Love or Money (14 page)

Todd Archer. Had Hamish heard that name before? An unpleasantness flickered in his mind as he processed the words. No. He couldn't recall when he'd first heard the name, though hearing it again had planted a bitter taste in his brain. He struggled to remember.

A polite cough from Mayor Dave flicked him back to the present. ‘A silver-tongued rascal if ever I met one,' Dave continued. ‘All Zegna suit and silk tie.'

‘So what are you going to do?' Hamish was focussed again.

‘That's where you come in, Mr Green Hero. First, we'll ask you to run your legal eye over the application. Look for shonky bits.' He patted the folder. ‘For your usual fee, of course. Then you might like to advise us on our next move.'

Hamish drove home, mind churning. Early in his Green career, he'd learned the value of publicity. It cost the movement nothing, and the big developers simply had no answer to it, for all the millions they might spend on PR. Okay, so there should be some publicity about the irreplaceable virgin forest that dominated Pembroke Shire's skyline. But exactly what?

Early next afternoon Hamish spotted Erin as their paths crossed outside Sarah's café. She caught his smile.

‘Just heading parkwards to eat my sandwiches,' he said. ‘Like to join me?'

‘Well, thanks. I was going to —'

‘I'll buy you a sandwich,' he said. ‘Least I can do after you rescued Dwayne. I never thanked you properly for that.' Erin had lunched already. She looked into Hamish's face, saw the gratitude. She should hold out a friendly hand.

‘Oh, a wicked cake, then,' she smiled. They stepped back into Sarah's and she chose a chocolate concoction oozing cream and raspberry jam. He led her to a park bench. He'd be polite. Dwayne had often whispered her name since the afternoon Erin had rescued him. He must want to spend time with her again.

‘Been meaning to tell you,' he said. ‘Dwayne loves you. Thinks you're a combination of fairy godmother and Princess Charming. And a mean storyteller to boot. What's this about Dwayne the girl kangaroo?'

‘Oh, just a small ripoff from my latest manuscript.'

‘You told me you wrote children's books. When do we get to see some?'

‘Mmm. One of these days. They could be a bit over your head, Mr Lawyer.'

‘True, but about perfect for Dwayne, I'd say.'

‘Yes. They're mostly pictures.'

‘Pictures?' His Green instincts fired. ‘What kinds of pictures?'

‘Oh, pictures of little furry creatures, usually. Whatever's in the plot. A magic kangaroo, for instance.'

‘A magic kangaroo?'

‘My latest. As inspired by Dwayne.' No need to tell Hamish that her afternoon with his wide-eyed little son had triggered her latest all-stops-out creative burst.

‘You're an artist. How would you like to dash off a poster or two?' he asked. ‘For a fee, of course. The Pembroke Shire Council will pay. They want a campaign to boost support for a Green project. Saving the forest from a woodchip company's clutches.'

‘A woodchip company?'

‘Yes. Would you believe?'

‘They didn't say who's behind it?'

‘A Japanese name, I think it was. Asaka Chemical.' Erin shuddered. Wasn't that the name of Todd's new client? She'd zip her mouth about that.

‘So what are you planning to do about it?' she asked.

‘Maybe a protest day. Something to attract the media.'

‘Fine.' She smiled her acceptance. ‘Just tell me what you'd like.' If Todd saw her name linked with the battle against his client, it would help transmit the message that she was well and truly over him.

‘Okay. Here's the plot.' He leaned back, sandwich in hand. ‘Wicked chemical company plans to log pristine forest. Bribes local landholders so they don't block access, nor object to roads being cut through their properties. Then promotes the idea of well-paid jobs for the town's unemployed layabouts.' He looked into her face, a question in his eyes. On cue, she smiled politely.

‘Enter the Good Guys,' he continued. ‘They want to tell the locals that a whole wildlife habitat could be destroyed. That some endangered species living in the forests might disappear from Planet Earth. Which could really happen if those mountain forests are cleared. On the way back from my meeting, I thought of a slogan. “Preserve the Precious Pembrokes.” What do you think?' He fished in the paper bag for the other half of his sandwich.

‘I'll give it some thought.'

‘Over to you, Ms Author.'

‘I'll need time.'

