by Di Morrissey
‘Off you go. And please be careful. Call me when you get up there. I hate you doing that long drive.’ Christina tried a brave smile.
‘I’ll be fine. It will all be an adventure. I’ll call along the way when I stop. Love you, Mum.’
Christina nodded, too choked up or just unable to utter the words that meant so much to Jennifer.
The terminal at Headland Bay where the Reef Cat was berthed was crowded and chaotic even at this early morning hour. Jennifer stood in the middle of the swirling sea of holidaymakers, tourists and a class of excited schoolchildren. The staff, dressed in crisp white shorts and T-shirts emblazoned with a red sail on one shoulder, remained calm and smiling. One woman, noting all the boxes and bags piled on the luggage cart next to Jennifer, took her aside.
‘Hi there, you moving to the island? A new staffie?’
‘Ah, sort of. My husband is the new assistant manager.’
‘Ah, Mr Towse. Checked him in over a week ago. Left you with all the packing and baggage, eh?’ She grinned. ‘I’m Vera. Tell you what, we’re a bit full with these kids – going over on a school excursion. So how about we throw all your gear on the cat, you grab your handbag and I’ll put you on the chopper. There’s a spare seat.’
‘Oh, how much is that?’
‘Don’t worry about it. You’re staff, take it as a welcome to Branch gesture. You can store your car here too, if you like. The chopper has to make the trip anyway, and it’s only forty-five minutes. The cat takes over two hours.’
‘I was scared I’d get seasick. The helicopter would be fantastic’ Jennifer hadn’t ever been in one before but she’d have walked on water if she could save herself the sea trip.
The other passenger waiting with the pilot was a tall man with a short beard, greying hair pulled back in a pony tail and granny glasses. He wore a faded Hawaiian shirt and navy shorts. He carried a computer bag and a briefcase, which contrasted with his outfit.
The pilot shook Jennifer’s hand. ‘Bob Ford. You’re Jennifer Towse. Good to have you guys on board. Blair’s settling right in to island life.’ He smiled. ‘This is Professor Macdonald Masters.’
Jennifer and the professor nodded to each other as the pilot stowed their laptops behind the seats.
‘I hope I’m going to enjoy Branch Island as much as my husband does,’ Jennifer said to Bob. ‘This is my first time up here.’ She was suddenly nervous. The helicopter was so small.
‘Hey, there’s plenty to do . . . snorkelling, fishing, exploring the reef, sailing, bird-watching. Soon be turtle time too, hey prof?’
‘Another month.’ The older man got into the rear seat. ‘If it’s your first visit to the reef you should be in front.’
Bob ran through the safety procedures and showed Jennifer how to put on the headphones with their attached microphone. He offered to give her a bit of a running commentary.
She nodded, swallowing hard as the rotor whirred and lifted them off the ground so gently she was barely aware of it until they lurched sideways as Bob angled the chopper out over the marina and across the bay towards the open sea. Jennifer closed her eyes, hoping she wasn’t going to be sick.
Gradually the sensation in her stomach and throat settled and she began to relax. Encapsulated in the plastic bubble of the cockpit she felt as if she were in the all-encompassing eye of a bumble bee. Blue sky met blue sea, its surface occasionally stirred by white frills where a boat ploughed or a bird swooped. The water began to change colour, becoming more aqua and turquoise as if lit from below by a blazing torch.
‘Just like the tourist brochures, eh?’ Bob’s voice crackled in her earphones. ‘You’ll start to see the reef soon. Well, bits of it.’
She smiled at him. ‘How long is it? Is it all islands or is it joined together?’
‘Almost as big as Texas! Bigger than Great Britain! It’s nearly three thousand individual reefs that extend off the Queensland coast from the Gulf of Papua to just beyond the Tropic of Capricorn. Truly one of the great wonders of the world. And one of the few major reef systems left that haven’t been totally devastated. You have to go underwater to really appreciate its beauty.’
‘Not me. I’m no diver. I don’t even snorkel.’
The pilot gave her a quizzical look. ‘Well, you can always explore the edge of the reef at low tide. Look at that.’
