Love and Makepeace in seclusion
Annabel Fenwick Elliott
We gawped at – but never ended up using – the cinema room, the sun being too omnipresent and the pool too inviting. Nor did we take to the floodlit tennis court. We did, however, make use of the many chess sets – one in every common area and another wacky life-size set-up can be found outside on the neatly clipped lawn.
Robinson Scott has infused the property with an exotic, south-east Asian feel. To wander its airy, teak-floored expanses truly feels like stepping through a portal into Bali. Each of the three identical villas sits isolated at the end of its own long wooden walkway, behind two sets of elaborate double doors, with two bedrooms and a dressing room built around a gently bubbling indoor fish pond.
The four-poster master bed is gargantuan, as is the bathroom’s open-air tub, carved from a volcanic boulder, dotted with candles and strewn with petals.
As a luxury getaway, the build doesn’t drop a point. But any developer with enough cash could replicate that. However, what they might struggle to do is to capture what lies at the heart of this heart-shaped island: the staff, a team of six people dedicated to our family of five, have all mastered the delicate art of being at all times available but never intrusive, of appearing relaxed and congenial but operating with what must actually be a great deal of precision behind the scenes, and ensuring that at no point was a glass left empty or a peckish guest without nibbles.
Paul, who leads the watersports, regularly popped his head in to coax us into aquatic-based adventure. There was kayaking along the river at dawn, raucous tubing before lunch, a thrill-ride through the crashing ocean waves by way of a military-grade speed vessel mid-afternoon, followed by a quiet sunset cruise come evening.
When night fell and clouds of chattering bats exploded from the trees, Makepeace morphed into a place that was hard to abandon for bed. The pool glowed Egyptian blue, candles shape-shifted around the steam of the hot tub, an ironclad fire pit rumbled and spat, and the wine never ceased to flow.
What a win for Hannah Makepeace, who owned this island until her death in 1973, at the age of 89.
By all accounts, she was a popular if eccentric figure, devoted to the land and its animals.
She was left in charge of it by former proprietors Charles Nicholas and his wife, who owned it from at least 1911.
After Hannah’s death, the land was inundated with squatters for a time and only in 1986 was it acquired legally again, by artist Brian Spencer, who renamed it Makepeace in Hannah’s honour and spent many an afternoon painting from the Boathouse.
In 2003, it was bought by Brett Godfrey and Rob Sherrard, then in 2007 Branson bought the latter’s half.
Makepeace has flown under the radar since. I had a chat with Branson about this, as to why the king of self-promotion has kept so quiet on this slice of paradise.
‘‘We use the island to invite a number of wealthy people along, to turn them upside down and talk to them about the charitable causes we champion in Australia – whether that’s giving prisoners a second chance, or facilitating needle exchanges,’’ he said. So far, so noble.
‘‘It’s also just a nice place to be.’’
In short, Makepeace Island is and has always been more a part-time home and occasional party pad than a resort with lofty airs and graces.
Ralph the resident tree frog is a testament to that, and I imagine Hannah would be proud of how it has turned out. It is precisely this environment that sets it apart, and makes it such a special place to gather your loved ones.
‘‘The people who do hire it tend to come back again and again,’’ the manager tells me. My only criticism is one of the poolside umbrellas is yellow, and doesn’t match the others. It’s the only single thing I’d change. – The Telegraph