by Di Morrissey
Christina looked up sharply. ‘Oh, who says so?’
‘Isobel. The famous oceanographer I told you about.’
‘What would she know? It’s too early anyway,’ sniffed Christina.
‘She’s such an interesting woman. Amazing what she’s done and plans to do. I really like her. She’s very warm, very special . . .’ Jennifer clammed up, halting the compliments.
‘I thought these scientist women would be very mannish. It is a man’s world. How old is she? Does she have a family?’ Christina’s eyes hadn’t left the quiz show but there was a critical tone to her questions.
‘Mum, science isn’t a man’s world any more. In fact, women have always been in the forefront, they just never got the credit. I have a Bachelor of Environmental Science degree! And Isobel is in her fifties, I guess, with two grown sons, and divorced.’
‘I bet she was more interested in her work than her family. See where it’s got her. I hope you realise what your priorities are.’
‘According to Isobel, being happy and fulfilled should be my priority.’ I’m on thin ice here, but what the hell.
‘Family should be your priority. But I don’t suppose you’re going to listen to me when you have some world-famous clever lady scientist to advise you.’
And by family you mean you, not my husband. ‘Family will always be important in my life, Mum. Such as we have. Why haven’t we kept in touch with Dad’s side of the family? My baby must have second cousins out there somewhere.’
Christina swung her feet to the floor from the fake leather ottoman. ‘There’s cake left out there, want another cup of tea?’
‘Why won’t you talk about Dad?’ persisted Jennifer.
But Christina was in the kitchen and would not be drawn and Jennifer was too emotionally weary to fight her.
In her little bedroom with her mother sleeping noisily in the next room, Jennifer wondered about her father. How would he have felt about being a grandfather? With the baby growing inside her she was thinking more and more about family. What kind of family would she and Blair create? What baggage would they pass on to this child and any future children? Now all the vague stuff she’d read and heard about blaming your parents for trauma in childhood, and later life, took on new meaning. She hadn’t resolved her own parental issues, what on earth was she going to dump on her child?
The doctor’s appointment went smoothly. Jennifer introduced her mother to the doctor in the waiting room, and as she went to follow them into his room, he politely asked Christina to wait outside.
Jennifer thanked him. ‘My mother is well meaning but over anxious.’
‘Very normal. What about your husband? Does he plan to be present at the birth?’
‘Oh. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.’ Jennifer tried to imagine Blair in a mask and hospital gown, holding her hand or whatever fathers did at that time. Was he the squeamish type? She didn’t know.
‘Most couples do childbirth classes. It’s up to you. There is a new birthing centre at the hospital. I don’t go in for the water birth business. We’ll have to book you in soon. You’re both coming along just fine.’
Christina grilled Jennifer on her weight, blood pressure, diet, extra vitamins and what the doctor had said. ‘He looked a bit of an old codger. Does he know what he’s doing? Is he up with the latest things?’
‘Of course. He did tell me my calculations were out, so I’m at least four months’ pregnant. He also asked if Blair was going to be at the birth,’ said Jennifer.
‘Good grief, you don’t want that. Take my word for it, men can’t cope with that sort of thing. Of course, if you did want someone there, you know I’m here.’
‘Thanks, Mum. I’m sure Dr Thomas has a good team on hand. Now, how about a coffee?’
Jennifer was thoughtful. The idea of Blair and her mother being involved with the birth unsettled her. She kept feeling she and the baby were a unit, an extension of each other, and no one else was involved. She felt protective and selfish. She didn’t want her mother or Blair to be part of the process. As her mother ordered the coffee, chatting to the woman behind the cappuccino machine, Jennifer tried to rationalise why she felt like a single mother. She and Blair had created this child from an act of love. Or was it love? Sex had become routine and unadventurous. The passion had dissipated after the first two years of their being together. If she was brutally honest with herself, she knew she agreed to lovemaking as a means of keeping Blair happy and easy to get along with. Times she’d refused him, or pretended to be asleep, had meant a sullen and moody Blair the following day. Which annoyed her. It was her body and he had no right to make her feel she had done something wrong in not wanting to have sex. Had that been the reason he’d slept with Susie? It wasn’t fair to blame her pregnancy. She had to face it, she simply didn’t want to make love to Blair. She never instigated lovemaking, she acquiesced. It was pleasant enough but there was no emotion, no mental connection to him.
