‘You’re right, she’s charismatic. We’re all half-under her spell, but I don’t think she knows that. You shouldn’t put her on a pedestal, Zoe.’ Karen shrugged. ‘Golden Girl is as flawed as the rest of us. Now I need to get out of this sun.’
Karen went to sit in the shade of the golf cart. So Bridget had forgotten to mention the research briefing. So what? She was a busy person. Busy people sometimes forgot things. Zoe processed what Karen had said. Had she put Bridget on a pedestal? It was true that she admired Bridget enormously and was grateful to her for this job. Zoe even envied her a little. Maybe more than a little. Bridget had it all. Drop-dead gorgeous and director of her own research centre. A doctoral thesis from the prestigious Marine Mammal Institute of California. And, to top it all off, she was engaged to Quinn. Zoe kicked idly at a steel bollard and stole a glance at Karen, who was fanning herself with a notebook and looking at her phone. Maybe that’s why Karen had said the things she did? Maybe she was jealous of Bridget too.
A dot in the distance grew larger and turned into a boat. Archie’s old timber-framed fishing vessel, Rambler, on its way in with a delivery. Karen was already on her feet and opening the esky lids. Zoe groaned. She should have nicked off while she could. Now it would be rude if she didn’t help.
‘Ahoy there.’ Archie threw Karen a line, and the stink of dead fish wafted over the wharf. He was a beefy, cheerful man in his fifties, with squinty eyes sunk deep in the sunburnt skin of his face. A faded Coca-Cola cap shielded his bald head from the Queensland sun. His short beard was salted with grey, and always looked like it could use a wash. ‘Got a beaut load for you today.’ Archie lowered the gangplank and carted a large crate down to the pier. It was filled with plastic bags of fish on ice: herring and whiting, squid and shrimp. Karen checked it over, nodded approval and started transferring bags from the crate into the eskies.
Archie turned to Zoe. ‘Any chance of giving old Archie a hand?’
‘Of course.’ She followed him up the gangway onto the flat, square stern. On one side a hold contained more crates of fish – and something else. Two live tanks: one with crabs and crays, and another holding a large octopus. The creature explored its stainless steel prison with questing arms, seeking an escape route.
Zoe had a soft spot for octopuses, ever since her adventure with the blue-ringed variety as a child. She’d also been very fond of Gloomy, her test subject back at Sydney Aquarium, and the sight of his doomed cousin filled her with pity. ‘How much for the octopus?’
Archie put down the crate of squid he was carrying and chuckled. ‘That bugger? Found him and a bunch of his mates in my pots stealing crabs. The rest were too quick for me. Got out before I had the pots up.’ Archie scratched his beard and coughed. ‘That feller was meant for bait.’ Zoe smiled. Better not tell him that fresh octopus went for thirty dollars a kilo at the Sydney fish market. ‘What do you want an octopus for?’ he said. ‘Usually I can’t hardly give’em away.’
‘For the seaquarium,’ said Zoe. ‘I want to put it on display.’
‘True?’ Archie looked puzzled.
‘True.’
‘Take him then.’ He lifted up the crate again. ‘He’s on the house.’ When they finished unloading the fish, Archie put the octopus into a green garbage bag and handed it to Zoe. ‘With old Archie’s compliments.’ He doffed his hat and headed back to the boat.
‘What have you got there?’ asked Karen.
Zoe opened the neck of the bag and an olive-coloured arm snaked out. She pushed it back down. ‘Can I have a tank for him? What about the one the baby seahorses were in?’
‘I guess so,’ said Karen. ‘Now that I think about it, people might be quite interested in an octopus.’
‘Of course they will be,’ said Zoe. ‘Just wait and see. Einstein here will be a star attraction.’
Karen laughed. ‘I know those things are supposed to be smart, but Einstein?’
‘Their brains are fascinating,’ said Zoe. ‘They run on a decentralised nervous system that evolved in a completely different way from vertebrate brains. Some scientists reckon they’re as intelligent as dogs.’
Karen flinched as an arm escaped the bag again. ‘That slimy octopus might be brainy, but I’d rather cuddle up with my cocker spaniel any day. Come on, let’s get this fish packed away. Then you can set up a tank for him. I have to go soon, so you’ll need to lock up by yourself.’
