The Dark

by Emma Haughton

Sonya smiles at some memory. ‘I told him if he was gonna put me in his book, he had to make me thin and twenty years younger, or I’d sue.’

  I laugh. ‘You must miss him,’ I say gently.

  She considers this. ‘I do. Though he could sometimes be rather … intense, he generally had a light touch with people, always knew how to defuse a situation with a joke.’ Her face betrays a ripple of emotion. ‘No offence meant, but this place hasn’t been the same since he died.’

  ‘I can’t imagine how devastating it must have been.’ I picture the expedition party returning without him, having to impart the news to those left in the station that they’d been forced to abandon Jean-Luc there on – in – the ice. Even after all these weeks, I’m still haunted by that image of him. The utter bleakness of it. The terrible isolation. Though he’s dead, it’s as if we’ve all somehow let him down.

  ‘I guess a lot of people miss him.’ I watch Sonya’s fingers form the stitches; it’s mesmerising, like a kind of visual meditation.

  ‘Some more than others,’ she replies cryptically.

  I frown. ‘How so?’

  Sonya pauses, considering. ‘Well, let’s just say Jean-Luc didn’t always see eye to eye with everyone. There were …’ she hesitates ‘… disagreements.’

  ‘What about?’

  But our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of the others. Rajiv, carrying a couple of bottles of wine, is wearing a long black shirt and his best crimson turban, his beard and moustache freshly clipped and oiled, while Sandrine looks particularly chic in a scarlet shift dress and matching lipstick.

  I kick myself, feeling dowdy now in my jeans and plain T-shirt. I’m about to return to my cabin and get changed when Caro appears, sporting her usual dungarees. Luuk, Rob, and Alex trail behind her – Alex looks positively dishevelled, his face bleary with fatigue, Luuk wearing a pair of cargo shorts and his usual sardonic, slightly aloof expression.

  ‘Where’s Arne?’ Sandrine asks.

  ‘Gone to freshen up,’ Rajiv says. ‘He’ll be here in a minute.’

  As if on cue, Arne arrives. Despite the broken showers, he’s managed to wash his hair, I notice; it’s still glistening with damp. He’s looking pretty smart, in grey trousers and a thin weave jumper that shows off the muscle tone he maintains in the gym. Few of us have the discipline to work out every day, and on Arne it really shows. Drew too.

  ‘It’s nearly time,’ Sandrine announces, checking her watch. Barely 2 p.m., and we’re already saying goodbye to the sun.

  Ark hurries in, and Drew and Alice abandon their pool game as we turn off the lights and crowd around the wide lounge windows that overlook the ice. We’re in luck: the sky is unclouded, and a clear streak of pink surrounds the sliver of sun that has barely dragged itself into view.

  I gaze out over the landscape, feeling strangely apprehensive. These last few weeks I’ve taken to observing every sunset, fascinated by the sight of our life-giving star losing its daily battle with the northern horizon. Each day it struggles to rise above the ice, each day giving up more quickly, turning the clouds orange and the snow purple as it sinks back down, smearing the sky with the colours of blood and bruises.

  The minutes tick by as we stand there silently, watching the light slowly fade, dwindling to a point before disappearing entirely.

  ‘That’s it, folks,’ Drew declares, switching the overhead lights back on. ‘Welcome to winter.’

  He sounds cheerful, but the atmosphere in the room is uneasy. Though the days have been short and dim, the fact the sun put in an appearance at all was oddly comforting.

  It’s as if we’ve been somehow abandoned.

  Rajiv disappears then reappears with a tray full of snacks – red and green olives, stuffed with pickled lemon and fried halloumi, along with an array of nuts and various flavours of crisps. ‘Supper will be served early,’ he declares, ‘but there’s more in the kitchen if you can’t hold out till then.’

  We help ourselves to drinks and nibbles then settle into the chairs and sofas. Though most days we work and do our own thing, Sandrine has decided we should spend the rest of today together. ‘Bonding’, as she called it, making it sound more like some painfully awkward group training exercise than anything we might actually enjoy.

  I turn to speak to Drew, but see he’s watching Alex, who’s still standing by the window, staring out into the darkness as if searching for something in that impenetrable gloom.