Jennifer rubbed her brow as she felt beads of sweat break out.
‘Jennifer, what’s up? You look terrible.’ Christina put the cups on the table.
‘Ah, just a hot flush thing. I’m fine.’ She reached for her glass of water. ‘Anyway, I’m due to go back to the island.’ She’d made up her mind. She was going back, but not to Blair. Not yet.
Her mother came down to the harbour to see her off. ‘I’m worried about you, you’re so quiet. I wish you wouldn’t go all that way out there. What if you get sick?’
‘I’m not going to, Mum. I’m as healthy as a horse. The chopper can fly me straight to hospital if necessary. Now, you be sure and call Beverly and get into that tennis club.’
‘I certainly will. Oh my goodness, look who’s over there!’
Jennifer spun around to see who her mother was ogling. In the middle of a group was a man, hair spiked with gel, dark glasses, a bold Mambo shirt open over his bare chest, and white shorts. Three young women who looked like caricatures of sexpot starlets seemed to be attached to him. A video cameraman walked backwards in front of them, a sound recordist attached by his sound umbilical cable held a fluffy boom microphone aloft.
‘That’s Dougie Wilson, the TV star,’ whispered Christina, in awe.
‘Bloody Willsy,’ muttered Jennifer. ‘What’s he doing up here?’
In the resort check-in area she found Vera. ‘What’s going on with the media circus on the wharf?’
‘They’re doing a segment for Willsy’s TV show. What a pain in the bum he is,’ she said shortly.
‘Vera, this is my mother, Christina Campbell, she’s seeing me off. Willsy isn’t going to the island, I hope?’
‘Not to Branch. He’s on that monster cruiser. Doing a fishing charter. They might go to Sooty.’
Jennifer shuddered. ‘I hope I don’t have to see him.’
‘I rather like him on TV,’ said Christina. ‘Cheeky, bit of a larrikin, but you know how they are these days.’
‘I heard there was some heavy partying when he was at Branch last time,’ said Vera. ‘Frankly, I don’t think they’ll be doing much fishing. That boat is meant to stay in port and party, or rip over to Hawaii or New Zealand.’
Jennifer didn’t answer. How could he dare to come back up here? She’d seen the photos of Rhonda as a bridesmaid back in Dublin and the last she and Blair had heard she was working in her father’s office and hating it. She’d knocked back a job in a pub that would have paid well. She confessed she was nervous around drinkers and wouldn’t work in hospitality again.
From inside the glassed-in waiting area they watched the group being filmed and finally Willsy and the girls boarded a sleek speedboat that zipped from the wharf through the moored boats to the luxury cruiser, Kicking Back. Jennifer wondered if the slick boys and the young English staffie were on board. She didn’t care especially. She just hoped the cruiser didn’t come to Branch.
Rosie wasn’t getting back to Branch until the next morning, so Jennifer made a quiet return to the isla
nd. She’d rung Mac and he’d confirmed that she could stay at the research station. They’d agreed that the best way to explain this was to say she’d been hired to write about the station’s current activities for an academic journal and had formally begun an intensive study course under Professor Macdonald Masters and Dr Isobel Belitas. This news item was written up in the resort’s daily newsletter.
As the big white catamaran nosed out of the harbour a feeling of anticipation and relaxation struck Jennifer. There was a visible letting-down of hair, a more relaxed attitude amongst the passengers as they kicked off their shoes, had a glass of champagne, began to get into holiday mode. She felt it too, as people around her set out to have a good time. This was an interlude of blue space between the familiar mainland and the speck of green on coral that was now her island home.
Doyley saw her and gave her a big smile. ‘How’re things in the big smoke? I’m off tomorrow for a whole week.’ It seemed the news item in the Branch newsletter hadn’t made much of a ripple around the resort.
‘Don’t rage too hard. What’s news here?’ asked Jennifer as brightly as she could. While she was glad to be on the island she felt uncomfortable about the new arrangement.
