Turtle Reef

by Jennifer Scoullar

  CHAPTER 18

  Zoe sat down at the comfortable cane setting on the jasmine-laden verandah, wondering where Bridget was and hoping she wouldn’t join them. Not a mug or teabag in sight. Quinn made a brew of black leaf tea in a pretty china pot and set out rose-patterned cups and saucers like her own grandmother might do. Even a morning cuppa was done with unhurried, old-style elegance at Swallowdale.

  ‘Ah, I forgot the cake.’ Quinn rose from his chair just as his phone rang.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Zoe waved him back down. ‘I’ll get it.’

  She wandered in through the glass-panelled double doors. On her way back from the kitchen, a framed photograph of a man caught her attention. It was similar to one of those paintings where the subject’s eyes followed you around the room. She moved to the left and then to the right, but couldn’t escape the man’s magnetic, oddly familiar gaze. His dark hair was turning to grey but he still had the look of a man in his prime. He stood before a flaming field of cane, weight on his front foot and shoulders forward, like a bear on the attack. This must be Marshall Cooper, Quinn’s father.

  Zoe tore herself away and took the fruitcake outside, setting the willow pattern plate on the table and cutting two generous slices. ‘Tell me about your father.’

  ‘Dad?’ Quinn put down his cake as though he’d lost his appetite. ‘Everybody respected him. He was president of Kiawa Rotary, the Canegrowers’ Association, the local agricultural show society . . .’

  ‘You sound like you’re writing his biography. I mean what sort of a person was he?’

  Quinn stayed quiet for so long that it seemed he might not answer at all. ‘Fiercely proud of his family and of Kiawa’s traditions. Hard but fair, and old-school smart. Nobody ever got the best of him in a business deal. That’s not to say he dudded people. Dad was scrupulously honest. He always said “The qualities that make a man are honesty, respect and loyalty. And honesty is number one.” I feel exactly the same way.’

  Zoe examined the tea leaves in her cup. Great. Quinn valued honesty above all else, and here she was lying to him about Aisha. She’d better come clean, and soon.

  ‘That’s why it was so hard for me to let Josh ride again. Dad had said no, and I promised to honour his wishes.’

  ‘What sort of a father was he?’

  ‘Dad was my whole world when I was a kid, larger than life. I wanted to be just like him.’ He smiled. ‘It didn’t quite work out like that. I don’t have his toughness.’ Quinn shifted restlessly in his chair. ‘I wish you could have met him, Zoe.’

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get that chance.’

  ‘Dad was such an impressive person. Totally in charge. Absolutely fearless, even after we lost Mum. But when Josh had his accident? Well, something broke inside him and all that confidence leaked out through the cracks. It killed me to see it.’

  ‘What would the old, fearless Marshall have said about Josh riding again?’

  ‘The old one?’ Quinn grinned shyly, like a boy. ‘He would have said “Put the kid back on a horse.”’

  Zoe smiled too. ‘Which is exactly what you’ve done.’ She reached for his hand and squeezed it. ‘Maybe you’re more like your father than you think.’

  A voice called from inside the house. ‘Hello?’ Bridget came onto the verandah. If she noticed Zoe withdraw her hand from Quinn’s, she didn’t show it. ‘Well, this is nice. Morning tea, with my fruitcake centre stage. What’s the verdict, Zoe?’

  Josh followed her out and helped himself to a double-sized portion. ‘I like it better without peel.’ He crammed it into his mouth, dribbling crumbs.

  Bridget kissed Quinn on the cheek. ‘I went to the post office to collect a parcel, so I picked up your mail.’ She handed him some letters and turned her attention to Josh. ‘I’m heading to the centre. Fancy a lift? You can see our new turtles.’

  ‘What new turtles?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘Karen rang to say three new rescues came in this morning,’ said Bridget. ‘I don’t know where to put them. We’re overflowing with turtles at the moment.’ Bridget cut herself a thin sliver of cake. ‘So, Josh, are you coming?’

  ‘Quinn’s buying me new headphones because I put the horses away.’

  ‘You put the horses away?’ She shot Quinn a questioning look.

