A Hidden Heart of Fire

by Edna Dawes

  . . . Nancy decided to wait until after her diving session before telling Ben. It might cause tension between the men at a tricky time; but try as she might, she couldn’t hide her stiffness of manner when she met them on the jetty that afternoon.

  Both of them asked if she was well enough to go, and the concern in Rod’s voice sounded so genuine that she longed to hit out at him.

  The boat rounded the point in the opposite direction to the one she had taken that morning.

  “We’re going out beyond the reef,” said Rod. “Look out when we cross the breakers—it gets a bit choppy.”

  His smile hurt her with its suggested intimacy, and she looked away—out over the immensity of water. For the first time in her life she regarded the sea as her enemy. Suddenly, its powers of imprisonment struck her so forcibly that she almost wished she hadn’t to go down beneath the gently swelling surface.

  It was more than choppy crossing the surging, foaming breakers. Once they were well past, Ben cut the engine.

  “All change,” he said cheerily.

  Nancy put on her breathing set and mask with accustomed ease, but the pleasure which usually accompanied the task was absent.

  Rod waited for her to slip over the side, and they both hung on to the boat while he gave her his instructions. She watched his intent expression and listened to the words, trying desperately hard to concentrate.

  “Keep beside me the whole time,” he said. “We are closer to the edge of the shelf than Ben has ever taken you, so it is essential you stay glued to my side. I shall use the normal communication methods, but if I point to the surface, it means that you go up immediately. Don’t look to see what I am doing, just get back up here as soon as possible.” He put his hand over hers and smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s not likely to happen.”

  She nodded, tense again, but followed him down and kept beside him all the way. They worked well together. His signals were clear and decisive, and he took the trouble to point out anything of interest to her. Attached to his waist was a bag on a string, into which he put specimens of plants which he prised up with a knife from a sheath strapped to his thigh. Every so often he would signal Nancy to get some shots of a particular fish. Why he picked one rather than another, she couldn’t tell, because there was no apparent difference in them, but his scientific eye must have detected some aspect which was of note.

  They travelled downward towards the lower part of the reef. Rod signalled that she should keep clear of the coral, but Ben had already dinned into her the dangers of the poisonous stone fish, which could disguise itself so well that it was impossible to recognize it, and the equally deadly cone shell. Rod stopped her where part of the reef stretched out in a long, gnarled finger. He indicated that she was to film it at close range, although there appeared to her to be nothing worth filming. The coral was completely denuded of growth.

  As she undulated her way towards it, she realized it might be that very fact which interested Rod. No plants, no life whatsoever—the formation looked like a heavily encrusted log, completely dead.

  Concentrating on getting the best-angled view, Nancy had a shock when something barged into her, knocking her completely off-balance so that she tumbled over and over in a flurry of flippers and oxygen bubbles.

  Her hand still gripped the camera instinctively, as if it were a lifeline, and as she floundered in the intense blueness, a dark shape swam past, just above her. It was Rod, but he was too intent on what he was doing to help her.

  It was only a matter of a few seconds before Nancy was steady and able to see what had happened. Rod was fending off a large striped snake which moved through the water with amazing scissor movements. Nancy deduced it must have been resting in the crevices of the reef when they had disturbed it.

  Rod was signalling urgently for her to go up, so she did as he instructed and headed for the blurred shape of the boat; but one part of his warning she disregarded. The urge to look back was far too strong; and when she did so, the sight horrified her. They must have disturbed a nest of sea-snakes. The yellow and green striped bodies were making patterns round Rod, who resembled Medusa as he made desperate efforts to scare them off.

  Nancy hovered below the surface, frozen with irresolution. Why didn’t he come up? Surely the snakes wouldn’t follow him into the brilliant light up here? For several numb seconds she watched the scene until the truth dawned on her. There was only one reason why Rod would stay by that reef. He couldn’t surface. Something was holding him fast!

