Grace sat at the kitchen table working on her borrowed laptop as Tina stacked the dishwasher after they’d shared an early dinner.
Daisy sashayed in, wearing the batik sarong and lace kebaya top Grace had bought for her.
‘Ooh, how sweet you look,’ said Tina. ‘Can you do a Balinese dance for us?’
Grace smiled as Daisy twirled, and then closed the laptop, stood up, and gave her a hug. ‘That was beautiful. I missed you, darling girl.’
‘I missed you too, Mummy, but Nana and I had a good time. We went to the beach every day after school.’
The performance over, Daisy sat on the floor and started to play with Sparkle.
‘That traditional outfit brings it all back. I loved the dancers at the temples and ceremonies,’ Tina said, turning on the dishwasher and sitting down at the table.
‘I only saw some traditional dancers in a hotel garden. I wanted to go to the temples and art places up in the hills, but I didn’t have time. I never left “sunset strip”,’ Grace said, sitting back down opposite her mother. ‘Everywhere I went was crowded with tourists and locals, except for the grounds of the Kamasan. I really can’t get over how untouched it seems, in among all that development. The area around the hotel complex has been landscaped, but they had so much wild growth to work with. That’s part of what makes it such a unique place.’
‘The land must be worth a fortune. I remember what that area was like, basically unspoiled, with only small shacks, dirt roads and local souvenir stalls. I can’t believe the photos now of all those resorts along the beach,’ said Tina.
Grace sighed. ‘I know, but it seems to be what people want; big swimming pools with waterfalls, yoga retreats and cocktails in coconuts at sunset. You could be at any island resort.’ She shook her head.
‘Is there anything left of old Bali?’ Tina asked.
‘Mmm, I’m not sure. The serious adventure tourists go to the outer islands to surf and scuba-dive,’ Grace said.
‘Can we go one day, Mummy?’ asked Daisy.
Grace laughed. ‘That’s a good question, sweetheart. We’ll see.’
‘Well, those generic resorts are not my idea of an island holiday. I’m glad I went to Bali when I did. Anyway, why would I want to go anywhere? Look what we have on our doorstep!’ Tina waved at the darkened window and in the silence that followed they could hear the surf rumbling on the rocks below. ‘Now come on, Daisy dear, time for bed.’
‘I’ll take her,’ said Grace, getting up. ‘C’mon, honey bear, brushing teeth and story time. And you can tell me everything you and Nana did while I was away.’
Daisy gave Sparkle a goodnight pat and skipped out of the room beside Grace, holding her hand.
*
‘Would you like a nightcap? You look rather worn out,’ said Tina as Grace walked in and sat down on the lounge.
‘No thanks, Mum. It’s just that Mr Jamison emailed today. He’s liaising with the insurance brokers for me, and it seems they still need more information about the house contents. I feel like I’m drowning – with everything I have to do for the claim as well as for work.’
‘Grace, darling, you can only do the best you can and take it day by day.’
‘I don’t even want to think about the stuff in the house.’ Grace sighed, remembering how Lawrence had insisted they use the furniture he owned already when they moved in together, and if they bought anything new, he chose it. ‘You know, I never liked Lawrence’s taste. It was so fake-opulent and over the top,’ she added.
Grace preferred a simple look, with touches of shabby chic, which Lawrence loathed. He’d told her that his furniture was too valuable not to use, and it gave a better impression when people came over. Grace had always laughed at him and joked that most people had stopped visiting since they’d moved into their big new house anyway. It didn’t seem like such a joke anymore.
‘Didn’t you itemise everything when you took out your home and contents insurance?’ asked Tina.
‘Lawrence would have done it, I suppose. But I don’t care about any of the furniture and most of the other things. It’s the sentimental things I’m really sad about. You know, photos, letters, Daisy’s baby things . . . I don’t know, Mum. I mean, how do I put a dollar value on those things? They’re priceless to me.’ She sighed again.
‘It’s okay, Gracie. I know this is hard for you,’ Tina said. Then she frowned. ‘I’d have thought Lawrence would have finished doing all that paperwork for the insurance by now. It’s been weeks.’
‘Me too. Actually, one of the insurance agents called me today and asked a few questions about the value of some of the things in Lawrence’s home office that I’d listed for them. Maybe to compare my estimates with Lawrence’s or something?’ Grace grabbed a cushion and hugged it to her chest. ‘Maybe they think what Lawrence is claiming is more than the correct value. Plus, I’m wondering what was salvaged from the fire. Like, what happened to the safe? It had my jewellery in it – or at least I thought it did. Lawrence bought the jewellery as gifts for me, and it would be worth a bit. Maybe I could sell it.’
‘Ask to see the claims he’s put in,’ said Tina. ‘You need to make sure anything valuable you have is in your name now.’
‘You’re absolutely right. I won’t ever let Lawrence hoodwink me again,’ said Grace. ‘Now I just want to take back control of my life!’
‘Good,’ said Tina briskly. ‘I never liked to say anything, but I hated the way he took the lead all the time. You were so confident and together before you met Lawrence and then suddenly, he took over.’
Grace nodded slowly. ‘You’re right. I didn’t realise that all control of my money and, well, my everything was slipping away from me. He made such a big deal about being “old fashioned” and looking after me. He always said he loved to spend money on me and spoil me.’
‘He spent money on himself too, I noticed,’ said Tina. ‘He had the expensive car and you had the family wagon. He had his suits tailor made, you bought clothes from the local shops. Oh, I could go on. I couldn’t help noticing, but I kept my mouth shut.’
Grace shrugged. ‘If you’d said anything I would probably have jumped down your throat. I think subconsciously I knew it was all a mistake, but I couldn’t face admitting it. And with Daisy, the light of my life, well, you just keep on, eh?’ She tried to smile.
‘Until there’s a big wake-up call like the one you’ve had. And it’s precisely for Daisy that you’re taking back control now, isn’t it? It’ll be hard in the short term, of course, but I think all three of you will be better off in the end. Just my two cents!’ said Tina. ‘Time to move forward now, my girl.’
Grace got up. ‘Thanks, Mum, I will. I’m going to bed; it’s been a huge week.’
*
On Thursday night, Grace’s phone beeped.
I will collect Daisy from her new school tomorrow afternoon. Very inconvenient for me to have her out there at the beach. I will return her to your mother’s on Sunday at 5 pm.
When Melanie arrived the next day, Grace was pacing around the house.
‘Let’s go have a coffee before you pick up Daisy,’ Mel said.
‘Lawrence is collecting her. And he’s keeping her for the weekend. He’s never had her on his own that long! Daisy has never spent a night away from me, except with Mum. Now he’s keeping her for two!’ Grace was furious and close to tears. ‘I know he’s her father and he has a right to see her – and Daisy misses him – but this doesn’t feel right!’
‘Listen, one step at a time,’ Melanie said. ‘Start cutting all ties to Lawrence, other than regarding Daisy, and get him to give you some financial support for her.’
