Ellie walked through the leafy park behind the shuttered old School of the Arts 1883 building. A few people were fishing at the seawall, others were picnicking on the grass, sitting under the broad trees or at wooden tables. She noticed a couple at one of the tables, then she recognised Ben O’Neill.
As she hailed him, the woman he was speaking to turned and Ellie saw that it was Sally, who had previously worked at the Chronicle.
Ben waved Ellie over.
‘Hey, Ellie, how’s it going? Do you know Sally? She used to work with your grandfather.’
‘Yes, we’ve met. Good to see you, Sally. Jon tells me you’re at the radio station now,’ Ellie said. ‘How are you enjoying switching from print?’
‘Pretty good, Ellie, thanks. In fact, I’m setting up an interview with Ben, about his wood carving. Have you seen what he does?’
‘I sure have,’ said Ellie, but privately thought it would be a better story in the Chronicle as listeners might find it hard to visualise how spectacular Harry the crayfish looked.
Sally’s phone beeped and she glanced at it. Ellie noticed she had a small nose stud and a tattoo creeping along her arm.
‘So how’re things at the newspaper?’ Ben asked.
‘Always busy. How’re plans for your grandmother’s birthday going?’
‘I’m not involved with it. Except my grandmother insisted I be there. She always had a soft spot for me; I think it’s because I was a bit of a fish out of water in the family.’
‘Your family should wake up to themselves and realise how talented you are,’ Sally said, looking up.
Ellie recalled Sally as being a rather nerdy, alternative girl who favoured tattoos (which Maggie loathed), was a big Star Wars fan, and swung between intense, introverted moods and being outgoing to the point of irritating. In her late twenties now, there seemed a harder edge to her, Ellie thought, or maybe it was simply that Sally had now found her self-confidence.
‘Don’t let me interrupt your interview – I’ll keep moving. Bye, Ben. Nice to see you again, Sally.’
‘Yeah. See ya.’ Sally turned her attention back to Ben, who smiled at Ellie as she walked away.
‘Cheers, Ellie,’ he said. ‘Come back and visit Harry sometime!’
*
‘Where’re you off to?’ asked Ellie as she walked into the office and saw Patrick struggling to do up his tie.
‘I have a lunch date with the mayor every month or so. A friendly off-the-record chat.’
‘It requires a tie? Where do you go?’
‘Well, there’re two places in town that are a bit more formal. But we don’t go to either of them. Meredith likes to try restaurants that are doing something different or just starting out. The tie is a gesture of respect. Say, would you like to come along? I’ll ring Meredith and check with her first, but I’m sure it would be fine.’ Satisfied with his tie, Patrick reached for his jacket. ‘Your nana and I and Jim and Meredith used to have outings together on their boat, before Jim died and Meredith became the mayor. I guess that’s another reason we like to catch up. We miss our spouses. Like to remember the good times. There, how do I look?’ He struck a pose.
Ellie smiled. ‘You look fab, Poppy.’
‘So, are you lunching with us or not? I’ll call Meredith now.’ Then, seeing Ellie’s hesitation, he added, ‘C’mon, love, chin up, things can’t be that bad. You know, I’ve always said you’re the smartest chicken in the henhouse. And besides, I need you at lunch to ask innocent questions. Ones that I shouldn’t ask.’ He winked.
‘Like what titbits of news, gossip, happenings are going on in the council?’
He snapped his fingers. ‘That’s my girl.’
Patrick pulled out his phone and made the call.
*
Mayor Meredith Havelock had chosen a cottage café at the edge of town.
‘This place looks gorgeous,’ said Ellie as Patrick parked outside the quaint old cottage. On its verandah, checked tablecloths fluttered in the breeze, anchored to each table by a small pot of flowers. A painted sign swung gently on two hooks by the gate: The Garden Cottage Guesthouse and Café.
Meredith strolled towards them, waving a greeting. ‘Hello, Ellie, it’s so good to see you again.’ She reached out and shook Ellie’s hand. ‘Shall we go inside? It’s more private and it’s getting a bit cool.’
They settled at a corner table with a view over fields where a dozen alpacas grazed. Ellie glanced around, taking in the comfortable furnishings: a floor lamp and a small settee in front of the fireplace, paintings on the walls, a bookcase full to bursting with books, as well as five other tables.
‘This is like being in someone’s home,’ she said.
‘That’s because we are,’ Meredith said. ‘Lucy and James, the couple who run this place, live here and grow their own produce, poultry and so on, out the back. Lucy’s a great cook. I think it’s tremendous to see young people get a business up and running. They had some setbacks with the drought and bushfire dramas, like everyone, but if anything it’s taught us all to be a bit inventive, to think outside the square.’
The young waiter handed Meredith the wine menu, recommending a Victorian pinot and adding, ‘It’s from a small but significant vineyard not far from here.’
Meredith closed the menu. ‘We like to support our locals. We’ll give it a try.’
Waiting for their drinks to arrive, Meredith asked Ellie about her work, and how she’d got interested in working in IT.
Ellie paused, thinking back. ‘It started at school. Computers and technology just appealed to me; they made sense. Like when you start to become fluent in a foreign language and it just clicks. At first I kept it to myself as none of my schoolfriends were interested in coding. I don’t code now, though. I’m a project manager, so I employ others to do it. But back then I was fascinated by what coding had to offer and wanted to learn everything I could about it. I’m still interested in it, really. But at the time I felt like there was something wrong with me for enjoying it so much!’
‘She’s being modest, Meredith. She’s been managing some high-level projects and a team of specialists that do stuff I can’t get my head around,’ said Patrick proudly. ‘There weren’t a lot of women in her field when she started.’
‘Maybe that’s why you thought there was something wrong, Ellie,’ commented Meredith. ‘It’s hard being a woman in what’s perceived as a male profession.’
