Turtle Reef

by Jennifer Scoullar

  Zoe sniffed a few times, screwed up her nose then checked her watch. ‘Leo’s picking me up at the jetty in ten minutes.’

  ‘Leo? Leo Macalister, the mayor?’

  ‘He’s taking me on a daytrip to Lady Elizabeth Island.’

  Karen whistled through her teeth. ‘You’re a dark horse.’

  ‘Oh, please,’ said Zoe. ‘He’s fifty.’

  ‘So’s George Clooney,’ said Karen. ‘What does Bridget think about it?’

  ‘I’m not sure she knows.’ Zoe stripped off her top and threw it to Karen. ‘Thanks. Better have that shower now or I’ll be late.’

  ‘Welcome aboard,’ said Leo over the drone of the motor. He took her hand as she jumped from the dock to the rear boarding platform, holding it for a fraction longer than necessary, then nodded to the man at the helm. ‘We’re ready to cast off, Simon. Hold her firm.’ The gleaming black and white cabin cruiser rode high and proud in the water, the name Flipper emblazoned across her bow. Leo came aboard, then hauled in the line.

  ‘What a gorgeous boat,’ said Zoe.

  ‘Isn’t she just?’ Leo’s voice swelled with pride. ‘Bridget named her, as if you can’t guess.’ He secured the rope and heaved a satisfied sigh. ‘Let me introduce you to our fellow travellers.’

  Zoe followed him through the starboard door to the cockpit area, where a balding middle-aged man sat in the revolving captain’s chair. He swung round to greet them, his ruddy face alight with pleasure.

  ‘I’m Simon Bennett,’ he said, turning the helm over to Leo. ‘And this is my wife, Carla.’ A thin blonde woman in her thirties lounged on a rear bench seat. She acknowledged Zoe with a warm smile and adjusted her brightly patterned sarong.

  ‘Make yourselves at home,’ called Leo, as he revved the engine and took the boat slowly out. ‘Drinks and snacks in the icebox under the servery. We’re off to the southern-most coral cay of the Great Barrier Reef, one of the seven natural wonders of the world.’ Zoe settled herself on a comfortable portside seat at the fore of the boat, away from the other guests, and prepared to enjoy the ride. Lady Elizabeth was one of the most remote islands in Turtle Reef National Park, further out than she’d been before. She’d heard about the wild dolphins offshore and was hopeful of a sighting.

  Flipper travelled northeast at a fair clip: past the Cape Bounty lighthouse, into the bay proper. They were aiming for the Pass, a deep-water channel providing boats with safe passage through the treacherous shallow seas of the inner reef. Zoe was getting to know Kiawa Bay.

  ‘Perfect day for it,’ called Leo without turning round. He was right about that; it was sunny and still, with a few cottonwool clouds overhead.

  Zoe crossed over to the captain’s chair and stood behind him, staring curiously at the high tech helm, its walnut panelling the only nod to the past. ‘That’s a fancy dashboard.’

  ‘Isn’t it a beauty?’ he said. ‘Ritzy compass right here in the centre, state-of-the-art Faria instruments . . . there’s even a digital depth sounder in case I misjudge the Pass.’ Leo pointed to a separate panel. ‘Light switches, anchor winch controls, trim tabs.’ He glowed with pleasure, seeming ten years younger out here on the water. ‘Wait till you see below – all mod cons, even a built-in wine rack.’

  ‘Um, I suppose there’s a toilet?’

  Leo stood up. ‘Simon! Take over will you?’ He slid open a section of moulding and a door magically appeared. Down they went, to small but comfortable living quarters – bathroom, galley, dinette, queen-size bed.

  ‘You could live on this thing,’ said Zoe.

  ‘That’s my dream,’ said Leo. ‘Cruise north, island-hop, take my time – with the right companion, of course.’ He winked, but it didn’t come across as sleazy as much as light and flirty. ‘How about some music?’ He tapped a panel – instant jazz. ‘Just thought I’d give you the heads-up re our guests.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Simon and Carla are potential investors.’

  ‘Investors in what?’

  ‘They’re looking to construct a multimillion-dollar resort.’ Leo glanced around him as if the cabin walls had ears. ‘The original plan was to build a bit further up the coast, or go south to Bargara. I’ve convinced them to take a gander closer to home.’

  ‘A resort?’ Zoe must have sounded doubtful.