  ‘Hey, kiddo, what’s up?’ Drew asks. ‘Trouble on the ranch?’

  Alex inhales, rubs his hair and turns to face us. His features are stiff, and he looks miserable. ‘Just heard my sister’s getting married,’ he mumbles. ‘In a few months.’

  ‘Shit.’ Arne’s voice is full of sympathy. ‘I’m guessing this is a surprise?’

  Alex sighs. ‘You could say that. She recently discovered she’s pregnant – if she waits for me to get home, she’ll have had the baby.’

  ‘Shotgun wedding?’ Rob jokes, and I see Sonya nudge his foot.

  ‘They’ve been engaged for a couple of years, actually – this has just brought the whole thing forward.’ Alex presses his lips together, as if making a supreme effort not to snap. ‘It’s going to be a big wedding. Relatives coming over from America, the works.’

  I feel a swell of sympathy. He looks really gutted. For all his adventuring – Alex trained as an outdoor instructor and spent several years working in New Zealand – he’s clearly a family guy.

  ‘That is hard.’ Ark walks up and gives him a bear hug. For an awkward moment or two it looks as if Alex might cry.

  ‘Could be worse,’ he says ruefully. ‘At least no one died.’

  There’s a tense silence before Alice speaks, her tone deliberately cheerful. ‘And think, you’ll have a new niece or nephew to greet you when you get home.’

  This finally brings a smile to Alex’s face. ‘Yeah, the first grandchild. My parents are psyched. Mam’s already buying baby clothes.’

  ‘Baby clothes!’ Sonya beams, delighted. ‘Now that’s exactly the excuse I need. Good thing I brought plenty of yarn.’

  ‘Bread!’ squeals Caro, grabbing a slice and slathering it in butter.

  Rajiv has pulled out all the stops for our first winter supper. Along with the warm walnut loaf, he serves up lobster ravioli, and a mushroom risotto made with dried porcini and ceps. There’s even a tiny portion of salad, courtesy of Drew’s hydroponics. I groan with pleasure at the taste of the little leaves in my mouth; our supply of fresh vegetables has dwindled to a few potatoes and mealy apples, both shrivelled and soft.

  ‘Drink?’ Drew passes several bottles of champagne around the table and everyone pours themselves a glass. Everyone except Ark, that is; in defiance of his Russian roots, he’s teetotal. His father was an abusive alcoholic, he told me during my first week here: ‘Drank himself to death, which mean we not have to endure him any longer.’

  ‘I’d like to propose a toast to our wonderful chef,’ Sandrine announces, her face already a little flushed. I flash her a smile, feeling a stab of annoyance as she pretends not to notice. ‘To Rajiv.’

  We raise our glasses as he stands and takes a little bow.

  ‘Don’t forget Drew.’ I hold my glass up to my friend. ‘For the delicious salad.’

  We take another drink, Drew giving me a wink of solidarity. Out of the corner of my eye I catch Arne regarding me thoughtfully, and feel suddenly self-conscious, for no reason I can put my finger on.

  The atmosphere begins to loosen as the alcohol hits our bloodstreams. Alex and Luuk look noticeably tipsy; Rob and Drew are chatting and laughing happily. Even Tom, who seems always to be on the periphery, is engaging Ark in an argument about the best Star Wars film, Alice and Caro listening with bemused smiles.

  I study Alice’s face. She has the kind of features you can barely tear your eyes from. A constant source of torment to several of the men here, especially as she’s entirely off limits – Alice lives in Brighton with her Italian girl
friend, and their five-year-old daughter Lydia.

  Not for the first time, I wonder how she can spend twelve months away from a child that young. But I already know the answer. Alice is studying the effects of climate change, and the Antarctic is an invaluable source of data on the impact of human activity on the planet.

  She’s here for the sake of her daughter, not despite her.

  ‘More champagne?’ Drew hovers the bottle above my glass.

  I place my hand over the top. ‘I should pace myself. After all, I’m the only doctor on the base.’ What if something happens and I’m not in a fit state to deal with it?

  ‘Relax,’ he reassures me. ‘We’ll be fine. Live a little, Kate – it’s a long winter ahead.’

  I relent and let him refill my glass, resolving to sip it slowly.

