FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (14 page)

Colin found the unobtrusive side road and turned the Audi onto a dirt road creased with muddy tyre ruts, and drove up to the cleared parking area ringed with logs. It was a simple holiday retreat for school groups, small companies, and urban-based families who came over for a break from the cities and wanted something different from the coast.

Colin wandered about thinking that it was not the sort of place he’d come to for a holiday. There seemed little to do. A walk or two, a swim in the dinky pool, a game of tennis, and dinner in a restaurant that boasted home style cooking, which Colin decided would make anyone leave home. But the little bush cabins were tucked away in a clever arrangement so that each had its own access and didn’t look onto another. From a developer’s point of view it was a waste of space — many more could have been accommodated — but it gave the paying guest seclusion and privacy.

He peered into one of the empty cabins and suddenly thought the simplicity and romance of it was appealing. With the right person it would be fun. Dina would hate it. He sighed and sat in the cane lounge chair on the cabin verandah. When he first met Dina she had been fun, rich and sexy and she offered him a life of hedonism, far removed from the hardworking country life he’d grown up with. Little had changed in their relationship over the
years. Dina was still the same: self-centred, indulged by her wealthy father, demanding, wilful, sometimes playful but these days more often pouty. But Colin was bored with her. Her frivolous attitude to life irritated him. They had no close friends, in Europe their acquaintances were jaded cynical sybarites; and being back home, the uncomplicated wholesomeness of Australians jarred in contrast. Colin wanted a new life. And he meant to get it.

Despite his bitter thoughts, he couldn’t help but be lulled by the tranquillity of the place. He walked to the back of the main building and on to the top of the terraced hillside. The winding orange dirt road was fringed in coiling vines of wild passionfruit, the deep red flowers attracting bees and birds. Here and there, pushing its way through the scrub, was voracious lantana where the native environment had taken over. Little landscaping had been done about the place, though he suspected that was due to lack of funds. Lawns were still struggling beside neat brick paths that went from door to door, to office, to dining room, like a join-the-dots game. The top of the hill was flat with sweeping vistas over to the coast and hadn’t yet been cleared, so rearing above the tangle of shrubs were old eucalypts and tall palms.

Colin sat on a boulder under a tree and pulled out a notebook from his hip pocket and started making notes. Engrossed in his work he didn’t hear the alarm calls from the birds in the trees around him.

‘You’ve found the best spot on the place. Peaceful, isn’t it?’

Colin looked up in surprise, he’d been so absorbed he hadn’t heard the other man approach. Standing before him was a man about his own age, dressed in shorts and a torn T-shirt and carrying a batik shoulder bag. He was muscular, tanned and had a bushy dark beard. A ragged straw hat shaded his face which was open, friendly and honest.

‘Yeah, it’s certainly peaceful. I didn’t hear you coming I was so busy writing.’

‘You should have been tuned in to the birds. They announced me,’ he said, looking up to the leafy canopy and the big flock of lorikeets eyeing them curiously. He returned his attention to Colin. ‘This is the place to be creative all right. There’s good energy coming out of this hill and valley. Reckon it’s something to do with the alignment of the peaks of the ranges over there, this hilltop and the headland of the coast out there. The crystals from round here are very powerful. Everything is in harmony with everything else. Makes for good thoughts.’

Colin looked at him, thinking the man must be a complete fruitcake and trying to conceal his utter amazement at the theory. ‘I wasn’t writing anything creative in that sense. I mean not poetry or anything, more a business brief,’ he said, hopeful of getting the conversation on to a plane he was more familiar with.

‘Doesn’t mean to say it can’t be creative. Go with the flow up here, you might be surprised with what you come up with. You staying here?’

‘No, just visiting for the day. Are you a guest?’

‘Mind if I sit down? Nope. I work here. I’m the gardener.’ He dipped a hand into his cotton shoulder bag. ‘Here, have a mango. Trees are full of them.’ He handed Colin a fat ripe mango and pulled a penknife from his pocket and started peeling one for himself. ‘My name’s Bruce Gaden, by the way.’

‘I’m Colin Hanlon.’ Colin watched him carefully as he peeled the mango in case this strange fellow suddenly attacked him with the penknife. ‘How long have you been working here?’

‘Oh, since the place opened eighteen months ago. Before that I was a marketing and advertising executive.’

Colin gave him a surprised look. ‘Dropped out, huh?’

‘I think it’s more a case of getting into it. I get a lot more satisfaction out of life doing this. I start the day with a bit of a walk through the gardens, have a chat to my special plants, listen to the birds while I’m watering. No more rushing off in a suit to flog stuff people don’t want or need.’

A bit off the planet, thought Colin, but the old hippie could be useful. ‘You make a decent living doing this? Or are you still living off your savings?’

‘I was dreadfully overpaid, I grant you that. It’s out of whack, the sort of money advertising people and unnecessary consultants get paid. I used up a lot of my savings but we live pretty simply.’

‘Do you work here all the time?’

‘Yes, I’m here every day, though the owner can only afford to pay me for a couple of hours. The rest of the time I wander around and make myself useful — might fix anything I can or take guests, when we have any, through the rainforest if they’re interested. Tell ’em about the flora and fauna and if I think they’re receptive or need to hear it, talk about ecosystems and give them a lecture about saving the planet.’ He laughed and sucked on his mango. ‘What do you do?’

‘Um, bit of this and that. Actually, the bloke I work for is considering buying this place and putting me in as manager.’

‘You’re joking. We knew the place was up for sale, poor bugger couldn’t make a go of it here. Too far out, doesn’t offer enough, nobody’s heard of it.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Colin.