  ‘Don’t worry, you and Bridget will approve,’ he said. ‘Part of the profits will go to help local wildlife.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Wildlife attracts tourists, right? Your dolphins, for instance? They’d be a real hit. Anyway, the Bennetts want to go green – sustainability, recycling, restaurants using all local produce. You know the drill.’

  ‘Like an eco-resort?’ said Zoe.

  Leo nodded. ‘It would be just the boost this town needs. But keep it under your hat, will you? It’s all very hush-hush for now.’

  ‘Fantastic,’ said Zoe. ‘Eco-tourism is a great way to show off Turtle Reef, and protect habitats at the same time.’ She was swept up in Leo’s excitement. ‘At the moment there’s hardly anywhere for visitors to stay around Kiawa, even if they wanted to. Before I realised that board and lodging came with the job, I went looking for accommodation myself. Nobody wanted to know me. Even the estate agent seemed unfriendly. No private rooms to let, or flats or holiday rentals. I couldn’t believe it.’

  Leo nodded. ‘Kiawans are a funny mob. Like things just the way they are. They’re not one bit interested in having a lot of strangers come in and change things. I was the same, to tell you the truth, and not so long ago either. In love with tradition. We Macalisters are fifth-generation canegrowers, same as Quinn Cooper’s mob. Kiawa royalty, some folks call us. I still lease out a few farms, wouldn’t be without them. But getting into local politics has been an eye-opener. The problem is, we still see ourselves as a sugar town, which we are, of course. Eighty per cent of agriculture in this region is still cane. But it leaves new opportunities going begging. All the young people will end up leaving and Kiawa will be an irrelevant backwater.’

  ‘What are you two doing down there,’ bellowed Simon. ‘Or shouldn’t we ask?’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Leo smiled. ‘You’ll give me a reputation, young lady.’

  Topside again, and Zoe curled up in her seat to watch the ocean. Nothing but the occasional diving tern. She sighed and stirred. Was that something in the distance? Dark dots in the water, coming in at a tangent? Yes, the tell-tale fins of dolphins. And then they were all around the boat, a dozen or more, surfing Flipper’s bow waves in an age-old dolphin sport. ‘Look,’ she shouted, wishing the hull didn’t ride so high, wanting to be in one of the centre’s little runabouts so she could be closer to the water. This was the first time she’d seen wild dolphins, and these weren’t just common bottlenoses. Slender rostrums and the bump in front of their elongated dorsal fins told her they were Indo-Pacific humpbacks, a species she’d never seen before.

  Carla hung over the side while Simon rushed for his camera. The animals braced their tails against the thrust of the wave, hurtling forwards with fearless abandon, the epitome of joie de vivre. Occasionally one rocketed ahead or took a turn at the stern, but mostly they just enjoyed their free ride at the bow. Zoe thought of a line from Moby Dick, a novel she’d loved since studying it at high school. How did it go again? Hailed with delight by mariners, full of fine spirits, they are the lads that live before the wind.

  Two dolphins arced from the water in unison. They seemed to remain poised in mid-leap, silhouetted against the sky, before knifing underwater without a splash. What would it be like for them? That brief, blinding silence, then back into the arms of the ocean to travel who knew where? How empty were the lives of captive animals by comparison? Maybe she should talk to Bridget, convince her to re-evaluate her dolphins. Make a new effort to return them to the wild.

  ‘Will we see dugongs?’ asked Carla.

  ‘Not out here,’ said Zoe. ‘They live close to shore, where they can graze on the seagrass meadows. Kiawa is rather special in that it h
as a large population of dugongs.’

  ‘I’ll make a point of seeking them out,’ said Carla. ‘Some people say they’re ugly, but I think they’re adorable.’

  ‘Olden-day sex-starved sailors would agree with you. From above, the dugong’s curves apparently looked like women to them. They mistook them for mermaids.’

  ‘That’s marvellous.’

  A shadow appeared on the horizon, looming larger by the minute. ‘There she is,’ called Leo. ‘The Lady herself.’

  Half an hour later they dropped anchor twenty metres offshore from the prettiest little island imaginable. Vast columns of coral, so tall they nudged the surface, encircled a turquoise lagoon. Beyond lay snow-white beaches fringed by she-oaks and pandanus palms, then a tropical pisonia forest, looming lush and mysterious.

  ‘It’s straight from a movie set,’ said Zoe. ‘Or a David Attenborough documentary.’

