laid down his notepad and pen and plunged straight in. ‘Now, I understand you want a divorce,’ he began.
‘As soon as possible,’ said Grace.
‘I’m afraid that can’t happen,’ he said. ‘The law requires, among other things, that you have been separated for twelve months and one day. From what you’ve told me, you and your husband are only recently separated, is that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Grace. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that you’ll have to wait,’ he said gently but firmly. ‘You are living separately now?’
Grace nodded.
‘Then let’s focus on more pressing issues, like this potential job in Bali.’ He picked up his pen again.
‘So, is this a job interview in Bali? How long would you be required to stay there, should you land this job?’ he asked.
‘Yes, you could call it a job interview,’ Grace said. ‘That would only be a few days. If I got the contract, though, I’d have to go back there for a while, maybe a month or more. A few weeks at the very least. I’m not sure yet.’
‘So tell me, do you want the job? It would certainly complicate your life.’
‘I know.’ Grace sighed. ‘It would pay well, and at the moment that is very important. And frankly, I like the idea of being out of the country so I don’t have to deal with my husband face to face too often. He is difficult.’
‘Well, face-to-face discussions might be limited. But I’m afraid you can’t walk away easily. You’ll be surprised to discover just how many entanglements there are. What about your daughter? She’s five, isn’t she? How do you see that working out?’
‘My mother would look after her while I’m in Bali for the interview,’ Grace said. ‘It’s already arranged.’
‘Perhaps, but it won’t look good to a court if you leave her with your mother. Your husband will step into the primary parenting role. It doesn’t put you in a good and caring light.’
‘I understand that. This initial trip would be short, five days at most. If I got the job, I would consider taking Daisy with me to Bali. I’m sure I could enrol her in a local English-speaking school and work out the other child-care arrangements. My working hours would be flexible.’
‘Tricky,’ he said. ‘Let’s just go step by step. I will draw up a document for this quick trip, to give to your mother so she has power of attorney. That way she can make swift decisions if needed. Does your husband have any such arrangements in place?’
‘I don’t think so. He’s the one who always travelled for business. I stayed home with Daisy. My mother has been a very regular babysitter for her granddaughter when we needed her.’
‘Does your daughter have a passport?’
‘Yes. We were going to go to France for a holiday last year, but it didn’t come off at the last moment.’ Grace gritted her teeth, remembering the disappointment as Lawrence changed their plans and dumped the holiday in favour of a quick trip to Africa on his own for ‘important business’.
‘And you have the passports in your possession?’
‘Yes, fortunately. Lawrence kept all our passports in his office safe. It was convenient for him because he travelled a lot, and he wanted to keep them together. So they weren’t burned in the fire,’ she added grimly. ‘I asked Lawrence for Daisy’s so I could get copies of her vaccination records and her birth certificate to enrol her in the local school.’
‘And you have your own as well?’
‘Lawrence gave me his travel wallet and I took them both out,’ Grace said. ‘I had no idea I’d need mine so soon.’
‘As you say, that was very fortunate indeed.’ Mr Judd checked his notes. ‘So, as your intention is to divorce and you are supporting your daughter, a lucrative job is not to be passed up lightly. Especially as you have no financial arrangement with your husband as yet and, as you mentioned on the phone, there seems to be some issue over the insurance money.’
‘Yes, that’s right. And he hasn’t been forthcoming with any financial support,’ Grace said. ‘It’s not like I walked out of the marital home. There isn’t one.’
‘I understand. But you are living separately.’ He held up his hand as Grace went to interject. ‘I would say, go ahead and make arrangements to go to Bali for this first short trip. Does your husband have legal representation?’
‘I’m sure he does, but I don’t know who his lawyer is, I’m afraid.’
‘All right. I can find out. I’ll be in touch again soon, Grace.’ He rose and shook her hand.
*
A week later, Grace put her bags in the boot and got into the passenger seat of Tina’s car.
