by Di Morrissey
The air was warm. All was silent. Then it came, close, so close she jumped in fright. A guttural agonised wail. Another. And another.
‘What the hell is it? Who’s there?’
‘It’s the mutton birds. I forgot to tell you. It’s all right. Come back to bed.’ Blair’s voice was thick and sleepy.
Jennifer was running her hands along the wall, groping for the light switch. ‘Mutton birds? What’s happening to them?’
‘That’s the sound they make. They nest on the ground. Probably right outside the door.’
The light on the little verandah came on and Jennifer stepped outside. The ground was faintly illuminated. Several black blobs were squatting close to her. One of the birds stood up, one flapped its wings. They didn’t move away but the hoarse groan was picked up and passed from bird to bird in a painful chorus.
‘That’s horrible. Are they going to do that all night?’
‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘Can’t we move them?’
‘Against the rules. Besides, the bastards have sharp beaks. I’ll deal with them in the morning when they go back to their nests.’
‘In the trees?’
‘No, underground. They dig holes so be careful you don’t trip down one.’
‘Oh, God. This is all I need.’ She flipped off the light and in the darkness they resumed their activity with more wails. But above the squawks, squabbles and moans of the mutton birds she heard in the distance another shriek, a cry, a scream.
Jennifer sat up. ‘That wasn’t a bird. Was it?’
‘Put the air conditioning on, then you won’t hear anything.’ Blair rolled over and flung an arm around her hips. ‘Want a cuddle? Make you sleep. I’ve missed you.’ He kissed her belly.
‘Blair, can you check outside? I just have this funny feeling –’
‘Jenny, I’m not going outside to trip over those bloody birds. Unless you want to skinny dip. There’s no one around here . . .’
Jennifer got out of bed, pulled the curtain and stepped outside. She looked at the sky. It was dark, clouds covered the moon. She stepped onto the sandy path and recoiled, losing her balance as her foot tripped on a soft squashy bird that grunted and pecked at her foot with a sharp beak that drew blood. ‘Ouch, yuk.’
She leapt back onto the decking and there was a flurry of shadowy creatures around the cabin and nearby trees. She couldn’t see them properly. They didn’t seem like birds, just fat grey blobs like some underground creatures that had erupted from deep in the earth. They gave her the creeps. Her foot was hurting, she turned to go inside. Then she heard it. A throat-catching sobbing, a being hurrying, crashing amongst the trees, someone in a heedless flight.
‘Who’s there? What is it?’ she called in alarm, fumbling for the light switch by the sliding doors. ‘Blair, come out here, quickly . . .’
In his underpants Blair flicked the switch and the outside light snapped on.
At the perimeter of the pale yellow arc a figure was hunched, swaying, then it dropped to the ground, rolling into a ball. A young woman was choking on hoarse sobs and cries.
‘Oh my God, what’s happened?’ Jennifer couldn’t move.
Blair rushed forward and stooped over the woman, trying to lift her to her feet. ‘Jesus, what happened to you? Jennifer, quick, help me. It’s Rhonda.’
‘Rhonda?’ She recognised the auburn hair but as Blair lifted her she saw the bruised and bleeding face, the ripped T-shirt and torn pants. She could barely equate this shattered girl with the bright young woman she’d left only a few hours before.
‘Get her inside. It’s all right, Rhonda, come on, try to walk.’
Supporting her on either side they half dragged her inside. Blair pulled the curtain shut and switched on the inside light, turning off the outside one. ‘Get her some water. No, better, there’s a small bottle of brandy in the mini bar.’
Jennifer’s hands were shaking as she handed Rhonda the glass with four fingers of brandy in the bottom. ‘Here, drink this. Take deep breaths.’
Sitting up and shivering, Rhonda gagged on the drink. Jennifer suddenly realised that Rhonda’s underpants as well as her T-shirt were ripped and she had only one shoe.
‘What the hell happened?’ asked Blair. His voice was edgy.
‘Blair, be gentle, let her get her breath,’ admonished Jennifer, sitting beside the frightened girl, taking her hand and stroking it.
‘He attacked me. Tried to rape me. When I wouldn’t, and started to fight him, he just . . . beat me. He ripped my pants off and then when he started to pull his trousers off I kicked him and ran. I thought I was going to die,’ said Rhonda, her Irish accent thick with fear.
