I blink. And then, as if it’s a perfectly natural thing to do, I rest my hand on his chest. It’s warm, and firm. His heart thumps against my palm. I breathe in the ocean smell of him and it’s intoxicating. The gentle pressure of his thumb on my lip increases, and his eyes get brighter. My breath catches in a gulp. I fight against moving even closer, finally jerking my face to the side. His fingers skim across my cheek to my earlobe. But then, as if he’s never even touched me, his hand is by his side again.
My palm is still on his chest. How can I tell him to keep his hands to himself when the heat of his skin is warming my fingers? I touch my bottom lip with my tongue and taste the salt from his thumb.
Finally I find my voice. ‘Why did you do that?’
He hesitates. ‘On the Torrens your lips were cracked and bleeding. I assumed they were swollen. They weren’t.’
‘I’ve seen you staring before.’
‘Are you fishing for compliments, Harriet? You have a beautiful mouth.’
‘I’ve got two crooked teeth. Why do you call me Harriet? Everyone calls me Harry.’
‘I like the name Harriet.’
I take another step back. I leaned my back and bottom against his body on Tuesday. I put my hand on his chest tonight. Why did I let him touch my lip? Is he aware that I like the feel of him?
‘I have to go.’ As I turn away he reaches out and takes my hand. I freeze, and then stare silently as he gives Kat’s present back, closing my fingers around it. The action is intimate, but the expression in his eyes is distant.
‘I’m not a messenger boy,’ he says. ‘Kat’s stationed at Balmoral this week. Give it to her yourself.’ He spins on his heel and strides across the quadrangle, back to Tan’s office. I watch him until, like a panther, he blends into the shadows and disappears.
The Scott Foundation: Environment Adventure Education
Following the post I did in February, a number of people have posed questions about Robert Falcon Scott and Roald Amundsen’s journeys to the South Pole. I’ll address some of these today.
Many historians have looked at why Amundsen’s journey to the Pole (and all the way back again!) was a success, and why Scott had a far more difficult time of it. Scott largely relied on ponies, dogs, and man-hauling in his quest to reach the Pole. In contrast, Amundsen relied solely on dogs. Amundsen’s team’s skiing prowess and dog driving skills were superior to the skills Scott and his team had. Amundsen’s men could move more quickly behind the dogs on their skis; Scott had to slow his dogs down because he and his men couldn’t keep up.
There were also problems with the tins of cooking fuel Scott’s team had left at depots near the base camp earlier in the year. Some of the fuel vaporised and escaped through cork stoppers, meaning Scott’s men had to eat frozen food on the return journey, and had less fuel to melt water, leading to dehydration. Amundsen didn’t have a problem with evaporation. He soldered his fuel lids closed!
Another factor was the weather. Scott and his men expected tail winds towards the end of their journey (these would have enabled the men to attach sails to their sleds) but these winds never eventuated. Rations dwindled, leading to malnutrition, and this slowed the men down further. Amundsen and his men had sufficient rations and fuel. They gained weight on their way back from the Pole!
On the bright side, the fact we know so much about what happened to Scott on his journey is attributable to his excellent communication skills. He recorded everything in his journal until the very end.
Harriet
CHAPTER
10
‘I have a gift for Kat Fisher. Can I drop it over?’
‘Sure,’ says the man at the Balmoral base who answers the phone. ‘But I saw her five minutes ago. I’ll check her room so you can speak to her yourself. Who’s calling?’
‘Harriet Scott.’
‘The Harriet Scott? From The Watch?’
I take a breath. ‘That’s me.’
After one ring Kat picks up. She tells me she’s on shore leave, and bored. And when I tell her I’d like to drop something over to her, she asks if I’d mind if she came to me. I’m busy with Drew and the foundation over the weekend, so I invite her over on Monday evening.
I’m sweeping jacaranda leaves off the front path when she arrives. She’s on a motorbike, dressed in leathers and wearing a full-faced helmet. She pulls the helmet and jacket off and runs her fingers through her vibrant red hair. It’s still short, but her fringe has grown in the past four months; it feathers into her eyes. Freckles cover her face and arms. She’s tall and toned. I don’t want to like her because of her connection to Per, but her smile is infectious. I hug her, grabbing her helmet in one hand and her arm in the other.