‘It certainly is,’ said Ellie. ‘Especially when it comes to networking and negotiating and you’re one of the only women in the room. I found it hard to promote myself to the blokes. That is, to realise that it was okay to say, “Hey, I’m really good at this. I know what I’m doing. I’m awesome!”’ She tailed off, remembering again how she was muscled out of her job and the terrible scene in the boardroom.
‘And you are awesome!’ said Patrick.
The waiter returned with the bottle of wine and handed it to Meredith, who read the label and then nodded. ‘This will be fine, thank you.’
She leaned back in her chair and looked at Ellie. ‘If you don’t believe in yourself, no one else will. Self-promotion is indispensable when you want to achieve a goal, get something happening or close a deal,’ Meredith said. ‘I know that now, but I learned it the hard way.’
‘You should feel proud of yourself too, Meredith, not just for being elected as mayor, but because you are never afraid to stand up to the boys’ club if it’s in the town’s best interests,’ said Patrick. ‘I know that it hasn’t all been smooth sailing for you.’
Ellie studied the older woman, who presented as a powerful and confident person. ‘So what did you want to be when you were a young woman, Meredith?’ she asked suddenly.
Meredith waved a hand dismissively. ‘Oh, when I was in my teens, I didn’t have ambitions. Life can take you in directions you never expect. Sometimes I feel I’ve lived several lives in one.’ She changed tack. ‘I remember you as a teenager, Ellie. I’d just moved here with Jim.’
Ellie was about to ask more about the mayor’s life before she came to Storm Harbour when the chef and owner came to take their orders.
‘So lovely to have you back again, Mayor Havelock,’ the woman said, then smiled at Patrick and Ellie. ‘Hi, I’m Lucy. Chef, gardener and owner along with my husband, James.’
Meredith introduced Ellie and Patrick before they turned their attention to the menu.
After some reminiscing between Patrick and Meredith, their food was served, and Patrick plunged in.
‘So, Meredith, have you found out any more about those rumours you heard about the O’Neill land?’
‘Not much more than we spoke about the other day, Patrick. Just rumours: something to do with developing some land in town with “sweeping river views”,’ said Meredith.
‘River views,’ mused Patrick. ‘How much town land is left undeveloped along the river? Not much, I’d say, unless it’s way out where the marshes are, past the golf course, before you reach the sea. But I wouldn’t want to live there,’ he added.
‘I agree,’ replied Meredith. ‘As far as I can tell, there’s been no application lodged for a planning permit yet: I’d know a lot more if there had been. That doesn’t mean that secret conversations aren’t taking place, though, or that deals aren’t being struck.’ The mayor rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever’s going on, they’re doing a good job of keeping it under wraps at the moment.’
Ellie nodded. ‘So what’s the best piece of land in town?’
‘Well, there’s only one piece of land I know of that has “sweeping river views” and that’s the land where Boyd suggested Kathryn O’Neill set up her Botanic Gardens.’ Meredith looked at Patrick sombrely.
‘They wouldn’t,’ said Patrick. ‘It’s not for sale!’
‘Or open to development,’ added Meredith.
‘But . . . that’s an icon in town!’ exclaimed Ellie. ‘It can’t be touched; surely the council would never allow that?’
‘Look, I could be wrong. We don’t really know anything – we don’t even know if there is a development planned at all,’ said Meredith.
Ellie was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Ben told me the Gardens were Kathryn’s project. I didn’t realise she owned the land. How did that come about?’
Patrick turned to her. ‘True to form, the first white settlers in this area made a grab for the best land. The stretch along the river has been in the O’Neill family for generations. As far as I know, Boyd O’Neill “gifted” it to Kathryn, for her birthday or a wedding anniversary or something, so that she could develop the Gardens, but legally speaking he retained ownership. I have no idea who he left it to when he died, but I assume it stayed in the family.’
‘I think the original idea was to landscape the whole area, but it’s far too big. The Botanic Gardens land was sectioned off as it is today. It’s such a special oasis,’ said Meredith. ‘So if this is the land they’re talking about, it potentially includes the caravan park as well.’
‘So who owns the caravan park?’ asked Ellie.
‘It’s a bit complicated, but as I understand it, the land still belongs to the O’Neills.’
‘I’m sure the O’Neills wouldn’t sell that land, for practical as well as sentimental reasons,’ said Patrick. ‘And as you suggested, Meredith, maybe Kathryn doesn’t know what’s going on. I’ve heard that the family and the people around her are very protective of her.’
‘Yes. I noticed.’ At Pat’s suggestion, Ellie had tried to schedule a follow-up interview with Kathryn, but Susan had proved to be as responsive and cooperative as a rock.
Meredith picked up her wineglass and turned to Patrick. ‘I just hope the Chronicle can raise a bit of awareness if this land deal turns out to be really happening, and if it isn’t what the community wants. The radio station won’t jump up and down, so we need the Chronicle. As we always have.’
‘Isn’t it a community radio station?’ asked Ellie.
‘It’s a small network, a local regional station, and it’s privately run. Its owner has money and influence,’ said Patrick.
‘You look at who pays the bills to find out what their editorial stance is,’ added Meredith. ‘True community radio and media outlets, like your grandfather’s paper, are vital to a small town and the whole community who live in and around it.’
‘And they’re getting harder and harder to keep going,’ said Patrick with a slight frown. ‘We can’t rely on the advertising income we used to have. So many businesses are struggling. But a town without strong local media is a town without a voice.’
