by Di Morrissey
He didn’t notice Jennifer wince.
‘Shouldn’t we stop them? Report them? Did the phone work?’
‘Badly. Then the battery went flat. I left a message with the coastguard that we were sheltering at an island. I didn’t want to shout and alert those turkeys. They’re armed for sure. That’s big money in those crates and cartons.’
‘What kind of animals? What’s going on?’
‘Wildlife smuggling. Exotic pets. The customs pal of Heath’s explained it to me – birds, reptiles, tropical fish, marine samples. They fetch exorbitant prices overseas. They’ve probably collected them from everywhere and this is the distribution point.’
‘My God, my turtle eggs! Is that what they’re doing? But who wants them?’
‘Collectors mainly. Private zoos, some petshops trade illegally. This guy in Cairns told me he could fill any order I wanted. The wildlife we take for granted can fetch thousands of dollars. It’s mega business.’
‘Why would the slick boys and the rest of them bother? It seems risky, a bit tricky to do even if it is big money,’ said Jennifer, trying to absorb this information. ‘Is this what Patch told you?’
‘He told me what he saw, including some rather nasty events. He agreed to put all his stuff on tape – stutter and all.’ Tony looked at Jennifer. ‘I didn’t want you to know about this until I was sure. I didn’t know if Blair was implicated and I don’t think he is. The boys needed access to the island and this area. They probably had some animals stowed on Branch. No one would have paid attention to extra bird calls.’
‘So the club was a front?’
‘Yeah. Gordon was on the ground and Willsy worked with him under the guise of hanging out on holiday charters. The animals are drugged and someone hands them over at sea.’
‘At sea?’ Jennifer was trying not to react to the grabbing pincers in her womb.
‘Heath’s customs mate said it’s generally a freighter registered in China that hooks up with them just outside territorial waters. This is a bigger operation than smuggling some dozy birds or snakes through the post. They have boats that can outrun the coastal patrol. If they’re ever spotted.’
‘So what can we do?’
‘Listen, Jen, this is dangerous. We have to sit tight and hope like hell they don’t find out we’re here. They’d have no compunction in sinking us, shooting us. I’ve turned off all the riding lights and the anchor light. We don’t want them seeing us if they wander up the hill.’
Jennifer had a flashback of Willsy’s temper. She shuddered and gripped her belly. ‘My God. So what’s going to happen to us?’
‘Hope they go and don’t see us. Hopefully we can alert the water police and customs before they get too far.’ He looked at her face. ‘Don’t be scared. We’ll just wait out the night. Er, are you okay? I know it’s a scary business.’
She shook her head No, then nodded Yes.
‘What’s wrong, Jen?’
‘I think I’m going into labour. It’s early.’ Seeing the horrified expression on Tony’s face, she added, ‘It might just be a false alarm.’
‘We can’t wait to find out. Damn this weather.’ He slammed his hand down. ‘I didn’t want to alarm you but there’s another front coming in. Could be a rough night.’
‘I can’t stay here! Can’t we sail back?’ Jennifer was now sure this was no false alarm, every instinct and fibre in her body was readying her for birth.
‘No. It’s too dangerous. Are you sure? I mean, it could be a day away, couldn’t it?’ he asked hopefully.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Tony,’ she said tearfully.
Tony raised his eyes. ‘I don’t believe any of this is happening.’
‘So what are we going to do?’ asked Jennifer, in a small, frightened voice. ‘You ever delivered a baby?’
‘No. And I’m not about to start. Can you walk?’
‘Of course. Not on water though.’
He gave a brief smile. ‘Right then. Here’s the plan.’
21
Still Waters
IT WAS ALMOST DARK and the small dinghy was dragged sideways as Tony pulled at the oars. Jennifer watched for a few moments to see him scramble ashore and pull the little rubber boat high on the rocky beach. There was movement and for a moment as she strained in the fading light she was fearful a figure had lunged at him. But it was the wretched emu again, thrilled its new mate had returned. If this wasn’t so dangerous it would be funny.
