Sydney 1972
Odette stirred in her sleep, rolled over and slipped to the floor in a tangle of blanket and sheet. Sleeping on the lounge did not make for a comfortable rest.
Her own bedroom was smothered in piles of papers, diaries, photos, newspaper clippings, copies of Hacienda’s plans and those of Eden Davenport’s garden concept. A Save Zanana banner hung on one wall and on her bed were posters and leaflets.
She kept all documentation at home, terrified it might go astray in the crowded office. She was also putting in long hours carefully marking up the diaries for a series of stories about life at Zanana as documented by Mrs Butterworth, a witness to the estate’s most spectacular years as well as its decline. It was the sort of material readers of the Gazette would love. And it also contained some startling revelations.
Dressed only in a cotton T-shirt and a pair of white socks, Odette draped the blanket around her shoulders and sleepily headed for the kitchen to make a pot of tea.
Elaine appeared and raised an eyebrow. ‘Another night on the lounge, huh?’
‘Yeah. But I’m coming to the end of it. The rally is Saturday and we have enough ammunition to blast the council out of the water before their meeting on Monday night. You’re coming to the rally, of course?’
‘I wouldn’t miss this shindig for quids! I hear they’re expecting a huge crowd — over a thousand. To be honest, I bet a lot are going along just to see Zac.’
‘I suppose Zac is a big drawcard, but hopefully the whole event will achieve its aim and convince the council not to vote for Hacienda.’
‘Having their designer switch sides isn’t going to help Hacienda’s cause. Why did they go to so much trouble and cost?’
Odette stretched. ‘God knows what nasty plans they really have for the estate, but clearly they brought Eden in to use his name and concept to give their rezoning application some gloss, to win some respect. I guess they write off his fee as part of the investment involved in getting their hands on Zanana. It’s worth millions now.’
Elaine shook her head. ‘Just goes to show you can’t take anyone’s word at face value. Eden must feel a bit exploited now.’
‘I think he does. He was very gracious about it when I broke the news. He didn’t get defensive at all. Though I’m sure he was pretty shocked and angry. He has rather mixed feelings about Zanana, but the bottom line is that he cares about the place and thought he’d come up with a solution that saved the best of the estate and also gave it an injection of money.’
‘You’ve certainly changed your opinion about Mr Davenport.’
Odette shrugged. ‘I confess I despised the man when I first met him, which was unfair — it wasn’t the person I disliked so much as what I thought he stood for and intended to do to Zanana. It’s also hard to dislike someone who was a special friend of my childhood and who shared some magical moments with me.’
‘And you had no idea who he was?’
‘Would you? Come on, Elaine, I was eleven, he was thirteen and we used our nicknames.’
Elaine sighed. ‘How sweet. And now Zanana has brought you back together. Romantic isn’t it?’ she gushed. ‘When are you seeing him again?’
‘Saturday night after the rally. I’ve asked him round to dinner. I have something rather private to discuss with him.’
Elaine held up her hand. ‘Say no more. I will make myself scarce. Are you cooking?’
‘No. I’ll be too busy and too tired after the rally. I’ve ordered Italian from Luigi’s round the corner. I’ll just throw a salad together. He’s bringing some wine.’
‘Candles and soft music?’
‘Elaine, this will not be a romantic dinner for two. It’s more Zanana business.’
‘How disappointing. You could do worse than jump into the sack with Mr Davenport. Next to Zac I’d say he’d be my hot second choice!’ She gave a lewd wink and burst out laughing.
‘Elaine, I’m shocked!’ exclaimed Odette in mock horror. ‘But are you sure you have plans for Saturday night? We’ll be through by eleven, I guess.’
‘I’m meeting a girlfriend. We’re having a meal at Edgecliff then going to the Rose Bay Wintergarden to see a French film. So I’ll be late.’
When Odette had phoned and invited Eden to dinner after the rally, she had tried to make it clear that it concerned Zanana and was not a romantic overture.
‘I thought you would have planned a big celebration with all the committee,’ he said.
‘Flora Bramble has asked everyone back to her place for a celebratory afternoon tea following the rally. You’re invited, of course. No, I thought we could have a quiet dinner later.’
‘I’m looking forward to it, Odette. See you at the rally.’