‘Who? Who did this to you? Blair, call the police, someone. Do you want a doctor?’
‘Jennifer! Calm down. Let me handle this,’ snapped Blair. ‘There are no police here and no doctor. Just a nurse.’ Jennifer was shocked into silence. He took Rhonda’s other hand. ‘Are you hurt, injured? I mean, cut, any wounds other than this?’ He lightly touched her gashed cheek and she winced.
‘Of course she’s hurt. Shouldn’t we get some help?’ hissed Jennifer.
‘Let’s find out the details first. Are you sure he was trying to rape you?’
Rhonda gave a look that silenced Blair.
Jennifer pressed Rhonda’s hand. ‘What happened after you left me?’
Rhonda drew a shaky breath. ‘I was on the phone outside reception and a group came out of the bar and said they were having drinks by the pool, to join them. I know I’m not supposed to mix with the guests but . . . well, it was late, no one else was around and they were laughing and having a lot of fun. Willsy was with them . . .’ Her face screwed up and she took a moment to compose herself before going on. ‘There was one other girl but she left with one of the guys. After one drink I said I should go. They were going to continue partying in one of their suites. Willsy was drunk and trying to kiss and grope me and so I left. I decided to walk around the beach to my room and when I cut into the dunes . . . I was grabbed.’
‘It’s all right, Rhonda.’ Jennifer was going to say she didn’t have to go into painful details, but one look at Blair’s tight face told her to keep quiet.
Rhonda shuddered and her voice was a whisper. ‘He grabbed me from behind, put his hand around my neck and mouth so I couldn’t scream and pushed me down onto the ground. I hit my face on a rock and I think I was a bit dazed. When I tried to stop him he started swearing and just whammed into me.’ Tears began running down her face.
Jennifer went to get the box of tissues from the bathroom. She felt sick to her stomach. She heard Blair’s low, insistent voice.
‘You’re sure who it was? It’s dark, he came from behind . . .’
Rhonda’s head came up. ‘Oh yes, it was Willsy. But . . . he said if I said anything to anyone he’d deny it and the guys would say he was with them.’
‘Well, we can disprove that, surely,’ said Jennifer. ‘I mean, did you scratch him or anything?’
‘Leave it, Jennifer. Rhonda, you’re sure you didn’t do anything to lead him on, you know, why’d he get so mad? Are you absolutely sure he was going to rape you?’
‘Blair! Even if she was flirting, or led him on, nobody deserves a beating like this!’
‘He was drunk. He kept mumbling something while he was hitting me,’ whimpered Rhonda. ‘Can I have a shower, please? All I want is to forget this ever happened. Please, please, don’t tell anyone.’ She began to cry again. ‘I just want to go to sleep, curl up in a ball and make it all go away. My face hurts so.’
Blair stood up. ‘Go and have a shower, Rhonda, we’ll look after you. You can stay here tonight.’
Jennifer was still holding Rhonda’s hand. ‘You don’t think we should report this?’
Rhonda tightened her grip on Jennifer’s hand. ‘I’m not reporting this. I beg you not to say anything. I don’t want people to think that I was raped. No one will believe he just beat me up. I want t
o forget this ever happened. Please don’t tell Rosie. Don’t tell anyone. Ever.’
‘Of course. This will never go outside this room,’ said Blair in a soothing tone. ‘Jennifer, help her. I’ll get the first-aid kit from reception and clean up those scratches.’
Scratches! Her face looks like she had rocks thrown at it. Why do you want to keep this quiet? ‘Okay, Blair, whatever you say. Come on, Rhonda, you’ll feel better after a hot shower. I’ll make us some tea.’
Rhonda was still under the shower when Blair hurried back with the small first-aid box. ‘Good, she’s still in there.’
‘She’s just standing under the water like she’s trying to wash the whole thing out of her head and body,’ said Jennifer. ‘God, this is awful. The poor thing.’
Blair took Jennifer’s arm and turned her to face him, speaking in a low urgent voice. ‘Listen, Jennifer. We have to keep this quiet. Very quiet. No one is to know. It will be a disaster for the resort. If she comes out and accuses a well-known TV person he’ll deny it and he has the backing of a powerful TV station and a whole raft of important people. They’ll crucify her, and this place. I’m not going to let that happen.’
