Free Fishing for Stars by Bryce Courtenay Page B

coconuts.’ Anna spread her hands. ‘Then independence came and we, the Dutch, had nothing, not even coconuts. But it was okay, the people were free.’
    I chuckled. ‘Three hundred years is a pretty good innings, don’t you think?’
    ‘ Ja , but most of the islands are still ruled by white men. They should also be free.’
    ‘There is some talk about New Guinea in the United Nations, but I don’t think it’s going to happen tomorrow.’
    ‘Do you think it will happen? Do you want it to happen, Nicholas?’
    ‘I must admit I haven’t given it a great deal of thought, but now that you mention it . . . yes, I think I do.’
    ‘So, to buy property in the islands, not such a good long-term prospect, eh, Nicholas?’
    ‘For investment purposes, I dare say, no,’ I grinned, ‘but as our own slice of paradise, a way of life, definitel y good.’
    Anna cast me a scornful look immediately disguised as a smile. ‘ Tush! Paradise? Paradise I know already! Java was paradise! The only paradise is security and money, Nicholas.’
    ‘Anna, where does all this come from? Property? Security? Money? You’re twenty-four years old, there’s lots of time for those later. I know things have been pretty tough, in fact ghastly for you, but don’t you deserve a little fun?’ I laughed. ‘We could take Madam Butterfly and sail around the world!’
    Anna looked genuinely horrified. ‘No! I cannot! I must not! I must start now! Property, it is safe.’
    ‘C’mon, Anna, what do you really know about property? Safe as bricks, but also slow as bricks, crumbling as bricks. Real estate sits in one place slowly decaying, it just isn’t a good proposition.’
    ‘Like a yacht?’ Anna interjected, pointing at Madam Butterfly in the bay below. ‘My rich clients tell me to own a yacht is to make a hole in the water to throw money into. Ha, you are wrong, Nicholas! Future development!’
    ‘And you know this for sure?’ I asked.
    ‘Not me, my clients, they know. Only the very rich or influential come to enjoy my services at Madam Butterfly. They talk and I listen. The Olympic Games is coming. You’ll see, Melbourne will change, Sydney also. I have rich clients who come down from Sydney. They are all buying property to develop later.’
    ‘Anna, that takes money, property development takes real money.’
    Anna smiled proudly. ‘Madam Butterfly is not cheap. I have already bought two workers’ cottages in Abbotsford, near the brewery. It is slums now and cheap and I think a good investment.’
    My heart sank. If Anna had aspirations as a property developer, no matter how small, it meant she’d hang on to Madam Butterfly as her main source of income and information from her rich clients. This was not the scenario I had in mind for us. ‘Near the brewery? Can’t see that area improving much in the years to come,’ I said dismissively.
    ‘It’s a start,’ Anna said quietly. There followed an awkward silence between us. I sensed she was aware of my unspoken disappointment. Then she said suddenly, ‘Nicholas, we can do this together.’
    ‘What, buy slum houses?’ I said somewhat disparagingly.
    ‘Property. My rich clients call it from rents to riches, buying at teardown prices and selling at skyscraper rates.’
    ‘In your dreams, Anna! We’re in scrap metal merging into the shipping business. My two partners will think . . . well I don’t know what they’ll think, but it won’t be about property development, that I can assure you.’
    Unaware at the time of the training she had received at the hands of Konoe Akira, I simply regarded Anna’s determination to succeed as the result of her appalling experiences under the Japanese. Now as a single woman in a dog-eat-dog world where nobody seemed to care what happened to her it was hardly surprising that she wanted financial security; something more anyway than the income, uncertainty and associated problems that I felt sure would be involved in running an illegal