‘Don’t be late.’ Anxiously she asked, ‘You’re still willing to get up there on the platform and denounce Hacienda?’
‘I’m not looking forward to it, but, yes, I’ll do it.’ His voice hardened slightly, and Odette could visualise the set of his normally smiling mouth, and the green and yellow lights in his eyes glinting with anger. ‘I don’t like being taken advantage of or having my professional skills abused.’
Before she hung up, Odette added, ‘Thanks for doing this. I know it’s not easy to speak out in public but I think you’ll be glad you did.’
Odette awakened during the night the following Friday hearing heavy rain, and her heart sank. They had arranged a covered stage outside Zanana, but rain would keep many away from the open-air rally. Zac had told her to simply will away the thought of rain. ‘Just imagine exactly the day you want, and it will be,’ he’d told her. Odette pulled the pillow over her head and tried to get back to sleep. She was back in her own bed, having filed and stored all the material relating to Zanana.
Saturday morning dawned fine and sunny, the world looked freshly washed and blue clean. The brilliant azure canvas of the sky was smeared with airy brush strokes of high white cloud.
Mid-morning Odette joined Flora Bramble at the rally base in the small park across the road from the main entrance to Zanana. The stage was now festooned with banners, sound technicians were wiring up the public address system, and volunteers had set up a refreshment tent.
Boxes of red paper roses and balloons were ready for distribution to the crowd, as well as large bundles of pamphlets written by Odette, outlining the history of Zanana and summarising the reasons why the estate should be saved.
‘It’s all looking well organised. Now we just need the people,’ said Odette, glancing at her watch.
‘They’ll be here. Everyone is doing their Saturday-morning shopping. We advertised 2 pm so it’s still early. Let’s hope all the speakers turn up. And Zac of course. The press seem most interested in him,’ replied Mrs Bramble.
‘He’s the drawcard, but once the media hear what we have to say, I think we’ll get the coverage we want,’ said Odette confidently. ‘I just hope the man from Hacienda and the councillors turn up.’
‘They must know they won’t get a warm reception. Though I’ll be interested to hear what they have to say.’
‘Put them on before I speak and then we’ll see how they respond. Anyway, seeing that you have everything under control here I’ll nip home and change and see you back here about one o’clock.’
Odette arrived home and opened the door to find Elaine boggle-eyed with barely controlled excitement. She hurried to Odette as she stepped inside the front door.
‘He’s here. In the sitting room,’ hissed Elaine rolling her eyes and fluttering her hand against her heart. ‘Zac. In person. He’s so gorgeous.’
Odette laughed and walked into the sitting room to find him reclining on the sofa, idly reading a magazine.
‘So, are you ready to do your number?’ she asked.
‘Of course. I thought we could go together. Moral support. Though I know all will be well. Are you all right? I’ve been thinking about you.’
‘And I you. It’s uncanny the way you just materialise when I think about you hard enough.’ She said it lightly but it was strange, there was an undeniable connection between them.
Odette gave Zac a briefing on the rally plans and he listened attentively. Then Elaine appeared with some cans of beer. ‘Just a little lubrication for the singer and the speaker. Nothing excessive, mind you,’ she grinned.
‘Great,’ said Odette reaching for a can. ‘I’ll take mine to the shower if you don’t mind. Entertain Zac for a few minutes, will you, Elaine,’ she added with a wicked wink at her flatmate as she bounced out of the living room.
Odette chose a simple shirtwaist cotton dress in a tiny delicate Victorian floral print. She brushed her mass of red gold curls, pushing one side back with a tortoiseshell comb. A touch of coral lipstick and grey eyeshadow heightened her aquamarine eyes. Smiling, she hurried back into the sitting room, then stopped in astonishment in the doorway.
Eden and Zac were sitting side by side on the sofa sharing a beer as if they’d been friends for years. Eden put down his can of beer and rose to his feet with a lopsided grin. ‘I thought you might like a bit of moral support too. But I see Zac had the same idea.’
‘You know each other?’
‘We do now,’ said Zac winking at her.
Elaine returned with more cans and Odette sat down in a wingback chair observing the two men. They continued talking about Zanana, the grounds and its special place in the community.