‘I agree.’ Meredith nodded. ‘Over the years I’ve lived here, I’ve seen this town change, and generally for the better; younger people are moving here to start up new ventures, creative types, some alternatives, organic lifestylers, couples wanting to get ahead and set up a business. This has all boosted tourism and brought more visitors, which is wonderful. But don’t be fooled: this town is still the preserve of the wealthy in many ways.’ Meredith looked at them both. ‘What I’m saying is, the old brigade doesn’t like to let go of the reins of the town. And that’s why we need the paper to keep things transparent.’
‘Anyway,’ Patrick jumped in, ‘no matter where a development goes it will most likely divide the town. I’ll keep my ears to the ground. Nothing will happen without The Storm Harbour Chronicle knowing,’ he added with a chuckle.
*
‘Meredith is such an interesting person,’ said Ellie as they drove back to the Chronicle office.
‘She is indeed. Strong, focused, unbiased: a very correct and proper mayor. But when she lets her hair down after a few drinks with close friends, she’s quite a character. In the old days, before she hit the limelight, she could say what she thought. After Jim died and she became mayor, she quickly realised she had to be more reserved, more circumspect, let’s say.’
‘Do you see her often socially, apart from your regular lunch?’ said Ellie.
‘No, not really. I think she’s conscious of not being seen to be in my pocket, or too friendly with the media.’ He sighed. ‘We both feel we have to be a bit careful about what we say in public. Sometimes we can be on opposite sides of the fence. Anything I might publish that’s anti-council could be construed as coming from her.’
‘You mean it might suggest that she’d leaked information to you?’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. Where would the press be without whistleblowers?’ said Patrick with a faint smile.
*
After spending a couple of hours setting up the Chronicle’s new Facebook page, Ellie decided to take a walk through the Botanic Gardens. Along the way, she wondered how the waterfront must have looked when the town was first established. What had it been like when Kathryn O’Neill came to the district as a young bride? How stunning it would have been if the lush and exotic Botanic Gardens had been established all the way along to where the caravan park was, as was originally intended, she thought.
A mournful musical note drifted up from the caravan park, and Ellie stopped to listen. She was drawn to find out where it was coming from and made her way out of the Gardens, across the grass towards the cabins, where she saw Roly, sitting outside his home with the cello between his knees as he played with aching fervour.
Ellie stood at a distance and waited until Roly slowly lifted the bow from the strings, his head down, eyes closed. She walked quietly towards him and he looked up and saw her. He leaned back and lifted his bow in a salute.
‘Roly. That was beautiful! But so sad-sounding. May I come over?’
‘Of course.’ He stood, carefully placing the cello in its case.
‘That was a beautiful lament, I must say. And in a beautiful setting.’
‘Yes, the tranquillity here is what first attracted me to this place. Social interaction is available when required, but not overbearing. People are here because they truly want to be. They respect the simple and modest attractions of peace, neighbourliness, and a simple lifestyle with fresh air, quietude, and nature’s charm and health.’
‘Why did you move here, Roly?’ asked Ellie gently, her curiosity piqued again. ‘Just for the fishing?’
Roly gave her an amused glance. ‘You are becoming quite the probing journalist! Well, since you ask . . .’
They both sat down and Roly looked thoughtful.
‘Many years ago, I called in here overnight and stayed a day or so for a case I was working on. There had been an incident in which a fishing boat had washed onto the rocks with no one onboard; the owner was missing. It was seemingly a tragic accident. But the family refused to believe it, as their relative was too skilled a skipper. Then his body was found, and gradually some forensic evidence came to light that suggested he had not been alone out on the water. Someone had hidden onboard, murdered him, and then removed the body from the boat. So, as it’s not uncommon for a barrister to visit a crime scene, I came down here to see for myself. In the course of my early morning stroll I walked through the Botanic Gardens and along here.’ Roly leaned back and looked around. ‘I met a fisherman who lived here, and I asked him how he liked it. And he told me he’d never been happier. He said none of his kids could understand why he was here, as he’d previously run a big company and never fished in his life.’ Roly chuckled. ‘I filed it away. Y’know, my kids don’t understand why I’m here either.’
‘Did you always have a secret plan to one day just sit in a tinny and fish? Never wanted a yacht, or a flashy waterfront apartment?’ asked Ellie.
‘I made enough money to buy one, I s’pose. My father always expected me to be a barrister and do well. Marry well. It’s terrible, the expectations people put on children.’
For the first time since she’d known the ebullient barrister, Ellie sensed a yearning or wistfulness in him. ‘What did you really want to do, Roly?’
‘Be in an orchestra,’ said Roly immediately. ‘And travel, and play in the world’s great concert halls.’
Ellie stared at the man whose presence could be intimidating, who had a fierce and famous reputation in the legal world, and who had probably never told anyone of his private dream.
‘I can tell. Your playing comes from your heart.’
‘Some of my neighbours might not appreciate it, which is why I enjoy playing with the trees and the river as an audience. Oh, and anyone who happens by.’ He straightened up, looking a trifle embarrassed. ‘That’s why I won’t be leaving my pleasant green field here to move into some suburban cement box any time soon.’
‘Fair enough too, Roly,’ said Ellie. ‘I wouldn’t want to give up this slice of paradise either.’
*
Ellie was walking back through the caravan park when she noticed a man standing still, looking around. Her attention was caught by the way he was dressed and because he had his back to the river. She edged towards him, and when he glanced at her, she smiled and asked, ‘Are you one of the residents here?’
He looked startled and shook his head. ‘No. Not at all.’ He waved an arm. ‘Do I look like I live in a caravan park?’
Ellie glanced at his tailored slacks, the crocodile logo on his shirt, the expensive loafers and smart blazer.
‘Nope. You definitely look like a visitor,’ she said politely. ‘Are you from the media?’ she added innocently. ‘Or the council?’
‘I’m an architect. Down from Melbourne. I’m doing some work for a client.’
