The Last Paradise, page 27
‘Not good enough for Lawrence, apparently, so he invented a new family. Amazing that he got away with it for so long,’ said Tina. ‘If he is this Justin Odford, of course. What a bolt from the blue! What’re you going to do?’
‘It’s hard to think straight; I feel quite shaky. I’m not sure if I want to open this can of worms.’ Grace drew a deep breath. ‘I’ll answer her – I have to. But I won’t get involved,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to confront Lawrence with this until he and I are divorced. He’ll have a fit if he finds out what I’ve uncovered.’
‘Not to mention a whole new identity. Who knows what “Justin Odford” got up to before he moved to Australia and became “Lawrence Hagen”?’ Tina said, sitting down next to Grace. ‘Poor Daisy. Seems like he may have intended for her never to meet her other grandparents . . . So what if this lady writes again and wants to get involved with us?’
‘I’ll be firm and tell her Lawrence and I are divorcing. But I can’t help being curious, and I feel I should get to the bottom of it for Daisy’s sake. This could be her family, after all. I’ll see what I can find out. Ammunition is always useful with Lawrence,’ said Grace. ‘I’ll send her some photos and ask for some family history.’
‘Well, good luck. Be careful that Lawrence doesn’t find out,’ said Tina.
Grace rose to get a drink from the kitchen. Sri and Putu had just gone to collect some produce from Nyoman. Tina had gone upstairs to her bedroom, and Daisy was in the garden putting out chunks of fruit for the colourful birds that usually darted around the flowers, although Grace couldn’t see any birds there now when she looked out.
Then the windows started to rattle and Grace cocked her head as she heard a faint noise.
Suddenly Grace wobbled as the floor heaved a little beneath her, and she heard Tina give a sharp screech from her bedroom as everything else around them started moving, too.
‘Mum, Daisy!’ screamed Grace. ‘Get under the big table!’
Daisy came running inside.
‘Yay, is this an earthquake?’ she shouted with glee. ‘Come and see the pool. There are waves like at the beach!’
Grace grabbed her. ‘No. Get under the dining table with me, quickly!’
‘I want to see the volcano.’
‘No.’
Tina, white-faced, had hurried in and was crouching under the table. Grace pulled Daisy under there too, ready to cover her with her body. There was a distant crash as something fell from a shelf.
Then there was silence.
‘It’s stopped,’ said Tina.
They waited a moment or two, then they heard Putu and Sri coming through the side gate and calling to them.
Daisy scrambled out and ran to meet them, jumping up and down. ‘We had an earthquake!’
‘Yes. Just a baby one.’ Sri smiled. ‘Are you okay, Ibu Grace?’
‘A bit shaky but fine.’ She laughed. ‘A baby one, eh? Will there be more?’
‘No, all finished for now,’ said Putu confidently as he put down the basket of fruit and vegetables for Sri. ‘Maybe some small aftershocks a bit later. No need to worry.’
Daisy raced to Grace’s laptop. ‘I want to see some pictures of Mount Agung. How big was this one, Sri?’
‘Maybe a five or six. Just a little shiver.’
Grace and her mother exchanged a look and the two women started to laugh.
‘I’m still feeling wobbly,’ said Tina. ‘Like my equilibrium hasn’t come back to normal.’
‘I can’t get over how I feel,’ said Grace. ‘It’s like we are fleas on top of a massive animal that just shook itself gently. Reminding us how insignificant we are.’
Daisy was chewing her lip as she studied the computer.
‘It’s a six two,’ she read.
‘Six point two,’ said Grace.
‘Not so big,’ Sri said and shrugged. ‘Over seven is a big one.’
‘This was big enough,’ said Grace. ‘Right, where were we?’ She tried to keep her voice steady but she couldn’t help thinking that the shock of the Facebook message was even bigger than the terror of the ground moving under her.
*
The gallery in Ubud was in a nondescript building, a simple space that, rather than drawing attention to itself, allowed its contents to shine. And indeed, as Grace walked into the room, the walls glowed.