She went below, pushing the items they needed into a canvas bag – the handheld GPS, compass, bottle of water, torch, extra clothing, bucket and a blanket. She left the lifeless sat phone but put Tony’s mobile in for when they got back in range. She dumped the bag next to the spare drum of fuel and looked around the comfortable small saloon, wishing she could stay here. The whole idea of taking a small boat to Headland was crazy. But as a firmer contraction hit her, she was reminded that they had little choice. She tightened the stays of her lifejacket.
‘Piss off, get away!’ hissed Tony, as the emu arched and craned, shoving its beaky head into his chest. There was no way he could creep down to the beach on the other side of the cay accompanied by this leggy companion. With a sudden flash of insight Tony stood on tiptoe and raised his arm straight above his head, his hand cupped like a beak, and waved it. Because he was taller than the emu, the creature crouched submissively, and as Tony made aggressive stabs it hunched away and watched him from a distance.
When he crested the hill he could see a flashlight moving along the beach. There were lights and activity on Kicking Back and it appeared all but two of the cartons had been loaded. There was only one man on the beach with the inflatable. Tony had to get to him before he went out to the cruiser. Tony’s foot slipped and a small rock rolled down the hillside, but the man on the beach took no notice. He carried one of the cartons to the boat. Tony stood at the edge of the beach, his back to the dark hill. The man, intent on what he was doing, didn’t look back. Tony began walking behind him, glad he had a black sweater on, holding the heavy metal torch at his side.
The man heaved the large carton into the boat and then spun around, his back still to Tony, who froze in his tracks. The emu had come over the hill from a different direction from Tony and was loping towards the man at the boat. He’d obviously had a run-in with the bird before as he flung his arms about, shouting at the emu.
‘Bugger off! Go on, git the hell . . .’ He didn’t finish the sentence as the torch slammed into the side of his head with Tony’s best forehand.
For an instant Tony and the emu gazed in shock at the man slumped on the sand. Then, adrenalin pumping, Tony stood on his toes and waved his arm above his head once more, this time adding the torch for extra height, and the emu slunk away.
Tony pushed the inflatable into the water and, looking anxiously at the big cruiser, leapt in, fumbling with the motors. The engines roared and the boat jumped forward. Tony steered towards the cruiser, then spun the wheel to one side and the boat swerved, heading across the shallows. Until the tide came in, Kicking Back wouldn’t be able to get back out to sea. He hoped it would take a few minutes for it to register with the men on board that the inflatable was heading away from them.
He’d cleared the channel, skimming over the breaking waves on the reef, when he heard the crack of a rifle. He hoped they didn’t have another power boat on board Kicking Back to chase him. Hopefully, they’d head out to sea and not think to go around the island to the cove, but they could get ashore and climb the hill and see Lloyd’s boat. In the confusion he just needed enough time to collect Jennifer.
They didn’t speak as she handed over the canvas bag and blanket and dragged the small fuel drum to the side as he held the boat. It was dark and she fumbled slightly, feeling sick to her stomach as she backed onto the transom and felt Tony’s arms help her into the inflatable.
‘My God, it’s open. Will we get there in this?’
‘It’s got big engines. We
’ll shoot across the top of the waves. Sit in the centre in the middle, wrap that blanket over you, and the plastic tarp there, and hang on to that rope.’ He hit the starter motor, gunned the engines, and they shot out of the cove, leaving the silent white sloop bobbing in the dark sea.
In minutes the rain started. ‘It’ll act as a screen, be hard for them to spot us,’ he said.
‘What about radar?’
‘They won’t have the gear on a little boat.’
‘Will they catch up with us when they get across the reef?’
‘I’d say they’d be too busy heading in the other direction. They’d want to unload that cargo as arranged. Pass me the GPS and compass so I can set our course.’
Jennifer handed him the small devices that would guide them to Headland. As Tony adjusted direction, a wave sloshed into the boat.
‘That’s what the bucket is for,’ he said.
Jennifer didn’t answer as her breath was taken away by a spasm.