‘I have to confess I have never been taken inside the estate,’ said Zac. ‘Though I did go to the gates and peer through them like a kid at the zoo. But I feel I’ve been there from Odette’s passionate descriptions. And there is a principle involved, so I am happy to help save it. Zanana means a lot to Odette.’
‘To me too,’ said Eden. ‘Did you know we were childhood mates and played there together?’
Zac glanced at Odette. ‘This is the caretaker’s son you once told me about?’
‘Yes.’ Odette felt uncomfortable, yet the two of them seemed perfectly at ease together. ‘Look, I think we should make a move soon. How are you travelling, Zac?’
‘By taxi. My musical director is taking my gear straight there.’
‘Then you can both come with me,’ decided Eden. ‘The fewer cars the better — traffic and parking might be a bit of a drag. Are you ready, Elaine?’
Odette and Elaine insisted on sitting in the back of Eden’s car to give the tall men more leg room. Elaine gave Eden directions for a short cut to avoid the city traffic. Eden and Zac spent most of the trip talking about architecture and the environment.
Zac glanced over his shoulder. ‘You’re very quiet, Odette. I was telling Eden about Peace Valley. You should take him there.’
Eden had been right in anticipating the difficulties with parking. He nosed the car through a steady stream of people heading towards the grassy area in front of the stage. He aimed for a roped-off area with a sign saying Official Cars Only, manned by a committee member wearing a name tag and a red paper rose. He glanced in the car, grinned, undid the rope and waved them through. Eden parked behind the stage area.
As soon as they got out of the car Flora Bramble came bustling over, resplendent in a full skirted frock of large roses, high heels and a small straw hat with a large silk rose pinned to its brim.
Odette made the introductions and Mrs Bramble pumped Zac’s hand enthusiastically. ‘We are so thrilled you agreed to be here. You’ve brought a lot of people out, which all helps our cause.’
Mrs Bramble shook hands with Eden and Elaine and gave Odette a hug. ‘How pretty you look, Odette.’
‘You look very smart too,’ responded Odette while at the same time feeling that Mrs Bramble had gone a little over the top with the theme. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Elaine flashing raised eyebrows at the two men.
‘Do you like this? I made it myself, it’s upholstery material but don’t tell anyone,’ she chuckled to Zac.
Zac eyed her up and down admiringly. ‘Mrs Bramble, you look like a wonderful comfortable armchair.’
‘Well, don’t sit on me! Give me a hug, Zac. I adore your music.’
The four of them laughed as Zac gave her a warm embrace. ‘Now make yourselves at home back here, and when it’s time, walk up on the stage. Your microphone and speaker are set up, Zac, and your musical man has your guitar and says everything is set. I’ll tell you when it’s time.’
For the next forty-five minutes people continued to pour into the park. It was the first time that many of them had ever taken an interest in the grand old mansion, indeed most had never even seen it. The house was invisible behind a screen of trees, and secure behind a high fence and gates of ornate cast iron. The place exuded mystery.
At a signal from Mrs Bramble, Odette, Eden and Zac filed onto the stage and took their seats. Mrs Bramble sat beside Odette, refolding a sheet of paper in her hands.
The mood for the rally was set at once by the Kincaid Brass Band who marched across the park to the stage with a stirring rendition of the turn of the century marching tune, ‘Soldiers of the Queen’.
‘I thought it would be rather nice to have some historic music,’ said Mrs Bramble to Eden and Zac with unconcealed pride in her attention to organisational detail. ‘Captures the Federation atmosphere, I feel, and of course there is a link to the role of Zanana as a home for war veterans.’
A squad of marching girls strutted behind the band and Mrs Bramble led the crowd in a big round of applause as they halted in front of the stand. A bugler from the band sounded a fanfare and scores of children ran forward from behind the refreshment tent, each holding aloft a dozen balloons on strings. To a chorus of ‘Save Zanana’, they released the balloons in front of the stage and, as they soared into the sky, the band struck up again and the crowd cheered. Mrs Bramble beamed.
It was at this point that the mayor, the local State member of parliament for Kincaid and Alan Harper from Hacienda arrived. Mrs Bramble waved them up onto the stage and the crowd hushed.
She turned to Odette and whispered. ‘My gosh, I’m all come over. My knees are shaking.’ Her rouge stood out in two bright pink spots on her powdered cheeks.
