Turtle Reef

by Jennifer Scoullar

  Kane swam close and slapped his tail as he went past, splashing them. ‘Now, can we get on with it?’ said Bridget. ‘I need him out of there. In fifteen minutes the show starts.’

  Or what’s left of it, thought Zoe. ‘Right, Josh, what do we do?’

  Bridget looked at Zoe, obviously unhappy to hear her talk to Josh as if he was in charge. Too bad. She wouldn’t play Bridget’s game any more.

  Kane cruised up and down the sea wall like a caged tiger. ‘Kane’s mad,’ said Josh. ‘I can’t do anything when he’s mad. Nobody can.’ He started up a nervous humming.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Bridget waved a useless herring in the dolphin’s direction. ‘And will you stop that damned humming.’ Josh went quiet. ‘Maybe I can chase him out.’ She slipped into the water. ‘Hand me your target pole.’ Karen obliged, and Bridget swam after Kane, waving the stick to urge him forward.

  Kane made a pass at the gate. A crack of thunder made Zoe jump, and the heavens opened. ‘Leave it,’ called Karen.

  ‘I’ve almost got him.’ Bridget lunged at the dolphin and he rapped her arm hard with his head as he rushed past.

  Josh pulled at Zoe’s arm. ‘Tell Bridget to come out.’ His face had turned grey.

  ‘Get out,’ yelled Zoe.

  Bridget ignored her. She probably couldn’t even hear through the pounding rain. Kane tried to double back, but Bridget headed him off. He was trapped between Bridget and the open gate. Surely he’d take the exit to the lagoon now?

  Bridget looked up at them with a smile of triumph, rain streaming down her face. For once she didn’t look at all glamorous. Kane floated, watching her with one eye, rhythmically slapping the water with his fin in a menacing way. ‘Go on.’ Bridget poked Kane with the pole.

  Zoe could hear Josh’s sharp intake of breath as he jumped into the pool. Too late. Kane rocketed straight for Bridget, jaws open. She lunged sideways, missing the full force of the powerful ramming motion. He swung his head towards her, teeth snapping. Bridget’s scream was almost drowned out by a deafening crack of thunder. Almost. Blood stained the water. Josh helped her to the side and they hauled her out. She seemed in shock, staring at the bloody rake wounds that ran across her left shoulder.

  Karen examined her. ‘The lacerations don’t look too deep, thank goodness,’ she said. ‘Zoe, can you take her to the hospital in Bundaberg? I’ll ring Quinn and get him to meet you there.’

  ‘Sure.’ Zoe rubbed Josh’s back. He was choking back sobs. A dark blur beneath the water caught her eye. Kane, dashing towards them where they huddled at the water’s edge. ‘Move!’ They scrambled back, struggling to keep their footing in the rivers of rain. Kane sprang for them, snapping his jaws twice, almost beaching himself with the force of his attack. Then he turned and raced for the sea wall. A vicious squall sent waves crashing over it as he made his leap for freedom. For a moment they couldn’t see a thing. All was sea spray and surging breakers. When the wind and waves abated, Kane was gone.

  They were all hypnotised, staring out at the stormy seascape, oblivious to the driving torrents of rain. Scanning the waves for a dark shape beneath the surface, or a tell-tale dorsal fin. But there was no trace of the fugitive.

  Practical Karen was the first to break the spell. She took Bridget by her uninjured arm. ‘Come on. Can’t have you bleeding to death.’ Josh looked horrified. ‘I’m joking, Josh. She’s going to be just fine.’

  She didn’t look fine. Bridget’s colour had drained away, leaving an odd pallor beneath her tan. She shivered uncontrollably. Karen and Josh supported her as they made their way to cover, and Zoe ran to get the car. By the time she returned for Bridget, Karen had expertly cleaned and bandaged her shoulder.

  ‘Easy does it,’ said Zoe. Josh helped Bridget into the passenger seat, then opened the back door.

  ‘No, you stay to help Karen.’ Bridget’s voice quavered.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Karen. ‘We’ll look after things here, won’t we, Josh?’

  Josh nodded and reluctantly let go of the door. He stood in the pouring rain, waving until they were out of sight. Zoe put the heater on. The gale tugged at the car, trying to wrest away control on the rain-slicked road. Driving took all Zoe’s concentration. In some ways it was a relief, this excuse not to speak. What to say?

