Shallow Breath (24 page)
I
t is one of the hottest summer mornings in 2010. Desi has finished her swim and is lying on the beach, staring up at the clear sky, recovering her breathing. For years now, she has begun her day in the water. It is a ritual to break the monotony of a life filled with tasks that half-interest her, and, lately, a salve for her acute sense of loneliness.
It has been many years since Finley last appeared, but, even now, every time she gets into the ocean she cannot help anticipating that today she might hear a sudden puff of air and spot a sleek silver outline gliding next to her. And each day she resurfaces with a vague sense of disappointment.
But the dolphin is not the only cause of her melancholy. No matter what she does, she cannot seem to summon up the impetus to radically change her life. The safety of the familiar, however unrewarding, has become easier.
Those closest to her all seem to be moving forward. Maya is busy with friends and her burgeoning social life. Jackson is in
Exmouth for a few months of each year. Pete has been promoted and is working long hours on new projects at the zoo. Rebecca is still happily married to Theo, and Marie is settled in Sydney.
Until Hester died, Desi had thought there was only one kind of grief. But now she realises it is as individual as the person who is missing. Hester had always seemed so agile that Desi had imagined they would ultimately be two old ladies together. She had witnessed Hester fussing over Charlie for such a long time that it seemed strange to watch Charlie tending to his wife, gently wiping the trails of saliva that leaked from her mouth. Sometimes in the last few months of Hester’s life, Charlie had brought her to the shack for a visit. He would walk on the beach while Desi stayed with her mother on the verandah and read romance novels aloud. Desi kept tissues handy, often needing them to soak up the moisture in Hester’s eyes as they sat outdoors, facing the sea. On other occasions, Desi would drive to Lovelock Bay with a small cage or two on the passenger seat, and a one-winged parrot or baby kangaroo would be placed gently on Hester’s lap, for her to stroke with her functioning right arm.
Hester and Connor have left unbridgeable gaps in Desi’s life. As she thinks of them, she begins to scoop up handfuls of sand absent-mindedly, letting the grains escape between her fingers. She studies the layer that remains stuck to her skin, an abundant palette of browns, reds, oranges and whites. She lets her eyes readjust, and the specks of colour blend until she can only perceive a familiar pale yellow.
It’s time
, she says to herself,
to stop moping and embrace this quiet life by the ocean, even if it is routine. Even if it doesn’t do much to change the world
.
She looks up towards the house and realises that Jackson has parked and is walking towards her. They are spending the
day together, and will visit the memorial gardens to mark the ninth anniversary of Hester’s passing. Desi had been upset when Charlie had chosen to bury her ashes, rather than scattering them, thinking her mother would have preferred her final resting place to be either the shack or Lovelock Bay. But she’s come to realise it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t find Hester at the crematorium any more or less than she finds her in the back garden of the shack.
It is the first time Maya has opted out, preferring to attend a friend’s birthday barbecue on the beach. Desi had tried to stifle her sadness when she was told, knowing that Hester would much rather her granddaughter get on with her life than be encouraged to mope around a grave. But still, sometimes it’s hard to watch the world moving on, when it leaves so much of value behind.
She shakes off her melancholy as she jumps to her feet and dusts off her hands. The sand is stuck fast, and she quickly walks to the water and places her palms against the surface, bringing them out clean. Then she hurries across the beach towards Jackson.
‘Sorry, I lost track of time. I’ll get ready quickly, I promise.’
‘Earth to Desi. Earth to Desi.’
The sun casts an unforgiving glare into the passenger side of the car as they drive home, and Desi closes her eyes against it.
‘Lost in thought again?’ Jackson asks.
Desi nods. Her mother’s grave always makes her think about Connor. She still doesn’t know where or if he is buried. It is these kinds of questions that make her consider trying to reach his family again, for Maya’s sake, but so far the resolve has not
lasted long enough for her to follow through on it.
Perhaps his family had scattered his ashes in the sea. Perhaps his spirit raced through the ocean next to the dolphins of Half Moon Bay. There was comfort in the thought.
They are almost at the shack, travelling close to the sea wall. She checks the time, reminding herself that Maya needs collecting in half an hour, and looks at the aquamarine water, a few tinges of pink and gold in evidence as the sun softens. ‘I wonder what happened to Finley, the dolphin that used to come in to the shore,’ she says wistfully. ‘That was a wonderful summer, wasn’t it? And we had no idea it would be our last proper time with Mum.’