‘All set?’ her mother asked as she drove down the street away from the beach.
‘Yes, but I just hate all this stuff, Mum. I feel like a criminal. I never thought I’d have a lawyer on retainer. What has my life come to?’
Tina turned and smiled at her. ‘You are going off to Bali, all expenses paid! I hope this job comes through for you. One door closes and it’s Hellooooo, Bali!’
Grace couldn’t help laughing. ‘Well, when you put it that way, I’m actually a bit excited.’
Tina pulled up outside the departures terminal and leaned over to hug Grace. ‘Don’t worry about Daisy. We’ll be fine. Just concentrate on what you have to do.’
‘Thanks, Mum. When I dropped her at school this morning I reminded her that I was going away and she seemed fine. I think as long as she can feed Charlie, she’ll be happy!’ Grace laughed, but her expression quickly changed. ‘I’ll miss her; I’ll miss you both. I’ll call every day and FaceTime with you when Daisy comes home from school.’
Tina nodded. ‘I won’t come in; this parking is crazy.’
Grace climbed out, retrieved her bags and waved through the window. ‘Bye, Mum. Love you both!’ she called as Tina drove away.
*
When she landed in Bali, the blast of sunlight and sudden humidity, the smell of kretek, the clove cigarettes, and the tropical fecundity hit Grace almost physically. A little bus crammed with sweaty passengers took her to the huge arrivals hall, where the endless queues at Customs and Immigration, the buzz of accents and languages, the scrum of the lines of drivers wildly holding up cards with names on them was overwhelming.
As advised by her contact from the hotel, Grace headed to the pre-paid immigration desk where she was assisted quickly. From there she was ushered outside to a waiting van by a man hired to look after the VIP guests.
The young driver greeted her as she stepped into a surprisingly luxurious interior. She reached for the chilled water and scented wet tissues, thinking that she and the seven-star guests were very well looked after. She almost expected to see a bottle of bubbles and a couple of glasses. It seemed that no one else was joining them, so the driver took off.
They drove through congested streets lined with shopping complexes, fancy stores, cafés, bars and entertainment joints. It’s Party Central with bells on, she thought. The traffic snaked around massive fountains with white stone statues that, while dramatic, looked like a mock Italian city square minus the spaciousness. Between the crowded buildings there were glimpses of palm trees and a beach crammed with sunbathers.
The driver slowed as they passed what looked like untamed jungle dropped into the middle of the commercialised chaos. Leaning forward, Grace saw there was order to the wilderness. Two massive palms marked an entrance where large wooden gates slid open as the driver touched the screen on his dash. It was like dropping out of the world through a secret door, like Alice going down the rabbit hole, she thought. But then reality hit her, as a boom gate dropped down in front of them and several uniformed men came forward. They checked the van for bombs, sliding a trolley with a mirror beneath the car, inspecting the motor, opening the boot and moving her luggage around, glancing into where she sat alone but ignoring her. Finally the boom lifted and they were waved on.
Grace caught her breath when she saw the brilliant white driveway, lined with tropical trees and plants, that wound towards her destination, the Kamasan Hotel. The tyres made a gentle crunch as they rolled forward.
‘What’s this driveway made of? It looks like pearls!’
‘Crushed shells, old coral, special sand,’ the driver answered, obviously used to people’s reactions when they first saw it.
‘It’s like a secret island jungle,’ she exclaimed, noticing the filigree metal torches stabbed alongside the driveway. But there looked to be order and calmness to the great green forest, now that she could see it close up. Sunlight slanted through the trees, the filtered light making the branches look soft and yielding, and the bamboo and palm fronds swayed gently. It was inviting and peaceful.
A flash of colour in a tree caught her eye. ‘Are there monkeys in there?’
‘No. Special birds. Monkeys make trouble.’
‘It’s stunning. Magical.’
‘No more place in Bali like this.’
‘Hard to believe we just left the crowds and the shops outside the gate.’