‘Much easier said than done. I so need this job in Bali, Mel. It would be fantastic – financially rewarding, and it could set me up career-wise. It’s such a great opportunity,’ Grace said. ‘But if Lawrence knows how much I want it, he’d probably throw every obstacle in my path just to spite me.’
‘Honey, you need the money, and this is your work! Has he given you anything to help you – and Daisy – since the fire?’
‘Nope. He assumes Mum will pay the bills, I guess. He hasn’t contributed to the fees for Daisy’s new school either. I just can’t believe I have no access to our money. Mum doesn’t mind helping for the moment, but she shouldn’t have to.’
‘Can’t you take money from your joint account?’ Mel asked.
‘Well, no. Look, I know this is embarrassing but I never asked Lawrence for the password or even the account number.’ Grace stared down at the floor. ‘I’ll talk to him about it and if that doesn’t work, maybe the bank can help me, but I doubt it.’
‘What does he say when you ask him about contributing to school fees and so on for Daisy?’
‘If I mention anything he says to stop being petty and mean. He goes on about the pressure of trying to pull off a big deal, replace a home, and that I’m fussing over small domestic issues!’
‘He’s such an arsehole. Sorry, Gracie. But there’s no other word for it.’
‘Yes. I have to agree. I get so mad at myself for not seeing or admitting it before. But you know what? In part it’s my own fault – I ignored all the signs. I could have made the effort to be across our financial issues, and I didn’t. Don’t –’ She held up a hand to stop Mel protesting. ‘No matter how unfair that sounds, it’s true, Mel. But I’m awake to it all now. C’mon, let’s go for that coffee.’
In the sunny little beach village they settled at an outside table and ordered coffees. Mel picked up the thread of the conversation again.
‘It’s not just you, Gracie. You and I both need to think about our finances – not only now but for when we retire. Women don’t often think of their old age. Doesn’t matter whether you meet another guy or not. You have to look after you,’ she said firmly.
‘Mel, the way I feel now I can’t even look past the end of the week,’ Grace said wryly. ‘But it’s true, I will need to think about my future if I’m on my own.’
‘And think about Daisy. Lawrence is unpredictable. He might say he’ll do the right thing by her and that she will come first. But from what I’ve heard of his rather mercurial business career, I’d say money is the driving force in Lawrence’s life. He needs money to do all the stuff he thinks is important . . . that is, big-noting himself and surrounding himself with the “best” stuff.’ Mel made quote marks in the air with her fingers. ‘He doesn’t have an altruistic bone in his body. Everything is all about him.’
Grace nodded. ‘I know you’re right. He won’t do the right thing unless it suits him, or if it makes him look good, or so he can be the big important guy. I just don’t know how I didn’t see it. I’m so mad at myself.’
‘You didn’t see it because he didn’t want you to see it. He paints this glowing, exciting, positive picture of himself, and he projected that at you for a long time. That’s how he gets money out of people to invest in his businesses, too. It’s an art form.’
Grace sighed. ‘I felt so sad this morning, sending Daisy to school with a little backpack with her clothes, her favourite teddy bear, her toothbrush . . . it’s not how I imagined things turning out.’
Mel reached over and patted Grace’s arm. ‘It’s hard. But you know that Lawrence will take care of Daisy over the weekend, in his own way.’
Grace nodded. ‘He’d better,’ she said tensely.
When the waitress brought their coffees they sat quietly for a moment, sipping their drinks, and Grace started to relax, and decided to change the subject.
‘Hey, did I tell you I’m meeting with the guy I really want to direct the filming for the Bali job?’ she said. ‘He’s a cinematographer, and he’s technically smart and very creative. He’s won some major awards.’
‘Wow, he sounds great – but also expensive and in demand. Is he available? And no offence, but if he’s on the up and up, why would he want to do a hotel ad campaign?’ Mel raised an eyebrow questioningly.
‘Well, I hope he’ll be available, and that I’ll be able to persuade him!’ Grace said with a grin. ‘I can only try. He was in Bali a while back doing a documentary and loves the place, apparently. The Aussie guy who runs the bars and entertainment at the Kamasan, Andy Franklin, knows him and told me he thought Steve would jump at the chance to go back there. So I’ve outlined the brief, the creative approach, emailed him some mood boards to show him how I see the emotion, the energy, the lighting, the vibrancy, and the colours. This isn’t your average hotel campaign; this will be something special. A challenge. I’m hoping that’ll be enough to tempt him – and that he’ll have space in his schedule to fit it in.’
‘Do you know what he’d be like to work with?’ Mel asked.
‘No, but I know his cinematic style and that’s important. He’s an influencer, sets the trends, plus he’s worked with big-name stars and with big budgets. It’s lucky he just happens to be in town between jobs.’
Melanie thanked the waitress when she came to clear their empty coffee cups, then asked Grace, ‘What exactly is your job title these days?’
‘I’m Chief Creative Officer at large of The Carson Agency, responsible for the overall look and feel of the marketing, media and all branding connected to the client,’ said Grace.
‘Impressive, but that’s a lot of work for one person, isn’t it?’
‘Not really. I only sign on from job to job,’ Grace said, leaning forward and playing with the sugar sachet from her saucer. ‘I didn’t want to be locked in to the agency, having to take on too many projects at once. This way I choose and control what I want to do and have some security as well as some freedom.’
‘That’s unusual. But if they’re giving you that sort of flexibility it shows you are damned good at what you do.’
‘Like you, Mel! Whoever thought maths would be stimulating and interesting and entertaining! I don’t know how you inspire those teachers.’
‘Hey, mathematics makes the world go round!’ Mel laughed, then said seriously, ‘People just don’t realise that it’s part of everything we do every day. Maths rocks!’
‘So do you!’ Grace smiled and glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better get back home.’
‘Okay. I’ll drop you back and head off.’
When Mel pulled up outside Tina’s house, Grace reached over and gave her friend a hug. ‘Thanks for taking the time, Mel. I really appreciate it.’
‘Always a pleasure,’ said Mel with a chuckle. ‘I won’t come in. Say hi to your mum. And let’s do something tomorrow night, since you won’t have Daisy.’
Inside, Grace called out to her mother. ‘Hello! I’m back. How was tennis?’
‘Mummy, Mummy!’
Grace stopped in surprise as her daughter ran down the hall towards her. ‘Daisy! What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Daddy. Where is he?’ Grace picked up Daisy and hugged her.
‘Hi. Her daddy isn’t here.’ Tina appeared in the kitchen doorway, eyebrows raised.
‘What happened? Did you collect Daisy?’
‘Yes. The school principal rang me. Said she couldn’t reach you. And Lawrence was “tied up”.’
‘I’m so sorry. I was with Mel, I had my phone off.’ She brushed Daisy’s hair off her forehead and put her down. ‘I wasn’t expecting any calls . . . especially from the school. Where’s Lawrence?’
‘I have no idea,’ Tina said quietly. ‘Apparently he rang just before bell time and told the school that something had come up and he was unable to collect Daisy.’
‘What! Thanks for collecting her.’ Grace turned to Daisy. ‘Have you unpacked your lunchbox, honey?’