Jackson doesn’t say anything. They take the track to the shack, and when he pulls up she is astonished to realise he is crying.
‘Jackson? What is it?’
‘I have to tell you something,’ he says. ‘I can’t keep it to myself any longer. It was a few days before Mum had her stroke.’ He covers his eyes with his hands. ‘I’d got up extra early, to see if Finley was waiting. And he was there’ – he pauses, turns to her – ‘but so was Rick Carlisle’s boat. I was watching from the verandah as the boat got closer and closer. Finley swam across to it, as though to say hello.’
‘Don’t say it.’ Desi can already feel her heart breaking. She doesn’t want to hear any more.
‘First he rammed a long stick into the water. Finley disappeared but bobbed up again. And Rick ran right over him, Des. The water around him turned red, and I watched him thrashing. Rick went back and forth a few times like he was making sure. Then he just motored away.’
Desi’s body has gone cold. ‘I don’t understand …’ she says slowly. ‘Why … why …?’
But she remembers a lifetime of encounters with Rick. She sees him in her bedroom at Lovelock Bay. ‘
Be very, very careful, Desi
.’ She sees him glaring through the glass door. ‘
You’ll keep
.’
‘I was distraught,’ Jackson continues. ‘And when I turned round, Mum was standing there, sobbing. She had seen it all too.’ He takes a deep, shuddering breath. ‘She made me promise not to tell you, Des. She said you’d already had your heart broken enough. I went down to the water, but there was no sign of Finley. We managed to hold it together that morning, but after we left Mum was inconsolable. She had her stroke a few days later. I’ve never been able to separate the two things in my mind.’
Desi opens the car door and almost falls out, gasping for air. Jackson follows her and she waves him away. ‘I need to be on my own, Jackson. I’ll see you later, okay? Please, just go.’
‘Desi, I’m so sorry … I wanted to tell you the truth …’
‘Jackson, GO!’ she screams.
His face ashen, he gets into the car again and drives away.
Desi stumbles towards the beach, blinded by horror. She falls to the sand, imagining the scene as Jackson has told it. She pictures her mother’s semi-paralysed features, staring towards the empty ocean each time they wheeled her chair onto the verandah, her eyes watering. Rick had killed out of hatred; Hester had endured the knowledge of it alone for love.
Anger crashes over her, tumbling her helplessly into its dark, merciless depths. She has witnessed the extent of Rick’s enmity her whole life, and he has got away with everything. Not any more. Her mind becomes a screeching whine of unbroken white noise as she runs to the shack and collects her car keys.
I
n the Boxing Day tsunami, not a single animal that was free to move lost its life.
Kate has heard this ‘fact’ recently from her friend Carl, and is unsure what to make of it. She hopes it is true, but it could be like those other stories she has come across. She’d once heard of an elephant on a Thai beach rescuing a couple of tourists from the flooding water by swinging them onto its back. Later, she’d heard the same tale retold as a mahout whipping the elephant into a run, two terrified riders already clinging to its harness.
Stories have a habit of getting skewed, and sometimes things are not quite as they seem.
But
The Cove
is different, because Kate has seen these horrors for herself.
It began when Carl got hold of a copy of the Oscar-winning documentary on DVD, and a group of them watched it one night in the lounge room of their Thai guesthouse. At the time,
the five of them – Kate, Carl, Lexie, Adam and Nick – had been working on a coral-restoration project in a village near Khao Lak. But once they had seen the film, they could not get it out of their heads. They made a plan to travel to Japan together, talk to the other conservation groups already there and determine if there was anything they could do.
The five of them journeyed to Taiji, a small village on the south-eastern tip of Honshu, where from September to March the dolphins were hunted each day. They stood on a hillside at dawn as a procession of fishermen paraded their boats through the harbour in single file. They answered questions from wary local police, all the while watching the boats pass the rocks and fan out as they headed towards the horizon, searching for their quarry. And they moved to a promontory, alongside a small group of hardy souls there to observe and protest, to witness the boats’ return.
On a lucky day, they were told later, the boats would reappear in dribs and drabs. But this was not such a day. Instead, the fishing vessels came back in a V-formation, long poles thrust into the water, funnels disgorging treacherous black smoke. Dwarfed between them, forty bottlenose dolphins were swimming for their lives.