At first she kept glancing over her shoulder to reassure herself that Tony was still hunched by the engines, bulky in his lifejacket with a plastic rain cape thrown over his shoulders. Then she just hugged her knees, trying to find a comfortable position to help her get through the contractions. She tried to breathe steadily and deeply as Lizzie had shown her, thinking that each time the pain came it was just a wave to ride over, then she tried to relax in the space between them.
The rain was sheeting across them in gusts and downpours, blocking visibility across the water. Through it all Tony watched her, his heart aching for her, worried they’d not make it in time, praying that no mishap would befall them. He saw her body tense and shrink into itself every time she had a contraction, and he wished he could help her. Damn the sat battery not working.
When the engines ran dry, they wallowed in the troughs of waves, Jennifer gamely bailing out the water from the rain and sea. The rain came in lashing bursts, but the wind wasn’t as strong as on their trip over, for which they were grateful. This time they were in a much smaller boat, without protection.
The engines sputtered and Jennifer looked up in alarm.
‘The fuel is just running through. Bit of a clog in the line. It’ll be right.’ He reached over and caressed her cheek. The engines roared back to life, and Tony checked their position and sped into the waves again.
Jennifer was reminded of the surf boats she’d seen taking off from wave to wave, but this had been hours and her body was aching from the hard metal bottom of the boat banging down after each wave. At this rate the baby was going to be shaken out of her.
‘How much longer?’ she called.
‘Not sure. Hang in there. Not long.’
‘Are we going in the right direction?’ She had a nightmare thought of them going round in circles in the middle of the ocean.
‘You bet. Trust me.’
At one point, uncaring and tired, she felt like just lying back, giving herself up to whatever happened. But with the next jolt she sat up, feeling a hit of energy and adrenalin surge through her. Some preservation instinct, a desire to see her child safe, raced through her. This is what drives those mother turtles, she thought. If she fell overboard she’d start swimming for shore too.
Jennifer’s eyes were closed, her hand twisted around the rope, her body hunkered down, when Tony touched her shoulder. ‘Look.’
Through the streaming rain Jennifer could see a blur of lights. ‘Is it Headland?’
‘You bet. The main wharf. I’ll see if the mobile works.’ He dialled Isobel.
‘My God, darling! Where are you both? We’re all so worried.’
Tony kept it short. ‘We’re coming into the wharf soon. Can you meet us? She’s having the baby, Isobel.’
‘Oh God!’ Isobel gulped, then was instantly practical. ‘Lizzie and I will be waiting. Tell her to keep deep-breathing. It’ll be all right. Kisses.’
‘Isobel is meeting us. She sends kisses.’
Jennifer grunted and doubled over again.
‘What’s your mother’s number?’
He dialled as Jennifer gave him the numbers. ‘Hello, Christina, this is Tony Adams . . . yes, yes, we’re fine. We’re heading back into Headland. No, it’s not really silly at this time of night, Jen is in labour, we’re being met at the dock. She’s doing fine. Yes, goodbye.’
‘Is she in a flap?’
‘I didn’t give her time to chat. I have to call the coastguard.’
Tony was brief but to the point as he filled in his coastguard contact. ‘Well, they’ll get the police and customs on to it. Be a circus out there by daybreak.’
Jennifer didn’t answer, she was focused on the world inside her.
The tiny figure of Isobel was at the end of the wharf waving a torch, Lizzie had a blanket and was holding an umbrella over them both.
Tony helped Jennifer onto the broad steps, supporting her as her legs wobbled. ‘She’s still got her sea legs. She’s done brilliantly.’
‘Why are you in that bathtub and not the yacht?’ demanded Isobel.
‘It’s a long story. I’m dealing with it. Just take care of Jen.’
In Isobel’s car Lizzie took Jennifer’s pulse and temperature. Her hand rested on Jennifer’s belly as a contraction rippled over it.
‘Pretty intense. How far apart are they?’
‘I wasn’t timing them,’ gasped Jennifer.
‘Well, we’ll see how far you’re dilated when we get you home. You’ve done well.’
‘Will the baby be all right? It’s early,’ she asked worriedly.