‘What would you do with it, not turn it into some mega development, I hope. Or condominiums — there was a rumour it was going to be built up and stuffed full of weekenders for the Gold Coast groupies.’

That would probably be more profitable, thought Colin, but hedged, ‘Well, nothing is finalised yet. What would you do with this place?’ asked Colin, thinking this man might have some ideas he could use.

‘Are you asking the marketing man or the happy man?’

‘Both, I guess,’ grinned Colin, wiping the mango juice off his lips with the back of his hand.

Bruce considered Colin for a moment. ‘I can see you’re a businessman and you probably aren’t into anything alternative . . . for want of a better word — I tend to like the word harmonious — but it seems to me our society and our lifestyle have been geared to greed, materialism and achievement. But what do we really want or need in this world? Somewhere to live where you feel good, the freedom to enjoy life, to be at peace with yourself, and to share these things. We’ve been taught that money gives you freedom. Not so. I knew a lot of people that “had it all” and they were bloody miserable.’

Ha, scoffed Colin to himself. He knew you couldn’t live without money, that was what kept him with Dina. Until he had a large amount of money of his own, he was trapped. Money was freedom all right.

‘And I tell you,’ Bruce went on, ‘if the little folk as well as the big corporations and governments keep chasing the almighty dollar, it’s going to push us all off the face of this earth quicker than any one could believe. If we don’t poison ourselves and the world first, or kill ourselves with wars and plagues, or just stop breathing when the lungs of the world collapse along with the depletion of the rainforest. It’s a matter of balance; we have to balance all these things and it seems to me a good way to start is with ourselves, learning to love us as well as our world. The kids are getting the message, but it might be too late in another generation or so. Anyway, what’s this all to do with Harmony Hill I hear you ask . . .’

‘Harmony what?’ interrupted Colin, only half listening to the speech he had dubbed the Sermon on the Mount.

‘Hill. That’s just our name for this place. No, what we need are more places where people can learn all these things, learn to get in touch with themselves and the real world. Even if only for a week or so. I’d like this place to be a sort of teaching centre.’

Colin figured he might as well hear this guy out. ‘What would you do to achieve that?’ he asked.

Bruce sucked on his mango and looked around. ‘I know what I’d build here — a large yurt to use as a convention centre or therapy and exercise studio, with smaller yurts radiating from it which could be used for meditation, private massages, float tanks or one-on-one sessions of healing, health and stress management.’

Colin was highly sceptical about this new age, self-awareness bullshit, it was a philosophy that was alien to him. But he knew it was big business in America. ‘It would have to be marketed properly,’ said Colin slowly. ‘It would have to be advertised as a holiday for the body, mind, and spirit and not perceived as some hippie commune. Clients have to see it as a fun place that does them good.’ Colin smiled inwardly. Hell, even he could get into the jargon and the spirit of the concept. ‘You got any other ideas for this place?’ he asked, figuring he might as well pick Bruce’s brains.

‘Yeah. If you’re agreeable, I’d like to sit under a tree and have a yarn.’ Bruce settled
himself more comfortably. ‘Y’know, Colin, I once suggested to that big deal company I worked for that we have conferences and board meetings outside under a tree in the garden and not in the plush-plush conference room. Bullshit evaporates more quickly in fresh air.’

‘Did they?’

‘Nah. It was just considered another one of Bruce’s mad ideas and not taken seriously. No one ever listened to what I was really saying. One of the reasons I left. I’d rather talk to the plants,’ he chuckled and pushed his hat back and looked up into the trees.

‘I’d like to listen to your ideas, Bruce. First let me tell you what I have in mind.’

Colin, in his silk shirt, Valentino pants and Bally shoes sat beside Bruce in his faded shorts, torn T-shirt and leather sandals and they talked together for the next few hours. Bruce did most of the talking and while Colin decided he probably wasn’t mad after all, he certainly wasn’t on the same wavelength. He half listened as Bruce rambled on, but the question uppermost in Colin’s mind was not how to find inner peace but how to unstitch Queenie. More and more he saw that she held the key to his future. Wrest the assets away from her which were due him, and he would be home free.

Chapter Ten

Saskia marched into TR’s room with a bunch of Australian native flowers. ‘Hey, TR. How goes it? Ready to play footy yet?’ She put the flowers on his chest. ‘A bit of the bush to cheer you up.’

He looked pleased to see her. ‘Hi Saskia. Thanks for the gift. I can sit up by myself, lift a few weights and get around in the wheelchair. That’s doing pretty damned well Jenni tells me.’

‘Wow. That’s fantastic,’ she enthused. ‘Three cheers for Jenni the slave-driver.’

‘Yeah. I couldn’t do it without her.’

‘I also brought you a custard apple — you like them a lot.’

He laughed. ‘Well I’ll have to eat it now, won’t I? That’s thoughtful of you.’

‘I’ll go and get a vase and some water for the flowers. Shall I get us a cup of tea while I’m out there?’

‘That’d be nice.’

Saskia left the room and TR picked up the bunch of flowers. His right arm was now out of its bandages and able to function again, albeit with stiffness and some pain. He snapped off a small pink gumtip and rubbed the leaf between his fingers and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. When he looked up, Saskia was standing in the doorway holding two cups of tea and watching him.

‘Remind you of anything?’

‘Yeah, hospital disinfectant.’ They both laughed.

While they drank their tea, they talked about his exercise programme and Saskia told him of her plans to spend the weekend in Surfers Paradise with her flatmates Sherry and Julie and of her increasing frustration with her studies. ‘I’m seriously considering walking out on the whole thing. I just don’t think I can get through the rest of the course. And I don’t see the point as I think I’ve definitely decided against being a vet.’