It was breathtaking. Beneath the surrounding clear turquoise water, she could see the shadowy patches and ribbons of reef and, above the surface, small coral cays, some edged with patches of gold or ripples of white. It was like a giant creature lazily hovering just below the surface of the sea, bits of its scaly, horny back protruding into the sunshine.
‘Branch is one of only three coral islands that are on the actual spine of the main reef. The other resorts are on outcrops of reef, which means you have to get on a boat or a chopper to get to it for diving or fishing or whatever. We’re lucky. On Branch you can roll out of bed into the sea and you’re there.’
Jennifer nodded. She was overwhelmed by the scope of the stunning beauty below her. And frightened at being at its mercy. As Branch Island loomed it looked so small, a tiny green dot surrounded by a narrow white strip. It seemed to her that billions of grains of sand clinging together were all that protected her from being swallowed should that peaceful sleeping sea change its mood.
The helicopter began to descend. She was landing on an alien planet adrift in wet blue, turquoise and gold. She saw the thin lace of vegetation and prayed she would find a sanctuary hidden from the sea amongst the spindly windswept trees.
5
Branch Island, 2004
Storm at Sea
THE ISLAND LOOKED BIGGER and busier as they skimmed over the deep indigo water outside the reef and across the pale turquoise lagoon to where the sandy beach met the broad expanse of coral that formed the island. The fringe of reef looked like sepia crochet, clumps of coral linked by small pools and patches of white sand. The tide was halfway across the shoreline reef, rivulets and channels rushing towards the sand where, come moonrise, the aqua coverlet would turn back upon itself again.
Jennifer saw the rusted skeletal remains of an iron boat jammed into the reef; it jarred the pristine scene. Further away on the horizon was a smudge that Bob pointed out to her.
‘That’s Sooty. A tiny private islet the resort leases from the owner. It’s got the more rustic eco accommodation. Y’know, mozzies, safari tents, campfire, barbies and skinny dipping. Upmarket roughing it.’
‘Sooty is a strange name. Was it a volcano?’
‘The Great Barrier Reef is millions of years old. Nah, it’s named after the sooty-headed terns that roost all over it.’
Spread over several kilometres of ocean were dive and fishing boats; closer in, windsurfers and kayaks. An extended jetty had tourist boats tied to its spindly legs. Floating bodies of splayed snorkellers drifted face down, peering at the mottled sea bottom. Figures lazed around the flash of vivid blue swimming pool beneath leaning palms. Jennifer glimpsed the marked-out circle of cement at the edge of the sand where three people waited. And then with a scratchy bump they were on the ground.
Bob helped her down and she felt the heat whack her in the face, hot and moist. She squinted in the glare looking for Blair. A woman in big sunglasses came towards her.
‘You must be Jennifer. Welcome to Branch. I’m Rosie Jordan. Blair is over at Sooty, he thought you were coming on the cat.’
‘It was a fantastic trip. Thank you, Bob. And nice to meet you, Professor Masters.’ Jennifer took her laptop, which he held out to her. ‘I’m glad I was in the front.’
‘Welcome back, Mac, be seeing you round.’
‘Sure thing, Rosie.’ The professor pulled on his cotton hat and smiled at Jennifer. ‘I’m sure we’ll meet again. The island can be a small place.’
‘Come on, Jennifer, I’ll take you to your quarters and then show you around if you’d like. It might seem a small world but staff get off the island for a break every two
weeks. In fact I’m leaving this afternoon on the cat as I haven’t been off the island for a month.’ She looked at Jennifer who was glancing around. ‘Blair has told me how excited you are about this move. He’s already settled in and making his mark.’
As Jennifer walked beside the manager across the blinding hot white sand she thought she heard a hint of irony in her voice. Typical of Blair to indicate everything was one hundred per cent hunky dory. ‘It will be different, that’s for sure. Although I’ve lived in Sydney for ages, I’m really a country girl.’
‘Me too, actually. But I love it here. I was in Prague before this. Give me the sun and a resort over the formal city any day.’
It was Jennifer’s turn to be surprised. She had the impression from Blair that the woman manager was not very experienced or efficient. Rosie, big boned, tall, a mass of dark curls tinted a rather outrageous red, radiated strength and confidence. She was also very warm and friendly. Jennifer liked her immediately.