  Afterwards, Nancy remembered the way she panicked, and felt ashamed, but at the time her one thought was to hand the situation over to somebody who would know what to do. She broke surface about two yards from the boat and snatched out her mouthpiece to shout: “Rod’s trapped.”

  Ben came to the side and hauled her in, his face a frozen mask.

  “Tell me quickly and concisely,” he said as he pulled off the white cylinder and slipped his arms into the harness she had been wearing.

  Although she still shook from head to foot, she told him the situation. Then, wearing her cylinder and flippers, Ben lowered himself over the side and sank out of sight, leaving Nancy huddled on the seat.

  In almost no time two heads bobbed up about twenty feet away, and Nancy took the boat across, too dazed to feel anything but relief.

  The men climbed in and sank wearily against the sides as they pushed up their masks. Nobody spoke for several minutes, then Rod pulled himself up and began to shrug the harness from his shoulders.

  “Were you very frightened?” he asked Nancy gently.

  “Yes. I can’t remember ever feeling so helpless. What happened?”

  “My cylinder caught in a crevice and I was afraid to pull away, in case I severed the air-line. Normally I would have fiddled about behind me until I released it, but the snakes pretty well kept me occupied. We disturbed a group of them. They are poisonous, but only attack if they feel they are in danger. Once Ben had unhooked me, it was simply a matter of swimming clear of them.” He looked hard at her. “Are you all right?”

  “I feel a bit shaken, that’s all. This incident has brought me face to face with the serious side of your job. You could have been killed!”

  “And would that have mattered to you?”

  Nancy watched in surprise as a faint flush mounted his face “Ben, get this thing going, will you?”

  The older man, who was still lying back, opened his eyes and said: “Yeah, just give me another minute.”

  Rod looked round and sized up the situation. “Never mind,” was the swift reply, “I’ll take us back. You stay where you are!” He started up the engine and inclined his head to tell Nancy to keep an eye on Ben.

  In some concern, she eased off the breathing set and took off the rubber flippers. He had not worn a wetsuit because he had not expected to go below. His chest was heaving from the effort he had made. Nancy then remembered his telling her he had been forbidden to go below a certain depth because of his health, and a quick look at Rod’s face confirmed her fears. Ben was more than just tired!

  *

  After dinner that evening, Rod walked across to the bungalow and was given a cup of coffee by Meg.

  “Well,” asked Matt, “what’s the latest bulletin?”

  “The breathing is regular enough to allow him to sleep. He’ll be all right in a few days, but I’ll have to tie him to the bed to keep him there. It’s essential.”

  Meg put down her cup and stole a sideways look at her niece. “Don’t worry your head, Rod. That’s where we women come into our own. Nancy and I have ample time to spare. Ben will go in fear of his life if he so much as puts a toe out of bed.”

  Rod smiled. “Have a heart, Meg! Don’t bully him into submission.”

  “Nancy won’t have to bully him; she has him round her finger already. Isn’t that right, dear?” The older woman was trying to make Nancy relax. Her attempt at cheering up fell flat, however. All it coaxed from Nancy was the ghost of a smile.
/>   Ten minutes later, Rod stood up to go. “Thanks for the coffee, Meg. It was very good, as usual.”

  He had reached the compound when Nancy’s voice pulled him up short, and he turned to find her running down the steps.

  “Rod—is he really all right?”

  He smiled at her. “Sure he is. Want to see for yourself?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll take your word for it.” There was a pause. “I feel responsible. If I hadn’t panicked, I would have realized what the situation was, and come to your aid myself. I knew Ben was not supposed to go to that depth, yet I forced him to take over from me.”

  Conscious that they were within earshot of both bungalows, Rod took her arm and guided her towards the beach. “You acted correctly. I expect people to do as I say when we are working together. I soon bawl them out if they don’t. It’s essential to have complete understanding. That’s why Jim—” His voice tailed off.