‘Very special place. This must be the most special place in Bali,’ the driver said enthusiastically.
Before Grace could answer she caught her first glimpse of one of the buildings: a spacious pavilion that seemed to be floating above the ground. Its soaring peaks hinted at its Balinese inspiration. It looked light and airy, as if woven of delicate strands of bamboo by some giant master weaver. The landscaping and water features were unfinished but the trees and plants, living green sculptures, were stunning despite being surrounded by the detritus of a building site.
The van pulled up at the front entrance and Grace climbed out. The effect of the jungle all around was even more intense now, as the sounds of birds filtered through and the bamboo clacked softly in the breeze. Turning towards the beach, she saw the line of ocean shimmering beyond the gardens.
Breathtaking, she thought. Grace felt embraced and protected by the lushness of the nature that surrounded her. This truly was a jungle paradise.
As she walked into the main pavilion, which was still a work in progress, Grace’s first impression was of a sense of lightness. The building’s construction looked delicate, but she knew it was strong and flexible. In the briefing documents Alli had sent her, she’d read that the hotel met the highest standards for cyclone and typhoon proofing. And while the design was innovative, it was obviously inspired by traditional Balinese buildings. With its large spaces and soaring ceilings, it was a marriage of elegance and natural beauty. The quality of the building materials immediately impressed her – carved wood, polished stone, glass and tiles. It was clear no expense had been spared; everything around her was tasteful and carefully designed.
A young woman approached her. ‘Ms Hagen? Welcome. I am Sutini. I’m the assistant to Mr Wija Angiman, the CFO for the company. Let me show you to your suite. We have a few rooms that are finished, and we want you to experience what the hotel will be like when it is complete.’ She led the way, adding, ‘I hope that is all right with you.’
‘It sounds lovely,’ Grace said, following behind. ‘Thank you.’
The suite was like nothing Grace had ever stayed in before, including on her trips with Lawrence. She couldn’t believe the sumptuousness and thought put into its every detail. After unpacking and freshening up, she barely had time to appreciate the luxury before Sutini knocked on her door and suggested they should head over to the briefing.
‘Do you know who will be there?’ Grace asked as they walked.
‘I understand that a representative of the owners, the managing director, the architect, and the head of marketing will be attending, and perhaps some others. As you can appreciate, some areas still aren’t finished and so the conference room is very basic.’
‘I understand,’ Grace said. ‘Are you Balinese, Sutini? You have an American accent.’
‘Actually I am from Java. I went to college in the US,’ Sutini answered. ‘Please, watch your step here.’ She pointed to some building materials and workers’ tools. ‘They are putting up some handmade glass sculptures on these walls.’
‘I can see that it will be stunning when the work’s done,’ Grace said. ‘But more than that, there’s a feeling of tranquillity here,’ she added. It was true; even though she knew her problems at home hadn’t changed, her physical and mental distance from them in this place was making her feel calmer about tackling them. But first she had to focus on the briefing.
Grace was thoughtful as she walked with Sutini to the conference room. Luxury hotels, no matter how beautiful, often had similar, familiar elements. But this one was utterly different, dreamlike in a way, because of its setting in a landscape that seemed almost untouched. In these surroundings, she could imagine how the whole island must have been like this once.
The conference room might have been a temporary setting, but it had the aesthetics of an art gallery. In the centre of the light-filled space was a magnificent long wooden table with about ten chairs around it, and a contemporary sculpture of lava rock in one corner. An eye-catching though deceptively simple arrangement of flowers and greenery sat in the centre of the table. Hand-blown crystal water glasses were set at each place. Sutini’s description of the room as being basic made Grace wonder what Sutini might consider ‘elaborate’. Grace stopped and looked at the beguiling vistas from the huge windows.
Almost immediately, a tall, well-dressed man entered the room and strode towards her. ‘Ms Hagen, how do you do. I’m Hans Speyer, the marketing manager for MGI,’ he said, and shook her hand. ‘Welcome.’