  As Rob and Rajiv hand out the desserts – chocolate mousse topped with little slivers of crystallised fruit – Sandrine bangs her spoon on the table and waits for silence.

  ‘To absent family and friends,’ she proposes, gazing around at everyone with a strangely pained expression, her smile tense and artificial.

  A general murmur as we raise our glasses and return the toast, followed by a silence that lasts a few beats too long. How many are remembering Jean-Luc, I wonder?

  In the event of my death.

  I think again of that letter, the one I found in my clinic, the one that has played on my mind ever since. The strangeness of it. Antarctica can be hazardous, sure, but rarely lethal. What prompted him to write it? And why hide it away like that?

  My eyes drift to Sandrine, now talking to Sonya, and I ask myself for the thousandth time why she didn’t send it on to UNA. What possible reason could there be for keeping that letter here? In the couple of months since that plane left, I haven’t come up with any explanation.

  It hasn’t helped warm me to our station leader. Plus there’s something aloof in her manner, something rigid and unyielding. The kind of woman who never breaks out of their role, like a bossy headmistress who treats the adults around her like wayward children.

  There’s no faulting her experience though: a doctorate in environmental science from the Sorbonne, plus two years on the French/Italian base, Concordia. No family, according to Caro, bar a pair of nieces.

  I take a sip of wine and find my gaze meeting Arne’s. My cheeks flush. Has he read my feelings about Sandrine on my face? I should make more effort, I decide. Try to get to know her. Give her the benefit of the doubt.

  ‘How’s the family holding up?’ Arne asks, turning to Ark.

  Ark nods genially. ‘Good. You know, waiting for chance to depose that pizdah.’

  ‘Pizdah?’ I frown.

  Caro comes to my rescue. ‘That cunt. He means Putin.’

  Ark nods. ‘Da. Is crook.’

  I raise an eyebrow at Caro. ‘I didn’t know you spoke Russian?’

  ‘Ark’s teaching me.’ She grins. ‘Starting with all the dirty stuff.’

  Ark laughs, but his expression remains wistful. Clearly he’s thinking of home. ‘You must miss them all,’ I say to him.

  ‘Of course. And my country too.’ He follows this with a deep sigh. ‘Is curse of all Russians – even if you hate the place, the system, it is in your blood, in here.’ He thumps his chest with one of his enormous fists. ‘I miss it all the time. Nasha rodina – my homeland.’

  He sniffs, then lets out another of his long guffaws. ‘But then you remember the money!’

  Everyone laughs, but Sandrine’s lips purse with disapproval.

  I lean towards her, determined to strike up a conversation, but my words are cut short by a loud thump as a fist hits the table, making the surrounding plates and cutlery jump with a clatter.

  ‘What the fuck?’ Alex shouts, glaring at Drew. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Calm down, man.’ Drew raises his hands in the air. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’

  Alex eyeballs him for a second, then stands so abruptly he nearly tips his chair. His eyes dart from one of us to the next, his expression full of accusation. We stare back at him in stunned silence.

  ‘You all think it was my fault,’ he slurs, swaying slightly. ‘Don’t you?’

  Ark rises to place a cautionary hand on Alex’s shoulder, but he shrugs it away.

  ‘You do,’ he shouts. ‘I know you fucking do. You think it’s my fault. You don’t say so, but that’s what you all believe.’

  He spins around and walks off, fists opening and clenching. Suddenly he raises his right arm and punches the wall so hard there’s an audible crack. As Alex slams out of the room, a fragment of plaster falls to the floor, revealing a sizeable dent in the plasterwork.

  That must have hurt.

  A lot.

  Caro turns to Drew, her expression perplexed. ‘What did you say to him?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Drew says, eyes wide. ‘The guy’s drunk is all, and upset about his sister’s wedding.’

  ‘I’ll go check he’s okay—’ I get to my feet.

  ‘No,’ Caro interjects. ‘Let me. I’ll fetch you if his hand needs attention.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Sandrine folds up her napkin and follows Caro out of the door.

  For a minute, nobody speaks. Suddenly Alice bursts into tears. Long gulping sobs. Sonya puts an arm around her, hugging her until her emotion subsides.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says, sweeping a napkin across her face. ‘It’s just getting to me, that’s all.’