  Bridget broke the silence. ‘You must be wondering why I’m having so much trouble with the dolphins lately.’

  Zoe didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t wondering at all. She knew exactly why.

  ‘I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’ve never been able to translate my academic knowledge of learning theories into practice.’ The colour was returning to Bridget’s face and she wore an expression of transparent honesty. ‘I’ve been trying to hide my total incompetence, with Josh’s help. Not wanting people to know what a failure I really am. Trying to impress you and Dad.’ She heaved a big sigh. ‘Please accept this as my official apology.’

  ‘The last time we went to the hospital,’ said Zoe, ‘you weren’t really sick, were you?’

  ‘No.’

  Zoe glanced across at Bridget, who was dabbing at the blood seeping through her bandage with a tissue. Her naked sincerity was disarming. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Why would you want to impress me?’

  ‘You’re a talented researcher, Zoe, with a great future, and your good opinion matters. I happen to admire you very much.’

  The conversation had taken a surprising turn. Zoe understood all too well about feeling inadequate, but she’d never imagined that it could be a problem for the illustrious Bridget Macalister. ‘And I admire you,’ said Zoe. ‘You’ve worked with some of my greatest heroes, the leading professors in their field. You’re director of your own marine park, pursuing absolutely vital marine mammal research —’ She stopped herself before saying, And you’ve got Quinn. ‘I couldn’t care less about who trains the dolphins. I don’t care if nobody trains them at all, as long as they’re happy.’ She swerved to avoid a fallen branch, bumping along the rutted edge of the road. Bridget groaned and Zoe flinched in sympathy. ‘Sorry.’ She slowed down. ‘And as for Leo, he thinks the world of you.’

  Bridget made a quiet sound, a soft sob of pain. ‘Zoe, if you only knew. I’ve spent my entire life trying to impress that man and I don’t think I’ve succeeded once.’ Bridget suddenly sat forwards and gripped Zoe’s arm. ‘You won’t tell him, will you?’ Her voice rose. ‘Leo, I mean. You won’t tell him Josh was training the dolphins?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Zoe. ‘It’s none of my business.’ Bridget collapsed back into her seat. ‘I don’t know what you’re worried about. Your dad’s already super proud of you. Why wouldn’t he be? Making a success of the Reef Centre, your outstanding academic achievements, your research work. It doesn’t matter to him if you can train dolphins. Nobody expects you to be good at everything.’

  ‘Dad does.’ They drove on in silence for a few minutes, while the storm ripped at the windscreen. ‘You seem to know a lot about what my Dad thinks.’

  ‘Leo’s been kind enough to show me round, take me out a few times. We’re friends, that’s all. He’s been really lovely to me.’

  ‘And generous,’ said Bridget.

  ‘Yes, and generous . . . But remember, a car was always in my contract.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Bridget. ‘Dad’s entitled to do what he likes, and so are you. I don’t mind a bit.’

  ‘I’ve got an apology to make too,’ said Zoe. ‘I shouldn’t have gone behind Quinn’s back like that when it came to Aisha and Josh. It was wrong.’

  ‘You’ve caused me a lot of problems,’ said Bridget. ‘Quinn’s got it into his head that Josh needs more supervision. It was your influence that caused him to rebel against the rules. Quinn’s keeping Josh home now, when I could really use him at the centre.’

  It felt good to get everything out in the open. Maybe they could rebuild their friendship? She pushed thoughts of Quinn from her mind: sitting together under the jasmine on
the verandah, sharing stories on moonlit Kulibari Beach, riding with him before it all turned bad.

  ‘Let’s start afresh,’ said Bridget. ‘No more secrets?’

  ‘Deal.’ Zoe pulled into the hospital emergency lane. Quinn was waiting for them. Her heart beat faster and she willed it to stop. ‘No more secrets.’

  CHAPTER 21

  A fortnight now, since she’d patched things up with Bridget. Zoe was spending most of her nights at the shack. With Josh kept busy at Swallowdale, the quaint little bungalow perched on the cliff was empty and available. Zoe loved drifting off to the lullaby of waves. She loved waking each morning to a sun-spangled sea or the dramatic swell of breakers before a storm. To the magnificent, old-fashioned shower rose that didn’t know the meaning of water-saving. To dolphins playing in the lagoon before the gates of the Reef Centre opened to other eyes.