‘Ah. Would the work have anything to do with this caravan park?’ asked Ellie lightly.
He turned to her. ‘Why would you ask that?’ he said. ‘And you are . . .?’
‘Estelle Conlan,’ she said. ‘I’m an IT project manager. From Melbourne.’
‘I see. Here on a holiday?’
‘Seeing friends here.’
‘If you want to build a holiday home, give me a call,’ he said, then pulled out a leather business-card holder and handed her a card.
Ellie looked at it. ‘This is a very big firm to be doing business in a small town like this one.’
‘Money is as good in a small town as the big city,’ he shrugged.
‘Of course. You must be good,’ Ellie said.
‘Exactly.’
As she tucked his card away she asked, ‘Have you met anyone who lives in the park? There’re some very interesting people here.’
‘I don’t think I need to know them, thanks. I don’t do caravans. I’d be renting a nice townhouse with river views if I was staying here,’ the man said archly.
‘I don’t think they “do” townhouses in Storm Harbour,’ said Ellie airily. She waited for a reply, but he just looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a somewhat dismissive expression.
‘Enjoy your stay, Estelle.’ He strolled away towards the car park.
*
Only a couple of days had passed since their lunch with the mayor, so Ellie was surprised to see her car pull up outside the house when she and her grandfather were sitting on the lawn, basking in the afternoon sun.
‘Meredith, this is unexpected, but it’s lovely to see you. Come and enjoy the last rays,’ Patrick called out.
‘Thanks, Patrick. Hi, Ellie,’ Meredith said as she closed the car door and walked over to them. ‘I should have called first, I suppose, but I just wanted to see a couple of friendly faces.’
‘Are you all right, Meredith?’ Ellie asked, standing up to bring over another cane chair.
‘Oh, yes, I’m fine really, but this business with the potential development is getting me down. It’s hard to know who’s telling the truth. Certainly no one is giving me the full picture,’ she said, sitting down next to Ellie.
‘You know you can always trust us, Meredith,’ Patrick said, sounding serious. ‘Anything you say here is off the record,’ he added. ‘First, though, can I get you a drink? Tea, wine?’
‘I’d love a wine, thank you.’
Ellie jumped up. ‘I’ll get it, Poppy.’
As she walked back out with a tray of glasses, a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese and biscuits, Ellie asked, ‘So what is happening?’
‘I wish I knew for sure.’ Meredith sighed. ‘What I am fairly certain about is that whoever is involved in this is trying to go around me. Tell me nothing, show me nothing, employ delaying tactics. I sense there’s been a few secret meetings in a local bar where a couple of the councillor chaps go for drinks on Friday nights.’
‘And you’re never invited,’ said Ellie. ‘You get cliques like that in all organisations, I guess. Do you know much about them?’
‘Oh, they’re like a bunch of silly schoolboys. They even have a name for themselves – The Pineapple Club.’
Ellie snorted. ‘What a stupid name,’ she said.
‘Actually, they’ve been around a while. One of the secretaries told me about them years ago when I was looking for one of them. They leave early on a Friday afternoon. They consider themselves a “golden circle”, so, as that’s the name of the famous pineapple cannery in Queensland, they became The Pineapple Club. I wouldn’t want to be included anyway, but I am concerned there might be some connivance going on as a couple of the council managers and directors are in the club.’
‘So who’s on your side?’ asked Ellie. ‘Other than truth, justice and a fair go?’
‘Thanks, Ellie, for that vote of confidence,’ Meredith chuckled. ‘There are plenty of good people in council, don’t get me wrong. But once this group knew I couldn’t be bought off, I became rather isolated. If it wasn’t for my eagle-eyed assistant, a few shifty things might have slipped past me.’
‘Good for you,’ said Patrick. He stood up and handed around the cheese and biscuits.
Meredith took a biscuit and sipped her wine, then said, ‘Thanks, Patrick. Frankly, I just can’t believe these rumours might really be about the Botanic Gardens land. Apart from whether that would even be possible, legally speaking, why that land? There are other blocks that are much larger. A bit further out, one near the golf course, like you mentioned the other day, Patrick, and the other oceanfront but set back a little up on a hill. It’d be damned windy, but has spectacular views.’
‘Seals, salt and sea erosion might be factors against those,’ said Patrick drily. ‘In comparison even a small parcel of riverfront in town is prime real estate.’
‘There was a smug architect cruising around the caravan park when I was there,’ said Ellie, suddenly remembering.
‘Are you sure that’s who it was?’ asked Patrick.
‘Yes. We had a bit of an exchange; he came across as such a snob. But he alluded to how nice it would be to have townhouses with a riverfront view in town.’
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ said Patrick. ‘Well, you’d better do some digging into that Pineapple Club, Meredith.’
‘Would Kathryn O’Neill tell either of you anything if you had her on her own?’ asked Ellie thoughtfully. ‘Surely she wouldn’t agree to the Botanic Gardens land being developed, given the Gardens are supposed to be so close to her heart. Would she?’
Meredith frowned. ‘Depends if she knows about it. My feeling is she’d stop it in a heartbeat if she thought something might happen to it.’
‘The family don’t need the money,’ added Patrick.
‘Rich people, especially the younger generations, always need more money,’ said Ellie. ‘They’re the generation who either spends it, sinks it, or tries to triple it.’
‘Well, I think you’re probably right then, Meredith. If it is the Gardens land, Kathryn likely doesn’t know, and has possibly been kept in the dark on purpose,’ said Patrick.
Meredith shook her head frustratedly. ‘It’s all supposition at this stage, so let’s keep quiet until we know more,’ she said. ‘It’s still possible we’re jumping at shadows. But I’ll start asking hard questions. If I know that the Chronicle will give an objective account of whatever happens, Patrick, that would be helpful.’