Steve was there already and came over to her. ‘Lives lived, places loved,’ he said softly, staring around at the artwork. ‘There are some amazing paintings here.’
‘Sure are,’ Grace said. ‘This is even better than I’d expected.’
Rows of chairs faced a podium, and arrangements of flowers stood against one wall. Doors at the back of the room led to a patio, where tables were covered with trays of drinks and food. Two men, formally dressed, and a woman Grace figured was the gallery director, who was wearing severe glasses, were anxiously comparing notes.
Steve picked up one of the catalogues from a pile on a side table and raised his eyebrows. ‘This is a serious collection. Wish I had the bucks.’
‘I’m keen to see what Johnny chooses. Look, there’s the Kamasan art over there.’ Grace pointed to the opposite wall.
The gallery director came over to them. ‘Welcome, thank you for coming to cover the auction.’ She reached out and shook Grace’s hand and then Steve’s. ‘I’m Simona Dryden. So, you’re with Mr Pangisar?’
‘Yes, we’re here to film for him. This is Steve Boyd,’ Grace said, ‘and I’m Grace Hagen. We spoke on the phone. What are the regulations? I appreciate some people might not want to be filmed.’
‘That’s right. You’ll need to let everyone know that you will be filming and get their permission before you begin.’
‘No problem,’ Steve said. ‘And if we take shots of the bidders, it will be from the back of the room so they can’t be identified,’ he added.
When they’d covered a few more logistical issues, Simona gave them a quick tour around the gallery. ‘We’re very proud of this collection, it’s quite significant,’ she said. ‘These works are for the specialist collectors – we have pieces by artists such as Ida Bagus Nyoman Rai, Miguel Covarrubias, Donald Friend. There’s a lot of interest in the Walter Spies works as well. They fetch significant money. These days you’d pay around $10,000 for a pencil sketch alone.’
‘Stunning, but out of my price range,’ Grace said as she looked at an intricate work by Ida Bagus. ‘While I’m in Bali, I want to find something that will always remind me of this trip, but I don’t want to get just anything from the art shops and galleries in the tourist area,’ she added.
Simona nodded. ‘You have to know who’s who, the artist, the dealer, the shop or gallery. It’s occasionally possible to pick up a bargain. You have to know what’s a fake or “in the style of”,’ she explained. She turned to Steve. ‘Are you a connoisseur?’
‘Not really, but I was very interested in Walter Spies’s work when I did a documentary on him. There were so many famous artists working up here in the old days.’ At that moment, Steve saw Henry and Mateo walk in and signal to him. ‘Excuse me, I have to talk with my colleagues about the lighting.’
‘Of course,’ Simona said, and turned to Grace. ‘Let me introduce you to the auctioneer, Kevin Chang. He’s flown in from Singapore.’
After the introductions, Kevin said to Grace, ‘It’s unusual to have Mr Pangisar bidding here himself. Though I realise the family are collectors.’
‘I know he was looking forward to coming along,’ Grace said, not wanting to give Chang any ideas about Johnny’s intentions to buy.
‘Many of the Kamasan village artists receive commissions from all over Bali to produce large and dramatic panels on cloth,’ said Simona, ‘but these old ones are the most valuable.’
‘Yes, it’s wonderful to expose visitors to classical traditional art,’ Grace said. ‘It’s the ideal way for them to appreciate its history and meaning, as opposed to the stuff that floods the tourist market.’ It occurred to her that many visitors to the Kamasan Hotel might not realise they were looking at valuable originals. She had to hand it to Johnny. He never did anything by halves.
Kevin began to point out the order in which the paintings would go under the hammer and explain how the auction would be conducted with the bidders on phones as well as those in the room.
‘Hey, Gracie.’ Johnny’s voice rang out. ‘Pretty special work, eh? Got your eye on something?’ He smiled as he came towards her, followed by an entourage that included Madame Pearl, Rosie Chow and Mr Wija Angiman, the CFO from the Kamasan. No doubt he’d be watching to make sure Johnny didn’t go nuts in the bidding, thought Grace. Kevin smiled and excused himself, moving away to prepare for the auction before Johnny reached her.