‘Um, no . . .’ Daisy ran off to her room to get it and Grace took out her phone and began scrolling through her messages.
‘So you didn’t hear from Lawrence?’ Tina asked when Daisy was gone. ‘He really is a sod.’
‘No, nothing,’ Grace said, holding up the phone to show Tina. ‘Just the message from the school. I’d better let Mel know. I was going to go into town with her tomorrow night . . .’
‘Go anyway, sweetheart. Daisy can stay with me. I certainly don’t have plans!’
‘Mum, what would I do without you?’ Grace gave her mother a hug.
‘Grace, what are you doing about Lawrence?’ asked Tina later, after Daisy had delivered her lunchbox and a handful of drawings she’d done at school and gone off to play.
‘I’m still not sure,’ Grace said, sticking one of the drawings on the fridge door. ‘I’m glad he’s not taking Daisy for such a long time, though. Maybe it hit him that a whole weekend is an age to have to entertain a little girl.’
‘Yes, and where would they have stayed?’
‘I assumed they were going to stay in the hotel across the road from his office. But Daisy might have been scared to be in an unfamiliar place like that.’
‘He has to work up to these things and give us fair warning. He’s not a planner, is he? Never mind any plans we might have had.’ Tina shook her head. ‘Selfish. Thoughtless.’ She glanced at Grace, then burst out laughing. ‘Every time I hit a good shot at tennis today, I wished it was Lawrence’s head!’
‘Mum! That’s terrible.’ Grace laughed. ‘I will have to say something to him. He can’t just inconvenience everyone by collecting Daisy when he feels like it. She has a schedule too!’
‘Well, at least he has shown little interest in having her so far, and been unreliable when he does make plans. That won’t look good if custody becomes an issue down the track. I guess it might be best to let sleeping dogs lie, for now. Especially if your job in Bali comes to fruition,’ said Tina.
‘That’s true.’ Grace pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her mother at the kitchen table. ‘I’ll keep it simple.’
Grace picked up her phone and sent Lawrence a cool but polite text asking why he was unable to collect Daisy, and to please give her notice if it happened again.
His reply was curt. A business issue came up. I am busy organising my life, Grace. But I am going to seek full custody of my daughter.
*
On Monday morning, Grace sat in Mr Judd’s office. Lawrence’s text message had sent her into a tailspin, and she’d worried about it all weekend. She found Mr Judd’s completely unruffled demeanour soothing.
‘The first thing to do is not to panic. He hasn’t filed anything yet, hasn’t sent you any official documentation seeking a parenting order, and until he does so it’s just an empty threat,’ Mr Judd said calmly.
‘But what if he does file something formal?’
‘You’d be in a good position. You have always been the primary caregiver, and you’re offering Daisy a relatively stable home with you and her grandmother, compared to the somewhat erratic living arrangements you’ve described Lawrence having at the moment. But the courts will always look at what is in the best interests of the child. There’s a process. Step one: you are both required to enter into mediation under court supervision, before proceeding to the next step,’ he said.
‘I suppose that’s to save everybody’s time and money, is it? To be really sure about this big step,’ said Grace.
‘That’s the general idea. Also, we can identify where the trouble spots and issues are. It saves the court’s time and money in the long run. Yours, too.’
‘My mother is paying my legal costs, so I hope so. I appreciate your help,’ she added quickly.
Mr Judd stepped her through the stages that would follow, not just for parenting orders but for divorce, too, adding, ‘That’s if we don’t run into any difficulties. I’ve yet to see a divorce case go through without hiccups.’
‘Oh dear. Knowing Lawrence he’ll make it as difficult and drawn-out as possible. He likes to win. Or to be seen to win.’ Grace looked down at her clenched hands in her lap and tried to calm down.
The solicitor nodded. ‘I know the type. Difficult people. I hope he doesn’t follow that pattern, but we’ll do our best to address it if he does.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Grace.
‘Some people stall and drag it all out to make you and yours suffer rather than taking the logical and smooth path. Ego plays a large part.’
Grace groaned. ‘Yes. Well, that can be tricky with Lawrence. He is careful to make sure he always appears to be very successful. But I’ve learned he does sail a bit close to the wind, and that beneath all the bluster, he can be rather insecure – which surprised me when I finally saw that in him.’
‘Well, nothing formal is in train yet, so let’s concentrate on the present, shall we?’ said Mr Judd. He looked over his glasses. ‘Tell me now that you are convinced in your heart to move on from this marriage. How many times have you thought of leaving and he’s persuaded you to stay with him? Is this the last straw? I’ll be blunt: there’s no point wasting your time and money, if there’s any chance you will go back to him.’
Grace didn’t hesitate. ‘No. This is it. I feel like I’m breathing clear air for the first time in a long time. It’s scary doing all this with no idea how I’ll manage. But anything is better than feeling I’m slowly suffocating every day.’ This all came out in a bit of a rush, surprising her.
‘Good,’ said Mr Judd, nodding solemnly. ‘And to confirm: Lawrence hasn’t actually sent you paperwork seeking parental orders for full custody. If he does, come straight to me, and we’ll deal with it. Like I’ve said before: one step at a time. This is a long, slow process – nothing will happen immediately.’
‘That’s a sensible approach. On one hand, I’d like to rush in and get the process over with, even though I know the divorce will take a while. And on the other hand, the last thing I could do at the moment is go to court, if it came to that.’ Grace looked at Mr Judd and said softly, ‘I just don’t have the strength for that yet.’
She left the lawyer’s office feeling reassured but also nervous at the idea of an uncertain future. Underlying it all was the knowledge that Lawrence wouldn’t make anything easy.
*
On the drive to her meeting with Steve Boyd later that week, Grace tried to put her concerns about Lawrence aside, and instead played over in her head the pitch she planned to use to persuade Steve to direct and film her Kamasan launch.
The looming issue of the job in Bali both excited and worried her. If she couldn’t stay there for the job’s duration, would it be feasible to commute up there every few weeks? At the moment she was going on her gut instinct to just plough on, hoping the logistics could be worked out later. From what Andy had said, she seemed to have made a good impression on the management team with her initial ideas and discussions during the few days she’d spent in Bali, and that was the main thing.
Steve Boyd’s office turned out to be in a rambling old home in Lavender Bay, overlooking the harbour in the shadow of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. A young man opened the door, introduced himself as Henry and ushered her inside.
Loud music, probably a soundtrack, was coming from the front room, which Grace noticed had been turned into an edit suite. Two people were hunched over their computers.
‘The front part is the working area; the back of the house is more sociable,’ Henry explained as they walked down the long hallway. They passed rooms that were being used as an office, a small studio and maybe a recording studio, Grace thought. Then Henry opened a door to a large sitting room off a kitchen.
Covering one wall and spilling along shelves and in a glass showcase in an alcove was a display that stopped Grace in her tracks – the awards Steve had won.
‘Wow, this is amazing!’
Gold, silver and bronze statuettes and a few plaques adorned the shelves, awards from film and advertising festivals and competitions all over the world. Proof that this guy was at the top of his game, Grace thought.