‘Well, of course we will. That’s precisely what the Chronicle is for!’ said Patrick firmly, his eyes flashing.
‘Look out, Ellie,’ said Meredith, smiling. ‘He’s got the bit between his teeth.’
Patrick grinned, but got straight back to business. ‘These things always leave a paper trail. Can your assistant look into it?’ he asked Meredith, who simply shrugged.
‘Don’t get your hopes up, Patrick: as I said, none of this is official yet. It could just be the boys’ club chatting over drinks. And for anything historical about the Gardens, well, when we went paperless, boxes and boxes of files were dumped, if you can believe it. Some were supposedly stored, but I wouldn’t trust them on that. I wasn’t able to lay hands on anything.’
‘Bloody modernisation,’ sniffed Patrick.
‘C’mon, Poppy, it’s not all bad as long as every change and upgrade is well managed,’ Ellie said. ‘Everything is supposed to be computerised. It’s actually much safer that way.’
‘Okay. I shall defer to your expertise, Ellie, dear. I must admit, what you’ve done so far with our computer systems has been excellent.’
Ellie looked from her grandfather to Meredith and asked, ‘What’s the next move, then?’
‘Well, we can’t do anything till we have a few facts. If this is what we suspect it is, it won’t be long before more rumours and leaks start,’ Patrick said, then paused, thinking. ‘We have to start at the beginning. We have to speak to Kathryn O’Neill.’
‘I’m afraid I might have blown that,’ said Ellie. ‘And good luck separating her from that watchdog Susan.’
‘Why don’t you front Seamus O’Neill directly, Patrick?’ said Meredith. ‘Or Ronan?’
‘Hmmm, yes, perhaps.’ Patrick turned to Ellie. ‘Didn’t you know Ronan when you lived here, Ellie? Maybe you could have an informal chat with him.’
‘No,’ said Ellie quickly. ‘I mean, it was Ben I knew, and only a little bit. Ronan went to school in the city, I think. I didn’t know him at all. Plus, I think this is too important an issue to trust to an amateur like me. I might accidentally set alarm bells ringing.’
The mayor and her grandfather looking a bit startled at this overreaction and Ellie felt herself blushing. ‘Can I pour anyone another drink?’ she asked.
‘I’m fine, thanks, Ellie,’ Meredith said. ‘In any case, I agree that Mrs O’Neill is the key. If we can speak to her first, that might be the easiest way to find the answers we’re looking for.’
‘And if she won’t talk to us, then perhaps we can build a story around when she first received the land.’ Patrick rubbed his hand across his face. ‘Going back to the historical details can sometimes be a good starting point.’
‘Maybe, Ellie, you could put some posts on the paper’s new Facebook page, asking for information about the Botanic Gardens, that sort of thing?’ suggested Meredith.
Ellie took a large gulp of her wine. ‘Certainly. But you do the schmoozing, Poppy.’ She finished her drink and clutched hold of the glass. ‘I’ll leave you both to it. I’ll just go in and see to Sammy’s dinner. Nice to see you, Meredith.’
Ellie went quickly inside, but from the corner of her eye she noticed that Meredith and Patrick exchanged a puzzled look.
*
The Chronicle website and Facebook page were up and running, and already getting some attention. For the home page, Ellie had chosen some scenic shots of the town and river, some from the old seafaring days, and a montage of early issues of the Chronicle from the turn of the previous century. She also included a welcome message from Patrick as the third and current owner of the paper.
Ellie published brief profiles of the founder and the first editors, and Jon took a photo of Patrick to go with the paragraphs she’d written about him.
‘I’m pleased you’ve showcased Patrick,’ Maggie said as she scrolled through the website. ‘He saved the paper when the last owner had lost interest and money, and Patrick breathed new life into it.’
‘Tommy at The Shed said that people in town think of Poppy as a legend, which is lovely to hear.’ Ellie smiled. ‘But they probably don’t realise just how much time and effort he put into the paper when he first bought it, and still does, of course,’ she said.
Maggie nodded, then clicked on another page and started reading.
‘Now,’ Ellie said, looking from Maggie to Jon. ‘We need to post on Facebook a couple of times a day, linking to stories in the upcoming issue, reactions, photos and videos too, if possible. We can write some content in advance and then schedule the updates. We can add things live if they come in as breaking news, and put up a daily post. As the site is public, we need to monitor comments.’
‘And take down the bad ones,’ said Jon.
‘Let’s hope there’re not many of those!’ said Maggie. ‘I’ll be interested to see what tips and ideas we get that we can follow up on and turn into stories for the paper. Oh, and by the way, we got an invitation to an exhibition opening at the Regional Gallery next week,’ she added. ‘It’s for a local artist who does wonderful portraits, but this show’s a bit different; it’s an exhibition of her flower paintings, apparently. It’s a fundraiser for the gallery.’
‘Do you know much about her work?’ Ellie asked.
‘Heather was hung in the Archibald Prize portrait exhibition some years back, which is a barometer of how highly she’s regarded. I know some artists get a one-off in the Archibald and are never heard of again, but Heather has garnered a lot of respect – and commissions, as a result – over the years. This flower stuff she’s doing is new,’ explained Maggie.
‘I seem to recall that the gallery here is very good. My mother is a supporter,’ said Ellie.
‘What’s happening at the gallery?’ asked Patrick as he joined them.
‘An art show by Heather Lachlan, but what I was getting to is that it’s being opened by Kathryn O’Neill,’ said Maggie, handing him the invitation and a press release. ‘It was Kathryn who Heather painted for the Archibald Prize.’
‘Mmm. Botanical works aren’t my usual taste in art, but this might be interesting. Ellie, you’ll have to come along,’ said Patrick. ‘This could be a chance to have another try with Kathryn. See what she knows about any family plan for a development. You need more for the profile we’re doing, anyway.’