Grace had read about him and knew that he’d worked around hotels in Asia for years.
Other people followed him in, and soon the room was filled with greetings and conversations. Hans’s assistant, a Javanese man, escorted her around and made all the introductions.
The marketing manager, the head of finance, and the hotel’s architect had all been invited to be part of this briefing for Grace. She was particularly interested to meet the son of the owners, Johnny Pangisar, a handsome Balinese-Chinese man who looked to be in his late thirties.
The architect had a face she wouldn’t forget. Samuel Mandura wore small, dark-framed, round owl glasses that gave him a rather penetrating stare. His long dark hair was carefully styled and smoothed into a ponytail, held in place by an ivory clasp. He wore an immaculate linen shirt and pants with funky raffia sandals and carried, though didn’t use, a silver cigarette holder. Grace later discovered that he used it to stab at things for emphasis, knocking it on the table, pointing it at people, or holding it against his nose in contemplation before launching into a tirade or a serenade of effusive praise.
Arriving late and apologising with a shrug and a grin was another Australian. He was deeply tanned and wrinkled as a result. Noticing his tangled mop of grey hair, Grace thought he was probably in his late sixties. He introduced himself to Grace as Andy Franklin. It didn’t surprise her when he explained that he’d ‘come to Bali in the old days to surf and never went home’. Andy was setting up and would be managing the hotel’s bars and overall food and beverage – or ‘F and B’, as Andy called it – as well as its entertainment program. ‘Nothing loud and flash, very classy but fun,’ he was quick to explain.
‘Fabulous.’ Grace smiled and wondered if he’d guessed that she’d first thought he was just an old surf bum rocker.
‘If you want, I’ll take you for a spin later around the clubs and bars so you can see what’s happening on the scene,’ he said to Grace.
‘Thanks for the offer, I’d enjoy that,’ she said.
With the introductions over, Hans called everyone to the table and they got down to discussions in earnest. There was a lot to cover, and even though Grace had read the copious briefing papers, her head soon started to spin.
Eventually, they agreed that as the venue was not finished to a degree suitable for filming, her pitch should focus on the stage one online teaser campaign.
‘It can use the artful branding that combines the venue’s lofty artistic and culinary direction,’ said Hans. ‘The next stage of the campaign will feature our brilliant celebrity chef with his vision for the venue and his aim for culinary excellence.’
‘Chef is brilliant, and mad as a meat axe,’ Andy said to Grace.
Ignoring this remark, Hans continued, ‘And, as Grace has suggested, stage three could reveal more of the venue, the accommodation and the staff. Stage four will feature the beach club, bar and entertainment, and its international roster of superstar DJs.’ He gave a nod towards Andy, who gave a cheerful thumbs-up to Grace.
‘Any additional thoughts?’ Hans asked, looking around the table.
Grace said, ‘Perhaps as it’s an international campaign we could include some footage of some other parts of the island. Then, later, we could film the official Balinese blessing ceremony at the hotel opening, and maybe an interview with the Minister for Tourism, to use in future campaigns.’
Johnny Pangisar added, ‘My sister is planning to have her wedding here. My mother would love it to be filmed and included in the package.’
There were immediate murmurings of acquiescence. It was quickly apparent to Grace that had the mother asked for a parade of elephants or a circus performance, it would have been instantly agreed to. From her background reading and research, Grace had ascertained that the Pangisar family were international billionaires. They’d made their money through dealings in petrochemicals and tobacco. This hotel was a new venture for them, which they’d handed to their son to oversee.
Grace had been told Johnny was in the international jetset, while his father was more a traditional Balinese businessman whose Balinese-Chinese wife came from a wealthy family. There were two daughters, one a businesswoman in her own right married to an American, while the younger daughter, an artist, was about to marry an antiques dealer from Sumatra. Neither had any interest in the hotel.