The young gun escorting her smiled. ‘Yup. The wanker’s wall. I’m allowed to say that. It is pretty serious though, isn’t it? Steve’s work is genuinely amazing.’
‘You’re not wrong,’ Grace said with a smile. ‘What do you do?’ she added.
‘I’m the resident barista.’ Henry laughed. ‘Actually, I’m also the nerd data wrangler and drone operator. I’ve run sound a few times when we haven’t got an audio operator – we don’t use them as much these days, what with the technology.’
‘Of course, I see. Good for you.’
Outside the kitchen was a covered patio where a few people were seated around a large table, deep in conversation. One of them rose to greet her, and she recognised Steve Boyd from the picture she’d seen when she’d researched him online.
‘Hi, you must be Grace. Sorry about the noise back there,’ he said, nodding towards the hallway. ‘We’re just trying to finish up a sound job. I’m Steve.’ He shook her hand warmly.
He had a direct gaze and radiated enthusiasm. He wore jeans and a pale blue linen shirt, loosely unbuttoned over a T-shirt with a logo she didn’t recognise. He was one of those people who appeared comfortable in his own skin, Grace thought, and she envied him that. A calm person, she decided, and gave him a mental tick. This was a useful trait for the director, who was captain of the ship on a set, juggling diplomacy with the sometimes warring factions, temperamental egos, and logistical hiccups, all in an environment where time was money.
The group at the large table began to gather up their cups, computers and phones, and return inside, saying hello to Grace on their way.
Steve led her to a small table under the shade of a large tree. ‘We can sit here.’ He pulled out her chair and then sat opposite her.
Henry walked over to them and Steve glanced up and smiled. ‘Would you like a coffee, Grace? Henry makes a mean brew. The usual for me, thanks, Henry.’
‘Yes, please. Milk, no sugar. Thanks, Henry.’ Grace looked across the garden and back to the house. ‘Do you do all your post-production here?’ she asked. ‘You seem to have everything under one roof. Is this also your home?’
‘It is. Not forever, but at the moment it suits me. I can get a lot done here, and then we’re across all the elements of every production. The crew don’t live here, though,’ he added, laughing.
‘I know your work, but I didn’t realise you’d received quite so many awards for it,’ Grace said. ‘The collection inside is very impressive.’
He shrugged. ‘Helps swing some clients to our side. And the ones who don’t know what all the awards are, act like they do!’
‘While I was in Bali I met Andy Franklin, as I mentioned in my email. He gave you a big wrap. Said he loved the doco you did on the artists of Ubud.’
Steve nodded. ‘Andy’s a great character. I suspect he has quite a story. I’ve only met him in his hippy-Aussie-seventies-surfer-dude role, though. He took me surfing to some unreal breaks while I was there. But I hear he’s a mean foodie. Interesting guy.’
Henry brought them their coffees, then Steve got down to work.
‘So, I read the material you sent me, and your notes. What else can you tell me about this hotel? It’s a new one, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t mean to sound like a cliché, but this is not just any hotel,’ Grace began. ‘What they’re planning for the Kamasan breaks new ground. I’m still trying to get my head across all the levels of management. MGI – Masari Group International, have you heard of it? – is a specialist hotel management group that looks after hotels across Asia, a bit like the Marriott Group. The hotel owners, the Pangisar family, are Balinese-Chinese. They’re based in Jakarta and are involved in a lot of different investments: telecommunications, real estate, tobacco, and they also have philanthropic foundations. The family don’t want to be bothered with the day-to-day running and staff dramas of the hotel, which is where MGI comes in.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard of the Pangisars,’ Steve said. ‘They seem to keep out of the limelight but they’re very clever businesspeople, and powerful.’
‘That’s right. Their hotel and real estate investments and holdings are financially managed under the Kamasan brand. Their son, Johnny, is the front man for the family. I haven’t exactly worked out what his role is yet, but he seems to be a shrewd operator.’
Steve leaned his arms on the table. ‘Okay, to start with I’d need to do a comprehensive location survey. Not just for inspiration but to develop the concept and narrative as I see it, along with the brief you gave me. And that will determine my budget and crew and so on.’
‘Of course,’ Grace said, putting down her coffee mug. She felt a frisson of hope shoot through her – did this mean he was interested? ‘Who do you think you’d need in your team? This has the potential to be a major job so you could need a large crew.’
‘I’d initially allocate a drone operator and some tech people, and take it from there. We’d need to liaise on all this when there’s a clearer script direction.’ He spread his arms, giving a disarming grin. ‘I’m very collaborative. It’s just that my name sits out there in front of it all, so I like my projects to live up to expectations. I’ll give you my latest show reel for your next round with them. I assume the hotel management group are footing our bill, not your agency?’
Grace nodded. Allison had told her the initial launch budget would be generous and covered by MGI, but she merely answered, ‘I do need your reel, I’m sure it’s impressive, plus your fee estimate for the concept development, survey costs, travel, accommodation, per diem.’ She knew that the survey was necessary to develop their creative approach and to help them gauge accurate production costs. ‘Once that’s calculated I’ll do a presentation to the management of the hotel group. Then we’ll need to wait for their decision to know whether it will all be approved.’
She smiled, knowing she had moved the chess game forward.
Steve tapped his fingers on the tabletop, thinking. ‘I like it,’ he said finally, and Grace, while careful to keep her expression composed, felt a flush of exhilaration. ‘From what I read in your emails, this sounds like a challenge. I like the idea of turning a hard-nosed commercial business into something that’s also beautiful, evocative and cutting edge, yet still meets the sales brief.’ He leaned back. ‘And it’s in Bali! I have a soft spot for the place, I admit. Could you fill me in on some more background on the family?’
‘I don’t know much more about them, I’m afraid. When I arrived at the hotel, I thought it was unusual that the land was still with one family and they are only just developing it now. There’s a story there, I suspect, other than that they’re very rich and the land has always been in their family. But I assume I’m only getting the simple version . . . that the project is family controlled, no outside investment. As you probably know, only Balinese can own the land in Bali. The family are Chinese originally, but now they’re Balinese-Chinese and they changed their family name to make it more Indonesian. There must have been a convenient marriage sometime that meant they could say they are partly Balinese, I guess.’
‘Yes. It was a more casual arrangement in the early days, I think. The foreigners – the bule – had to team up with a local, sometimes by marriage or just on trust. They brought in the sales and marketing expertise, and the locals had the land and the labour,’ said Steve.
‘Yes, I see. The Kamasan concept took me by surprise a bit,’ said Grace. ‘I expected to see that same slick cookie-cutter tropical resort you find all though the Pacific and Asia. You know, with a superficial smattering of Balinese culture and design but otherwise no different from any other hotel or resort.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Steve said. ‘A tourist’s view of Bali with all the stereotypes attached to it.’