  They continued walking until they reached the sand and then turned along the beach. The wind took Nancy’s hair like a banner, blowing it across her face to blind her, and she put up a hand to hold back the red strands.

  They reached the jetty and walked to the end, braced against the breeze.

  “One of your favourite places—yours and Ben’s,” said Rod. “I have often seen you sitting here.”

  “Yes.” She watched the palm fronds tossing back and forth against the midnight-blue of the sky. “I am very fond of Ben. I can’t tell you what sort of fondness it is, because I have never experienced it before, but when I saw how he had collapsed this afternoon it turned me inside out!” She pulled fine strands of hair from her eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Why not? Do you think it left me cold?”

  “I have no idea how you feel. Men are so much better at disguising their emotions than we women are.”

  “We’re trained that way from childhood.” His words flew away on the wind.

  That thought hung between them for a while, then Nancy took a deep breath and asked: “Are you flogging yourself with guilt over Jim Maitland’s death?”

  His reaction was instant. “Good heavens, no!” The snap in his voice matched the sudden alertness in his body. “What gave you that idea?”

  “Something Meg said, and the way you suddenly stopped speaking of him just now.”

  He shifted uneasily beside her. “That was because I realized the accident was too similar to this afternoon’s incident. I had no desire to deepen your depression.”

  “I see. Something is upsetting you, though. Ben is convinced of it.”

  He made no comment, so she persisted. “I don’t know you well enough to judge whether he is right, but he believes that you are caught up in something unpleasant. Even I can see that you have had something on your mind these past couple of days.”

  “My, my,” he said softly, “for an inveterate sophisticate you are surprisingly concerned over the welfare of the castaways of Wonara—first Ben, now me. Could it be that beneath that seductive exterior beats the heart of a ministering angel, a do-gooder trying to get out?”

  She fell into his trap and flared up immediately. “I admit I made a bad impression that first evening—I set out to antagonize you—but you have never let me forget it, have you? Since then I have gone out of my way to try to fit in with life in this awful place. I sit and talk to Aunt Meg while she does her endless embroidery, I try to be friendly and interested in every one of your staff members, I endure the insects, the plumbing system, and the masked natives who appear in the night—and I have kept myself usefully occupied by learning underwater photography. Yet I have to suffer your insulting remarks. And now, when I show honest concern over you and Ben, I get a cynical rebuff which questions my sincerity. Just what kind of girl do you think I am?”

  He reached out. “At a rough guess, I’d say this kind!”

  A man who has not kissed a girl for twelve months is not likely to be content with a mere brush of the lips, and the embrace certainly didn’t suffer from lack of practice.

  Nancy’s initial resistance died a quick death beneath his superior strength and her own leaping response. That physical quality about him which had first attracted her was never more apparent than at this moment, when her hands felt the warm hardness of his shoulders beneath the thin shirt, her body was half-lifted against his with no apparent effort, his mouth took hers firmly, and her nostrils were filled with the scent of plain soap and the faint odour of rubber from his wetsuit.

  Finally she forced herself to pull away, and they stood breathlessly facing each other, summing up the situation.

  “That was sheer lunacy, but I guess it was inevitable.” The huskiness in his voice had deepened, giving it an emotional quality which weakened Nancy’s defences. “Another year on Wonara suddenly seems like an eternity.” His hand ran up and down her bare arm with the lightest of touches.

  “What makes a person want to isolate himself on a place like this?” she asked shakily.

  He gave a short laugh. “It’s not so much wanting to as having to. Unfortunately, marine science can only be practised where the subject matter is found.”

  He pulled her back into his arms. “At the moment, I am only interested in this experiment!”

  It was sheer lunacy, as he said, but Nancy hadn’t the will-power to break the spell.

  When they walked back, and Nancy said she must go in, Rod lingered—reluctant to let her go. She stood in the doorway, watching his tall figure cross the compound, wondering how she would endure the next three weeks, knowing the boat would come at the end of them.