‘It’s all right, Mrs B,’ Odette reassured her. ‘Just imagine you’re having a chat over the fence with your neighbour. Go for it.’
For the first time in her adult life, Flora Bramble was literally holding centre stage. She stood at the microphone and to Odette’s surprise, said nothing, looking around the crowd of more than a thousand faces instead.
Then she smiled and said, ‘Friends, what a lovely day it is for Kincaid today’. The crowd cheered, whistled, applauded and the enthusiastic bugler sounded another short fanfare, ending on a slightly off-key note.
Eden was dumbstruck. Zac was grinning from ear to ear, and Odette caught Elaine in the audience barely able to control herself but giving the thumbs-up signal of approval.
Mrs Bramble coughed softly and the amplification hushed the crowd. With an almost Churchillian sense of timing and phrasing she threw the next sentence to the crowd. ‘What a great day for a fight!’ Again the crowd exploded and on stage the man from Hacienda looked decidedly uncomfortable.
A raised hand quietened the audience and Mrs Bramble went on, ‘Yes, the fight is well and truly on, and I have news for you all . . . we are going to win’. More applause. She raised her hand again. ‘First I want you all to be fully aware of just what we are fighting for.’
She gave a brief history of Zanana, and outlined the special place it held in the area’s history. She listed the reasons why it needed to be preserved and argued that the people should have a say on its future association with the community.
She wound up her speech with a hint of what was to come. ‘Now, finally, I have this to say to you . . . we are fighting today for more than Zanana, much more. We are fighting for integrity and honesty and vision in our local government. It has been sadly lacking in recent weeks and it’s up to us to serve notice on our councillors — and most of them are here in the audience today — serve notice on them that we, the voters, aren’t going to let them get away with things, not a sausage.’
There was a burst of applause and laughter.
Mrs Bramble then introduced the member of parliament. He prattled platitudes with a set smile, commending the crowd for their interest in community affairs and promising to convey to the government the expressed feelings of the meeting. He cautiously avoided any comment that could have been interpreted as favouring one side or the other.
Alan Harper from Hacienda was greeted with a chorus of boos when he stepped forward to the microphone. He read a carefully worded statement that attempted to reassure the public that Hacienda really intended to press on with the Davenport garden suburb concept, that the company was sympathetic to the preserving of the mansion at Zanana, and that the company would indeed consider the wishes of the community, which was why he was at the rally.
There was only a small scatter of polite applause when he sat down, and many more boos.
The mayor spoke for only a minute, expressing admiration for the community interest in the issue and assuring everyone that council would, as always, act in the best interests of the ratepayers and residents.
Mrs Bramble then introduced Eden. ‘Friends, we were going to have quite a few speakers extolling the virtues of our cause. But we have cancelled their speeches. Instead we have an unexpected speaker and I know you are going to be stunned at what he has to say. Mr Eden Davenport.’
The crowd didn’t know whether or not to applaud until Mrs Bramble began to do so. The Hacienda man looked more uncomfortable than ever.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ began Eden in a steady voice, ‘it is a humbling experience to be standing here before you today. I am here because of the dedication and professionalism of someone who has had an extraordinary role in the whole strange Zanana affair — Miss Odette Barber.’ He turned towards Odette and gave her a brief smile. She blushed.
The crowd was hushed as Eden went on to announce that he was publicly ending his association with Hacienda because he did not approve of some company activities that had been revealed to him, and that all monies earned from his Hacienda commission would be turned over to the campaign to save Zanana.
‘I believe I have been used as a pawn. My principles have been compromised and I stand on my principles — I quit.’
It was a bombshell. The crowd cheered and clapped and the Hacienda man stormed off the stage. Mrs Bramble rushed to Eden and embraced him. When she let him go he sat beside Odette and took her hand. She gave it a little squeeze, then prepared to take her turn at the microphone as Mrs Bramble introduced her.
Odette adjusted the microphone and spoke with quiet authority. ‘As Mrs Bramble has told you, Zanana was part of my life when I was a young girl. Little did I know this distant association would one day lead to this.’ She swept an arm around the audience. ‘It’s very heartening to know that so many people now share in this attachment to Zanana.
