The Reef (27 page)

Jennifer nodded. ‘I know you say the information on the internet isn't always accurate, but I've done a bit more homework on you, Isobel. How you dived in one of the first submersibles with a lock-out chamber so you could leave the vehicle under water, go and explore, and come back with samples.'

‘Like the moon astronauts,' agreed Gideon. ‘Plus living under water in a special laboratory for several weeks for a secret government experiment.'

‘And I was four months' pregnant when I did it.' She grinned.

‘I thought you were most famous for doing the world's deepest dives,' said Jennifer.

Isobel gave a casual shrug. ‘Whatever it takes to achieve the end. Yes, we want to know more about what is in the deepest, unknown part of the ocean. But if my exploits draw the attention of world decision makers and thinkers and make the munder stand the need to protect oceans, that is more important.'

‘Hence we have a mutual effort here.' Gideon gestured with his thumb behind him. ‘We mightn't have all the money that outfits like NASA have, but we're brave – some might say foolhardy – warriors and explorers.'

‘He means we're either the Wright brothers or Einstein – so far no one has bettered our efforts,' said Isobel.

‘That's not hard. No one knows about us,' laughed Gideon.

Jennifer realised their light banter had a serious edge. ‘You're not seriously going down again in the ocean in that machine of yours, Gideon?'

‘Please, I take offence. The shark mobile maybe experimental but it's created from solid principles that we know work,' said Gideon.

‘Gideon has engineering and aeronautical degrees as well as marine experience,' said Isobel.
‘We're not out to break world records, we consider ourselves scientific detectives.'

‘Spying in the deep. Who's for more tea?'

‘Is this research being recorded in some way?' asked Jennifer.

‘Mac has that under control. Plus it seems we will have an outside observer from the media,' said Gideon.

‘The media? Is that wise?'

‘Only if something goes wrong,' laughed Isobel. ‘We are being guided by Mac. He's been talking to the journo and he seems sympathetic and supportive.'

‘He was here before. You met him, Jennifer – Tony Adams. He's going to write us up for some serious, quality magazine,' said Gideon.

‘The war correspondent? He was nice. Seemed genuine,' said Jennifer, wondering why Tony had agreed. He'd seemed so lost and unsure of his career plans.

‘But no one is to know. It's not a tourist story,' said Isobel. ‘Maybe best you don't mention it to your husband. And when will I meet him?'

‘Come over to the resort and have dinner with us. And Rosie. I'll invite Mac and Gideon too. It will be nice to entertain some of my friends instead of being with Blair's buddies.'

‘Lovely. Now I must get back. Gideon, I'll see you with Rudi and Mac later this morning. And thank you for breakfast.' Isobel got to her feet.

‘I'll help you clean up, Gideon,' said Jennifer. ‘And Isobel, thank you.' She hugged Isobel in a
rush of affection and a feeling she couldn't describe.

As Jennifer carried their dishes inside she saw on the long rough wooden table large sheets of paper with designs and specifications. Photocopies of photographs and graphs were piled beside them.

‘Would you like me to explain in more detail about how the submersible works? I had my first dive in Cousteau's bathyscaphe in the 1960s and I was hooked. Gave up flying for diving.'

Two hours flew by. Jennifer was entranced at Gideon's stories and plans and dreams. He told her of his brilliant academic life, how he upset his parents by joining the airforce, marrying a girl from the Cook Islands, and embarking on a life that took him from being a seafarer, a teacher, an amateur scientist and a shipwright to being a coconut plantation owner.

‘And now beachcomber. My wife died two years ago. I have a son who runs a business in Rarotonga in the Cook Islands and looks after his mother's family. My daughter lives in England. Very proper. I visit them. Maybe the grandchildren will come and stay here with me sometime.'

‘I think grandkids would think you and this place utter heaven,' said Jennifer. ‘I wish I had a dad, a grandad like you.'

‘You can borrow me any time. In fact, what say I be a stand in grandpop for that little mite when she comes along?' He pointed at Jennifer'sneat bulge.

‘Wonderful! Thanks, Gideon. I don't know
why you and Isobel say she though. It might be a he.'

‘I never argue with Isobel,' he grinned. ‘If she says it'sa girl it will be.'

Dinner the following night at the resort was Jennifer's evening. She sat between Mac and Gideon, Rosie and Isobel sat on either side of Blair. Blair was uncomfortable. Jennifer noticed Isobel seemed to be plying him with questions and she knew he'd hate that.

Doyley had gone to some trouble to set their table in a far corner of the verandah and moved in several large potted palms to give them extra privacy. Rosie had ordered some good wine and the staff on duty were attentive and cheerful, not just because their two bosses were at the table. Everyone liked Jennifer even though they didn't see as much of her as they saw of Blair. In the kitchen the staff gossiped, pleased to see Jennifer was in control of the evening. Blair was patently bored and as dessert was served he excused himself to see to the other guests.