Grace leaned forward. ‘But there in the middle of the tourism madness is the last piece of untouched beachfront land. Serendipitously, it’s owned by a family with not only the money but the inclination, style and taste to develop it in a way that’s utterly different from everywhere else. I was blown away.’ She stopped, noticing Steve’s expression. ‘I can see you think I’m showing all the signs of someone fresh from their first trip to Bali. But I can honestly say this development is like nothing I’ve seen. It’s outstanding and original,’ she said, smiling.
He laughed, crossed his arms and tried to look serious. ‘I apologise. Bali is a mad, magical, mysterious and soul-stealing place. I love it. So what are they selling that’s different?’ he asked. ‘The ultimate experience, the latest in products, services, technologies? Robots serving cocktails?’ He chuckled. ‘Sorry, I don’t want to seem facetious, but have you seen the rollout of resorts, villas, new style losmens, everywhere? Seminyak, Kuta, Sanur . . . even Ubud in the hills. And then there are the other little islands, like the Gilis. It’s a crowded marketplace with plenty of competition.’
Grace held up her hands. ‘I know, I know.’ She leaned forward again. ‘What they’re doing is very different, and yet for those who want that high-end Bali experience it meets the brief.’
‘Yep. That set who go to the classiest bars and clubs and can drop fifteen grand US plus in an evening. I’ve seen them do it,’ he added.
Grace pressed her point. ‘Take the setting, for example. It’s magical. It’s a chance to reinvent old Bali, the lost and forgotten Bali; to be creative and bring together innovative, modern influences with traditional design and Balinese culture.’
‘That won’t come cheaply.’
‘No way,’ she agreed. ‘But the family owns the land already and it’s in a prime location.’
‘Cheaper than knocking down one of the older resorts, I guess.’
‘Its beauty is that it’s virtually untouched land, and they’ve been smart about embracing that and making it a feature, not bulldozing everything to make way for just another resort,’ said Grace. ‘It’s a remarkable situation.’
‘Okay,’ Steve said slowly. ‘How do they think they should sell this paradise? Where are they coming from? I have my own thoughts, as do you, I’m sure.’
Grace pulled out her iPad to show him some new images of the hotel. ‘This might give you some idea of what they’re building.’
Steve nodded as he skimmed through some photos and drawings of the complex.
‘You’re right, it’s different from the glitzy, rich, tropical extravagance I’ve seen in some of the resorts up there.’
‘Yes. And even though they’re not finished, you can see how stunning the gardens will be. It’s natural and wild, but cleverly cultivated into these amazing, almost theatrical landscapes,’ said Grace.
‘Ah, no doubt inspired by the work of Made Wijaya,’ said Steve. ‘He was a Sydney boy named Michael White, who jumped off a ship and swam ashore to Bali in the early 1970s. He found his calling in Bali, and changed his name. He established most of the fabulous gardens in big homes and in the first resorts and hotels. He died quite young; a big loss. I can imagine what he would have done with your paradise.’
‘It’s fascinating to learn how Bali has evolved to be so contemporary, yet it never let go of its culture,’ said Grace. ‘But tourism is God there now, it seems.’
‘Yes, that’s true. The foreigners who went there in the early 1970s were welcomed because the government saw them as a means to an end. The country was broke and it had come out of a purge of mass killings and famine.’
‘I know, I recently watched the old movie, The Year of Living Dangerously.’
‘From what I’ve read, the government infiltrated everything, and they saw the expat foreigners as bringing in lots of cash. So they embraced them, thinking that was the way to the future. But it backfired. Those first tourists didn’t have money for travel as they know it now,’ said Steve.
Grace nodded. ‘My mother went up there in the late seventies. She didn’t have two pennies to rub together then, she said, but she loved it.’
‘It was the hippy era! They weren’t looking for four-star hotels; it was free love on the beach, dope and drugs, surfing and mysticism. Bali was the travellers’ pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Not quite what the government had in mind.’
‘Well, they have their tourist money in spades now.’ Grace laughed. ‘You seem to know a lot about the place; why’s that?’
‘I met some wonderful characters when I was filming the art scene doco in Ubud. You couldn’t make them up! And I only scratched the surface. As well as the artists, the dance and music culture is breathtaking.’ Steve leaned back in his chair. ‘Tell me, the name Kamasan. Does it have any connection with Kamasan village?’
‘I have no idea. What’s in Kamasan village?’
‘It’s where traditional Balinese art evolved, going back centuries. It’s a very interesting archaeological site, and art continues to be a focus there. It’s considered the “heart” of Bali.’
‘Fascinating, I didn’t know that. Hmmm, could be a theme for the campaign perhaps,’ said Grace thoughtfully.
Steve stood up and stretched his legs. ‘I agree it’s effective to have a story hook for the project, rather than just a tourism hard sell. Certainly gives us more creative opportunities,’ he said. ‘Which market do they want to appeal to? Trippy-hippy backpackers have no money. So that leaves the rich international older set or the international players, the children of the jetset, the playboys and their trophy wives . . . Or people with taste who appreciate style and have the money to afford it, or all of the above?’ He grinned. ‘I’ll need a bit of time to think about this.’ He picked up the iPad and scrolled through the images again.
Grace felt her heartbeat pick up. She asked tentatively, ‘So, what do you think, Steve? Are you interested?’
He looked at her, and she hesitated.
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to rush you.’ She smiled and forced herself to relax.
‘It’s all right. I’m just trying to think about how we could sell this in a different way. I don’t usually do stock-standard commercial projects anymore –’
‘That’s why I’m here,’ interjected Grace.
He laughed. ‘Let’s get another coffee and talk a bit more.’ He went into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two fresh coffees, and sat down.
‘So tell me about you. How come you landed this gig? Are you the exec creative at your agency?’
She bristled for a moment but then saw that no slight was intended. ‘I had meetings with the marketing people and others from the hotel up in Bali and presented them with a pitch. First off, though, I gather MGI liked the package the agency sent them – my bio and demo reel. I have to admit I’m a very keen film person. And I’ve had a few successful campaigns,’ Grace added modestly.
Steve leaned back and sipped his coffee. ‘I’m with you. Movie buff. Storytelling rules. You can tell a story in a thirty-second ad and move people emotionally.’ He tilted his head and asked, ‘Do you want to make movies, too?’
‘Me? No . . . well – I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. I just try to bring the heart into each job as a way to connect with the audience. I guess I actually try to hide the sales pitch angle and get to them by entertaining them, capturing their attention so they can be fully engaged with what I’m “selling” them.’
‘It’s not something you can really learn,’ said Steve slowly. ‘Sure, you can follow the trends, the shooting style and imagery, but to make someone put their hand in their pocket . . . that’s the test.’ He put his cup down. ‘I like the way you think, Grace. If you get the job, count me in.’
Grace couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face. ‘That’s wonderful. Thank you, Steve. I’m so pleased. It’s going to be an exciting project.’
‘Yes, and now comes the best part. Tell me your ideas,’ he said.
Grace straightened in her chair. ‘Well, as I mentioned, the setting is what bowled me over. I would want to make the jungle around the hotel – the natural landscape – a big part of the backdrop to the campaign. You’ll see what I mean when you’re there.’