Kate knew the creatures would be blinded by the clamour of the clanging metal poles as the fishermen banged on them relentlessly. Dolphins use sound to see, and there was no escape from the wall of chaotic, ceaseless noise – they could not cover their ears, or numb their senses, in the way a person can shut their eyes. As Kate and the others watched, one disorientated creature had thrown itself onto the rocks, and was left behind, battered and writhing, no good to either group now.
The rest were steadily guided through the gaping harbour mouth, their point of no return. Once the harbour had trapped
and swallowed them, there was no direction left to go except the Cove.
The observers had all jumped into their cars and driven round to a small sandy beach, which was as close as they could get. Kate hadn’t seen what happened next, for the killing at the Cove had been hidden behind tarps and ropes. But its barriers were makeshift, and not impenetrable. There had been dislocated moments of witness: an escapee breaking away with blood ballooning in the water around it, caught by the tail and dragged once more under the tarps. The shuddering, blood-slicked bodies of the dead and dying that lined a gutting barge, ready for dismemberment into mercury-laden slabs of meat.
As it all unfolded, there had been animated chatter among the campaigners. Someone had spotted two rare rough-toothed dolphins within the group – not part of the fishermen’s allowed take. Sure enough, they spied these dolphins cordoned off, huddled together as part of a group of five.
A girl dressed in black had come over to talk to Kate’s group. ‘Today it’s bottlenose, but tomorrow it could be pilot whales, or Pacific white-sided dolphins,’ she said. ‘As long as it’s allowed by the government, they’ll take everything they find.’ She turned to study the little group milling together in the distance. ‘A dolphin heading into the Cove has to be driven in, or it will escape,’ she told them. ‘But a dolphin released from the Cove has to be driven back out to sea. By then they’ve seen many of their pod members, including young babies, get bludgeoned to death with knives and poles. They’ve been left swimming in the blood of their relatives, despite the fact that the killers quickly plug the wounds now, so we can’t watch the sea turn red. It’s not surprising, is it, that they stop fighting? They must be incoherent. We witness it again and again – within those few minutes behind the tarps, the few survivors lose the will to live.’
At that point, to Kate’s surprise, another group of people had arrived. ‘The trainers,’ the same girl murmured disgustedly. ‘Hand-selecting the prettiest dolphins for a life of captivity, and turning their backs on the dying cries of the rest. This is where the real money is. This is why they do it. A dolphin to be eaten is worth six hundred dollars. A dolphin to be saved, and petted, and ogled is worth more like a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. They are sent all over the world. A dolphin in a show might well have endured this or something similar to get there. ‘
Shame!
’ she suddenly turns and screams towards the trainers, and Kate jumps at the rawness in her voice, a mix of pain and anger and devastation. ‘
Shame on you all! Shame!
’
But the group ignores her, and gets to work.
‘You’ve seen the harbour pens,’ the girl says sadly. ‘That’s where they keep the dolphins for sale. And the pens at Dolphin Resort are even worse. They are training them up for life in nearby rooftop tanks and pools at the top of their hotel. The dolphins there die so quickly they need to constantly replenish their numbers. However bad the Cove seems to you, I think the worse fate is the pens.’
Back in Tokyo, the five of them tried to come to terms with what they had seen, and debated what they might do. Meanwhile, their research uncovered more shocking information. The horror wasn’t confined to Taiji – dolphin drives were happening in other pockets all along the coast of Japan.
While they were formulating their plans, Kate received word that Nana Jacobs was gravely ill. She flew home, promising to return as soon as she could. In the interim, Carl set up some meetings in Tokyo. And the others travelled to Iwate, to learn more about the dolphin drives that happened out at sea.
Carl was determined. He discovered that the conservation groups already in Taiji had specific codes of conduct, or
agreements in place with authorities, which meant they couldn’t directly intervene. But the White Wave volunteers were different: unknown, and with their main strength being their diving expertise. Carl came up with an audacious, risky plan, and emailed it to the group a day before the tsunami struck. They had all replied in hours, saying they were in.
The tragedy of losing the others only made Carl and Kate more determined to complete the mission, in their memory. But they knew they needed four people at a minimum. After much searching, Carl found a local man who would help them. The rest had been left up to Kate.
She thought her plan had fallen apart when Desi said she couldn’t do it. But fate has intervened, and brought Maya to her instead.
Now they can begin.