A wooden pathway led from the beach into the resort area. It was a small village of gleaming white-sand pathways winding past clusters of double-storey villas that faced the sea. The central area was like the hub of a wheel with the rooms, villas and separate cottages radiating from it all surrounded by small trees. In the hub was the main reception area with comfortable cane chairs, a computer with expensive internet access and an information desk. Next to reception was a games room and bar. Opposite it Jennifer noticed a small boutique and the dive headquarters crammed with wetsuits and underwater paraphernalia. Guests wandered past in swimwear or very casual clothes. To a new arrival wearing town clothes they looked to be part of a colourful semi-naked tribe.
‘We’ll skirt off to the back track,’ said Rosie, leading her onto a sandy path shaded by squat stunted dark-leafed trees. Jennifer slowed as she noticed the white gluey patches over the leaves and the ground and did a double take as she came face to face with a dozen birds’ nests along the branch in front of her.
Side by side, so close they could peck each other, the birds sat atop scrappy leaf beds spattered with the white guano that glued them together. Along the branch and wherever there was a fork of fragile twigs a nest had been constructed. Each was occupied by a stoic black noddy tern whose partners hovered close by or swished around the tree and to the ground taking no notice of humans. The tree shivered and rustled with squabbles and movement, shrieks and jostlings. Airborne they swooped on silent wings that Jennifer found unnerving.
‘There must be hundreds of them!’ exclaimed Jennifer.
‘We get over a hundred thousand in the breeding season. You can’t put a pin between them in the trees,’ laughed Rosie. ‘Branch Island is famous for birds. Those are pisonia trees. The leaves are handy for their nest building.’
‘They’re not the least bit afraid of us.’ Jennifer leaned over and put her face centimetres away from a bird that turned its head with a disdainful, bored expression.
‘Rule number one on the island: this is a National Park, nature comes first.’ They continued walking. ‘It can be difficult not to pick up a bird fallen from a nest, or a tern with sticky pisonia fruit glued to it, or help a stranded baby turtle, or take a pretty shell or coral.’ Rosie paused, then said almost to herself, ‘It can be an interesting rule when applied to the humans on the island, too. You’ll find sometimes people overreact, or behave differently than on the mainland. Some call it island fever. Only natural when a lot of different personalities are thrown together in a small isolated community.’
‘That will make Blair’s job interesting,’ commented Jennifer.
‘Blair was selected because he has good people skills. And being young is an advantage,’ said Rosie.
Jennifer wondered how Blair would cope in this island hothouse. She knew at the outset she was going to find it a challenge.
After walking through a tunnel of thickly clustered trees, they came to an open sandy clearing circled by staff quarters – simple, airy duplex units with small verandahs festooned with wetsuits and flippers, and towels flung out to dry in the communal spaces. There was an outdoor barbecue area with tables and chairs, and it had the air of a holiday camp. Jennifer’s heart sank, she was hoping this wouldn’t be where she and Blair were to be living.
Maybe Rosie read her mind. ‘The admin staff are scattered further away amongst the trees. Though occasionally the staffies’ music gets a bit loud. That’s why they’re as far away as possible from the guests.’
They came to two adjoining bungalows that faced tangled trees. Each had a simple wooden balcony with two chairs and a small table. A privacy divider separated the balconies but every word would be overheard.
‘Who’s next door?’ Jennifer asked, trying to think of something positive to say. ‘It’s rather sweet, a bit like a cubby house.’
‘Next door is reserved for people who come occasionally to do business. The accountant, inspectors, all kinds of people. The head office managers stay in the hotel suites.’ Jennifer detected a slightly disdainful note in Rosie’s voice. ‘Look inside. It’s comfortable, not flash. Only a small kitchenette as you and Blair will eat in the dining room.’
Jennifer glanced around the open-plan dining area, kitchenette, lounge room. ‘Do we have to eat in the resort dining room all the time?’ The idea depressed her.