After they’d all greeted each other, Johnny turned to Rosie. ‘I’ll sit in the third row. I don’t want to appear too keen,’ he said, grinning.
‘You’re first here,’ said Grace. ‘That’s keen.’
‘I came early to decide which ones I’m buying and have a cocktail,’ said Johnny. ‘Excuse me while I take a look at the bidders’ list.’
Grace glanced over a few minutes later and was surprised to see Johnny frowning. She was about to go and check if everything was all right when Steve tapped her on the shoulder to ask for her help with the filming run sheet.
Soon enough, people began to trickle in. Interesting crowd, thought Grace as she mingled, asking if they were agreeable to being filmed, and most were happy to oblige. Only one Chinese man vehemently objected, while another agreed to be filmed so long as the amount of any bid he made was not disclosed. Grace alerted Mateo to these special cases.
Then she headed out to the patio, which was now crowded, and spotted Johnny on his phone looking annoyed, his back to the crowd. She stood to one side watching him, and when he got off the phone, he turned and saw her, shrugged and came over.
‘What’s up?’ asked Grace.
‘Competition. Another bidder is here, and apparently he’s after what I’m after.’
‘How do you know that?’
Johnny winced and pointed to a man in the crowd. ‘I know him from school. He’ll just want to get what I want to stop me getting it. His family are stinking rich, to use an Aussie expression.’ He smiled slightly. ‘But neither of us will give in. It’s going to be interesting for the auctioneer.’
Grace raised her eyebrows.
Simona was going around asking people to take their seats, so they walked inside. Grace spotted a late arrival, a Chinese-Balinese man, taking a seat a few rows behind Johnny, who did not seem to notice him.
She was fascinated by the crowd and the atmosphere that settled over the room. There were those who were really just spectators, enjoying the occasion; nervous newbies, who probably hoped they might score a bargain; the serious bidders; and the elite who obviously knew exactly what they wanted and what they’d pay, heavyweights like Johnny and possibly his school friend. Grace stood at the back watching the crew unobtrusively filming.
It didn’t take long for her to understand how people could get carried away. The effusive auctioneer drummed up excitement about each piece, focusing on the sheer beauty and fascination of the art, and worked the competitive atmosphere between bidders to his advantage. Rosie Chow stood beside Steve, quietly filling him in on the big-name bidders and their strategies.
There was an intake of breath as the first big sale of the night, a work by internationally in-demand contemporary Indonesian artist Christine Ay Tjoe was knocked down to Madame Pearl.
Grace then saw Johnny straighten in his seat as the first of the Kamasan pieces was put on the easel next to Chang, who began his spiel about its impressive provenance.
The bidding was slow at first; nobody seemed to want to go first. But then Johnny jumped a bid above the first offer and was swiftly followed by the man Johnny had said was his old school friend.
Then the bidding sped up to become a battle between the two of them, the price rising fast. But then a third bidder raised his arm, and as Kevin Chang thanked him by name, Johnny spun around.
A man standing next to Grace muttered to no one in particular, ‘This is going to be interesting.’
She asked in a low voice, ‘Why’s that?’
‘He’s a rep for a large mining company who’ve just built new offices in Jakarta. Apparently the boardroom walls are empty. He has form, as they say in the art world. Mining people are not short of cash.’
Suddenly Johnny’s old school friend raised the mining rep’s bid. The auctioneer looked at Johnny.
Johnny glanced at his phone and shook his head, now looking disinterested. The school friend hesitated and seemed annoyed, and the mining rep leaped in to make the winning bid.
There was an expulsion of breath in the room. The excitement of seeing Johnny Pangisar bidding madly and throwing money around had dissipated.
The mining rep quickly snapped up several more Kamasans.
Johnny went quiet and soon, in the few moments between auction items, he disappeared with his entourage.
When the auction had ended, Grace walked over to the film crew. ‘Johnny must be disappointed,’ she said.
Steve shook his head. ‘Something’s not right. This is out of character for Johnny – the flamboyant showman.’
‘I think he was texting someone during the auction, and then went cold on bidding.’