  ‘Zoe convinced me that Josh should be allowed to start riding again. The two of them have been on at me for a while now and I finally caved.’ Josh punched the air. ‘As far as those headphones go, mate, you’ll have to wait until our trip to Bundaberg on Friday for speech therapy.’

  ‘Hey, not fair,’ said Josh, but nothing could wipe the smile off his face.

  ‘Well, that’s great, Josh.’ Bridget stood behind Quinn’s chair with her hands on his shoulders. ‘Just as long as you don’t let him ride Aisha. I can tell you from personal experience that she can be dangerous.’ Josh hesitated, then opened his mouth to speak. He was going to tell for sure, and maybe it was the best thing. Maybe the time was right.

  ‘Don’t worry, Bridge,’ said Quinn. ‘Nobody’s going to ride that horse.’ He stood up and fixed his brother with a stern stare. ‘Hear that, Josh? Stick to Cobber for now. If all goes well I’ll see about getting you your own horse next year. But stay away from Aisha. If I see you anywhere near that mare, I’ll get rid of her.’

  Josh’s face fell. Blinking hard, he knelt down beside Captain and furiously stroked the dog’s head.

  ‘Don’t be like that, Josh,’ said Bridget. ‘Your brother’s doing you a favour.’ She kissed Quinn, turned on her heel and headed for the door. ‘Josh, let’s go.’ The boy gave Captain one last pat and trailed out after her.

  Zoe poured herself another cup of tea and forced a smile. No, not the right time after all. She’d give Quinn a day or so to get used to the idea of Josh riding again and then confess all. She’d warn Josh first, of course, but she was determined to do it, whether he liked it or not. Going behind Quinn’s back was weighing too heavily on her.

  ‘Your brother is an amazing kid,’ said Zoe. ‘He did well today.’

  Quinn sank back into the chair. ‘You’ll get no argument from me.’

  ‘Where did he go to school before the accident?’

  ‘The local high. I went there too. Dad didn’t put much store in private boarding schools. Said if it was good enough for him, it was good enough for us.’

  ‘Have you ever thought of sending Josh back there?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ said Quinn. ‘Bridget thinks it’s a bad idea. Says he’d be bullied and wouldn’t be able to keep up.’

  ‘At least he wouldn’t be on his own all the time,’ said Zoe. ‘Josh is pretty tough. Wouldn’t his old mates stick by him? What if he had an integration aid to help with school work? Josh is funny, and smart, and in some ways he’s very mature. After all, you let him stay at the shack overnight by himself.’

  ‘That’s because Bridget’s next door at Cliffhaven. She looks after him.’

  Quinn began to clear the table. Zoe picked up her cup and saucer. ‘It must have been hard for you when Bridget was away studying.’

  ‘I missed her like crazy,’ said Quinn. ‘Funny thing is, she didn’t really want to go in the beginning, but Leo expected his three girls to get a university education. It was a point of pride.’ Zoe followed him through to the kitchen. ‘Her older sister studied law. She’s a barrister in Sydney now. The middle one’s an architect. Bridget was a bit different. Prettiest girl at school, no doubt about that, but not much of an academic, not like her sisters. Bridget’s final year was really tough: maths, physics, chemistry, all the hard subjects.’ Zoe put her dishes down as far away as possible from the fearsome garbage disposal. ‘She worked her guts out, terrified she’d let her father down,’ said Quinn. ‘Her sister would shake Bridget awake when she fell asleep on her desk at midnight, and she’d keep right on studying. Even then she didn’t get into Queensland University like she wanted. Did a science degree at Armidale instead. After that she found her feet. Leo was sto
ked. Distinctions all the way and off overseas to study. I used to worry she wouldn’t come back.’

  ‘Plenty of international research opportunities for somebody with her qualifications,’ said Zoe.

  ‘I don’t doubt it, but I think Bridget has her heart set on the Reef Centre.’

  ‘And on you,’ teased Zoe.

  ‘Yes.’ He opened the dishwasher. ‘I suppose so.’ Quinn turned to her with a self-effacing and utterly charming look on his handsome face. Zoe placed her cup and saucer into the top rack and brushed against his shoulder. A charge passed through her, a tremor deep in her gut. Did he feel it too? Well, what if he did? It made no difference. There was no future for them. Bridget stood squarely in the way. Beautiful, talented Bridget. A woman Quinn shared a history with, was engaged to for Christ’s sake. A woman who deserved his loyalty. She slammed the dishwasher door shut, making the stacked plates rattle and shake.

