by Di Morrissey
‘I’ll go help with the boat. Perhaps you could carry one of the buckets,’ said Mac.
As they trailed inland after tying the little rubber boat to a tree at what Mac called the beach camp, Jennifer asked, ‘So what am I carrying in here?’ As far as she could tell all that was in her green bucket was a bunch of seaweed.
‘Small creatures with big appetites, and that common-looking weed has strange properties. It’s only found in coral outcrops and Rudi is doing experiments with it.’
It was the first time Jennifer had gone into the confines of the research station and she was surprised to find a completely different setting and community from the resort. It was sheltered at the centre of the island and initially it reminded her of university. The communal dwellings were different from the resort’s staff quarters, which were built by cookie-cutter design, an inexpensive version of the more lavish resort suites. Here, buildings seemed to have grown as needs dictated. Awnings, partitions and impromptu work areas were tacked on to and between huts and simple houses. There were a couple of double-storey dwellings, all strewn with scuba gear, wetsuits, flippers, goggles, towels and clothes.
Past the accommodation were two long buildings separated by a series of large cement tanks, plus a series of stands with Perspex aquaria set up. Hoses, motors, pumps and a clutter of implements and tools were scattered around. Further on, a wooden shack with flyscreen doors and windows had a sheltered outdoor eating area with long benches at two big tables. Unlike the staff quarters at the resort, this had an air of also being a workplace. Jennifer longed to see the set-up in the two buildings that were the labs.
‘Do you have an office somewhere?’ she asked Mac.
‘A corner in one of the labs and the dining table in my house. And I share that with Rudi.’
‘The table or the house?’
He laughed. ‘Both. But we have a system. It gets a bit chaotic if we have visitors as there’s a spare room with four bunks. So it’s a bit cosy in our small kitchen with one fridge. The students eat in the rec room. There are only three cottages with a kitchen.’
‘Who comes to visit? Family? Friends? Work people?’ asked Jennifer, suddenly curious about Mac’s personal life.
‘We try to keep the island a work-only centre. We have an email set-up so we can stay in regular contact. Visitors tend to be other professors, international researchers, and postgraduate candidates. Come on in and see for yourself.’
So I’m none the wiser about your family. ‘Can I help with breakfast?’
‘Absolutely. I’m a basic cook at best. Though this mob will be hungry enough to eat whatever’s going.’
The wooden and prefab structure was screened by frayed lattice and shade cloth making a semiprivate courtyard in front. A clothes line strung along one side under the roof overhang looked to be a sort of wardrobe with wetsuits and shirts on hangers. Dive boots, thongs and gym shoes were scattered beneath.
‘I’ve never seen so many wetsuits,’ commented Jennifer. ‘In all colours too. Do you wear certain colours on a different day of the week?’
‘Our American friends bequeathed the fancy jobs to us. I try to avoid black, I feel too much like an edible seal. Though Carmel is doing some interesting research on that.’
Jennifer followed him inside to a sitting room with several sofas, lots of cushions, a stereo in one corner and a large table covered with a laptop, piles of papers and books.
The house was suddenly filled with laughing energy as several of the group arrived and everyone seemed to be talking at once. Jennifer noticed how each one wanted to share news or take Mac aside to talk with him one-on-one. He pulled off his hat, sat on a sofa patiently listening to details of this morning’s finds, and made suggestions about specimens, writing up material and next steps.
‘Hi, Jennifer, have you been delegated chief cook?’ said Carmel. ‘Can I help?’
‘Yes. I haven’t a clue where anything is, what’s here?’ said Jennifer.
Carmel gave a Latin shrug. ‘What is in the refrigerator, or this cupboard? Hah, eggs, chilli sauce, bread, baked beans, last night’s chicken. Some fruit. Honey. Is plenty, yes?’
‘If you’re hungry,’ laughed Jennifer. ‘And I am.’
‘Go for it, then,’ said Rudi, coming in with a pile of papers. ‘I have to check my tanks. I’ll wash up,’ he offered.