‘C’mon in,’ I say. ‘I’ll get you a drink.’
She whistles when I take her onto the deck and she sees the expanse of ocean, sparkling blue and silver as the sun goes down.
‘Jesus,’ she says.
Does she use that expression because Per does? Or is it just a naval thing? I stand next to her and lean my hands on the railing. The paint is flaking.
‘Fancy a walk? We’ll eat later, when my housemate Liam gets home.’
Even though the tide is out, I put Kat between the shore break and me. I’m only half-listening to what she’s saying as I warily contemplate the ocean.
Dr Makepeace said I could get help from a psychologist before I go back in the water. But I don’t want to talk about the accident any more now than I did years ago. He also suggested swimming lessons, but they were a disaster when I tried them last time. Roger was a sports psychologist and coach. He agreed to take me on because, as he told Drew, he was bored with dealing with Olympic swimmers and wanted a new challenge. For the first few weeks we met at a toddler’s pool at a leisure centre and, in between panic attacks, he made me blow bubbles on the surface of the water. The next month he held me under my arms, so my face stayed above water, and pulled me along. Then I did breaststroke, with my knees scraping the bottom of the pool. A couple of weeks later he told me I’d graduated to a deeper pool. We faced each other across the water. I could just stand. He walked backwards so he was treading water, and then he held out his arms.
‘You can do it, Harriet!’ he said.
I was sixteen. I wanted to please him. But as soon as I was out of my depth I panicked, thrashed around, and kicked him in the face, breaking his nose in two places. Then the flashing lights of a migraine took over and I passed out. Drew had just arrived to pick me up. He jumped into the water and dragged me out of the pool. Then he laid me on my side and thumped the water out of my lungs.
Drew was furious with Roger, and accused him of making a lot of fuss over a piddling broken nose. What Drew was really upset about was seeing me face down in the water. It was clear he was shaken. His face was ashen.
‘Giraffes don’t swim, so far as I know,’ he said as we walked to the car park. He put his arm around my shoulders. I barely reached his chest because I hadn’t had my growth spurt yet. ‘So you’ll be all right, Harry. I’ll keep an eye out. You’ll be all right.’
On our way home Kat and I meet Allan, walking his golden retriever Dougal. The dog breaks free, jumps at my chest and slobbers on me. When I laugh, Allan gently chastises me for being too soft on him. Meanwhile, Kat snatches Dougal’s tennis ball and throws it into the shallows, and Dougal chases after it, and then her, as she darts in and out of the water. Her jeans are rolled up to the knees but within minutes she’s wet to the thighs, and she’s been splashed so often her shirt is sticking to her back.
When we were at the lawyer’s office, Per asked me whether I’d been paddling lately. He clearly thought that I hadn’t. And he was right. I can’t paddle, and it’s getting increasingly difficult to watch other people paddling. Kat is laughing but I’m frightened for her. I swallow down the nausea and take deep breaths.
‘Dougal!’ Allan calls. ‘Time to head home, laddie.’
By the time Kat and I get home Liam is ther
e. Kat looks him up and down when I introduce them, and sends him an appreciative smile. I suppose he’s good-looking for a doctor. I ask her questions through dinner, about Perth where she grew up, and what attracted her to the navy. She gives us an outline of all the remarkable things she gets up to, and then complains how difficult it is to keep up with her boyfriends.
‘I have one in every state,’ she says.
She’s open and confident when she talks about men. Why can’t I put a youthful infatuation and all the stupid decisions I made afterwards behind me, and be more like Kat? I wouldn’t hand over my mind and body again, like I did with Grant. And I don’t want casual sex. But surely there’s a middle ground?
Liam drapes an arm around my shoulders as we watch Kat stow the carved penguin in the storage box of her bike.
‘Per said you might be getting another ship,’ she says.
It’s the first time she’s mentioned Per. I hold up both hands and cross my fingers. ‘Hope so. She’s beautiful.’