  ‘Thanks for the cuppa, Quinn. I’d better get going. Those seagrass beds won’t map themselves.’

  With a cheery wave that belied her true feelings, Zoe walked out of the door, straight into Bridget who was coming back in. ‘I was hoping to catch you,’ she said. ‘I can’t find my training clicker. Have you got one I could borrow?’

  ‘Sure.’ Zoe pulled a clicker from the pocket of her jeans and handed it over. She turned to go.

  ‘Wait,’ said Bridget. ‘You dropped something.’ Zoe glanced back and her heart stopped. Bridget was flattening out a little ball of paper. She looked at Quinn. ‘This note’s for you, darling. It’s from Ed Owen.’

  Quinn took it from her hand. His expression darkened as he read it. ‘Why do you have this, Zoe?’ His eyes were accusing.

  ‘I —’

  ‘By the way,’ he read aloud, ‘. . . saw Josh riding a black horse like the devil was after him. I couldn’t catch him. Can that boy ever ride.’

  A vein began to throb at his throat. He read the note again. ‘What do you know about this, Zoe?’

  She couldn’t speak. The ugly silence yawned between them, growing fat and bloated, until she could bear it no longer. ‘I should have told you . . .’

  ‘Should have told me what?’

  ‘Josh has been working with Aisha, riding her.’

  Bridget gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

  ‘And you knew? Of course you knew. It was probably your idea.’ He slammed his fist down on the table. Bridget laid a hand on his shoulder but Quinn shook it away. He waved the letter in Zoe’s face. ‘I met Zoe King on the river track this morning. Her horse was lame . . .’ Cobber went lame two weeks ago. Have you and Josh been going behind my back all this time?’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘Not exactly. Josh hasn’t ridden Aisha since the day that note was written and it was the first time he rode her out of the manège. We were waiting for the right time to tell you. In fact, I think Josh was about to own up just before, but then you said you’d get rid of the mare if he ever went near her.’

  Quinn’s eyes were as cold as she’d ever seen them. He threw the note down. ‘For the record, that mare is as good as gone.’

  The heat of disappointment and embarrassment flushed through her like a physical pain. Tiny beads of sweat dotted her forehead. If only she’d come clean earlier. Should she try to explain? No, it was too late now. Explanations would sound insincere and self-serving. She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry.’ It was the best she could do.

  ‘Where’s Josh?’ asked Quinn.

  Bridget’s hands fluttered nervously. ‘Waiting for me out in the car.’

  ‘Get him.’

  ‘Quinn, no,’ said Bridget. ‘Let Josh come to work with me. Talk to him tonight when you’ve calmed down and had time to think.’

  It was good advice and Zoe hoped he’d take it. Josh was so happy. Happier than he’d been since the accident, Quinn had said so himself. It was Zoe’s fervent wish that he would not cut that happiness short on her account.

  Quinn nodded at Bridget. ‘Go on then.’ She aimed a reproachful frown at Zoe and escaped out the door.

  ‘Don’t blame Josh,’ said Zoe.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Quinn. ‘I’m blaming you.’

  ‘I really am sorry.’

  ‘The weird thing is, I believe that.’ He bowed his head, dragging his hands through his hair. ‘You don’t stop to think, do you, Zoe? Going through life, acting on impulse, saying whatever you feel, doing whatever you want. Not considering the effect on other people. It just doesn’t occur to you.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ she said. ‘You’re the one who’s not thinking about people, not thinking about Josh. What about how your decisions affect him? Your brother loves that mare and he’s a brilliant trainer. He has a gift, not just with horses but with dolphins too. Believe me, that kid speaks animal, and the truth is that Bridget would be lost without him. She doesn’t teach those dolphins at the centre – he does. That’s why she wants him there. And she uses the fact that he has a major crush on her to get her own way.’

  Quinn grabbed the bentwood back of the chair in front of him. His knuckles showed pale where he gripped it. ‘Get stuck into me if you want to, but leave Bridget out of it. She’s the best friend Josh ever had.’