‘I look forward to it.’
‘How’s your schedule looking?’ She knew this was probably the only remaining hurdle: if he couldn’t fit the job in, they could be back to square one.
He gave a small smile and shrugged. ‘As it turns out, I have a gap. The finance just fell through for a movie. Happens all the time. So this could work for me if it all comes together. What’s been the feedback so far from the group running the show?’
Grace felt a wave of relief wash over her. ‘MGI are receptive, as is Johnny Pangisar. And, of course, you’ll get to work with Andy.’
‘I’m definitely up for that. Not to mention the surfing! Andy is one of the originals. Straight out of Morning of the Earth.’
‘You know that film? My mother talked about it. She said it was one of the first Bali surf films.’
Steve nodded. ‘There’s some amazing footage out there of early Bali, going back to the thirties. Did you know that Charlie Chaplin went there with some of his friends? I found it hard to reconcile that spunky guy I saw in the film footage with the character of The Little Tramp! Bing Crosby and Bob Hope did a “road” movie supposedly set in Bali in the old days. Bali’s culture is the same as always – it’s the visitors and the modern world that’s changed,’ said Steve.
Thoughts of old Bali suddenly reminded Grace of the book Andy had given her. It was still in her bag, though she’d been so busy and distracted since she got back that she hadn’t had a chance to start reading it. She reached into her bag and pulled it out, showing Steve. ‘Actually, Andy gave me this to read. Revolt in Paradise. Have you heard of K’tut Tantri? Andy took me on a beach walk one morning and showed me the remains of an old hotel there – on the Kamasan land, incidentally – which apparently K’tut established,’ said Grace. ‘It must have been amazing. It was in a coconut grove right beside a deserted Kuta beach.’
Steve grinned. ‘Not only have I heard of her, I’ve read that book! I stumbled across a copy when I was in Ubud. I’m a bit of a history buff, actually. You’ll enjoy it – it’s an incredible story. She was an inspirational woman. Scots-American, wasn’t she, and a writer in California before she came to Bali?’
‘Yes, it sounds like she hit the big time. Andy said something about a run-in with Noël Coward!’ Grace replied.
‘And her hotel is on the Kamasan land, you say? Now that’s something.’ He looked thoughtful.
‘I wonder what happened to the hotel?’ Grace mused. ‘We could try to find out. Could be another angle we could use in the campaign. But for now, the important thing is, you’re interested,’ she added, smiling.
‘Yes indeed, in theory. Let me do the numbers and I’ll get back to you.’ Steve stood up and held out his hand. Grace stood too, and they shook on it.
*
Feeling elated after her successful meeting, Grace decided to swing by the agency while she was in the neighbourhood and catch up on any news while relaying her coup of getting Steve Boyd on board.
However, her heart sank when she walked into the big open-plan area where staff hung out to relax, chat, talk through ideas, or work away from their hubs, and heard the fast, high-pitched, nasal whine of Spencer’s voice.
Spencer Campbell was the new young chairman of the agency and most of the staff considered him a hotshot with too much attitude. He’d been ruffling feathers in his sweep through the company to rev things up. While he considered himself a hands-on chairman and not a ‘conference room chief’, his arrogance and gung-ho, new-broom persona had caused a lot of angst.
Grace, and many of her colleagues, found Spencer irksome, to put it mildly. He’d had one clever idea once, which had become a popular campaign, and he’d milked it for all it was worth ever since. Some of the senior staff saw him as a Wunderkind, whereas he was more of a one-hit wonder in the eyes of the creative staff. Grace was glad she kept out of office politics as she worked virtually independently of the agency. However, she knew Spencer was annoyed by her ‘wilful freedom’ and had been attempting to rein her in by requesting that she base herself in the head office. She was relieved the assignment to Bali would take her even further from the sphere of Spencer.
‘It was just awwwwwful, one of the worst campaigns I’ve eeeeever seen. Talk about a frog going off in a sock . . . he thought it was bloody marvellous. It was the pits! I would’ve fired the director on the spot . . . Oh, look who’s here, Gracing us with her presence!’
‘Hello, Spencer,’ said Grace serenely. Then she turned to greet Allison and a small group lounging on a sofa, spreadsheets and drawings on the table in front of them. ‘How’s it going, guys?’
‘Pretty good. How’re you going with the Bali job?’ said one of the young producers.
‘Yes, what’s Steve Boyd like? I love his work,’ said Allison.
‘Oh man, I’d kill to work with him. What’s happening, Grace?’
Spencer turned on his heel towards her, his tight skinny jeans and leather jacket out of step with his pale skin, thinning yellow hair and pinched features. Grace noted he had new tortoiseshell-framed glasses and a glittery stud earring. Real or fake? she wondered idly, before deciding it was fake. Spencer was too mean to spend actual big bucks on something that might not be noticed. He wanted people to know when he was splashing money around, mostly on his expense account.
‘Report to me about the film crew and director before you leave,’ he said coolly, tapping one high-heeled tooled cowboy boot loudly on the floor.
‘Oh, I can tell you right now, Spencer,’ Grace said with a smile. Nothing was going to spoil her mood today. ‘Steve Boyd and his crew are on board. Thrilled at the whole concept. Pretty good, huh?’
The group around her exclaimed in delight, congratulating Grace on such a fabulous win.
Spencer said nothing. He nodded curtly to Grace, then spun back around and stalked away, his shoulders as clenched as Grace’s jaw.
*
Driving back to the beach in her mother’s car, Grace thought how lucky it was that Steve had agreed on the spot. She knew there were still some hoops to jump through regarding money and logistics, but she’d seen the spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. He knew Bali and obviously wanted to film there again. And how great it had been to let the obnoxious Spencer have it between the eyes!
Her mind was racing with ideas. It was wonderful to be on a job that was so stimulating, fascinating and challenging, she thought. Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s not a done deal yet, she cautioned herself. There’s hard work ahead. But the signs are good! She glanced at the clock on the dashboard and worked out that she’d have time to get some notes down before going to collect Daisy.
But then she felt her excitement fading and the familiar tightness in her chest returned as she thought about Lawrence. She was worried he’d try to jeopardise this job, if he found out about it. If she landed some big contract, he wouldn’t be pleased for her, he’d be jealous and obstructive. Every day that passed that she didn’t hear from Lawrence about custody of Daisy made her a little bit calmer, but she knew he could change his mind at any time. She took a deep breath and repeated Mr Judd’s words in her head: one step at a time.
*
Grace was making herself a pot of tea when her phone rang and she saw it was the local solicitor.
‘Hi, Mr Jamison. How are you?’
‘I’m very well, Grace. And you?’
‘Well, okay. Bit more of a standstill, as far as my husband is concerned. I thought things might pick up once we’d agreed to separate. The living arrangements are an issue, for him, anyway. We really need that insurance money. One of the insurance brokers emailed and asked me to submit another list, this time about the items in Lawrence’s home office. I’ve sent it to them.’
‘Right, well, the managing broker contacted me. There seems to be an issue.’