‘Of course you will. So when?'

‘Um…' Erin didn't need any more distractions from the world of the Two Katies. She'd best get the chore over with quickly. ‘Maybe tomorrow. Late?' she offered.

‘Fine. Over dinner then? At Luna Bay's iconic haute cuisine restaurant — the breathtaking Golden Dragon. Meet you there at seven. You and your ideas, that is.'

‘Er, okay.'

Erin walked back to her cottage confused. Why had she accepted the job? Just when she had a thousand and one more important priorities on her plate? She must get the cottage and its garden into shape, deliver on her agent's demand for six finished, polished Katy episodes for the Hollywood people. Then somehow, somehow, find enough cash to begin the first payments for her mother's soon-to-begin ongoing medical expenses.

That evening, as darkness settled over the sea, Erin poured a glass of wine and took it to the veranda. Once in a while, a sip of wine unearthed the creativity buried under her Practical Pig exterior. Maybe tonight would be the night. She looked towards the mountain range to the west — the Pembrokes. In minutes, that black silhouette would disappear into the night sky. In the forests that cloaked those hills, wild animals would be snuggling down to sleep — wallabies, bandicoots, possums, platypuses —
platypuses!
She focussed on the plot that began to play in her mind, sipped her wine and sat back to enjoy the show.

Pete and Patty, daddy and mummy platypuses, lie sobbing beside the once-pristine waters of the creek that's their little family's home.

‘The water in our creek's gone all sour,' Patty says. ‘Our babies will die. I wish, wish, wish they'd let the forest grow back.'

‘Yes,' Pete says. ‘Then our creek would be beautiful once more — lovely pools of dark clear water, like it used to be when we were babies. Now the trees have gone, the water rushes straight into our ponds whenever there's a storm — floods the creek with slurpy brown mud. Then our river goes smelly and awful, and our babies can't see to swim. They just sit in the nest and feel sad. They'll never learn to catch food, get their exercise, play with their friends. Willie Wallaby, Eddie Echidna, Billy Bandicoot — they'll all die.'

Okay. Erin leaned back in the old canvas deck chair. A string of images, quick, basic. A line of text under each. A five minute show, presented at schools throughout the shire a day or two before the showdown Hamish had hinted at. Hopefully, the kids would go home and pester their parents to turn up at the protest meetings organised by Hamish's council friends. A line-up of children at those meetings, maybe dressed in animal costumes, might give the TV crews a visual or two for the evening news.

Next evening Erin set out for the Golden Dragon, a folder of printed pages tucked under one arm. She found Hamish seated near the fish tank, a bottle of wine and two glasses on his table.

‘Hi, Princess Charming.' He stood, smiled. ‘Your table, Ma'am.' As they faced each other, he put his hands on her shoulders. Eyes closed, she tilted her cheek for the expected polite kiss. Nothing happened. She remembered the wave of closeness that had washed over them as she kissed him during those trauma-filled hours after Honey's death. She wanted to go back there. But the new Hamish was urbane, pleasantly formal. She took her seat.

‘Dwayne sends his love.' Hamish's expression stayed cool, arms-length. ‘By the way, he's worried about a certain magic girl kangaroo. What should I tell him?'

‘Mmm. Tell him Dwaynegirl has hopped away to the forest to save the trees. And tell him I miss him.'

She wasn't kidding. Over more than a night or two lately, she'd revisited the unexpected warm feelings welling inside her as she held the little boy, watching his round eyes glow as she told him stories.

‘You're welcome to visit,' Hamish said.

‘I'd love to.'

‘I was thinking maybe in the office one of these afternoons. Maybe for a minute or two,' he said. ‘Often, Jenny keeps an eye on him after I pick him up from day care.'

‘Thank you. That would be…' She had imagined the two of them riding on a swing in the park as she held him in her lap.

‘Great,' Hamish beamed. ‘I'll take that as a firm offer. A contract, as we in the law call it.'

She smiled at him. ‘Which reminds me of another contract we have.' She dropped the folder onto the table, opened it at the first page.