‘Yeah, Per said that too. We’re back at sea next week. Working north of Darwin. We’ll be gone for a month, maybe longer.’
‘Right … Take care, then.’
Kat is fiddling with the buckles on her jacket, and avoiding looking at me. ‘He said I should find out what’s happening. You know, about the swimming.’
‘Tell him I’ll contact Professor Tan when I have something to say.’
She grins. ‘Yeah. Thought you’d say something like that.’
Ten minutes later Liam and I are standing side by side at the kitchen sink.
‘You kissed my mouth when I got back from the beach,’ I say. ‘Ewww!’
He laughs and flicks me with the tea towel. ‘I’m a good kisser. It must be you who sucks. Anyway, it was only a peck. And we have kissed before, Harry. With tongues and everything.’
I shoulder bump him. ‘Yeah. But we were going out then. Sort of.’
He laughs again, and tells me not to worry. Although he and his smart, beautiful, on-again-off-again doctor girlfriend Rachael are almost definitely over this time, he won’t be visiting my bed unless invited.
‘So why’d you kiss me? To put Kat off you? That’d be stupid. She’s great.’
He shakes his head. ‘She has a crush on you, not me, you idiot.’
‘It’s just the celebrity thing. She’ll get over it. So why did you kiss me?’
He shrugs. ‘Don’t know. Just figure you’ve got Tan and Polarman hassling you to get back in the water, so she should know there’s someone in your corner.’
I stare at him, open-mouthed. Then I find my voice. ‘It’s my decision to swim, Liam. All Per has done is force me to do it at a time that suits him. And I’m warning you, he’ll kill you if he hears you call him Polarman. And then he’ll kill me because I told you about it.’
‘I’m not scared of him.’
‘You should be. He’s an action hero, remember?’
Liam knows about my meeting in Professor Tan’s office. But I’d never tell him what happened in the quadrangle afterwards. Even though Per had salt in his hair and smelled of the ocean, it was stupid to let him touch me.
CHAPTER
11
It’s been well over a month since I met with Professor Tan and Per. Soon the foundation will be ready to launch the Scott and Amundsen fundraising campaign for the new ship. I promise my Year 7 class that if they work quietly for the next hour, I’ll tell them a secret. Then I pin butcher’s paper to an easel and get to work. The kids can’t see what I’m doing, but I can keep an eye on them.
First I sketch the OPV ship. Professor Tan left me a message that he’d secured funding to lease it until the end of the year. And he’s got an option to purchase it early next year. Which gives us a deadline—by then we’ll need to raise funds to add to the insurance money the foundation will get for The Watch. Tan has agreed to lobby the government, institutional investors and media outlets. My role is to engage the public so they get behind the project too.
Next I sketch Per. He looks like Polarman—without the sash. He’s standing on the deck of the ship, at ease. The wind ruffles his hair. How am I going to convince him to grow his hair longer?
Finally, I draw a classroom of Palauan children. They’re sitting at their desks. One little boy is looking out of the window, frowning as he watches palm trees bending in the storm, and fishermen hauling in their boats.
It was sixteen years ago that I was last in Palau, but I still remember the marine life, reefs and rock formations. And the diving, snorkelling and climbing. Footage shot by Dad will be useful as background material for the new documentary. Particularly as I haven’t changed much, other than getting taller. Palau—now that it has tides so high they threaten villages and livelihoods—has changed a lot.
‘Finished yet, Harry?’ Jonty says.
Lucy swivels in her chair. ‘Shut up! Or she won’t tell us the secret.’
‘Lucy,’ I say, ‘face the front. Jonty, I’ll speak to you later. Class, would you like to see my sketches?’
I tell them about my trip to Palau when I was a child, only a few years younger than them. And I give them details about the new ship, and how the foundation will use it for a documentary series. Jonty meekly addresses me as Miss Scott. He asks about Commander Amundsen’s scar.
‘Did he get it in the Middle East?’
Per’s eyes were troubled when I referred to his scar. I’m still not sure why that worries me so much.