  Drew seems nonplussed, but I watch him take a particularly long slug of his beer.

  What on earth did he say to Alex?

  I want to know, but have the sense not to ask. We’ve had more than enough drama for one evening.

  8

  1 May

  ‘Alcohol. Argument. Is like being back home.’

  Ark raises a few weak smiles as we sit in the lounge, feeling awkward, listening to the Abba track playing in the background.

  After a few minutes Tom shakes his head and gets to his feet, body rigid with tension, his expression an odd mix of confusion and dismay. ‘I’ve had enough,’ he says in his soft German accent. ‘I am going to do some work.’

  I nurse the dregs of my wine, wondering what to do. Should I go see Alex? Or wait for Caro to come and get me?

  You all think it’s my fault, don’t you?

  What did he mean? I recall Luuk’s taunt after the snowboarding accident out on the ice: That’s a bit rich coming from you.

  I try to quell a growing sense of disquiet. Something isn’t right. Something I can’t put my finger on.

  What is going on here?

  I consider asking Alice, but I’m wary of setting her off again. Whether it’s grief for her dead colleague or distress at Alex’s outburst, the last thing I want is to unsettle her further.

  Sonya’s eyes linger on the doorway, her face clouded with concern – clearly she’s as troubled by this as I am. I glance at Arne, but he’s sitting back in his armchair, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

  I take the opportunity to study him more closely. He has the kind of looks that grow on you, I’ve noticed. The sort that become more attractive on closer acquaintance. I’ve come to admire Arne’s steadiness, his air of self-sufficiency, of keeping slightly aloof from the rest of the group.

  Ben was like that too. The kind of guy it was easy to overlook until you knew him better.

  But you didn’t really know him, did you? I remind myself, feeling the twitchiness that precedes the urge for another dose of medication. I think longingly of the pills in my wardrobe, wishing I’d brought some with me – but after dropping them that time in the boot room, I didn’t want to take the risk.

  ‘I really should check on Alex,’ I say, seizing the excuse, but Drew puts out a hand to stop me.

  ‘Let him sleep it off.’ He gets to his feet and fetches a bottle of wine. ‘Here. Have another drink instead.’

  Instead? I wonder for a moment if my friend has me sussed. If he put two and two togeth
er back in the boot room that day. But he’s right, I decide, as he pours me another glass of red. It would be better to check on Alex in the morning, when he’s calmed down. And sobered up.

  Sadly his outburst has taken the shine off the evening. One by one the others disappear, until only Drew, Alice, Luuk, and Rob remain.

  ‘Well, that was heavy,’ Drew says, after Arne bids us goodnight. ‘Not quite the evening I was expecting.’

  Rob sighs. ‘It’s the alcohol. The altitude makes it worse – one minute you’re slightly buzzed, the next you can barely stand up.’

  ‘And the rest,’ snorts Luuk. ‘It’s not just the booze making him paranoid.’

  I frown. Has Alex been smoking? But he didn’t seem stoned, more upset. I make a mental note to ask Caro – of all the people in the station, she seems closest to him.

  I attempt to engage Rob in conversation – he’s been friendly enough since my arrival on the ice, but in a bland, distant kind of way that leaves me knowing little about him. He has a chameleon-like quality, clearly happy in his role as Luuk’s sidekick.

  But before I get anywhere, Alice proposes another pool tournament, and Rob and Luuk leap to the challenge, leaving Drew and me alone.

  ‘Penny for them?’ Drew breaks my reverie, as I listen to the others baiting and teasing each other in the games room.

  I sigh. ‘Nothing much. Thinking over what I need to do tomorrow.’

  ‘Shelve it. It’s Sunday – you don’t need to do anything at all.’

  He’s right, though we rarely bother with weekends as such, given most of our work isn’t tied to standard hours. But we do aim to have one day a week – usually a Sunday – when we try to do other things. In my case, that’s not much. A video chat with my mother or sister. Perhaps summon up enough concentration to read a book.

  ‘You sure you’re all right?’

  Drew’s studying my face – though not in the usual way people do, eyes drawn inexorably to my scar. This is more penetrating, as if he’s trying to figure out something about me.

  ‘I’m fine. Just tired.’ I check my watch – not quite time for bed.

  ‘You work too hard.’