‘We have a little time until her birthday,’ said Maggie.
‘To be brutally frank, Mags, when your subject
is about to turn ninety-five, having the story ready to go is sensible,’ said Patrick.
‘Oh, I’ve done my share of obits for people who still haven’t kicked the bucket,’ said Jon.
Ellie shrugged. ‘It sounds like a long shot to me. Lots of people will want to chat to her, have their photo taken with her. I hope the family isn’t there, or that Susan, her PA.’ Ellie pulled a face.
‘You called the PA to try to make an appointment for a follow-up interview, didn’t you?’ Patrick asked.
‘Yes, I’ve rung a few times, and when Susan finally called me back she was polite but a little frosty. Said Mrs O’Neill is too busy. Which is a nice way of saying, “Never. Over my dead body.”’
‘Susan sounds a charmer,’ said Maggie snidely.
‘Poor Kathryn, that makes it seem like she’s under house arrest,’ said Patrick.
‘I’m sure Susan would pounce if we said one word off script. Has Meredith found out anything more yet?’ Ellie asked Patrick.
‘Nothing concrete, though it sounds like this group of councillors may have done the deal before anything formal is lodged and the council meets.’
‘It seems as if they’re trying to hammer through whatever it is with as little scrutiny as possible,’ said Ellie. ‘Makes you wonder what else has gone on in the past!’
Patrick nodded. ‘It’s a worry,’ he said bleakly.
‘From what I know, there are ten councillors, some good people among them, plus the mayor, who vote together in a block,’ said Maggie. ‘But it sometimes seems like a closed club, with other councillors influenced by the O’Neills, the GM and directors, no doubt.’
‘I wouldn’t mind going to a council meeting with you, Poppy.’
‘Of course, and you might be inspired to stand yourself one day. Or be put off local politics completely,’ said Patrick dryly. ‘I like going, though. Watching all the body language. Seeing who slips out of the room when certain motions come up, which indicates they have a conflict of interest. And now they’re using mobile phones to text each other during meetings to influence the voting.’
‘Sounds intriguing.’
‘It is,’ said Patrick. ‘And this gallery opening could be, too. Maggie, please accept the invitation on behalf of Ellie and myself.’
*
Ellie’s mobile rang as she was finishing off a Facebook post linked to the latest edition. She smiled when she saw who it was.
‘Mike, it’s great to hear from you. How’re you going?’
‘I’m fine, but I haven’t heard from you for a while so I thought I’d ring.’
‘Thank you. I didn’t believe this could be possible, but time goes quickly here. Sorry I haven’t been in touch.’
‘That’s okay, Ell. How’s the Chronicle IT going? I visited the Facebook page this morning. It looks good. A few digs from the locals, though. Didn’t expect to find trolls down there.’
‘I wasn’t expecting them either, but I suppose trolls can be anywhere,’ Ellie reminded him. It had only been a few days, and she, Jon and Maggie had only published a handful of articles online, but they’d all received lots of comments, including a handful from trolls. Although they hadn’t mentioned the possible development at all, Ellie noticed that whenever Meredith came up in a story, she was often the subject of the more vitriolic posts.
‘Listen, I got a great deal on the laptops you wanted. They’re available now. You said you might come up. Do you still want to do that? I’m happy to bring them down one weekend, of course.’
‘Yes, you must come and visit down here soon. But I need to go back to my flat and pick up a few more things. I have an evening event at the art gallery here soon and I only have casual clothes.’
‘Don’t they have shops in Storm Harbour?’
‘They do! Some cute boutiques. But I need a bunch of other stuff too, so I’ll come up to the city. Plus I really want to see my parents.’
‘Of course. Can you squeeze in lunch or something?’
‘Perfect! Sounds great.’
*
Ellie turned slowly in a circle, arms outstretched as she looked around her Fitzroy flat.
Compact. Cute. Central.
Suffocating.
This had once been a space she treasured because of its location.
But now the walls seemed to lean in on her. Sounds of the street – a car braking, a horn blowing, traffic rumbling, once so familiar she never even heard them – now made her jump. When she opened the window, it was immediately louder and more intrusive. She slammed it closed.
What had she used to do in here? Watch TV, read? Sometimes. Work? Yes. All the time.
As she thought about the life she’d been living lately back in Storm Harbour, she wondered how she’d survived so happily here in Fitzroy.
Ellie had seen her parents, gone to dinner in a noisy, crowded new café, called a couple of friends and made plans to catch up in the next day or so. All just as she’d done in her old life.
So why did she feel like this? Why did she feel so . . . unsettled?
It seemed to her that the great moving pendulum of her life had been caught on the downswing and jammed there for what had seemed an interminable time. But standing here now, she felt that something had changed. She didn’t feel like the same person anymore, and it rattled her.
The apartment was starting to feel claustrophobic; she had to go out. Ellie wanted to talk to her mother alone, hug her and laugh together. Have her repeat again that this was all fine and she’d be okay.
What’s wrong with me? Ellie fretted. She jabbed at her phone.
Her mother’s voice was calm and cheerful, steadying. ‘Oh, honey,’ she soothed. ‘Maybe coming back to Melbourne has reminded you of everything you went through with your job. Let’s meet for dinner tonight, just you and me. Dad’s going bowling – can you believe he and his friend Martin have taken it up?’
‘What? Lawn bowls?’
‘No. Didn’t he tell you? He and Martin go tenpin bowling. It’s hilarious. Ask him about it when you come over,’ Sandy said, laughing. ‘So, I’ll meet you at Freddie’s at six after I close the clinic. Okay?’
‘Lovely, thanks, Mum.’