  ‘Not much of a friend if you ask me.’ Zoe’s mouth was running at a million miles a minute, and she couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to stop it. There was a wild, cathartic pleasure in airing her doubts at last. ‘Keeping Josh from school so she can make use of him. Telling you his horse is unsafe when it’s not.’

  ‘So now you’re an expert on horses?’

  ‘Not an expert, no, but I’ve seen Josh work his magic on that mare for myself. Maybe Bridget’s telling the truth as she sees it. Maybe she’s just not as capable as people think. Maybe she’s afraid; I don’t know. Look at that curb she uses on Duchess when a snaffle would do. My guess is Bridget used that awful bit on Aisha and the mare wouldn’t stand for it. And I don’t blame her.’

  ‘Bridget’s a professional trainer,’ he said. ‘And you’re talking nonsense.’

  ‘Am I? How else do you explain her complete failure to make any progress with Aisha, when Josh had the mare eating out of his hand within days? I tell you, Aisha is not dangerous, at least not since Josh started working with her. Hell, she’s so quiet even I can ride her.’

  ‘You?’ Quinn snorted with disgust. ‘What a liar.’

  ‘Who do you think was riding Aisha today?’ asked Zoe. ‘Not Josh. He was with you all morning, wasn’t he?’ That gave him pause. She could almost hear him thinking. ‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘And I won’t ride your horses again. But please think about what I’ve said. Josh is miles more capable than you give him credit for, and you’ll break his heart if you sell that horse.’

  Quinn sank down on the chair and swallowed hard. ‘Go home, Zoe. Please, just go.’

  CHAPTER 19

  Quinn stood on the verandah as Zoe’s Lexus sped out the gate, wheels spinning on gravel. Clouds boiled in from the west as he walked from the house and down the line of macaranga trees along the drive. Their broad, heart-shaped leaves trembled. Despite the warm breeze his skin felt cold. Bloody hell, it was going to rain again, and they were weeks behind with the harvest as it was. Wet cane wouldn’t burn.

  Out of habit he whistled for Captain, half-expecting the dog not to show. But he came pelting through the garden from the direction of the guesthouse. Captain leaped around him, all smiles and waving tail but Quinn wasn’t fooled. He was the consolation prize for Captain these days. The moment Zoe arrived home the collie would desert him again.

  Captain settled at Quinn’s heel as he walked past the tennis courts. Left towards the turnout paddocks. Down the laneway and out the back. Quinn braced himself. There was Aisha, restless as ever, pacing the fence. Tail held high in that characteristic Arabian way, unsettled by the gusty wind. It was as he’d feared. The sight of her brought all the old pain crashing in and he fought the instinct to turn away. For the first time in a long time he r
eally looked at the mare. He’d forgotten what a beauty she was, even more lovely than her mother. Shiva’s championship lines showed in each stride she took.

  Aisha spotted him. With a piercing whinny and arched neck she pounded forwards. Her storm-black mane lifted and tossed like the crest of a dark wave. Could this be the quiet mount that Zoe had described to him? One that a virtual beginner had ridden just this morning? Hardly. She looked more like a devil horse.

  The mare galloped towards the five-railed gate at breakneck speed. If she didn’t slow down soon there was no way she’d stop in time. His chest tightened. Maybe it was for the best. A fleeting memory pierced the shield he’d built around his heart: Josh’s twelfth birthday, before it all went wrong. Aisha as a bold, inquisitive foal, prancing from the float behind her exquisite mother, delighting them all with her antics. He could still see the joy on his little brother’s face. Josh had dedicated every spare moment of his twelfth summer to the new charges. Sleeping down at the stables with them, training Shiva tirelessly for that last fateful ride and working hard to halter-break her beautiful black filly.

  A wave of nausea hit him. Quinn sprang forwards and raced for the fence. Could he turn her in time? Horse and man raced towards each other and reached the gate together. Too late. Quinn ducked aside, ready for the sickening thud of flesh and splintering timber. But instead of cannoning into the unforgiving rails, Aisha gathered her impossibly fine-boned legs beneath her and made a leap that would have made a Grand National winner proud. If not for an athletic mid-air twist, she would have fallen on top of him. Instead she landed, sure as a cat, beside him, extending her chiselled nose to touch his face.