Grace glanced around the table. ‘This is a major campaign. Every concept here is tasteful, innovative and inspiring. I would want our visuals to reflect that. There is a big story here. I’d like to flesh it out a little more as we go along, of course, but to start with we have plenty to attract potential customers and visitors in our stage one online campaign. I’ll come back to you with my ideas and a formal proposal,’ she said to Hans directly.
Hans cleared his throat and smiled as the room went quiet. ‘Thank you, Grace,’ he said, ‘I think everyone will agree that this has been an extremely productive meeting. Your ideas seem to align with our vision for the campaign. Spend the next couple of days soaking in the essence of our hotel, and talk to us individually, if you like.’ He looked across at Johnny, who gave him a quick nod. ‘Then get your pitch to us as soon as you can.’
‘I will, Hans. Thank you.’ Grace realised that everything about this job felt right. ‘I’m very grateful for the time you’ve all given me today. I’ll develop the ideas we’ve discussed and work on the pitch now,’ she added.
It had been a long meeting, and when Johnny also thanked them all for their time, then stood up, everyone was ready to leave.
Andy pulled out Grace’s chair for her as she rose, and Hans joined them.
‘I hear you are very good and people like to work with you.’ Hans smiled. ‘We are looking for the best team to launch our project.’
‘Absolutely,’ Andy said. ‘Who would you have in mind to direct this extravaganza?’ he asked her.
‘One or two people. My first choice might be tied up with a film, but I’m not worried. I know I’ll get a good crew together.’
‘You ever do any movies?’ Andy asked her.
‘Only a few projects where a film production wanted to use a client or have something styled, or to arrange a contra deal for a client,’ she said. ‘A lot of people in advertising want to move into drama, though,’ she added.
‘We have arranged to take you to dinner this evening if that suits you, Grace?’ said Hans.
‘Yes, then you’ll see what we’re up against.’ Andy laughed. ‘The island is full of five-star restaurants and bars. You wouldn’t believe the top-class chefs who come here,’ he added. ‘The hotels and other venues are constantly poaching each other’s staff. But there’s always some new star on the horizon. It’s very competitive.’
‘Really? I’m sure people will be rushing to work here when it’s opened,’ she said to Andy, then turned to Hans. ‘Dinner sounds lovely. Thank you. Where and when?’
Johnny joined them. He gave Grace an appraising smile, and instantly she saw a rich, confident man used to getting what he wanted. ‘You are clever as well as beautiful. I will see you all at dinner. Thank you for sharing your ideas with us, Grace. They sound excellent.’
‘We have a driver at your disposal,’ said Hans. ‘He is available twenty-four/seven during your stay, and he’ll meet you in the foyer at six.’
Back in her suite, Grace called her mother and spoke with Daisy, relieved her daughter was happy and ‘busy baking cupcakes, Mummy’. They chatted and blew kisses before Daisy passed the phone back to Tina.
‘How did your meeting go?’
‘Gruelling. But my ideas were well received, I think. It’s such a massive project. Mum, you should see what they’re doing! It really is stunning. Magical. Very, very clever. It’s exciting.’
‘That’s great! Good to hear you excited about something. So you want to do this?’
‘I do. It’s pretty groundbreaking. The architect and his team are really creating something out of the box, and money seems to be no object. But I just don’t think I could do the whole job. It’ll take months. I can’t be away that long.’
‘Why not? Why should Lawrence travel for his work any time he likes, and no one bats an eyelid, but you can’t? You’ll have to negotiate some deal with him.’
‘You think he’s going to make that easy?’
‘Gracie, by the sound of this job it could set you up. Not just financially, but if it’s as good as you say, it could really make your reputation. I haven’t heard you this upbeat in ages.’
‘What’s exciting is the visual aspect. The whole place is like a movie set, a dream job in a location you can’t imagine. I feel as if I’m in the last paradise on the planet.’
‘I like the sound of that.’