If Doyley saw anything odd in the assistant manager’s wife moving out he didn’t show it. ‘All quiet on the western front. Good luck with your studies, by the way. When do you want your gear moved over to the station?’
‘Oh, I haven’t decided what to take yet. Where’s Blair?’
‘He’s in his office.’
‘Ah, have you heard anything about a TV crew coming here?’ She hoped Blair hadn’t arranged for Willsy to film the resort.
‘Nope. Whenever they do it’s a nightmare for the guests.’
‘Thanks, Doyley, see you later.’ Jennifer headed to reception.
Blair was coming out as she approached. He gave her a warm smile. ‘Hey, is everything all right? How’s Christina?’
‘Settling in. She’ll be okay. So long as she stays there . . . though she doesn’t seem to want to cross the water, thank heavens. And the doctor is pleased with my progress,’ she added pointedly.
‘Oh, good.’ There was a slight pause. ‘Do you want to have lunch with me?’
‘Thanks, but I think I’d better check in at the station. I’m going to stay over there for a bit, Blair, just for a break. And I’ll be busy with all the projects happening.’
‘So I read in the newsletter,’ he said dryly.
‘Blair, do you know anything about Willsy and a film crew coming here?’
‘Shit no.’ He looked shocked. ‘Why?’
‘I saw him at Headland. I also saw Fanzio and Holding and that young staffie from England. Rosie pointed him out. It looks like they’re all on Kicking Back.’
Blair looked stunned. ‘No idea.’ He didn’t look pleased at being left out of the loop. ‘They could be cruising further north.’
‘Don’t those two executives do any work? Vera thought they were going fishing.’
‘Yeah? For what?’ Blair gave a short laugh. ‘Did Rosie talk to them?’
‘No. Anyway, so long as that Willsy doesn’t have the gall to come here.’
‘No one knows anything. We can’t stop him, especially if he’s with corporate people. So don’t say anything to anyone. And if they’re filming, well, it could be good for us.’
Jennifer turned away. ‘I don’t agree. But that’s your area, Blair.’
‘So when will I see you?’
‘I’m packing some clothes. I’ll go backwards and forwards, if that’s all right. Keep up appearances,’ she said, trying to smile.
‘Well, how about dinner sometime soon? Rosie will be back, I’ll be off duty.’ There was a hint of gallantry in his manner.
‘That’d be nice. I’ll give you a call from Mac’s.’ It occurred to her he could walk over and have a look around, find out what she was doing. But she wasn’t inclined to suggest it, and he hadn’t asked. She decided she preferred keeping her two worlds separate.
Jennifer went to the cabin and added clothes, toiletries and towels to the bag she’d taken to Headland and left it in the courtyard. Doyley had promised that someone going to the station would drop it off for her. She changed into shorts and hurried to her new accommodation.
She waved to several of the researchers as she went into her work area and found a note from Tony stuck to her laptop. ‘If you’re back by two p.m. come to Gideon’s. Bring notepad! Going for a dive!’ The station was quiet, and she wondered what was going on.
There was a buzz of activity at Gideon’s. Through the trees she could see a group at the edge of the lagoon where Lloyd was at the helm of the cabin cruiser and Rudi and Carmel were in a tinnie. Between the little aluminium outboard and the fishing boat floated Gideon’s submersible. It looked more like a super sea beast gleaming silver and white, the clear nose cone and bubble windows looking like a transparent snout and eyes. The hatch on top was open, with Gideon, in a black wetsuit, perched on top and Isobel, in a purple wetsuit, in the water beside it. The great fishlike seaplane was tethered by ropes held by Lloyd in the fishing boat and Carmel in the tinnie.
Tony waded from the water and came towards her. ‘Good timing. This is quite an effort.’
‘I had no idea this was happening. Are they really going to dive?’
‘A serious test run. Tide and conditions are perfect. Gideon will pilot, Isobel will observe, plus one other. You or I have first option.’
‘Not me. No way.’
‘I suspected as much. There’s a video camera on board, but they say it’s not the same as being there, so to speak. But you should go with Lloyd.’