  There were things she missed about Swallowdale, of course: Josh’s offbeat company; the weight of Captain’s comforting body pressed against her in the early hours; the earthy smell of Aisha’s warm neck. And Quinn. Her feelings hadn’t changed; she still desired him, still dreamed of him. But he was living with Bridget now. How was that going? Were they arguing, like Josh had said? Whatever the case, she would do nothing to spoil things for them.

  It was a relief in some ways to step away, to get some distance from all those conflicted feelings. Zoe threw herself into her work, mapping and sampling the remaining seagrass meadows in record time. Thank goodness she’d had the presence of mind to get her own sampling done, because Queensland University was still dragging its feet. She was tired of waiting for confirmation of what she already knew. Time for a bit of sleuthing, a bit of private investigation work, and she would start right in her own backyard, so to speak – in the Swallowdale chemical sheds.

  Zoe parked her car at the guesthouse and headed off on foot down the central laneway, the same path she’d ridden a few weeks earlier with Quinn and Josh. She kept a close lookout for curious eyes, but seemed to be all alone in this part of the farm today. When she reached the converted shipping container where she’d seen Rob refill the boom spray, Zoe put on a pair of disposable gloves and pulled a booklet from her pocket: Code of Practice for the Storage and Use of Chemicals in Rural Workplaces. She flipped to the checklist page and put a cross next to the first point. The door was not locked with a childproof latch as it should have been. In fact, the door wasn’t locked at all: it stood wide open. She glanced about before going inside. The light didn’t work when she flicked the switch – another cross. Ventilation seemed good, thanks to the line of spinning whirlybirds installed along the roofline. She ticked that box. Are chemicals protected from moisture? Tick. Is storage area fire-resistant? Tick. Are herbicides separated from insecticides and fungicides? This was a more difficult question. A few containers didn’t have labels at all, earning another cross on the page.

  Zoe didn’t know brand names, but she recognised ingredients, and they added up to a toxic chemical cocktail: Aldicarb and Atrazine, herbicides banned in the European Union; 2 4-D, known as a groundwater contaminant; Diuron, a carcinogen found at fifty times safe levels in her seagrass sediment samples. Fungicides were stored higgledy-piggledy among drums of pesticides like Aldicarb and Carbofuran. There were containers of liquid Chlorpyrifos – an insecticide known to kill off coral larvae – instead of the much safer slow-release granules. And over here, another unreadable label.

  Zoe moved further into the darkened shed, her vision taking time to adjust. How Rob managed to see a thing in here with his old eyes was a mystery. On a steel shelf lay piles of grimy two-ring binders. She picked one up, and the resulting cloud of dust made her sneeze. It was filled with forms. Chemical usage records – requiring dates and times, field numbers, chemical and quantity used, application rates, wind and speed directions, weather conditions. The list of questions went on. If filled out properly, the completed form would add up to a thorough and detailed record of each incident of chemical use on the farm. Problem was, the form was blank – they all were. She flipped through another folder, shaking her head at the multiple-choice final question. Tick the box beside Protective Equipment Used. Options included apron, gloves, face mask, goggles, respirator, filtered air tractor cab – as far as she could remember, Rob hadn’t even worn a hat!

  She wandered around, ticking and crossing her checklist, mainly crossing it. Two rusty steel drums smeared with gobs of dried mud stood near the door, their labels too faded to read. The screw cap of one was rusted on. She tried the cap on the second drum and managed to twist it open. Zoe took out one of the unused forms and dipped its corner into the liquid inside, shuddering involuntarily as she did so. Then she clipped it back into the front of the folder. Nearly done. Outside and round the back, in case she’d missed something. Nothing much to see, just an old corrugated-iron dunny. Trust Rob. Blank chemical use forms were impaled upon a bent nail on the wall – bush toilet paper.

  Zoe set off back home, folder under her arm. Maybe she should stay at the guesthouse tonight and tackle Quinn on the state of his shed. She wasn’t looking forward to it. Seeing that man, caring for him like she did, knowing she could never have him . . . starting another fight. Captain came bounding along the path towards her. Zoe kneeled down to hug the big collie. ‘I’ve missed you.’ She ruffled his silken coat. ‘It’s been too long.’