  Leo stepped to the stern and took a bucket of bait from a locker. ‘Watch this.’ They looked over the side as he fed the breathtaking array of fish that gathered. Sleek reef sharks. Two large speckled groupers. Throngs of coral trout, dazzling in orange and blue – the signature species of a healthy reef. Zoe had never seen so many fish in one place. ‘It’s a Green Zone out here,’ said Leo. ‘Hasn’t been fished for fifty years.’

  Zoe took in the pristine scene with a jolt of joy, aware like never before of the reef as a single, breathing organism. From migrating humpback whales to the humblest polyp, everything was vitally connected. She looked towards the island. ‘How do we get there?’

  ‘Swim.’ Leo lifted the rear bench seat to reveal an assortment of masks, goggles and fins. ‘Forget Far North Queensland,’ he said. ‘Some of the best snorkelling in the world is right here in front of us.’

  Carla unwound her sarong to reveal a toned, taut body in a purple bikini. She drew admiring glances from the men and caused Zoe to make some unflattering comparisons with her own figure. She didn’t want to stand on deck in her bathers beside the beautiful Carla.

  ‘Do you have your togs on beneath your clothes?’ Leo asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You did bring them?’ Zoe nodded. ‘Well, go downstairs and change.’

  ‘Do we need wetsuits?’

  Leo shook his head. ‘The water’s warm enough, and there aren’t any marine stingers this far south. Quite a selling point, eh, Simon? No need for those ugly stinger suits.’

  Zoe gave a little sigh. She could use a top-to-toe lycra outfit right about now, however unflattering.

  ‘Hurry up,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We’re wasting all this lovely sunshine.’

  ‘Let’s have a cold drink while Zoe changes,’ said Simon. ‘How about a round of that brewed ginger beer Bundaberg’s so famous for?’

  Zoe emerged from the cabin, wearing her black one-piece and a towel wrapped around her waist. She stepped onto the deck, burning with self-consciousness, but thankfully the others were sorting through the jumble of equipment, and paid her no attention.

  Simon adjusted his goggles. He was a big bear of a man, not quite the right size for the flimsy speedos he was wearing, but he didn’t seem to care. ‘Know what I love about swimming?’ He clasped his generous belly in two large hands and jiggled it. ‘This big sucker doesn’t weigh me down.’ They all smiled. She envied him. How did men manage it, inhabiting their bodies with such confidence, whatever the shape? Although that wasn’t true of all of them. The hordes of self-obsessed gym junkies back in Sydney were as vain as any woman. She inhaled, drawing air deeply into her lungs. That’s all it was – vanity. Zoe dropped the towel.

  There it was, the dreaded once-over from the others. She braced herself against the embarrassment, wishing she could crawl into a nice safe wetsuit. But to her surprise she received the same subtle nods of approval as the lovely Carla had. In fact, Carla herself wore the most appreciative expression of all. ‘That’s a lovely swimsuit. I like the style. A well-cut one-piece is so much more flattering than the average bikini. Where did you get it?’

  She couldn’t very well say Target, could she? ‘I don’t remember. Somewhere in Sydney . . .’

  Simon came to her rescue. ‘Last one in’s a rotten egg.’ He jumped off the dive platform with an enormous splash. Laughing like a schoolboy, Leo followed his lead, leaving Carla and Zoe to make a more dignified entry into the clear, buoyant water of the sheltered cove.

  All around them lay a tapestry even more vivid than Turtle Reef. Brightly coloured parrot fish abounded and were utterly fearless. Zoe could hear the soft chomping of their beaks as they grazed on the branching coral gardens. Blue-spotted lagoon rays scooted past and, look, there went a shovelnose shark, with its strange triangular snout.

  So intent was she on her observations that she bumped into Leo. They both got a fright, losing concentration and gasping for air through their snorkels, before breaking the surface and pushing up their masks. ‘Let’s swim to the island,’ he said. They struck out for Lady Elizabeth, Simon and Carla following close behind.

  Before long their feet found purchase on the shallow shore. They left their equipment beneath a windswept casuarina tree, safe from the incoming waves, and set off along the beach. But it was like no beach that Zoe had ever known. Instead of sand, millions of stark white coral fragments crunched musically underfoot. Leo indicated the splendour all around with a wide sweep of his arm. ‘You could run daytrips out here, anchor a pontoon offshore, give glass-bottom boat rides.’