‘Listen, I have to get ready to go out to dinner. They’re showing me some of the opposition – well, the culinary side of it. There’s an old Aussie surfer dude here, Mum. You’d get a kick out of meeting him. Came here in the late seventies and never went home. He’s setting up the entertainment, the bar and stuff. This island seems very buzzy. I don’t think it’s the laid-back place it was when you were here.’
‘Go have fun. Send me some photos! Worry about Lawrence when you get back.’
When Grace finished the call, she sat for a moment, deep in thought. She felt completely torn. After what she’d seen and heard today, she wanted this job very badly. It had been a while since she’d worked on a project of this scale, but she’d run large campaigns before, and she could already see how she’d manage this one. If things at home were different, it would be a no-brainer. But as it was . . . Grace shook her head to clear it. She would just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.
The dinner at Johnny Pangisar’s favourite five-star restaurant, Mejekawi, on the beach in Seminyak, was tasty, elegant and up-market, but Grace had the feeling she could have been anywhere in the tropics. When the others left, Andy took her on a tour of some of the most popular entertainment venues in the area. As they made their way along the busy streets, she started to see a more local side of Balinese nightlife.
‘Aren’t we going to anywhere in Kuta or Sanur?’ Grace asked.
‘Boofheads and bogans in one, and the other is the “elephants’ graveyard”, y’know, only for the ancients,’ Andy replied. ‘The night scene is pretty wild in some places,’ he added. ‘Bali’s always been a place to let your hair down.’ He grinned.
‘So tell me more about what Bali was like when you first came. There wasn’t much tourism here in the seventies, was there?’ asked Grace.
‘Nah. I was a teenager then, and a mad surfer. It was that film Albe Falzon did, Morning of the Earth. I just had to come here and see it for myself.’
‘My mother talks about that film too!’ exclaimed Grace. ‘She came here in the seventies herself.’
‘Yeah, the film and the music turned a lot of us on to surfing places like Bali. I came up here with mates and just surfed. We found some magic places no one had been to, so we kept them quiet.’
‘How come you never went home?’
‘Oh, I did, but just to see the folks and pick up my gear. I married a local girl. We started a little warung that grew into a café and then a bar. I started a band here, too. My wife and I stayed in hospitality for years, until she died. I closed the bar down after that – too many memories. Now I’m busy setting up the deal here for Johnny’s family.’
‘And your band? What happened to that?’
‘Ah, I gave it away. Our main guitarist did pretty well, though. Sang with a group in the States.’
‘And do you ever get back to Australia these days?’
‘I go back every year. I still have family there, though they’re getting on now, and my son has just moved to Sydney. But this is my home.’
‘I haven’t stayed out this late in years,’ Grace said, laughing. ‘Thanks, Andy, it’s been fun, but now I need some sleep. Tomorrow I’ll have to start talking to film people to see who would be available if this project comes off for me.’
‘Hey, I know the local crews. The best video production teams here are the ones who do the up-market wedding videos, which ain’t cheap. Bloody mini movies!’
‘How amazing, is that a niche market here?’
‘No. Big-time. The kids making them are creative, smart and well travelled.’ He leaned forward and looked at her. ‘But seriously, the person you should try to get to direct is Steve Boyd. He’s been over here quite a few times from Australia. He’d have a ball working with these crews.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve heard of him. He’s brilliant. He won an award recently for a short film he made in the Kimberley, didn’t he?’
‘Yeah. I met him when he was up here doing a documentary on the artists in Ubud in the old days. He still does commercials, those big-budget jobs for Indian cinema and stuff. He doesn’t mind a surf. I took him out to a few of the less well-known spots while he was here.’
‘Sounds great. I’ll call you tomorrow to get his details. Can you give me your mobile number, please? And I’ll talk to the local video and digital guys. But right now, I’m ready to crash.’
‘How about a surf one morning? I swim out the front of the hotel at sunrise most days. You should try it. C’mon, let’s find your driver.’