  ‘It certainly has.’

  Zoe looked up to find Quinn smiling down at her. Her mouth went dry.

  ‘Long time no see,’ he said. ‘Where’ve you been hiding?’

  Zoe shrugged. ‘Staying at the shack.’ When she stood up, Captain sat on her foot, leaning against her leg like he was trying to keep hold of her. ‘I wanted to give you and Bridget some space.’ A shadow passed across his face. Damn, why had she said that? It sounded so presumptuous. Their relationship had nothing to do with her.

  ‘Will you come up to the house for a cuppa?’

  She squirmed inside. Quinn’s close presence caused her a physical ache. Every instinct screamed, No, spare yourself the pain! But this was the perfect opportunity to tell him what she’d found. It had to be done. Surely Swallowdale wasn’t the only farm in Kiawa not following the chemical code of practice? And as president of the local Canegrowers’ Association, Quinn had a lot of influence. If she could convince him to change, then others might follow his lead. What was more important – her bruised heart or the safety of Turtle Reef National Park?

  Zoe braced her shoulders. ‘Okay.’ She felt like howling. How would she cope sitting opposite this man, feeling the way she did, and keep the conversation to herbicide use and record-keeping?

  Zoe watched Quinn pull the cellophane packet open and empty Chocolate Ripple biscuits onto the plate. ‘No homemade Anzacs today.’ He gave a little laugh of apology. ‘Bridget finally moves in and she’s too busy to cook.’

  Zoe was dying to ask how things were going between them, but held her tongue.

  Quinn poured the tea. He seemed to move in slow motion, expertly raising and lowering the sky-blue pot as the arc of amber liquid poured into her dainty cup. ‘Milk?’

  She smiled. ‘Do you ever just throw teabags into a mug and drink it with the little tag hanging over the side?’

  ‘Not when I have special visitors.’

  For a moment Zoe’s heart leaped with happiness. She wished his words really meant something, instead of being just a figure of speech. ‘How’s Josh going? I hardly see him any more.’

  ‘He’s going great guns. Those horses are really turning things around for him. He’s happier, friendlier, talkative . . . more normal, I guess. I rang our local school principal to ask whether they could swing an integration aide if Josh enrolled next year. She reckons there’s a good chance.’

  ‘Great . . . that’s just great.’ Zoe sipped her tea but couldn’t seem to force it down. His presence was overwhelming, the undercurrent of attraction so strong, her pulse so swift that surely he must hear the blood throbbing in her veins
. Quinn had never affected her this powerfully before. How was she supposed to tackle him about on-farm procedures when what she really wanted to do was kiss him? She pushed the thought away.

  ‘I’ve taken a look at your chemical store. Well, one of them anyway.’ Quinn looked taken aback, and why not? It must have seemed an unlikely thing to come out of her mouth. ‘You know about my research project?’

  He nodded. ‘Where’s this leading?’

  ‘Some pretty high levels of contamination are turning up: 2 4-D, Atrazine, Diuron – cane chemicals. They’re killing off the seagrass, Quinn. Dugongs and turtles out in the bay are starving to death.’

  He scratched his jaw. ‘So, what, you’re blaming me?’

  ‘Not you in particular, of course not.’ He looked a little happier. ‘But I am blaming cane farm run-off in general. I’m wondering . . .’ She took another sip of tea, giving herself time to choose her words carefully. ‘How much attention do local people pay to chemical use guidelines? You know, codes of practice, that sort of thing?’

  Quinn took a Chocolate Ripple and offered her one. She shook her head. He bit his biscuit in half. ‘Folks round Kiawa, we’ve got our own way of doing things.’ He popped the rest of the biscuit in his mouth. ‘And we don’t put much store in government rules and regulations. Never have and never will.’

  His cavalier attitude helped to break the spell. A different sort of heat rose in Zoe’s body. ‘What about the reef? What about the turtles – the beautiful ones we saw that night?’ Her breath caught, and she felt herself beginning to tremble. ‘What about the dugongs, minding their own business, trying to raise and protect their calves the best they can? How are they different from you, trying to raise and protect Josh? How would you like it if he was starving and you went to somebody for help, and they said, We don’t put much store in feeding kids, never have and never will?’

  He shifted in his seat. ‘Aren’t you being a bit melodramatic?’