‘That’s fine.’ Zoe thought about the campaign party going on next door, the party to which she hadn’t been invited, and shrugged. ‘I’ve got nothing better to do.’
The octopus flowed from the garbage bag into the tank, and half-buried itself in the sandy bottom beside a rock. It turned from green to creamy-brown, blending in with the new background. Of medium size, with a muscular body. Little raised horns above its eyes gave it a devilish expression. Long arms with two rows of suckers crept towards the corner of the aquarium and explored the glass. Zoe had forgotten what an alarmingly alien animal an octopus really was. Jet-powered, master of camouflage, a shape-shifter. Three hearts pumping blue, copper-based blood around its boneless body. Zoe examined her prize more closely. A representative of Octopus australis by the look of it, commonly known as the hammer octopus, named for the club-like tentacle tip found in mature males. This specimen possessed no such modification. So Einstein was a girl. Zoe gazed into her strange, horizontal pupils. Hypnotised. Convinced a consciousness gazed back.
‘It’s beautiful.’ The sudden sound of a voice in the quiet made Zoe spin about. Josh stood right behind her, staring into the tank. Einstein buried herself deeper in the sand. A slow flush of embarrassment crept up the boy’s face. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, no, it’s fine. You startled me, that’s all.’ Zoe looked around, but there was nobody else in the seaquarium. ‘Where’s Bridget? Did she come back for something?’
‘No.’
‘What are you doing here by yourself? Does Bridget know?’
He shifted uneasily. ‘I’m allowed.’
‘Of course you are,’ said Zoe. ‘I just mean . . .’ What did she mean? She had no idea what Josh was or wasn’t allowed to do.
He pointed to the octopus. ‘What’s his name? Can I feed him?’
‘Her name is Einstein and, yes, you can feed her. I was just going to see if she’ll eat.’ Zoe fetched some live shrimp from the storeroom breeding tanks. She let Josh drop a few in and they stood back to watch. A large shrimp trundled along the sand towards the rock. To Zoe’s great delight, Einstein billowed from her hiding place, glowing pink with excitement, and enveloped the unfortunate crustacean with her mantle.
‘How does she eat?’ asked Josh.
‘She has a sharp beak, like a parrot,’ said Zoe. ‘She also has poison, like a snake, to paralyse her prey. An enzyme in her saliva breaks down protein. Turns the inside of the shrimp into liquid, and she sucks it up like you’d suck up a milkshake through a straw. Look, she’s going for another one.’
Josh was captivated by the scene being played out before him, they both were. When Zoe finally checked her watch, it was after seven o’clock. ‘How are you getting home, Josh? Is Quinn picking you up? I might need a lift.’ She rather fancied a lift from Quinn.
‘He’s at a party,’ said Josh. ‘I didn’t want to go. He said I could stay at the shack tonight.’
‘The shack?’
‘You know, that little bungalow up on the cliff above the beach.’
‘I thought it wasn’t fit to stay in?’ said Zoe.
‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ said Josh. ‘I like staying there. I get to spend time with the dolphins when nobody’s around.’
‘That must be fun.’
Josh nodded and grinned. Such a good-looking kid, with no outward sign of his disability. Except, perhaps, for a certain naivety in his expression, a naivety more commonly found in children. ‘We could go there if you like?’
‘Okay.’ She was curious about the place where she’d been meant to stay bef
ore Bridget changed her mind. During the past week she’d often gazed up at the little bungalow, balanced halfway up the rocks between the Reef Centre and Cliffhaven. How had it ever won planning approval? Its windows overlooked both the ocean and Dolphin Harbour. A steep drive cut into the cliff provided car access from a private road at the back, and a series of steep stone steps led up directly from a gate set in the side fence of the centre. They’d be a challenge for somebody afraid of heights, but nothing could be as tough as that first day, climbing the lookout tower. And there’d be a spectacular view out to sea as a reward. Zoe put the last few shrimps into the tank, and checked the filter was working properly.
‘Right Josh, lead the way.’
‘This is gorgeous.’ Zoe wandered from room to room. The charming retro decor gave it a fifties surf-shack feel, but it also had all the mod cons. Newly renovated by the looks of it, yet the classic laminex kitchen table was the same as her grandmother’s. Woven cane hoop chairs, red gloss kitchen cupboards and colourful wall prints. Wide windows offered a stunning, one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the foreshore and rocky, coral coast. Unlike the Swallowdale guesthouse, the place oozed warmth and character.