‘In recent weeks detailed and intensive investigations into the ownership of the estate, the affairs of the proposed developers, and the conduct of certain councillors have revealed facts that add up to one thing . . . the rezoning application has to be rejected, totally.’ There was a burst of applause.
‘Mr Davenport’s resignation from the project is an indication of the importance of the information that has been uncovered. There are legal problems associated with revealing all the information here publicly, but here is the essence of what has been uncovered and for which we have documented and substantial evidence.
‘Firstly, the proposed developers apparently have an agreement with the owner of Zanana to demolish the mansion and the gardens. It is a condition of the option. This is completely contrary to the impression given to everyone by the developers.’ There was an angry murmur.
‘Secondly, the developers recently were involved with a Kincaid councillor in a major share deal which yielded extraordinary profits to the councillor.’ There was a collective gasp.
‘Thirdly, a councillor who last week was against the rezoning is reported to have changed sides. The circumstances surrounding this change of heart are, to say the least, odd.’ Shouts of ‘Shame!’ and ‘Kick them out!’, rose above the angry rumble.
‘There is no way the council can proceed with this rezoning application, particularly in light of such widespread and passionate opposition as indicated by your turnout today. In any case, the future of Zanana is going to be decided by one person, not the council.’ The enigmatic statement puzzled the audience, but Odette moved on.
‘Finally,’ she added with an impish grin,’ you can read the full details in the Telegraph tomorrow and even more interesting revelations in the Gazette later next week.’
As the applause died down she introduced Zac and there was a fresh outburst of clapping and cheering.
Zac walked to the microphone with his guitar and began to sing his song, ‘Zanana’. He sang of an ‘oasis in the heart, a place of peace and beauty, where dreams and roses bloom’. There was silence as he sang but Odette could sense a communal emotion generated by the words and haunting music sweeping through the entire audience. Her own heart tightened and she fought to hold back tears as she listened.
The crowd gave Zac a standing ovation and shouted for an encore. He made a small gesture and they quickly settled down again.
Zac then spoke in a very gentle voice. ‘There inevitably comes a moment in our lives when we must stand up and be counted for what we believe in. If we raise our voices as one, we will be heard. There are those who will lead, but the rest of us must have the courage to follow.
‘Today is all about caring, about holding onto beauty for our children, and about love. Without love we are lost.’ The crowd began to clap, knowing Zac’s biggest hit was called ‘Without Love’.
He began to strum the opening cords and, looking out at the smiling faces, asked them to link hands and join in the song. He effortlessly carried the crowd with him and soon everyone was swaying to the rhythm of the song and singing with deep feeling. Those onstage joined in, but Mrs Bramble and Odette found that their tears made it hard to get out the words.
At the end of his song Zac lifted his guitar in salute, called out his thanks and goodbyes above the din and skipped down the stairs to the rear of the stage where he was besieged by autograph hunters.
Mrs Bramble quickly dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and took control of the microphone. ‘Thank you all for coming along. Your support has been marvellous. Do make an effort to come to the council meeting, it should be interesting.’ There was a ripple of laughter. ‘Now don’t rush off. There will be more entertainment and above all don’t miss out on the lovely lamingtons at the refreshment tent.’
The Kincaid Brass Band immediately swung into a lively version of ‘Waltzing Matilda’.
Odette and Mrs Bramble were rushed by reporters, as well as by friends and strangers wanting to congratulate them. Eden pushed his way through to whisper to Odette that he was taking off with Zac and would see her at dinner. Zac blew her a kiss.
Later, at the Brambles’ modest red-brick cottage, the crowd of well-wishers spilled off the small verandah, over the immaculate buffalo grass lawn and out onto the footpath. Cartons of beer materialised to supplement the huge aluminium pots of tea that neighbours had prepared. Sausage rolls, lamingtons and pumpkin scones were in abundance.
‘I bet there’s a big council of war taking place now,’ remarked Mick O’Toole to Odette between bites of scone topped with cream and home-made plum jam.
‘Probably. But I think it’s all over bar the shouting. Thanks for your help, Mick. You led us to the breakthrough.’
The short Irishman smiled and his eyes twinkled. ‘As Zac said, you have to stand up and be counted some time. Trouble is, with t’ size of me, people think I’m sitting down when I’m really standing up.’