‘Hey, that's great!' He flicked through the pages, smiling as he went. ‘Really great. I'll ask Council to run off a bunch of discs, get them out to the schools, co-ordinate the viewings so they happen a couple of days before the big event.' He filled their glasses. ‘If it works the way I feel it will, all the kids in the Shire will hassle their parents to show up at the protest day and block that woodchip mill. He reached for his glass. ‘Here's to Pete and Patty Platypus preserving the precious Pembrokes for posterity.' They sipped their wine. ‘Seriously,' he said, patting the folder. ‘It's a beautiful creation. Don't forget to send us your invoice.' She laughed, knowing she never would.

‘I should drive you home,' he said as they stepped outside after a long, talkative dinner.

‘Thank you, sir.' A mad idea popped into her head. Words spilled out before her brain had time to censor them. ‘It might be fun to drive via the beach,' she said. ‘Listen to the surf, watch the moon on the water. No…familiarities. Just enjoying the ambience. Okay?'

‘Your wish is my command.'

The night was warm — warm enough for them to leave the car and sit on a bench overlooking the beach, comfortably close to each other. They linked arms. For a long time they sat, silent. Then, in the light of the crescent moon, he looked into her face, into her eyes. It was as if he were searching for something…maybe an answer. She'd ask him.

‘What are you looking for, Hamish?'

‘To see if…the woman I thought you were is really you.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You were kind to me after — Honey.' His voice fell to a whisper. ‘Loving to Dwayne.'

She looked up at him, saw the beginnings of a smile flicker across his face. Some instinct made her lift her lips towards his. For Erin, the kiss was a homecoming. She nestled close to him. The kiss lasted forever. Each delighted in the other's lips, relaxed, easy. The connection between them was real, strong. She let the feeling gather power, felt him swept along with her. Before, she'd fought guilt, the feeling that the moment was wicked, stolen. This time it was natural, intuitive, meant to be. She abandoned herself to it. Minutes passed.

‘Erin.' His voice was husky.

‘Yes.'

‘Should we have done that?'

‘Yes.'

‘Why?'

‘It should have happened twelve years ago,' she said. ‘On a beach not very far from here.' She waved a hand towards the waves lapping the shore mere metres away. ‘There was this lifeguard…' At last, she could pull the stopper on the feelings she'd bottled up for years.

‘In hindsight,' she said, ‘I guess I wanted this to happen back then, in my sixteen-year-old innocence. I dreamed about it afterwards.' She revisited the feeling of his body lying warm on hers, the raw intimacy of the moment, her first-time realisation that sharing her body with a man could be beautiful. ‘For a long, long time,' she finished.

‘So now it's happening,' he whispered.

‘Yes.'

‘What…are we going to do?'

‘Aaaah.' She sighed, not wanting to end the feeling, not ready to land back into reality with a bump.

‘For starters, I should drive you home,' he said

‘Yes.'

‘Now.'

‘Yes.'

‘You say yes a lot.'

‘Yes.'

‘I wonder if —'

‘Yes.'

‘Enough!'

He started the engine, reversed the car away from the beach. He said nothing during the whole of the five minute drive, even as they stopped at her gate. She opened the car door, kissed him again, felt him respond again. For long seconds they lingered over the kiss. Then she slid out and closed the door. She watched as he turned his car, then slowly, slowly, drove out of sight. Something had changed since the last time they'd shared a kiss on the beach in the moonlight.

Erin woke next morning feeling dreamily, languidly happy. The night before had been beautiful. She'd finished something that she'd held waiting in limbo for half her lifetime, keeping her awake at nights, stomping its way into her thoughts at inappropriate times. Now it was done. She could put it behind her. There was work to be done. Practical Pig was back. She headed for her computer.

Around ten her phone rang.

‘Hi Erin, it's Hamish.' The voice gave her more goosebumps than usual. What would he say about their time at the beach?

‘I have to talk a little business, Erin,' he said. ‘Not that I wouldn't prefer to talk about last night.'

‘Of course. I completely understand.'

‘The protest day.'

‘Yes.'

‘Hey, don't start saying yes again. You never know where it might end.'

‘Okay.'

‘I'd like you to show up at the protest day. For starters, you'll get first-hand feedback on how well Pete and Patty Platypus went over. And if anyone wants to talk to you about your work, you'll be around. Who knows, you might get a business proposition. There'll be hordes of media people there.'