Zoe ventured, white-knuckled, onto the little balcony with its quaint wrought-iron patio setting for two. The structure seemed to perch in mid-air. She took some deep breaths to steady her racing heart and held tight to the railing. A timber stairway, painted to match the shack’s white weatherboard exterior, led down from the covered deck to a sheltered beach below. She ducked back inside to safety. How wonderful it would be to live here. How perfect. Zoe tried idly to twirl a finger in her too-short hair. Why had Bridget said this place was rundown?
The north-facing windows overlooked what must be the rear of Cliffhaven, giving her a bird’s-eye view. There was one of those infinity pools, where the edge was meant to look like it joined the sea. From her vantage point, Zoe could see through the illusion. Beyond it lay an ocean swimming hole, bounded by a natural rocky ledge. A crowd was gathered around a white marquee set up on a lawn area above the beach. Two people were setting up tiki torches, and a man in a chef’s hat was tending a pig on a spit. ‘Is that the party you didn’t want to go to?’ Josh glanced down briefly at the festivities and nodded. Zoe looked longingly at a girl filling glasses with bubbling champagne. ‘It looks pretty swish.’
Josh grabbed her hand, led her back onto the balcony and pointed out to sea. ‘Dolphins.’ Sure enough, a pod of dolphins was surfing just offshore. Josh disappeared inside briefly and returned with two pairs of binoculars. ‘Here.’ Zoe had to let go of the railing to take them. She adjusted the lenses. The dolphins were circling now, backs gleaming in the late sunshine as they arched through the water. ‘They might be rounding up a school of pilchards or whiting,’ she said. ‘Yes, yes. Look at those gulls and terns. They’re swooping on a ball of baitfish. You can see its shadow, moving beneath the surface. Now gannets are joining in too. Look at the size of them, just like mini dive-bombers.’ It felt like she could almost reach out and touch them.
‘Sharks,’ said Josh.
Zoe raised her binoculars a little. Half a dozen dark forms were moving in fast from the reef. Larger than the dolphins, and deeper swimmers, they ripped into the bait ball, splitting it in two. ‘Hammerheads.’ From the deck they had a front-row seat for the unfolding drama. The large, oddly-shaped sharks bore eyes at each end of their elongated heads, giving them a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of their underwater world. Smaller reef sharks were joining in. Predators from above and below, working together, putting aside their differences to divide and conquer. After ten minutes, all that remained of the huge shoal were a few scattered schools of fish, powerless to avoid the sheer numbers of their pursuers.
Zoe put down her binoculars, breathless with excitement. ‘Thank you so much for bringing me here, Josh.’ The boy grinned at her. ‘Have you had any dinner?’
‘No.’
‘Fancy a walk into town? We could get fish and chips?’ she said. ‘My shout.’
Zoe put the parcel down on the table between them and opened the butcher’s paper. Steam rose into the twilight. They sat out on the deck to watch the sunset, drinking lemonade and sharing their chips. Josh started on a piece of crisp battered whiting while Zoe unwrapped her hamburger. Since starting work at the Reef Centre she couldn’t bring herself to eat fish any more. Josh shovelled food in at a great rate, chewed with his mouth open, slurped his drink and burped unashamedly, but in this informal setting it seemed quite natural. She was no expert on teenage boys. Perhaps they all ate like that.
‘So you were a champion endurance rider,’ said Zoe. ‘I’m impressed.’ The words had already slipped out before she realised how tactless her remark was. What if he’d rather forget all that? What if it dredged up terrible memories about the accident? But one look at Josh’s face dispelled her fears. His eyes shone with pleasure and pride.
‘I won six trophies,’ he said. ‘I could win more too, if I could ride again.’
‘You don’t ride any more?’
‘Nope.’
‘Did the doctor say you can’t?’
Josh hung his head. ‘Quinn.’
‘I suppose he’s just trying to look after you. Keep you safe.’
‘I don’t want to be safe.’ Josh threw a chip to a waiting gull. ‘I want to be happy. I want to live.’
The misery in his voice caused a cloud to settle on her. ‘Can’t you talk to your brother? Make him understand how important this is to you?’