‘She doesn’t want to tell anyone. But it doesn’t seem right. That man shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’
‘It’s probably happened before, and probably will again,’ said Blair.
‘That’s criminal!’ exclaimed Jennifer.
‘Would you want to go through the public humiliation of a trial, have people think you were raped, that you led him on? You know what people are like, always want to think the worst. Where there’s smoke . . .’
People like you, thought Jennifer miserably.
‘It is terrible, but she’ll get over it and get on with her life. She’s an Irish Catholic, for God’s sake, think how that would go down back home if it hit the newspapers here and, innocent or not, her reputation would suffer.’
‘I don’t see how you can keep this quiet.’ Jennifer was shocked. Shocked at herself for starting to accept Blair’s viewpoint. She was already rationalising things to herself. Nothing happened. Rhonda wasn’t raped or killed. Blair would be in the firing line, trouble in his first job like this didn’t look like he had a firm hand.
‘We’ll fly her out tomorrow morning,’ he continued. ‘Say she had an accident, too many drinks, walking back she fell on the rocks, the sea wall, something. She’s due to leave anyway, she can leave now with all her stuff and entitlements. She’ll agree with that, I bet.’
The shower finally stopped.
‘What would Rosie say?’
‘She’s off the island so I’m in charge. She’s not to know about this. Rhonda fell, end of story. It’s what she wants, too.’
Jennifer was numb. ‘I’ll get her some clean clothes.’
They cleaned Rhonda’s wounds, gave her painkillers and made a bed for her on the sofa for what was left of the night. They left a light on and locked the doors. She lay there clutching the sheet around herself, eyes squeezed shut, tears still shining in her lashes.
In the bedroom, Jennifer curled beside Blair, her arms encircling him. She was too tense to sleep and felt deeply disturbed. It had been a hard first day and now this horrific event. She was having difficulty coping with it all. She kept imagining how it must have felt, to suddenly be grabbed, thrown to the ground . . . Jennifer tried to still her mind, not think about what had happened to Rhonda. But it only confirmed the sense of foreboding she had about being marooned on this island. Beautiful it may be, but beneath its still waters she felt there was a malevolent presence. Would she ever adjust to living here?
6
The Beachcomber
JENNIFER HEARD BLAIR OPEN the curtain near the bed. She stretched. Pale washed-blue sky. The top of a tree. In the courtyard at the base of the outside shower – a simple arrangement of a showerhead on a pole above a square of tiles – there was a large clamshell full of water. A grey heron was gracefully dipping its beak into the shell, throwing back its head, shaking sparkling droplets. She smiled and rolled over, wondering why she felt so tired.
Then she remembered. She sat up, the calm morning sullied. ‘What time is it? How’s Rhonda?’
Blair, in casual shorts, was pulling on a T-shirt. ‘Not sure. We have to get her up and packed. I’ve called the chopper and said she’d had a bit of a fall . . . nothing madly urgent. Didn’t want to set off alarm bells.’
Jennifer grabbed a sarong, wrapped it around her and tiptoed into the shadowy dim lounge room. Trying to be as quiet as possible she found the electric kettle and was carrying it into the bathroom to fill when Rhonda spoke calmly.
‘I’m awake. Make as much noise as you want.’
‘Did you sleep?’
‘Not really. It’s better being awake. I kept dreaming . . . nightmares . . . I heard Blair on the phone. I’m being picked up at eight?’
‘I guess so. I’ll help you pack up your things.’
‘That’s all right. I can manage. I just hope my roomies and Sheree don’t think it’s all a bit . . . odd.’
‘Say it’s Blair’s idea. He’s being overcautious. In case you have any severe concussion or something. Are you owed any holiday leave? Say you’re using that up.’
‘Makes sense. Are you making coffee?’
‘I am. Shall I get you some breakfast? I could bring it over here,’ offered Jennifer, knowing Rhonda wouldn’t want to be seen with a gashed face and bruises.
‘I’m not hungry. Just coffee.’ She swung her legs over the edge of the sofa and rested her chin in her hands. ‘This isn’t how I saw leaving the island for good.’