*
Grace spent two days talking to creative video and digital companies, looking at their facilities and examples of their work, and discussing their availability. She had already roughed out her pitch for the stage one launch and was now working on the details.
She was busy all day and met with Hans in the evenings, and reported back to the agency every day, too. She made sure she spoke with Daisy and her mother at least once a day, no matter how busy she was. She hadn’t seen Andy again, but rang him a few times for advice and the contact details of various creatives. She was beginning to think of him as a friend, an uncle, and, as a fellow Aussie, someone she could talk to directly and easily. He also knew just about everyone on the island and their history. He warned her to be wary of Johnny Pangisar, whose reputation as a playboy was pretty fierce.
‘I never mix business and pleasure,’ she said. ‘Of course, you’re a bit of an exception.’ She laughed. ‘Don’t tell anyone.’
‘I’m hugely flattered,’ said Andy. ‘Y’see, I look in the mirror and still see the handsome suntanned stud I used to be. Sun-bleached locks, fit and skinny.’ He patted his paunch and grey head. ‘And each morning when I get that first wave, I feel sixteen again.’
On her last day, Grace agreed to meet Andy on the beach out the front of the Kamasan at 5.45 am. She’d swim while he rode his board. He’d been insisting all week that she had to experience the sunrise.
And she was glad she did. She had grown up at the beach in Sydney, and she’d experienced holidays on tropical islands on the Great Barrier Reef and Fiji. But this place hit Grace emotionally and she couldn’t understand why.
Further along the beach, where old coconut palms arched over the sand as if weight and age were tiring them, a rock wall of artfully tumbled rocks formed what looked like a natural barrier, subtly dividing the beach from the other resorts further along towards the township. Tucked away on this southern end, the Kamasan was blooming in splendid isolation. In the distance she could see figures moving, probably early morning surfers, walkers and hawkers. But if she turned her back on that end and looked to the golden horizon, the empty beach and trees, the shining unbroken line of endless waves, she felt she was on her own desert island.
Sitting on the sand, drying off after her swim, Grace tried to put in words how she felt, but Andy cut her off.
‘Just soak it up. I get it. Some places grab your heart the moment you see them. Why do you think I never went back home to live? My friends in Australia think I’m an old hippy seeing out my days here. Which I am. Since my wife died, as I told you the other day, I don’t really have anything keeping me here. But I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.’
They sat in silence for a moment.
‘I just can’t help feeling there’s a reason I’m here. I don’t mean for a job; I mean for my soul. It’s very special.’ Grace sighed. She wasn’t ready to share her problems yet. Giving voice to them would spoil the moment, she thought.
‘Yep. I can imagine how old K’tut Tantri felt. Why she flung herself into everything she did here.’
‘Who’s that?’
Andy turned to Grace. ‘The heroine of Indonesia, although she’s not known as that anymore. Sadly she’s mostly been forgotten. Hey, come with me, there’s something you should see.’ He pulled her to her feet.
They walked along the beach, then Andy turned into a grove of coconut palms, pandanus and tangled bushes. As the dried palm fronds crackled beneath their feet, he pointed into the undergrowth and Grace saw a tall, carved pole. Near it were several large stones that were pitted and covered in lichen.
‘What was this?’ she asked.
‘The remains of the Suara Segara. It means “Sound of the Sea”. K’tut Tantri’s hotel.’
‘A hotel? Here? How fabulous this must have been. When was this?’
‘In the 1930s. She claimed it was the first hotel on Kuta Beach. There was no one like K’tut. Her original name was Muriel something . . . Walker, I think it was. She was a film reporter in Hollywood for a while. Had a big run-in with Noël Coward, apparently.’
‘Really, Noël Coward? He was such a big name. She must have been pretty brave to take him on.’
‘She was a legend. I don’t know all the details. After the war, she kind of disappeared. But she stayed here after everyone fled when the Japanese came in. She wasn’t Balinese; Scottish, I think, but she fought for the Balinese. As you can understand, she adopted Bali and they her.’