‘Of course not. I find I want to get away and eat in my suite as often as I can. Blair and I are supposed to be out there, keeping an eye on things, socialising with the guests. You can do what you want. There’s a big bedroom and ensuite that is air conditioned. But this is it. As management, you can use the hotel pool and drink in the bar, staffies can’t. But they entertain themselves very well back in their area.’
Jennifer pushed the sliding glass door open and walked inside. Her world, for a year or more, had shrunk to this turquoise and white fern-patterned hideaway. She hoped Rosie wasn’t expecting a gushing reaction.
Rosie put her head inside. ‘I’ll leave you to freshen up. I was going to say have a swim but of course your bag isn’t here yet. Come over to my office through reception and we can have morning tea if you’d like. I’ll show you the resort side of things. I live in a suite over there so I can be on the spot if there’s a drama.’
‘Thank you, Rosie.’ Jennifer felt oddly disoriented, she wished Blair had been here. She dropped her handbag on the bed and took off her sunglasses. The cabin, cottage, unit, she couldn’t think how to describe it, was impersonal and certainly compact. Fine for a holiday, but as her home for a year? Where could she make her space? The bathroom was big with a bath and a shower. Blair’s shaving kit and toothbrush were spread on his side of the vanity. The room was obviously serviced as it was spotless with carefully folded fresh towels. Blair was casual about dropping his wet towels on the bathroom floor.
In the bedroom she opened the closet to see Blair’s clothes hanging to one side. She slid the door closed and the room returned to the impersonal. A ceiling fan slowly turned above the bed. There was a framed photo of a turtle on the wall.
In the living room were two prints of underwater scenes of coral and colourful fish. Jennifer wished she’d brought a couple of her favourite pictures of rural Australia. Where would she put her books, set up her laptop and work area? Depressed, she decided to have a shower. Whenever she was confused, unhappy, trying to clear her head or find inspiration, she stood under the hot sharp needles of water. But this time there was no benefit or improvement in her attitude to the place. And suddenly she found herself crying as she held her face up to the shower head, her tears mingling with the cascading rainwater.
By the time she arrived in reception to meet Rosie she felt better, emotionally cleansed if not more positive. She was introduced to a cheerful young man and an attractive young woman behind the desk. They wore the staff uniform of white shorts and printed shirts with a choice of fish, coral, turtles or flowers in white on a turquoise background. She felt overdressed in her linen slacks and shirt jacket. And unhealthy. Everyone
was brown, sunburnt or artificially tanned, and looked relaxed and jovial.
Rosie showed her the bar and games room, and the terrace bar that faced an emerald lawn ending in a low rock wall and frangipani trees. Attractive cane furniture was dotted around the terrace, wooden lounges were set around the lawn.
‘Great place to watch the sunset. Also a favourite place for wedding photos,’ Rosie said.
‘Do many people get married here?’
‘Quite a few. A lot from overseas who want a romantic, low-key, small wedding. Often it’s just the bride and groom. We arrange everything.’
‘That’s nice. We almost eloped at one stage. Weddings can get stressful.’
‘Sometimes they’ve had the big family party, or they have a reception when they get home. thought it seemed a bit sad at first but often they’re saving money having a slap-up honeymoon and wedding all in one.’
They walked past the luxurious pool and wet bar towards the dining room. Jennifer was impressed with the understated classy style of the decor, which suited the island setting. Within the entertainment area of the resort the grounds were landscaped and looked lush, tropical and highly maintained in contrast to the casual naturalness of the accommodation and staff areas.
‘Everything looks so open, airy and cool. What happens when it rains? Does it get cold at all?’
‘They’re all cyclone-proof structures and you’d be surprised how everything unfolds and folds up in bad weather. Cold? Occasionally in the wet season, but a light sweater is all you need.’
‘How often does a cyclone come in?’ asked Jennifer warily.
‘Not very often. Big storms, but I’ve been here four years with never a cyclone,’ Rosie said reassuringly.
They went through the large dining room that looked very Balinese with its big wood columns, carvings and bamboo blinds. It was screened from birds and insects, with tropical plants in pots dividing various areas. In the centre was a huge serving area where the lavish food was laid out. Another self-serve bar was at the far end.