Feeling better, Ellie went out. She found the lanes and streets, shops and cafés of the city village she’d inhabited the same, yet different. She walked slowly, considering whether she should buy food to cook at home, but then she realised she would be out for practically every meal anyway.
Her phone rang and she saw it was Mike.
‘Hi, Ell. Welcome back.’
‘Hi, Mike. Thank you. How are things?’
‘Hectic but productive. I have those laptops for you. How long are you staying?’
‘Thanks heaps. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but not long. There’s that art show I mentioned coming up and a few other things I need to do for the paper, so . . .’
‘Seems like you’re settling in down there. Which is good, so why do you sound like you’re standing in a bucket of cement?’
‘Do I? What does that sound like?’
‘Mmm, stuck. Down in the dumps. Are you free now, by any chance?’
‘Yes, actually. I’m meeting Mum for dinner later, but there’s heaps of time. I’m down near Scoop’n’Goop. Want to meet for an ice-cream?’
‘Sounds ideal,’ he said, laughing.
They sat at an outdoor table, dipping into tubs of raisin-dotted ice-cream.
‘It’s great to see you, Ellie. Phone calls are fine but seeing you in person is so much better,’ said Mike. ‘So, tell me all. But first, how are you? Really? You sound so happy when I call you down there. Now I’m starting to worry about you again. I thought going to Storm Harbour would help you.’
Ellie heard the concern in his voice.
‘Do I need help?’ she asked. ‘I was good down there. I don’t know, I just had the sudden feeling that maybe I was settling into a backwater that felt too comfortable – avoiding my problems, rather than dealing with them – and that scared me. I was worried that I was opting out of the real world. So I raced back here with the excuse of getting the laptops and now I’m desperate to leave again! My flat feels like it’s closing in on me, the city noises are too loud. I don’t know what’s happening to me, Mike . . .’ She gave him a despairing look.
He reached over and held her hand. ‘Hey, hey. There’s nothing wrong with feeling comfortable in a place, and Storm Harbour doesn’t really sound like a backwater, from what you’ve told me. Actually, it sounds nice.’
Ellie squeezed his hand and sat up straight. ‘Perhaps you’re right. I have been wondering where home is for me these days. It’s a strange feeling.’
‘Tell me more about your life there. Has the paper uncovered any scoops?’
‘Well, there is a rumour about a development that the locals might not like. The mayor is trying to find out the details. She seems to attract a lot of public attention: the trolls seem to have it in for her. Anyway, we’re still trying to unravel it. The mayor is a friend of my grandfather’s and she thinks some councillors might be trying to slide through a potentially controversial deal. Obviously some people don’t want the mayor nosing around. But we’ll fight for the truth!’
‘So are you writing for the paper?’
‘I’m trying to get a story on the matriarch of the town, but she’s guarded by a dragon. It was her dog that attacked Sam!’
He ate a spoonful of his ice-cream and smiled at her. ‘Look at yourself, Ellie.’
‘What do you mean, have I got ice-cream on my face?’ She wiped her mouth with her napkin.
Mike leaned across the table. ‘No, I mean, listen to your enthusiasm, look at the sparkle in your eyes . . . Ellie, there’s nothing wrong with you!’
‘No, I’m not sick, but –’
‘But you’re not happy here, in your apartment, in the city. A minute ago you sounded so flat and worried. Now you’ve come alive with energy and passion. Ellie, you don’t want to be here, that’s all it is. You haven’t got a job, you feel suffocated. Down there you’re in a loving, peaceful environment with a role to play. That’s why you feel good being there. You’re not running away from reality – you’ve run to a better reality.’
She blinked, considering this. ‘But I’m not really doing anything there. Certainly not earning anything. I’m worried that if I leave it too long to come back and get a job here, I just won’t be able to cope.’
Mike shook his head good-naturedly. ‘Ellie, you’re super smart. Good at what you do. Interpret it how you want. But you were miserable here, bitter over a job and the arseholes who ripped you off, essentially. While down there you’re involved in something where you can make a difference.’
Ellie took a breath. ‘And where there’s the sound of the ocean at night and I can walk on the beach at sunrise and sunset with the old dog. And I live with my feisty grandad who always has the kettle on or a sundowner at the ready.’
‘Sounds bloody good to me,’ said Mike.
‘So what are you telling me? I need to stay in a backwater, that’s my world now?’ She frowned.
Mike sighed. ‘No. I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is, we should take the lessons of the last few years – all those bushfires and traumas – and change our ways when things aren’t working. Sounds to me like you’re lucky enough to have the opportunity to do just that.’
Ellie nodded slowly. ‘You always seem to put things in perspective, Mike.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘Okay. Leaving my job almost made me want to give up and wish I hadn’t bothered to stand up to them. I could’ve swallowed my pride and hung in there as “part of the team”. But I did what I felt was right.’ She gave a small smile. ‘And I’m going to keep doing that: I’m staying in this fight.’
Mike grinned. ‘Good for you! You know, I am so proud to be your friend, Ellie. Let me know if I can help. Yell when you need a software developer for anything!’
‘You’ve helped already by getting the laptops for us at a trade price, seeing as I’m out of the industry for the moment. I really appreciate it.’
‘I’m just pleased you’re enthused again. And helping the town. It’s terrific.’
‘You really should come down and see it for yourself sometime, Mike.’
‘I will. Keep me posted, and I’ll “like” the Chronicle Facebook page too.’
They stood to leave and Ellie hugged him goodbye. The security of close friends was something no one can take for granted, she thought.
*
The next morning, Ellie trailed behind her best friend as Julie went through every garment on the sale racks in the sportswear department of a favourite store in the mall.
‘Found anything?’ asked Ellie.
‘Sort of. What about you?’ Julie glanced over at her. ‘You’re not even looking!’