Grace stared at the forgotten ruins, trying to visualise how the hotel might have looked. She turned and faced the sea. A light breeze rustled the fronds above her head and lifted her hair.
‘How beautiful, how evocative this setting is. It must have been a wonderful place to stay.’
‘I agree. She had the right idea. God knows what she’d make of Kuta Beach now.’
‘So you don’t know what happened to her? Is there anyone I could ask? Who owns this land?’
Andy shook his head. ‘I assume it belongs to our Kamasan Group. The Pangisars’ land comes all the way through here. Maybe that’s why this block has never been touched. I think K’tut was always something of a mystery woman. I could ask some of the old Balinese people, if you’re interested.’
‘I am. Very interested, thank you,’ Grace said. ‘I’d like to find out what gave her the strength to stand up for what she believed in. She must have been incredibly brave.’
Andy nodded but didn’t say anything more. They turned and headed back along the beach towards the Kamasan.
‘I can’t thank you enough for bringing me here, Andy.’
‘I don’t tell many people about it. It’s all forgotten now. Bali is booming again. Hadn’t you heard?’ He laughed.
‘It certainly is,’ agreed Grace. ‘The Kamasan Hotel is contemporary and groundbreaking in so many ways, yet its roots are buried in a lost dream.’
*
That afternoon Grace met Andy once more for a goodbye drink before leaving for the airport.
He put a fluted glass in front of her.
‘Wow, beautiful glass. I love it. What is it?’
‘The glass or the cocktail?’
‘Both.’ Grace laughed then took a sip. ‘Mmm. Tangy, sparkling, refreshing. I suppose it’s dangerous too. Not sure what I like better, the beautiful glass or the drink!’
‘It’s called Sunrise. We also have Sunset, which is richer and heavier. This is lime, mangosteen, locally made gin, mint . . . maybe another secret ingredient or two. I’d have to kill you if I told you. Actually, it’s not very alcoholic. And the glass is made from recycled glass.’
‘Stunning. Is this your signature drink for the bar?’
‘Maybe. We keep experimenting. Cheers, and selamat jalan.’
‘Selamat tinggal. Thank you for all your help, Andy.’
‘Come back soon,’ he said, raising his glass. They clinked glasses and sipped their drinks. ‘So, did you find a director?’
‘I took your advice and contacted Steve Boyd,’ Grace replied. ‘He’s based in Sydney at the moment. I’m meeting him when I get back.’
‘Great. Everyone is very impressed with you, you know.’
‘That’s reassuring. Thanks for letting me know. Your bar and the entertainment are going to be sensational. I still can’t believe what a huge project this is. I would be thrilled to be part of it.’
Finishing her drink, she stood and picked up her bag, ready to say her goodbyes. She was impatient now to get back and see Daisy and Tina.
‘Tuck this in your bag.’ Andy handed her a gift box. ‘Two of the cocktail glasses. Think of us when you have a sundowner. And I have something else for you too.’ Andy handed her a book.
‘Andy, this is too much . . .’ Grace began, but Andy waved his hands in protest.
‘Not at all. I had this lying around at home and after today I knew you’d be interested. It’s the book K’tut Tantri wrote about her time in Bali, Revolt in Paradise. It’s out of print now, but there are still copies if you know where to look. I’ve read it several times and I’d love it to go to someone who’ll appreciate K’tut’s story. Enjoy, Grace, and see you soon, I hope.’
He kissed her on the cheek and escorted her to the entrance where Surya, the driver, was waiting.
Grace gazed at the lush green haven around her as Surya drove towards the exit. The gates swung open and they drove from the quiet gardens into the chaos of Kuta traffic as the two worlds collided.
Grace pulled out her phone and checked her messages and email. Still nothing from Lawrence. She hadn’t told him she was going away and he usually called her every few days, so she had expected to hear from him. His silence seemed a portent of bad news, and she dreaded what would be waiting for her when she arrived home.