‘Of course it will be,’ Lizzie assured her, exchanging a glance with Isobel, who’d been concerned. ‘As soon as I can check you both we’ll decide if you have to go to the hospital.’
‘I hope not. I thought I might be delivering at sea.’
Vi and Don arrived at Christina’s, both looking slightly thrown together and excited.
‘Come on, Tina, let’s go,’ said Don.
‘We’ve got plenty of time. Don’t rush me. I can’t step out the door in my nightgown,’ said Christina, who was wandering around, unable to locate her glasses, or clothes.
‘Luv, just throw anything on. We have to get up to the hospital. I’ve been so worried,’ said Vi.
‘They say first babies take ages,’ said Christina.
‘Well, if that nice Tony risked coming over in this storm it must be getting close,’ said Vi. ‘And it is early. I’m worried. If, God forbid, anything goes wrong, Jenny needs her family there.’
Christina glared at her. ‘And what makes you think anything is going to go wrong?’ she asked coldly.
Don could see behind the imperious voice that his sister was scared.
‘It is early, you know. But she’s in good hands now, everything will be fine. It mightn’t even come tonight,’ he said.
‘Now, what do you want to wear, Tina? Let me help you,’ Vi threw a look at Don.
‘You don’t have to treat me like a child, Vi. I can manage, thank you.’
‘I’d hate to miss it all,’ said Vi.
‘Well, you’re not going to be in there, just in the waiting room,’ said Christina, making no effort to hurry.
Warm and dry, with Lizzie monitoring her and the baby’s heartbeat, Jennifer began to relax, despite the fierce determination of the infant within her to push into the world.
‘Where on earth are Mum and Vi?’ she panted, as Isobel wiped a cool facecloth over her forehead.
‘On their way. Lizzie has spoken to the doctor and he will stop by soon. You concentrate on helping your beautiful baby.’
Vi and Don hovered by the reception desk in the maternity wing as Christina marched through the hospital looking for a nurse she knew.
‘Don, this doesn’t seem right. I bet Jenny’s gone to Isobel’s house as she planned,’ said Vi.
‘Where’s that?’
‘Up the hill. I’ve been there once. I could find it again. Why don’t we just go?’
�
�Wait till Tina comes back. She won’t like it if Jenny has done that. And she won’t like it if we leave her here.’
By the time the doctor arrived at Isobel’s Lizzie had delivered the baby with Isobel supporting Jennifer.
‘A girl! Bella, bella, I knew it was!’ cried Isobel, hugging Jennifer, who couldn’t believe the exquisite infant Lizzie placed at her breast.
‘A little light, but sound. Well done, ladies,’ commented the doctor, after examining the baby and Jennifer.
‘What are you going to call her?’ asked Lizzie, making a notation on her file.
Jennifer smiled at Isobel. ‘Why, Bella, of course.’
The doctor was leaving the big white bungalow as Don, Vi and Christina hurried up the steps to the verandah.
‘Ah, family. Hello, Mrs Campbell. Congratulations.’
‘You mean it’s here? It’s all over?’
‘Mother and child doing splendidly.’
‘So what did she have?’ squealed Vi.
‘A little girl. She was lucky she got back to dry land when she did. Good evening.’
Jennifer was sleeping as Isobel settled Christina, Vi and Don in the sitting room.
‘I’m making Lizzie a pot of coffee. Would you like some, or tea? Or champagne?’ asked Isobel.
‘Can’t we see the baby?’ asked Vi.
‘Of course. Jennifer is exhausted. More from the trip than the labour. I’ll bring Bella out so we don’t wake her.’
‘Bella? Bella? She’s not naming the child that!’ exclaimed Christina.
‘You mean like Isabella? I think it’s pretty,’ said Vi.
‘It means beautiful in Italian. I think it suits her. She’s beautiful,’ Isobel said over her shoulder.
She reappeared, holding a small bundle in a pink shawl, and Christina bit back tears. Part of her was angry at Isobel being there and holding her granddaughter before her, but, as Isobel placed Bella in Christina’s arms, she could only stare at the sleeping baby in wonder.
Vi cooed and touched the downy head, and Don couldn’t stop grinning.