‘Oh no! What?’ She sat down at the kitchen table, feeling the constriction in her chest tighten further.
‘It seems there was nothing of much value left after the fire, which I think you knew already, but that even includes what was in the safe.’
‘Wait, wait . . . You mean the safe in the house? But it was fireproof. It should have had all our valuables in it. What happened?’ Grace could hear her voice rising.
‘I believe the safe did survive the fire. They retrieved some papers that were in it, apparently, but nothing else, I’m afraid.’
‘How’s that possible?’ she cried. ‘You’re telling me some papers survived but my diamond jewellery did not?’
‘I’m sorry, Grace. I’m sure the jewellery meant a lot to you, but it’s something you’ll have to talk to your husband about. It wasn’t in there.’
‘No! Mr Jamison, the jewellery didn’t mean a lot from a sentimental point of view, but it meant money! I wanted to sell it. I need cash!’
‘Oh, I see. Well, if you’re positive it was in there, you’d better speak to the insurance broker and the investigator the company uses, a Mr Tony Freeman, I believe.’
‘Well, I can’t be positive. I never had access to that safe. It was my husband’s . . .’ She paused, feeling embarrassed. Again she berated herself. How had she been so, so . . . helpless? So trusting? So stupid.
‘I think you’d better ask your husband,’ Mr Jamison said again, quietly. ‘And, if necessary, inform your family solicitor.’
‘Thanks for letting me know, Mr Jamison. I’ll do just that.’
Grace hung up, and felt like throwing her phone across the room. ‘Damn you, Lawrence,’ she shouted.
‘What now?’ Tina came in from the garden.
‘Lawrence appears to have done something with my jewellery from the safe in our house. The investigators said there was nothing in there when they found it.’
‘What! Why? How? He has money, doesn’t he?’
‘As I’ve learned, Lawrence always likes to give that impression. It’s feast or famine with him. Honestly, Mum, I really have no idea what he does for money. All these business deals he talks about. Development in oil wells, gas, soy-bean production, futures, bitcoin, commodities . . .’
Tina frowned. ‘And he always makes it sound like such a big deal. Doesn’t he ever do anything local, modest, ordinary?’
‘Sadly, it seems like he doesn’t, or I wouldn’t be looking around for something to pawn or sell,’ answered Grace. ‘Mum, I need to do this job in Bali. I really want to do it.’
‘And you should. How did it go with the film director? Is he interested?’ Tina asked.
Grace grinned. ‘Steve agreed. I’m really delighted – he’s terrific. It’s exciting.’ She paused. ‘But I just can’t see how I can go away without taking Daisy. I’ll have to see Mr Judd again.’
‘Listen, sweetie, you know she can stay with me, but I understand there could be legal issues with Lawrence. And as her father he has rights. He could leverage that to his advantage. But the fact that he’s left you without any money, unless you take a job in Bali, means you don’t have much choice. Knowing him, he’ll twist it to make you look like you’re an uncaring mum, dashing off for a tropical holiday. You’ll have to be ready for whatever he throws at you.’
‘I know. And who gets a high-paying job in Bali anyway, he’ll say. It will be interesting to see how he spins the disappearance of my jewellery. It just doesn’t add up.’
Tina gave her daughter a quick hug. ‘You look so down in the dumps. Let’s go out and have a coffee before we collect Daisy,’ she said. ‘My treat.’
*
That afternoon, Daisy seemed out of sorts, refusing to eat her dinner and crying broken-heartedly when Grace insisted they turn off the television after her favourite show, old re-runs of Sesame Street.
‘Daddy wouldn’t make me turn it off, you’re mean!’ she shouted at Grace, folding her arms and stamping her feet, her angry little face wet with tears.
Without making a big deal of it, both Grace and her mother knew Daisy was still feeling destabilised and confused at the upheaval in her life. They hadn’t told Daisy about the separation yet, as the little girl was already coping with a lot of change. They’d just told her that Daddy was working in the city and they were staying with Nana near the beach until they found a new house. It wasn’t as though Lawrence used to see Daisy a lot even when they all lived under the same roof, so that, at least, hadn’t changed much for Daisy. But it was clear she was picking up on the tension and uncertainty in the adults around her.
At bedtime, an exhausted Daisy clung to Grace and asked, ‘When are we going to our new home, Mummy? Sparkle wants to go home.’
The cat looked perfectly content on the bed beside Daisy, but Grace knew her darling girl missed her home, her toys and clothes – and the sense of normality that her old life had had. This extended ‘holiday’ at her Nana’s was worrying her, even if she couldn’t articulate it.
‘Honey, you’re happy here, aren’t you? And you like your new school, don’t you?’
Daisy nodded.
‘And being with Nana, and near the beach?’
‘Yes, Mummy.’
‘But you miss Daddy?’
‘Yeah. Can Daddy come and live here too?’
Grace chose her words carefully. ‘He has to work at his office, honey, and that’s right in the city, so it’s easier for him to stay there. Maybe one day soon you and Daddy can go and do some fun things together.’
‘Okay.’ She seemed reassured, reaching to pat the cat. ‘Tomorrow I get to turn the pages when Miss Thomas reads our story.’
‘That’s wonderful. When you come home I’d love you to tell Nana and me all about it.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Daisy’s eyes closed and she snuggled down to sleep.
*
After the long day she’d had and the emotional afternoon with Daisy, Grace decided to have an early night. As she climbed into bed, she remembered the book Andy had given her. A bit of escapism was exactly what she needed, she thought, and after the good rap Steve had given it, Revolt in Paradise sounded like just the thing. Snuggling down under the covers, she opened K’tut’s memoir. The pages were thick and starting to yellow. She breathed in that old-paper smell, one she’d always loved. Flicking through to the first page, she began to read . . .
This is the story of a white woman who lived for fifteen years in Indonesia – living, not visiting – knowing the country and its people, from the highest to the lowest, and sharing their joys and their sorrows. This woman is myself. Which makes it more difficult for the telling because it is always difficult to be completely honest about oneself.
I spent the first fourteen years of my life on the Isle of Man, and then I went to school in Scotland. My stepfather was killed in the First World War. After his death my mother decided to go to the United States. We settled in Hollywood . . .
I myself was really an artist. It was largely through chance that I became successful in another field. I found myself writing interviews and articles about the film stars and the high moguls of Hollywood which were published abroad in British trade and film magazines. Yet I became increasingly restless. I was discontented. I was unhappy. I often wished that I was an archaeologist and would thus have a real excuse for going to far places. I thought the people I knew shallow and superficial. Their aims, their ambitions, were wholly apart from my own.
I must now come to the year 1932, which is another beginning for my story – perhaps the one that matters most. It was a rainy afternoon. I was walking down Hollywood Boulevard. I stopped before a small theater showing a foreign film and on the spur of the moment decided to go in. The film was entitled Goona Goona, The Last Paradise.
I became entranced. The picture was aglow with an agrarian pattern of peace, contentment, beauty and love. Yes, I had found my life. I recognized the place where I wished to be. My decision was sudden but it was irrevocable. It was as if fate had brushed my shoulder. I felt a compulsion, from which I had no desire to escape . . .