  Even after he had climbed the steps and disappeared from sight, she stayed where she was, not wanting to break the enchantment by going inside. Rod was an entirely new experience. This uncomplicated Australian had knocked her off her feet.

  She was turning to go in when a movement to her right caught her eye. Freezing against the shadow of the doorway, she followed the progress of the man as he hugged the side of Sheila Maitland’s bungalow on his way to the men’s quarters.

  A shaft of moonlight highlighted him as he crossed the space between two buildings and she identified him as Alec Cook. There was no doubt about it this time. His height and build fitted no other man on Wonara, and the close-cut dark hair was moulded to the well-shaped head. Nancy was a keen observer of physical features, for her profession required concentration on the set of a head, the twist of the shoulders, or the placing of a hand.

  He must have been trapped by their return and had dared not move until the coast was clear. How often did he visit the home of the woman he yearned after?

  Thinking about Alec brought back all the old ghosts of suspicion about this little group on Wonara. In her happiness she had forgotten about David Russell’s inexperience as a photographer, the amazing reappearance of Jim Maitland’s camera three months after his death, and Ben’s conviction that Rod was under stress of some sort. The chill of depression began to creep over her once more as she realized that Rod had only become amorous when she had started asking awkward questions . . .

  Sleep evaded her until an hour before dawn, then she was dead to the world for the first part of the morning and didn’t wake until it was far too late to follow the path around the headland again, as she had intended.

  Her aunt was ready to do battle in the sick-room, and they walked across to the office which served as Rod’s sleeping quarters.

  Ben proved to be a difficult patient, as most men are! The idea of two women forming their own private nursing corps to ensure that he got the vital rest he needed, didn’t appeal to him at all. Unfortunately for him his condition gave Meg the ideal opportunity to exercise her maternal instinct.

  Nancy sympathized with him, but couldn’t help laughing at his disgusted expression when Meg told him to lie down at once, or she’d tell Rod.

  “She acts like a flaming nursery governess!” he complained to Nancy when her aunt had gone across to rest on her bed.

&nb
sp; “If you did as you were told, she wouldn’t have to.”

  His jaw dropped. “Not you, too!”

  Her laugh was gay with relief. “Poor Ben, outnumbered two to one for a change! You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you grumble. It proves you are back to normal.” She sobered. “I let you down and panicked yesterday. I’m truly sorry.”

  “So you should be—for panicking, but nothing else. Rod said you took it to heart.” He stuck his head on one side. “Kept him a long time cheering you up last night, didn’t you?”

  She advanced on him with a cushion. “Ben Garrett, I believe you are faking all this! You were supposed to be fighting for your life last night, yet you were well enough to spy on me!”

  He didn’t respond as she had expected. “Don’t do it, Nancy. It would never work out.”

  The cushion dropped harmlessly on the end of the bed and the laughter left her face. “That advice comes too late—and it’s a bit of an about-face from the last piece of advice you offered. Give him a taste of ginger, you said.”

  “That was before I realized which way you were heading. I thought you were looking for a lark, not a future.”

  She walked to the window and leant against the frame, looking out at the ocean.

  Ben struggled into a sitting position without her noticing. “Look, girl, you two are poles apart. Rod gets himself in a jam of some sort, then along comes a cookie with flaming red hair, rounded curves, and a come-on look in her eyes. He’s a healthy bloke who has been on Wonara for a long year. What do you expect him to do? You’re a city girl who knows what it’s all about. He’s not expecting you to take it seriously.”

  “I have heard those arguments trotted out on several previous occasions,” she said with a sigh. “Don’t worry, I shan’t cause a scene and make things awkward for him.”

  “Darn it all, it’s not him I’m trying to protect, it’s you! That boat won’t get here for another three weeks. You are liable to land yourself with more than you can handle.”

  Already touchy on the subject, she snapped: “For someone who had known him for ten years, you have a very misguided idea of his personality. I don’t think he is quite the ingenuous, candid man from the outback that you imagine.”