  ‘Do you get those crown-of-thorns starfish?’ asked Simon. ‘I hear they can devastate a coral reef in no time.’

  ‘Never seen one south of Mackay,’ Leo said.

  ‘What about turtles?’ asked Simon. ‘You get turtles?’

  ‘Three different kinds,’ said Leo triumphantly, as if he’d organised them himself. ‘Loggerheads, greens and hawksbills. Lady Elizabeth is a major rookery, and there are plenty more nesting sites along the coast near Kiawa.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Zoe. ‘I volunteer for the Turtle Watch program at Kulibari Beach. We do night-time shore patrols to protect laying mothers and help hatchlings to the water. In some places there are nests every few metres.’

  ‘What did I tell you?’ said Leo. ‘Nothing draws tourists like baby turtles.

  Simon stared out to sea, then pivoted slowly on one heel, completing a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree sweep of the stunning beauty on display, taking it all in. He glanced at Carla and received an approving nod.

  A smile played across Leo’s lips, as if he sensed victory. ‘So . . . what do you think, you two?’

  ‘What’s not to like?’ Simon shrugged. ‘Coral cays, pristine waters, iconic wildlife.’ He gestured towards Zoe. ‘Beautiful women with trick dolphins, for Christ’s sake. It’s exactly what we’ve been looking for.’

  CHAPTER 12

  Josh frowned and tipped his hat forward as Zoe bumped around the manège. ‘Not like that,’ he said.

  ‘How then?’ she asked.

  ‘Just ride properly.’

  Zoe pulled on the reins. Cobber continued his shambling trot for a while and then came to an abrupt halt. Zoe fell forwards onto his neck. ‘Josh, you can’t just say ride properly. You have to tell me what I’m doing wrong.’

  A cloud of frustration darkened his face. ‘I know what to do, I just don’t know how to tell you.’ He stared at the ground and kicked at the base of a post.

  ‘Let’s try again,’ said Zoe. ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Go round,’ he said without looking up. Zoe kicked her horse into a trot again. Cobber angrily swished his tail and kept yawing to the left, aiming for the stable. Zoe struggled to straighten him up, pulling on the right rein and trying to remember to rise to the trot.

  Riding in the ring was a lot harder than following along behind the other horses. So much to remember. It was like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time. Cobber poked his nose and opened his mouth to avoid the action of the bit. He veered towards the gate,
jaw braced, and broke into a canter. Josh rushed to close it, causing Cobber to swerve at speed. Zoe lost her balance and hit the ground before she had time to be scared.

  She could taste dirt. Grit found its way into her eyes making everything blurry. But it wasn’t like when she fell off as a girl. No excruciating pain in her shoulder, no gasping for air that would not enter her lungs. The reality was infinitely less frightening than the memory. Josh came over. ‘Don’t worry, I’m all right.’ She climbed unsteadily to her feet, blinking like mad until her vision cleared.

  But instead of concern on Josh’s face, there was anger. ‘You’ll ruin everything.’

  She eyed him warily while catching her breath. Then she brushed herself off and went to catch Cobber. What did Josh mean? It’s not like she fell off on purpose. ‘We can stop if you want.’

  This seemed to infuriate him further. ‘If you fall off, Quinn will stop you riding. That’s what he did with me.’

  ‘It’s not the same thing,’ she said. ‘Your brother won’t stop me riding just because I came off. I’m not hurt.’

  ‘He will so,’ said Josh, ‘and then I won’t be allowed down to the stables any more.’

  So that was it. Quinn hadn’t wanted Josh to teach her. He’d needed a lot of persuading and it wouldn’t take much to make him change his mind.

  ‘I’ll try my hardest not to fall off again,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

  That seemed to mollify him. ‘Get on,’ he said. ‘And trot in a circle.’

  Zoe tried a second time, but the same thing happened. Cobber ignored her steering, carted her to the gate and promptly fell asleep. He stood there, immoveable, swishing his tail and resting a hind leg, dozing in the sunshine.

  ‘No,’ called Josh, his voice rising. ‘That’s wrong. You need to leg yield.’

  ‘What’s leg yield?’

  He looked blank. This was hopeless. Why did she ever think that Josh could teach her anything. ‘I give up.’ She dismounted. ‘If you can’t tell me what I’m doing wrong, this won’t work.’