Suddenly an efficient chaos took over as plates appeared, and helpers made toast, tea and coffee, and sliced papaya into bowls and squeezed lime juice on top. Everyone was talking about their projects, plans and workload. Jennifer felt totally comfortable and at home. Rudi found some frangipani flowers and scattered them along the table set up in the outer courtyard area.
‘Very nice touch, Rudi,’ said Mac as he sat down. He’d showered and changed clothes, and his wet hair was slicked back, his pony tail in a neat ball at the base of his neck. He sat at the top of the table and the others ranged themselves around him. As the plates of food were put on the table, he gestured for Jennifer to sit next to him. Despite his friendly and casual manner he had a quiet air of authority.
Jennifer kept quiet listening to the exchanges about individual projects and interests. She could see that Mac deftly kept the discussion informal and yet each person was aware of the nuances of each other’s work status from difficulties or small failures to a lucky moment or a pleasing result. She wished Blair could be so subtle and sensitive in keeping a team blended and supportive of each other. But then Mac had been doing this for a long time. Carmel had told her that he played the guitar and sang, drank and partied with them, was laid back and pulled no rank. But there was huge respect for him and Jennifer sensed anyone could go to him with a personal as well as professional problem.
She kept her head down, finishing off the spicy eggs and beans, and when she looked for more toast she found Mac looking at her with a slight smile.
He passed the toast and pushed the Vegemite in front of her. ‘Try something a bit more traditional. Carmel’s meals are known as luscious Latin lovelies. Last year we had a Swede and he pickled everything.’
‘Thanks. I’m enjoying this.’
‘The food or the company?’ he asked gently.
Jennifer put down her knife. ‘The company, I have to say. Thanks for inviting me. And if I can see around a bit more, the labs, see what people are doing, it will be the best time I’ve had since arriving here.’
‘Mmm. You’d better become a regular visitor then. Are you settled over there?’ He inclined his head in the direction of the resort.
‘I haven’t felt settled in years,’ said Jennifer suddenly. ‘I mean in the sense of my own space.’
Although no one else at the table was following their conversation, Jennifer stopped, embarrassed. It hit her that the last time she felt comfortable and in her space, which meant an area that was hers and hers alone, was in her old room back at the farm. How different things were then. Her brother in his little room next door, her parents down the hall. The dogs, the farm noises, the bush sounds. It was a place she knew intimately and where she felt secure.
Out beyond the farm gates was the world, but she was protected by a father tinkering and fixing things and leaning on a fence having a smoke and watching . . . what? And a mother who was different then too. She fussed, she bossed, she muttered, and everyone did her bidding because it was easier that way. And what did it matter because they all had their own secret worlds and fantasies. Then Christina laughed, really laughed, with pleasure and enjoyment. And if she was cross, it was tempered with, ‘Well now, this is for your own good, you’ll thank me one day.’ So you didn’t feel you’d been so terribly bad or were hopelessly incompetent. Which was how Christina made her feel now.
‘And what would you like as your own space now?’ probed Mac. His eyes didn’t flicker as he studied her.
‘Oh, my needs are simple,’ she answered lightly. ‘A desk, a quiet corner to set up my laptop and stuff and leave it there. Rosie thought she might find a c
orner in an office for me. I really do have to start working again. I’ve dropped out, it’s terrible. I’ve never missed a deadline before. Professor Dawn must be mad as hell.’
‘You’d be better working around here. I’ll see if we can find you a quiet corner.’
‘I don’t want to put anyone out. I mean, space seems at a premium. You’re working on the diningroom table, for goodness’ sake!’ Jennifer wished she hadn’t said anything.
‘Ah, I like the company,’ grinned Mac. ‘Actually, I like to be accessible. And a lot of useful stuff comes out of what we call the kitchen conferences. The rest of the year I’m in my study, my office at the university, lecturing. Removed from the nitty-gritty hands-on and . . . intimacy, if I may use the word without being misinterpreted.’ He got up. ‘Bring your toast, I’ll give you a tour.’ To the others at the table he waved a hand. ‘Giving Jennifer a bit of background. Rudi, I’ll see you in the lab later and we’ll transfer those coral colonies.’