‘Do you reckon he found out the artworks were fakes or something?’ said Steve.
‘Not sure. We’ll find out tomorrow when we go to the hotel, I guess. Don’t forget we’re shooting some of the interiors they’ve just about finished.’ Grace smiled at a couple of very pleased-looking bidders as they walked past her. ‘Johnny was so excited about the Kamasan paintings. And they are stunning,’ she added. ‘They would have looked good in the hotel.’
Steve nodded. ‘Yes, the perfect finishing touch to the foyer,’ he said, looking around at the dispersing crowd. ‘Look, I think we’ve finished here. Will we have a wrap-up drink then go to dinner?’
‘Yes, please. And I really want to talk to you about K’tut’s book, but we’ve been so busy I haven’t had the chance.’
‘Sure, I’ve been meaning to ask you about it too.’
They helped the crew pack up the gear and a small group of them went for a drink. There was a lot of discussion about the auction. Mateo was shaking his head at the numbers being thrown around.
‘Remember, those were millions of rupiah, not dollars,’ said Steve. ‘Except for the big money on the Spies paintings and a couple of others.’
‘Still, I can’t see a picture being worth that much,’ said Mateo.
Henry suggested they could order some tapas with their drinks, but Steve said, ‘Grace and I are going to try out one of the restaurants here. Want to join us?’
The two men hesitated. ‘We kind of wanted to get back,’ Mateo said. ‘By the time we unload and sort the gear and stuff . . .’
‘We want to go for an early morning surf before we shoot at the hotel tomorrow, so we should get an early night,’ said Henry.
‘That’s okay,’ Grace said. ‘Putu is seeing some friends, but he’ll be ready when we’ve finished dinner. Drive carefully, it’s such a bad road.’
‘Yeah, we noticed.’ Mateo grinned.
‘Thanks, guys,’ said Steve, and Henry and Mateo finished their drinks and said their goodnights.
*
‘No way! What an astounding place,’ said Grace as they walked into the 1920s-style restaurant, with its dramatic black and white tiled floor, chandeliers and Art Deco décor. ‘And Andy said that the food lives up to its setting.’
‘Be criminal not to order a cocktail in a place like this,’ said Steve, striding towards the bar.
They talked easily, and after their entrée plates had been taken away, Steve stretched then rested his arms on the table. ‘So, K’tut’s book, which part are you up to?’
Grace leaned forward, smiling. ‘I’ve been reading it madly all week. I’m hooked! I’m at the bit where after being in prison she agrees to help the revolutionaries and becomes a guerilla fighter for Indonesian independence. I had no idea that she ended up becoming famous around the world as the pirate broadcaster “Surabaya Sue”! What was it they called her? “The Voice of Free Indonesia”? I just can’t get my head around all the incredible and terrifying adventures she had – smuggling opium, running guns, and attempting to find her lost and beloved Prince. Well, that’s as far as I’ve got, anyway.’
‘I know, astonishing, isn’t it? You just couldn’t make this stuff up,’ said Steve. ‘Like you said the other day, it’s got the guts of a movie script.’
‘That’s what I want to talk to you about, actually.’ Grace reached across the table and took his arm. ‘I’ve been thinking about it ever since that day at Uluwatu. Let’s do it!’
Steve looked blank for a moment, and then understanding dawned in his eyes. ‘What, a movie? Based around K’tut?’ He paused for a minute, thinking, and then said, ‘You mean, you and me? Together? Form a production company and make a film?’
She nodded. ‘Yep. I always knew I was working towards something more than commercial TV and advertising media. I know I can handle this, raise the money, organise, coordinate. You have film experience and an amazing reputation. We know we work well together . . .’ She let the idea hang between them.
‘Bloody brilliant,’ Steve said slowly, grinning.
‘Maybe we could film in North Queensland. Get some funding from the Queensland Film Commission. Just do some necessary exteriors here.’
‘Actually, from what I’ve learned, filming here is far cheaper than in Australia. And it’d be a shame not to do it all here. I sense K’tut would want us to promote the old Bali.’ Steve smiled.