She hesitated. ‘All right. What’s the plan?’
‘Apparently they’re checking the state of the reef around here in the marine park, then they’ll go outside the reef for a test dive to one hundred metres. Later they’ll do the bigger depths off the continental shelf.’
‘I can’t believe Gideon built that thing.’
‘Its specifications and design are similar to a lot of the submersible manufacturers’. It’s a huge business going in all directions. Gideon has added a few clever design features.’
‘Using his aeronautical engineering, I suppose. It really does look like an underwater plane. Or a shark! Are you nervous getting in it?’
He looked at the craft and grinned. ‘Sort of. But Isobel is so experienced I feel safe with her. And Gideon, I have to say, does seem to know what he’s doing.’
‘He should,’ said Rudi, joining them. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be so gobsmacked by what you can see you won’t think about anything else.’
They headed slowly out of the lagoon into the deeper water, the fishing cruiser towing the craft with the three adults strapped inside in harnesses. They had audio contact with Lloyd’s boat.
They ran through a checklist and then Gideon’s voice announced they would begin descending and fly under their own power. The line was dropped, Gideon pushed the control stick that was electronically linked to the thrusters in the rear, and the shark mobile shot below the surface in a roar of bubbles, its passengers seated in the pressurised cabin. Like a plane it banked to starboard and slid swiftly down and away from the cruiser.
Jennifer’s heart lurched. She glanced at Lloyd who was looking at his sonar screen. ‘Is it safe?’
‘They can move quickly, it’s very manoeuvrable. Unlike the old subs, which were like hot air balloons with ballast tanks,’ said Lloyd. ‘It’s my dream to build one. I wish I’d gone to uni but I just wanted to get on the water and help my dad. I did my apprenticeship with him as a shipwright, but he prefers boats that stay above the water. Gideon is my teacher now.’
‘About submersibles? How can he afford to do all this? Or has Isobel subsidised him?’ asked Jennifer. Now that she’d seen the shark mobile in action she was stunned at its sophistication. This was no tin, plastic and string job, but high-tech alloys with specially treated viewing windows and elec
tronics. Folded underneath the short wings or fins were manipulators – mechanical arms that could be controlled to pick up objects. The array of geophysical instruments in the cockpit was way beyond her understanding.
Lloyd cut the motor, dropped the anchor and sat back in the swivel chair at the wheel. ‘Gideon doesn’t say a lot, but he must have access to money somewhere. Isobel helped for sure, she has the backing of all kinds of people interested in her work. She’s very open in what she’s doing because she wants the world to know about protecting the oceans. But with others . . . there’s a lot of secrecy.’
‘Big money at stake, I suppose.’
‘Yeah, when it comes to industry uses. But there was a team of oceanographers from Scripps Institute out here a year ago. Man, what I’d give to go to San Diego and study there. Even just to work on one of their research ships. They told me some of the stuff being investigated on a global scale. If they’re investing around two hundred million bucks, there must be some pay-off.’
They sat in silence for a while, then a seagull with one leg flew down and squatted on the top of the cabin. Lloyd went to the locker, pulled out his bait bucket and handed the seagull a fish. ‘That’s Hoppy. Lost his foot when he got caught in fishing tackle floating in the water. Some fisherman had a tangle, cut it off, and threw it overboard. We found Hoppy with his foot almost severed by the nylon and his wing tangled up as well. Nursed him back to health and he’s learned to manage with just one foot. He follows us when we come out fishing for a free feed.’
‘Talking of fishing, I saw those guys, Fanzio and Holding, over on the mainland. They had that Willsy and a bunch of groupies with them. Said they were going out fishing.’
Lloyd looked surprised. ‘Yeah? Wonder who they’ve got as crew? That’s not a boat for fishing unless they take a small craft along with them. They didn’t seem the fishing type anyway.’
‘It’s just an excuse to get away with a bunch of girls, guys and booze,’ said Jennifer.
‘And the rest,’ said Lloyd.
‘Drugs?’
‘When Willsy was staying here he was offering hard stuff around. I don’t think Rosie knew. Doyley tried to keep a cap on it.’