While the two labs were rudimentary, they had all that was needed for the work being done here. The long Besser block rooms were air conditioned, had good lighting, and tables and benches. The floor was filled with temporary large tanks while along one wall was a glass aquarium reproducing a section of the reef. It was temperature controlled and well lit. Jennifer could have spent an hour watching the activity of the little fish, seagrasses and strange squashy sponges that looked like brilliantly coloured slugs. Small jellyfish, iridescent and transparent, moved with pulsating movements like a heartbeat.
Mac showed her how new data were added to the comprehensive monitoring information that would be analysed, with comparative studies and tests done later.
‘Jennifer, I know there are people out there like your mother who think all this is a bit of a wank and why aren’t we trying to feed the poor, cure cancer or stop wars.’ Mac perched on a stool at a work bench. ‘We are created in water. A lot of scientists believe the sea is the birthplace of life, that answers to questions about the creation of the planet lie at the bottom of the ocean. And, say, four billion years ago energy from the centre of the earth began to create life.’
‘How? In what form?’ asked Jennifer.
‘Water is an extraordinary substance. Molecules of water helped to link more and more complex proteins together to form DNA, the complex chemical and cellular formation that is the basis for life. So when life forms emerged from water to land they carried water in their cells, as we do.’
‘But how does investigating a theory of evolution and creation apply to what you’re doing today?’ Jennifer was intrigued.
‘Sorry to bore you with a lecture . . .’
‘Oh, it’s not boring at all,’ exclaimed Jennifer.
‘To get the word out about the state of the reef we need the media, and there’s a wall of silence. It was a hot topic in the eighties and a bit in the nineties with the crown of thorns seastars, but now they don’t want to know what’s really going on. Been there, done that,’ sighed Mac. ‘The other thing is, we don’t know what’s down there, on the floor of the ocean. We have more idea what’s on the moon than what’s on the floor of the oceans of the world. And frankly, we can’t keep treating it as a dump and pouring crap into the ocean. There are things down there that are not only worth knowing about and protecting, but that might hold answers to our own future.’ He stood up. ‘End of lecture . . . for the moment.’
‘Mac, I’m really interested. I can’t explain but I feel like the world just turned upside down. Like the sea is on top and we are down in some abyss . . .’ An image from the dream flashed into her head and she closed her eyes.
‘What is it? You okay, Jennifer?’ he asked softly.
She opened her eyes that were filled with tears. ‘I nearly drowned once, and I remember being underwater, like I belonged there. I could live there . . . That’s why I’m so frightened of being in water, in the sea. I have this uncontrollable desire to stay down there. It’s some kind of death wish I suppose, as my brother drowned. And my father, well, took his own life in the sea. Just disappeared. They never found his body. Maybe I’m drawn into the sea looking for him.’
Impulsively Mac wrapped his arms around Jennifer. ‘I understand now. But I think your interpretation of your dream isn’t right. It isn’t a death wish, or that you feel guilty you survived and they didn’t.’ He was quiet for a moment as Jennifer caught her breath, and he loosened his arms to allow her to wipe her eyes on the edge of her sarong.
‘So what do you think is wrong with me?’
‘Jennifer, I’m no psychologist but you’re a lonely girl who has always tried to please everyone and taken on the burden of being the one left with your mother. I bet every time she looks at you she’s reminded of what she’s lost. That’s a heavy trip to lay on you.’
‘I’ve never thought of it like that,’ said Jennifer quietly.
Mac smiled and touched her cheek, ‘Sweetie, you’re a girl who misses her dad. Her brother. And everything that was safe and secure. We all have holes and pain in our lives – to a lesser or greater degree. My wife and I lost our little girl when she was three. I miss her too.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She looked at Mac’s kind face and saw the pain in his eyes.
‘We have two great boys and we’re happy. But there’s always that shadow of the one who isn’t there. Wondering what she’d look like now, what she’d be doing. She’d be eighteen next month . . .’ he caught himself. ‘Jennifer, there’s someone arriving next week I insist you meet. And also, go and spend some time with Gideon. Now he’s the one who can tell you about the unseen sea.’