‘We used to talk.’ Josh swallowed hard. ‘We used to talk a lot. Not any more. Not since Dad died.’
‘What about Bridget?’ asked Zoe. ‘Perhaps she could get through to him?’
‘She won’t go against him.’
Zoe flared with indignation on Josh’s behalf. If he was physically fit and capable, and he certainly seemed to be, why shouldn’t he ride again? This was the first time she’d spent an extended period of time with Josh. Once you got used to his halting speech, poor table manners, and lack of respect for personal space, there wasn’t much wrong with the kid.
‘Would you like me to try?’ she asked. ‘See if I can make Quinn understand?’
‘Maybe.’ He gave her a shy smile. ‘Maybe, yes?’
‘I’ll corner him when I can,’ said Zoe. ‘How about in return, you help me with Cobber? I’m a beginner at this horse-riding caper, and Quinn couldn’t possibly object to you giving me some tips from the ground.’
Josh extended his arm. ‘It’s a deal.’
They laughed and shook hands. Live jazz music drifted up from below, along with the soft background murmur of party conversation. It merged with the song of the sea into a kind of lullaby. Zoe yawned. She’d had a big day. Life in Kiawa was so in-your-face. She’d rarely ever felt physically tired back in Sydney. ‘How am I going to get home?’
‘Stay here,’ said Josh. ‘There’s a spare bedroom.’ He grabbed her hand, pulled her inside and led her to a charming little room with a single bed. Zoe peered through the bamboo blind at the window. It overlooked the centre. She could see the rising moon reflected in the waters of Dolphin Harbour. ‘Where do you sleep, Josh?’
‘On the other side.’
‘Show me.’ She followed him back into the lounge and down the short hall to what was clearly the master bedroom. Built-in robes, en suite and an ocean view to die for. The mess, unmade bed and clothes-strewn floor indicated that Josh often slept here. ‘Do you think Bridget or Quinn would mind if I stayed?’ Josh shook his head. Zoe yawned again. She was tired, very tired. Too tired to walk the few kilometres back to Swallowdale. What else was she supposed to do? There were no taxi ranks in Kiawa.
CHAPTER 9
The old-fashioned, wind-up alarm clock woke Zoe more effectively than her phone ever had. Great idea, no snooze button. Although why she’d set an alarm she didn’t know. Tuesday was her day off. She sat up, worked out how to turn off the twin jangling bells and checked the tim
e. Six o’clock. A warm breeze lifted the blind at the open window. She could taste the sea and hear the tide going out, in the slapping rhythm of waves on the beach. Heaven. Maybe it was just as well she hadn’t been invited to last night’s party, with all that champagne on offer. Since coming to Kiawa she’d woken up every single morning with a clear head.
A soft knocking came at the door. Josh opened it a crack. ‘I’ve made toast.’
She rubbed sleep from her eyes. ‘Be there in a minute.’ The door closed. Zoe dragged herself out of bed and grabbed her clothes from where they lay higgledy-piggledy on the rattan chair.
She dressed quickly and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Hmm . . . her shorts seemed looser than usual. She hiked them up a few times without success. Was she losing weight? Habit told her to jump on the scales. It had been a depressing part of her daily routine in Sydney. But there weren’t any scales. There weren’t even any full-length mirrors – not here in the shack or back in her little cottage, or even in the guest bathroom of the main house at Swallowdale. Apparently people in Kiawa didn’t worry too much about how much they weighed or what they looked like. The irony was that most of them looked fantastic, with the kind of fit, natural grace that went hand in hand with sunny weather and an outdoor life.
Zoe headed to the kitchen, drawn by the cheerful sound of a whistling kettle, chuffed by the idea that soon she might actually have to buy a belt for her shorts. Rounding the corner, she stopped dead in the doorway. Josh was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a tall man she didn’t know was lifting the large red kettle from the stove. He was older, fifty at a guess, wearing sharply creased trousers and a white business shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Not conventionally handsome, perhaps, mouth too wide and nose too thin. Still, with his penetrating blue eyes, thick, dark hair and an erect bearing he was most certainly a man of presence. And there was something oddly familiar about him. He smiled, his teeth perfect and white beneath a clipped brown moustache. ‘Coffee?’
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