Odette laughed. ‘Sitting down or standing up, Mick, you’re a big man in my book,’ she said with sincerity, and bent down and planted a kiss on his forehead.
‘Ah, you’ve made my day, lass. Thank you. By the way, what did you mean when you said the fate of Zanana was going to be decided by one person?’
‘It will all be revealed in good time, my friend. And it will make a lovely story.’
O’Toole grinned and suddenly shouted at the top of his voice, ‘Extra! Extra! Read all about it. Zanana has a secret. Read all about it.’
Laughing, Odette sought out Mrs Bramble in the kitchen, her high heels discarded for fluffy pink slippers, heaping food onto serving plates, while Mr Bramble began washing up a pile of cups and saucers in the sink.
‘Mrs B, I have to leave. I have someone coming to dinner. It’s been a wonderful day. You must be feeling very proud of the community.’ And she gave the motherly figure in the rose-patterned dress a big hug.
Mrs Bramble returned her hug, managing to hold a cake knife and plate of buttered scones at the same time. ‘Thank you, Odette. I never dreamed we’d travel this far together when I first rang you.’
‘Zanana has changed our lives,’ answered Odette softly.
Mrs Bramble nodded. ‘Especially for you, I think. Your mum and dad would have been very proud of you. And I bet Aunt Harriet is too.’
Odette nodded, a lump in her throat. ‘I’d better call Aunt Harriet. She’ll be anxious to hear how today went.’
She said goodbye to Mr Bramble who cheerfully waved a soapy hand. As she stepped into the taxi, to cheering comments from the band of drinkers at the gate, she thought what a good and kindly couple they were. She decided the world would be a better place with more like the Brambles. Maybe there are a lot more like them out there, and when it’s time they too will speak up. It was a comforting thought.
‘Where ya goin’, luv?’ asked the taxi driver, an Italian migrant.
She asked him to go by Luigi’s where she picked up fettucine, veal parmigiano and cassata. Her choice of dishes won smacking gestures of approval from the driver.
At home Odette set the table, deciding to use candles, then unwound in a long leisurely bath. Soaking in the sweet smelling foam she felt the tension of the day begin to seep from her body. Mrs Bramble was right, what a journey it had been. But the struggle to save Zanana had also turned into a quest to settle the sad spirit which Odette now believed was within the Indian House.
Zanana had been a brief bright gem in the strand of beads which had made up her childhood. The times she’d spent there, alone and with Eden, glittered between the secure simplicity of her life before her parents died and the mundaneness of life in Amberville. It wasn’t until she’d found an outlet and a focus for her emotions and her future through Fitz and the Clarion that life had suddenly gone from sepia to technicolour.
Now, challenged and stimulated in her work and, thanks to Zac, sure of who she was, she felt she had found a contentment and an approach to life that would see her through any obstacles life might fling her way.
She was almost drifting off to sleep in the bath when Elaine banged on the bathroom door.
‘I’m back, I’ve changed, and I’m off. Have a nice evening,’ she sang out.
‘You too!’ called Odette.
‘I see you decided on candles . . . you can play my Nat King Cole albums if you want . . . See you!’
‘Elaine, please! Not Nat King Cole,’ shrieked Odette, pulling out the plug and reaching for her towel.
Odette pulled on a pair of taupe linen slacks and a cream silk blouse and tied her hair back in a long hand-painted chiffon scarf looped like a snood. Her Kate Hepburn outfit, she called it. But before she had on her shoes or her make-up, the doorbell rang. Odette glanced at her watch. Eden was very early.
She went to the door and found Zac standing there, his arms full of roses. ‘I’m off again, little bird. After all those paper roses today I thought you might like these.’
‘Zac, how lovely! Do you want to stay and have dinner with us?’
‘Can’t. On my way to the airport.’ He put the roses on a chair and hugged Odette. ‘You did splendidly.’ He pulled away and held her by the shoulders looking into her eyes. ‘You are very much your own person, sweet Odette. You are strong and capable and independent and lovable. It’s time to unwrap your little heart.’
‘You mean I’ve grown up at last. I can fly all by myself?’ she said gently, smiling at her dearest friend.
‘Indeed you can. But you know I’ll always be watching out for you.’