They left the lab and closed the door. ‘What’s the unseen sea?’
‘The deep seas, way down in the darkness where no light has ever been. So far down you could put Mount Everest down there and sail right over it miles beneath you.’
In the bright sunlight of the sandy square Jennifer saw her new friends hanging over a large tank housing sea snakes. ‘Mac, thank you.’
‘Any time. Listen, I’ll find you a spot to call your own. Check in tomorrow.’
‘I will. Say goodbye to everyone.’
‘No probs.’ He headed back to his shack and Jennifer wound her way back to the resort through the dappled pisonia forest of fluttering, ever-busy, noddy terns.
Blair was dressed and walking out the door as she came along the sandy path. ‘You’re late, you coming to breakfast?’
‘No thanks, I’ve had it. I’m going to shower and get my laptop out.’ She was about to ask what he was doing today but knew he’d give the response he always gave: ‘More of the same.’ Which depressed her. But this morning she felt as if she’d awakened from a long snooze and now she was refreshed and energised.
‘Okay then. See you at lunch maybe, eh?’
‘Maybe.’ Jennifer headed for the bathroom.
Blair stuck his head in the door. ‘You all right?’
‘Yes. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, nothing. You’ve been funny since we came back from Sooty . . .’ His voice trailed off. He didn’t know how to, or he didn’t want to raise the subject of her pregnancy.
Jennifer whipped off her sarong with a flourish and spun around. ‘I’m fine, Blair. In fact, never felt better.’
Blair closed the door, thinking so far, at least, the terrible things he’d heard about mood swings and morning sickness hadn’t arrived.
Jennifer slipped out of her swimsuit and looked at her body in the mirror. Turning sideways only showed her lean flat belly. She rubbed her breasts. Now they definitely felt bigger and slightly painful. She arched her back, sticking out her stomach, and pretended to waddle. Giggling, she stepped into the shower.
After working for a while on her laptop in the rear courtyard she felt too hot and decided she’d print out the notes and draft chapter and work on it inside. She shut the doors, turned on the air conditioner and headed for reception with her disk to ask Rosie if she’d print it out for her as she had no printe
r with her. Rosie was outside wearing a hat and sunglasses. After Jennifer explained what she wanted, Rosie handed the disk over to Heather at the desk.
‘Could you please print this out for Jennifer when you have a minute?’ She turned to Jennifer. ‘Do you mind waiting a little while? We’re just checking out the last lot and getting ready to welcome the next group. In fact, I’m walking down to the wharf to do the meet, greet and goodbyes. Come along.’
They walked to the waiting area at the end of the wharf. Departing guests, surrounded by their hand luggage and souvenirs, waited and exchanged addresses, looked at photos and swapped stories. Rosie chatted, shook hands, hoped they’d return. Jennifer strolled along the wharf behind the laden carts carrying all the luggage to be loaded on the big cat when it arrived.
There were several boats getting ready to head out with guests going diving, snorkelling and fishing. Three or four were always berthed on one side of the wharf out of the way of the cat, which docked on the other side where a gangplank made it easy for people to embark and disembark. The boats continued the colour theme of the resort, clean white hulls and decks, turquoise upholstery. The crews were always neatly attired, as spick and span as their boats. Jennifer admired how competent some of the young women were. One day they’d be driving the submarine giving a commentary, that night they’d be behind the bar on the terrace, and the next day she’d see them behind the wheel of a boat. Blair told her three of them had their captain’s ticket.
‘Hello again!’
Jennifer looked at the boat tied at the steps and saw Tony Adams with Lloyd. They’d been fishing and Lloyd was putting several fish in a plastic crate with ice while Tony hosed the deck. ‘Looks like you’ve done well. So you decided to come and play and socialise after all,’ she said. She went down the steps for a closer look.
‘Come on board,’ called Lloyd. ‘We were about to have a cold drink.’
Tony held out his hand and helped her onto the transom and into the boat. ‘I’d be happy to share my fish with you. I’ll be leaving this afternoon.’
