Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [51]
Olivia was stung by the suggestion of failure. It must have shown, for Mrs Hooten quickly added sympathetically, ‘Of course you really didn’t have a chance to see how you would have made out. It was so tragic.’ Then she continued enthusiastically, ‘But I’m sure that fate has now turned in your favour. Believe me, Mrs Hennessy, the pearling industry is taking off, so my husband says. A pity it attracts so many riff-raff, don’t you think? I mean, at the lower end, the Asians and the like.’
Before Olivia could think of anything to say in response, the wife of one of the leading pearling masters took the conversation in another direction. ‘I know you’ll be wanting to join some of our social committees, Mrs Hennessy, and it will be a delight to have your talents to help those of us who have been here so long that we’re rather out of touch with what’s happening back home. The social life is looking up thank goodness, now that more wives are coming here. We have balls, races, concerts, and the most wonderful picnic that is becoming a really major annual event.’
‘Well, I was rather thinking of doing some work,’ replied Olivia brightly, and there was an immediate freeze in the conversation.
After a moment Mrs Hooten broke the silence. ‘Work, Mrs Hennessy, what sort of work?’
‘Pearling … or rather something connected with the pearling business. Perhaps in the office.’
‘Really,’ responded the hostess with raised eyebrows, absently fingering the lorgnette hanging around her neck on a chain set with large pearls. ‘How interesting.’ Then she turned to address the room with a voice that almost rattled the teacups. ‘Now ladies, I feel that it’s cool enough for a little croquet. To the lawn everyone.’
Olivia realised she had made a social faux pas and decided to be more discreet in future about her involvement in the business, although she was more determined than ever to do what she wanted to do. At the same time she recognised that in such a small community acceptance by the wives of the leading families was probably very important for the business. With this in mind, she joined in the exodus to the croquet lawn, making an effort at light–hearted enthusiasm and anticipation that was obviously welcomed by the elite ladies of Broome.
Later, Ahmed was waiting patiently at the gate and he drove her along Dampier Terrace, past crew camps, shell sorting and packing sheds, the jetty where the luggers tied up, a boat builder’s yard and sail maker, a saddlery and bootmaking shop, a general store and the Dampier Hotel, popular with the Japanese, Ahmed informed her. He stopped outside a two–storey white wooden building which housed several offices and a pearl cleaner’s workshop.
Ahmed pointed proudly to a new sign by the narrow doorway: STAR OF THE SEA PEARL CO.
Olivia was puzzled.
‘That’s us, mem. Tuan give us a name.’ With studied formality he helped her down and pointed upstairs.
Lifting the hem of her dress Olivia ascended the rickety stairs to two separate small rooms.
Conrad was sitting at a desk covered with papers and new folders. He sprang up when Olivia entered, stepped around the desk and hugged her. ‘We’re open for business as of today. Not that there’s any business … just a lot of paperwork. What do you think?’ he asked, gesturing toward the spartan furniture and bare walls.
‘A suitably modest start, I feel,’ said Olivia approvingly.
‘Modest? You’d better take a look next door,’ said Conrad with a grin.
They walked into the next office to find Tyndall leaning back in a swivel chair with his feet on a desk empty but for a whisky bottle. The rest of the room was in chaos. There were piles of rope, sails, diving apparatus, bags of sugar, cartons of tea, some nautical charts pinned to the walls along with an Aboriginal pearl shell breastplate on a cord. In a corner was another desk and chair where Ahmed had been carefully packing waterproof canisters with curry powders and other spices that filled the room with exotic smells.
Olivia was stunned.