‘You’re my spirit guide in person,’ replied Odette.
Zac laughed. ‘Cerina told me our fates were linked. And the gypsy queen is never wrong.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Be happy, little bird.’
He stepped through the door, tall and dashing, his long curls falling to his shoulders, his deep brown eyes full of love and understanding.
‘Zac . . .’ she called to him and he paused, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Just . . . thank you.’
He blew her a kiss and flung his long knitted scarf over his shoulder and was gone.
Eden was a few minutes late and he came in apologising profusely. ‘I lost track of time with Zac. We had a marvellous afternoon. He’s a special person, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he is.’
Eden gave her a penetrating look then smiled cheerfully. ‘I brought some good claret and a bottle of champagne to celebrate the success of the rally. You know, Odette, I realise I am mightily relieved to be out of that Hacienda deal.’
He followed her out to the kitchen where she handed him two glasses. ‘Pour the champagne, I’ll just finish doing this salad.’
‘I’ve been thinking more about Zanana. About other ways to go. To try to keep the gardens and the old buildings, but bring in some money.’
‘Cheers, Eden,’ said Odette lifting her glass.
‘Here’s to you. And Zanana,’ he answered following her back to the sitting room and making himself comfortable on the sofa. ‘I still think my garden cottages are harmonious, attractive and practical. But rather than sell them all off to individuals, I think some of the estate could be taken up and worked as a funded institution. I know getting government money isn’t easy, maybe some corporate funding could be assembled.’
‘What sort of an institution did you have in mind?’
He took a sip of his champagne and grinned at her. ‘I know this is all hypothetical — I don’t know what the ownership situation is — but in the past it has served as a convalescent home. Do you remember how creepy those hospital rooms were in the big house that time we went exploring?’
‘I always thought it rather forlorn. Zanana has some rather sad chapters in its history,’ said Odette slowly.
‘Now maybe it’s time for all that to change.’ Eden’s face was alight with enthusiasm as he leaned forward, his sandy hair flopping over one eye. He flicked it back and went on, ‘I think Zanana should be a place for children. Think what it meant to you and, despite my father, I always thought it a magical place. So, what if the garden cottages were used to house groups of children with special needs?’
‘What about the main house?’
‘That could hold the recreational, administrative and dining areas, and perhaps a schoolroom as well as staff quarters.’ Eden began to warm even more to his idea. ‘The farm and dairy could be brought back in a small way, enough to supply their own needs and teach and involve the children in the process.’
Odette stood and went to fetch the champagne from the fridge to refill their glasses. ‘Eden, slow down. I think it all sounds great, but there are other matters you should know about . . .’ Odette paused, looking at the bottle, which had a knife sticking out of it. ‘What’s that for?’
‘Stops it going flat,’ grinned Eden. ‘Here let me.’ He took out the knife, topped up their glasses and sniffed. ‘Gee something smells good.’
‘Then let’s eat. And after dinner, I’ll explain why I asked you here.’
Eden peered at her serious face. ‘Am I going to like what you have to say? I mean, is it good news or bad news?’ He leaned close, staring into her face in mock alarm. He could smell the citrus tang of her perfume and he suddenly wanted to kiss her.
Odette pushed the salad bowl and pepper grinder into his hands and tried not to laugh. ‘Here, put these on the table. Light the candles and find some nice music while I dish up.’
Odette carried the first course of pasta to the table as the strains of Nat King Cole filled the room — ‘When I fall in love, it will be forever . . .’
‘That’s Elaine’s record. Her teenage music. There’s better and more up-to-date stuff,’ laughed Odette, putting the pasta on the table.
‘I agree with his sentiments. Want to dance?’ Without waiting for an answer Eden swept her into his arms and held her close as the cloying romantic ballad filled the room.
For a moment she melted into him and she smelled the soapy clean fragrance of his hair and skin, and he felt familiar and appealing. Then she pulled away. ‘Let’s eat, I’ve slaved over a hot stove for hours to prepare this! It’s no good cold.’
He pulled out her chair, sat opposite her and lifted his glass to her across the candles. ‘Here’s to old friends and new friendships. I won’t say more than that.’
She smiled at him and clinked her glass against his. ‘That’s sweet, Eden. I’ll drink to that. Buon appetito.’