Jennifer bit her lip as she emptied sachets of coffee into cups. ‘Could you come back for a farewell party? Or have one over on the mainland? When are you going back home to Ireland?’
‘My ticket is booked. I leave in ten days. A family wedding. I’m a bridesmaid.’ She touched her face. ‘Damn him to hell.’ She was angry.
‘You’ll look fine by then, really you will,’ said Jennifer, thinking to herself, The bastard. He’ll go on like nothing happened. At least Rhonda is mad rather than sorry for herself.
Blair came out of the bathroom and smiled at Rhonda. ‘I’ve had an idea. We know a really nice lodge down in the Hunter Valley. Would you like to chill out there for a week before you leave? Recuperate. I’ll arrange a special deal for you.’
Rhonda brightened slightly. ‘If it’s not too expensive, I’d like that. I just want to go away by myself. Lick my wounds.’
Blair pulled open the living-room curtain to the bright shiny day, which bore no resemblance to the frightening night. ‘The main thing is that you don’t have any guilt or bad feelings. If you want to see a counsellor, we can arrange it through the staff medical fund.’
‘Thanks, Blair.’ She took the cup of coffee. ‘You’ve both been so kind. I feel awful about spoiling your first day here, Jennifer.’
‘What did Blair say? No guilt. Just get on with your life. Consider yourself lucky. It could have been worse. Look forward to going home. And, please, let us know how you are.’
It felt a trite comment but Jennifer didn’t know what to say. The episode had unnerved her, but more, she was shocked at Blair’s reaction. How would he have felt if it had been her instead of Rhonda? Would he still put the reputation of the resort first?
There were few guests around as Jennifer watched the pretty redhead pick up her small sports bag. A hat and dark glasses shaded Rhonda’s face. A box and a suitcase would be sent on the catamaran. Rhonda shook hands with Blair who took Bob, the pilot, aside.
‘No need to mention to anyone this was a special trip. I want this kept as quiet as possible. It was just a bad fall, you understand?’ said Blair in a low voice.
The pilot looked unconvinced but shrugged. ‘Sure, whatever. These things happen.’
Jennifer took Rhonda’s hand as she said goodbye.
Rhonda looked miserable. ‘I don’t know that Sheree bough
t my story. Can you say something to everyone, explain things, sort of . . .’
‘Of course we will,’ said Jennifer. ‘You’re not leaving under a cloud, we’ll tell them we just want to make sure you get checked out at the hospital. After your fall.’
Rhonda hugged Jennifer. ‘I hope I see you again. And please, don’t let this put you off. This island, the reef, it’s really, really special. I’ve loved being here,’ she said earnestly.
How can you say that after what’s happened? ‘I’m sure I’ll settle in. Look after yourself, Rhonda.’
With Rosie away, and Blair acting manager, Jennifer was left to her own devices. She moved the table and chairs from the small front balcony of the cabin next door to the rear courtyard, setting them up under a tree, and here she had her breakfast of fruit, cereal and pot of tea. Blair had promised to send over a toaster as their kitchenette was sparsely supplied with utensils. She hadn’t bothered to pack such items, thinking more about personal things and her work needs.
Guiltily she thought about the computer and box of papers she’d pushed into the back of the closet the morning she’d arrived. Her enthusiasm for Professor Dawn’s book and her need to know she had work and an objective to achieve during the next few months here had utterly vanished. She still felt tired, mentally, physically, emotionally. She put it down to the humidity and heat, the languid lifestyle and lack of focus. She hadn’t seen a newspaper or watched TV and had to force herself to listen to the morning news on Don’s little radio. Events on the other side of the world, even in Sydney, held little interest for her. She was in a cocoon here and she wondered when and what she’d become when she finally emerged. She felt a pang of remorse at not having contacted her mother or Vi and Don other than a fax telling them she’d arrived.
Their cabin was serviced so after breakfast she left the unmade bed, the dirty dishes, her wet towel flung over the bath. It was unlike her, she hated to leave a mess each morning but here she had no routine, nothing familiar around her. She wandered over to the reception area and looked in the recreation room library for a book from the help-yourself shelf.