Escapism indeed, thought Grace, and felt a wave of empathy for this woman. Going to Bali from the Western world in 1932 must have been like going to the moon, and yet K’tut was bravely taking control of her life and directing her own fate and future. If she can do it, so can I, thought Grace, and she put the book on her bedside table and turned out the light.
*
Over the next few days, feeling freshly inspired, Grace concentrated on the contemporary angle of selling the Kamasan. She wanted their campaign to be stylish and creative while also being accessible to a wide range of people. She contemplated finding a beautiful, exotic couple who might epitomise the type of guests who’d be attracted to, and could afford to stay at, the Kamasan. But it seemed too much of a cliché so she abandoned the idea.
Then came a text message from Lawrence.
I’d like to take you and Daisy to lunch tomorrow. I’ll collect you at 12 midday. Your mother is welcome, but I would prefer to just discuss matters between us in private.
What the hell? Grace thought. One minute Lawrence was cold, brusque and combative – or just absent – and the next . . . this strange polite courtesy. What did he want? She steeled herself. Whatever it was, it was no doubt all part of his strategy. She would go in with her eyes open.
Lawrence arrived a little early, with a bunch of flowers for Tina, and swept Daisy into his arms.
‘Hello, beautiful gorgeous adorable girl! Are you happy to see your daddy?’
‘What have you got for me, Daddy?’ Daisy began searching all his pockets.
‘What makes you think I have anything for a little girl?’ he teased.
‘’Cause it’s meeee, Daisy,’ she squealed. Then she discovered a package in his coat pocket and darted away with it.
‘Where do you plan to go for lunch?’ asked Grace. ‘If you’d prefer to just take Daisy, that’s fine.’
‘Of course not. I enjoy being seen with my beautiful wife.’ He smiled at Tina. ‘You’re welcome to come, Tina. There’s a stunning new café at Palm Beach right on the water at Pittwater.’
Grace couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Hadn’t Lawrence specifically said he didn’t want Tina to come? And ‘beautiful wife’ . . .? What was going on? Grace saw Tina grit her teeth and smile tightly.
‘Thank you, Lawrence, and for the flowers, but no, I can’t join you. I’m meeting my tennis friends.’
‘Daisy! Come and say goodbye to Nana. We’re leaving. See you after lunch, Mum.’ Grace kissed her mother on the cheek as Tina squeezed her arm.
Lawrence lifted Daisy up onto his shoulders, grasping her by the ankles, and called out, ‘Have a lovely afternoon, Tina.’
Grace and her mother exchanged a surprised look as Grace followed Lawrence out of the house. He and Daisy were singing loudly. Grace used to think this was sweet. Now she felt irritated, but she bit her tongue. She would not say a thing against Lawrence to Daisy. It wasn’t fair to drag little children into the issues between their parents. Daisy will figure him out as time goes on, she thought.
The restaurant near the water was surrounded by manicured lawns. It was clearly up-market and expensive. But the service was slow, and Daisy was soon bored with the small colouring sheet and two pencils she’d been given. Grace was not inclined to linger and wanted to order immediately, while Lawrence went through every dish on the menu with Daisy, describing it in detail.
‘Lawrence, she doesn’t want abalone. Just order something simple.’
‘Grace, she has to learn there’s more to food than hamburgers and chips.’
Grace bit her tongue, almost literally. He knew very well that she and her mother were healthy eaters. Lawrence was the one who opted for fast food. She recalled what he’d fed Daisy on their day at the zoo and fumed inwardly.
Lawrence and Daisy compromised on fish and chips.
‘My daughter will have the beer-battered barramundi fillets with the duck-fat wedges. Do you do hasselback potatoes? No? Okay, just the wedges, please.’ Lawrence smiled winningly at the waitress.
‘Why are we here, Lawrence?’ asked Grace tightly after she’d ordered and the waitress had left. She wondered if she should raise the issue of going to Bali or not, but she hadn’t yet spoken to Mr Judd so she decided to keep quiet for the moment.
‘I miss my beautiful daughter,’ said Lawrence lightly.
‘Tell Daddy about school,’ said Grace, to distract Daisy.
Daisy was immediately enthusiastic and began to talk about her new friends, Charlie the pet guinea pig in the classroom, and her teacher, but Lawrence cut her short.
‘How is your schoolwork, though? Reading and writing?’
‘Good,’ said Daisy in a bored tone.
‘When I come back, I think we should find you a new school. In the city. Much more convenient. And I’m going to find us a new house,’ he told her.
Daisy looked distressed. ‘But I like my school now, Daddy!’
Grace tried to suppress the flash of irritation and alarm she felt as she patted Daisy’s hand and suggested that she go and play on the grass while they were waiting for their meals to arrive. Daisy seemed happy to scramble off her chair and go to practise handstands on the lawn.
‘What are you saying?’ said Grace in a low voice, when Daisy was out of earshot. ‘There’s no new house. We’re separated, remember. And what do you mean by “when I come back”? Where are you going?’
‘Overseas. On business,’ said Lawrence curtly. ‘An opportunity’s come up unexpectedly and I have to jump on it. I brought us here because I want to have a few matters cleared up before I go.’
‘So if you’re going away, then you’re not seeking full custody?’ said Grace quickly.
‘I will not discuss private matters with you in public,’ hissed Lawrence.
‘Lawrence, you said yourself in your text that you wanted to discuss some matters today! So where are you going? When will you be back?’
He shrugged. ‘India. Probably to and fro for a bit. I won’t know until I have the initial meeting in Mumbai.’
‘I see. Well, we’re perfectly comfortable at my mother’s house for now, in case you were wondering. And if you won’t be around for a while . . .’
Grace let the subject drop as the waitress appeared with their entrées and drinks. When she’d gone, Grace said, ‘Lawrence, look. I’ll need money to help support us. There are school fees, and I need to replace clothes and things. I can’t let my mother pay for everything and my income only goes so far. It’s not reasonable that I’m paying for our daughter’s needs entirely on my own.’ Grace expected Lawrence to jump down her throat, but instead he pressed his hands together and leaned back in his chair.
‘It’ll get sorted. Just red tape with the insurance. Please, Grace. Let’s enjoy our lunch.’
Fuming inside, she wanted to ask why the safe was empty but didn’t want to upset Daisy with a scene. It would have to wait, or perhaps it was time for her lawyer to talk to his, Grace thought.
*
Lawrence dropped them outside Tina’s house. As he helped Daisy out of the car, Grace said to Daisy, ‘Tell Daddy thank you for the fancy lunch, please, sweetie.’
‘Thanks, Daddy.’ Daisy turned and skipped to the front door without looking back.
‘Thank you for lunch. I hope your Mumbai deal goes well,’ said Grace stiffly, figuring she may as well take the moral high ground and be polite.
Lawrence gazed at her for a minute, saying nothing. Then he got in his car and drove away, leaving Grace more confused than ever about what he was up to.