‘I’ve kinda got out of the habit of shopping,’ said Ellie. She could hear how lacklustre she sounded and felt bad.
Julie stopped and turned to her. ‘Are you okay for money?’
‘Yes, thanks. Though I don’t like paying rent for my flat when I’m not there.’
‘Well, that’s easy! Move back so I can see you more,’ said Julie with a grin. ‘Wish I had room and you could move in with me. Or maybe you could let your place out short-term to some friends of mine?’
‘I couldn’t risk my landlord finding out.’
‘Move back in with your parents?’
‘Yes, I could do that. But I’m thirty-six. I really think I need to sort myself out now – and they need their own lives, too.’ She sighed.
Julie looked at her, concern in her eyes. ‘You really do sound a bit down, Ells. C’mon, let’s go grab a coffee and chat.’
‘How about we just have a stroll? I’m missing my morning run and dog walk, and I’ve had enough coffees lately to keep me awake for a week.’
‘Sounds to me like you’re missing the coast,’ said Julie as they left the shop and began wandering down the footpath. ‘So tell me, what’s Storm Harbour got that Fitzroy doesn’t? Don’t tell me there’s a fella!’ She looked piercingly at Ellie. ‘Give me the details!’
‘Oh, I have a lot of fellas in my life, actually,’ Ellie said, laughing. ‘Starting with my grandad, and his old mate Roly, plus Sam the dog!’
Julie chuckled. ‘Whoa! You’re spoiled for choice,’ she joked. ‘But seriously, what about people our age, who you can hang out with, you know ? Have fun with, spend time with, or more . . . I mean, what are you doing down there?’
‘I told you. Mainly I’m having a break to decide what I want to do next. But I’m also helping my grandfather with his newspaper. There’s an issue brewing and I’m helping him try to figure out who’s involved and why.’
Julie stared at her. ‘So you’re a newspaper reporter, a spy? I mean, what are you doing for fun!’
‘Actually, I am having fun, but I really care about what’s happening. I haven’t engaged with something so much in ages. You know the feeling you get when you’re involved with something, doing something that you feel really strongly about?’
‘Yeah, I get it. But for me that always leads to a place where I just want to have it done and get on with life!’ said Julie with a lopsided grin. ‘What’s your life down there really, Ellie?’
Ellie had to laugh. ‘Never mind, Jules. You have to be there, I guess.’
‘Okay, one of these days I’ll come down and see it for myself. Just as soon as I get things sorted with Gordon.’
‘Who’s Gordon?’ asked Ellie.
Julie linked her arm through Ellie’s as they walked. ‘Oh, he’s gorgeous. But you know, he’s a bit strange, secretive. I’m still trying to figure him out.’
‘Is he married?’
‘Ell! Stop it!’ said Julie crossly. She was silent for a moment. ‘Actually, I hadn’t thought of that.’
*
Ellie found she was smiling. The breeze through the open window lifted her hair as she drove back up
the hill to her grandad’s house. Sam crashed out the front door and loped over to her, clearly much improved after his injury, his tail doing near circles of excitement as she carried in the packages of food and flowers from her mother.
‘That you, Ellie? I came home for lunch,’ called Patrick. ‘Good grief, what masses are we feeding? Does Sandy think we starve down here?’
They walked into the kitchen and Ellie put everything onto the table. ‘She’s given us goodies for dinner, plus some nice wine and exotic flowers from the markets. And a treat for Sam.’
‘We’ll have to get some friends in and share this. How is everyone?’ Patrick asked as he put the kettle on.
‘Mum and Dad are good. Dad’s started tenpin bowling, which he’s taking very seriously. It’s very funny, actually. Mum is busy, as always.’
‘I wish she could come down here more often and relax,’ said Patrick, ‘but I can’t see her doing that any time soon.’
‘Nope. She’s as driven as ever,’ agreed Ellie. ‘Oh, I picked up the laptops,’ she added, smiling. ‘You won’t know yourself once you start using them.’
‘Maggie and I are looking forward to joining the modern world. Though I still don’t think you can beat a phone and a notepad and pen,’ said Patrick. ‘I hope they weren’t wildly expensive.’
‘No, we got a good deal. My friend Mike bought them for me at a trade price and they’re my gift to the Chronicle. External storage, Dropbox and other things you pay for as needed.’
‘You don’t have to do that –’ he began.
‘I insist. It’s my investment in the family firm!’
Patrick beamed at her as he handed her a mug of tea. ‘Thank you, love. That means a great deal to me.’
‘No worries,’ Ellie said, realising that she was starting to feel invested in the Chronicle team in more ways than one.
‘Did you enjoy being back in the big smoke?’ Patrick said as he pulled out a chair and sat opposite her at the table.
‘It was nice to see Mum and Dad and catch up with friends,’ Ellie answered, but didn’t say anything more.
Patrick glanced at her. ‘Well, after our tea, we can finish unloading your gear. I’m going to make a toasted sandwich then I’m heading back to work. Want one?’
‘Sure. Thanks, Poppy. So, any big news?’
‘Not since I last checked. Don’t forget we have the exhibition opening at the art gallery tomorrow evening.’
Ellie took a sip of tea. ‘That’s right. I’m looking forward to it.’
Over toasted sandwiches they talked about Melbourne and family and tenpin bowling, and Ellie realised some of the tension she’d felt in Melbourne had already ebbed away.
‘Right,’ Patrick said, standing up. ‘Thanks for lunch, I’m off. You coming down to the office?’
‘Maybe, I’ll see how I go unpacking and also working on a few ideas. Might go for a run, I’m a bit stiff after the drive.’
‘Good idea. See you at dinner.’ He turned at the door. ‘Sam and I are really glad you’re back, kid.’
She smiled. ‘Me too.’