‘I’m not sure how he got it,’ I say.
Jonty taps keys on his laptop. ‘He’s on the foundation’s website. I’ll email and ask.’
‘I don’t know that such a personal question is appropriate. Ask about Antarctica instead. He’ll be on the ship for that voyage.’
We talk about the best way to educate people about global warming and sea temperature changes, and the impact of these on the world’s environment. Then I outline my ideas for competitions for school children, and we think up names for the ship to replace The Watch.
‘What about The Watch II?’ Jonty says.
‘That’s boring,’ Amber says. ‘What colour’s the ship?’
‘Mostly white, some black.’
‘What about The Polar Bear?’ Lucy says. ‘Because the ship’s going to the South Pole with Commander Amundsen.’
‘To rescue the polar bears!’ Amber says.
‘Except …’ I say, ‘there aren’t any polar bears in the South Pole. They live in the North Pole. Any other suggestions?’
‘How about The Penguin?’ Lucy says. ‘There are penguins in the South Pole.’
‘There are heaps of ships called Penguin already,’ Jonty says.
Lucy slumps in her chair. But only for a moment. ‘The Adélie! That’s an Antarctic penguin. You can call the ship The Adélie.’
The kids are making so much noise discussing names that we don’t hear the bell until the final ring. We’re clearing our desks when Jonty asks another question.
‘Will you go to Palau with the ship?’
I’ve completed hundreds of sets of breathing exercises, but I’m no closer to swimming than when Kat came to dinner.
‘I’d like to go.’
‘Will you be the captain?’
‘I’m not qualified to be the captain.’
Lucy turns towards Jonty again. ‘She’s not allowed to be the captain because The Watch sank,’ she whispers.
‘I hope to be a gofer on the ship, and work with the documentary crew,’ I say.
‘You had plaits last time you went there,’ Lucy says. ‘They were so cute. Will you have plaits again?’
I laugh. ‘If I do get to go, I’ll think about it.’
The Scott Foundation: Environment Adventure Education
Professor Tan recently announced that the foundation has leased a ship—a 1,900-ton OPV. For now she’s going to be named The Adélie (thanks to my Year 7 Geography class for their fabulous suggestions!). With your support, the foundation is hoping to buy
her next year.
As modern day Scott and Amundsens, Commander Per Amundsen and I will be keeping you up to date. We’ll be telling you about the polar explorers who went to the remotest regions of the world in the 1900s, and what’s happening in the North and South Poles now. Because oceans are warming worldwide, with serious environmental implications …
Harriet
Per and I exchange emails the day after the post appears on the foundation’s website.
Harriet. I saw your post. Don’t send anything out that mentions my name without my written approval. Per
Okay. I won’t say Roald Amundsen was a control freak, without letting you know first. Harry
And I won’t tell anyone Robert Falcon Scott was an accident waiting to happen. Per
CHAPTER
12
A few days ago Jonty asked whether I was going to Palau. I’ll never get there if I don’t progress more quickly.
I walk along the beach at least twice a day. This evening I’m on the rock shelf at the northern end of the beach. Sometimes I walk to the rock shelf at the southern end, close to the pool. But I haven’t felt confident enough to put a toe in the water yet. I won’t do it today, either. It will be dark soon, and Professor Tan and I are representing the foundation at a function tonight.
I twist my hair into a knot at the back of my head and secure it with my hair band for the third time. It’s not surprising it’s blowing around everywhere because there’s a stiff breeze tonight.
I come to this spot at dusk whenever the tide is out. The northern rock shelf is sandwiched between a towering sandstone cliff and the sea. The rock pools nearer the cliff face, where I am, are roughly circular and puddle depth. They dry out when the tides are low and the days are warm. The rock pools where the waves break are deeper and darker, and irregularly shaped. They’re fringed with black and white barnacles, lime green algae, and limpets. My heart thumps as I approach the narrow crevice. It’s less than a metre wide but filled with seawater that ebbs and flows with the tides. I could almost step across it but instead I back up and take a running jump, clearing it easily.
In At the Deep End Page 7