‘You stay and enjoy yourself, Rosie. I‘ll do the rounds.' He left the table, nodding to Isobel. ‘It's been interesting to meet you.'

‘And for me also.' She smiled but her eyes were coolly appraising.

Later Gideon and Isobel left, and Rosie, Macand Jennifer returned to the terrace bar. Rosie excused herself after one drink.

‘I might sneak away, seeing as Blair is holding the fort. It's been a fun evening, thanks for organising it, Jenny.' She stopped at the bar and spoke to Blair who was chatting with some new arrivals.

‘So you like Isobel, eh? I knew you two would get on,' said Mac.

‘Oh Mac, I can't thank you enough for introducing me to everyone. It's saved my life here. I'dbe crazy without you all to talk to, and what's going on at the research station. Thank you, thank you.' She squeezed his hand.

Mac looked pleased. ‘You're one of the gang now. I gather you spent time with Gideon and seem
au fait
with what he and Isobel are doing. Why not get more involved?'

‘In what way? I mean, could I really switch to marine biology honours?'

‘We can arrange it. If you go for first-class honours it would be an intensive year and if you get it you can apply for a PhD scholarship. My other thought, after speaking with Isobel, is the writing. I read what you gave me of Dawn's book. You have a lovely sensitive style. You make him look far better than he is. A bit unprofessional to say that, but I read his notes and your rewrite. I hope he paid you well.'

‘Slow down, Mac. If I can work on my honours degree in a practical way while I'm here and then, wherever Blair and I end up, hopefully I can consider the PhD, though how I'd manage the practical side if we end up in the mountains in Europe or something . . .'

Mac held up his hand. ‘One thing at a time. Get your honours first. I'll assign you to one of the teams. Does Rudi's work interest you? Or Carmel's?'

‘Yes, Rudi's interests me. But then so does everyone's. I'll have to find my way a bit. Having stayed away from the sea as far as possible.'

‘Be guided by Isobel. Our other thought is we'd like you to document and write up some parts of Isobel and Gideon's experiments.'

‘I thought Tony Adams was coming to do that.'

‘On a different level, for a different audience. You could collaborate, share information. Yours would be more academic with the aim, because of your writing style, of reaching a main stream audience as well.'

‘Mac, I have to go to Sydney next week, let me think about it while I'm gone.'

‘No medical problems?' he asked, looking concerned.

‘No, I'm seeing the doc in Headland on the way. I feel great. Have to settle my mother down. She's fussing, wants to move closer.' Jennifer rolled her eyes.

‘Understandable.'

‘Mac, believe me, you wouldn't want my mother in close proximity.'

He leaned towards her. ‘Jenny, I know family can be a pain, and I know your history, but when you don't have them around, you can have regrets.'

Jennifer looked into his kind blue eyes and knew he was thinking of his lost daughter. ‘Dear Mac, thanks for that. I've had years of regrets. Much as I miss having a father, I can't help feeling angry at him for pissing off and taking the easy way out. Even
he
couldn't cope with my mother. So I'm saddledwith a hurt, bitter, lonely, dependent woman.'

‘You have to think about your life, your future, your child now.'

‘I know. Isobel has made me see that.' She straightened up. ‘So I'm off to Sydney to do battle with mother's quips and forked tongue,' she laughed.

‘Drive carefully. When you come back I'll have all the paperwork for you to start work. You'd better tell Blair.'

‘No point really. Why give him something to gripe about? So long as I'm occupied and happy, that's all he wants.'

‘You two don't share much,' said Mac, draining his glass and standing up.

‘Ah, I don't know about that.' Jennifer patted her tummy. ‘We share this.'

Mac kissed her cheek as he wished her goodnight, but his eyes were sad. ‘Like I said, be guided by Isobel. Thank you for dinner.'

The drive to Sydney was uneventful until she approached Horns by and hit the early evening traffic. Jennifer drove past Blair's house in Glebe.
He'd asked her to make sure the renters hadn't damaged the property, and they hadn't as far as she could see from the outside. As she slowed the car she thought of the time she'd lived in this terrace with Blair and it seemed a lifetime ago. She'd never felt attached to the place because Blair had bought it and decorated it.

She now felt more at home in the tiny cabin on Branch Island. The anonymity had given them equal opportunity to make it their own space. Blair took little interest, setting up his favourite personal items in his office. Jennifer had her bits – driftwood, an abandoned bird's nest dropped from a tree, pictures, posters, books and CDs – around her. Having a work space at the research station had made a difference. As she drove to Vi and Don's she thought she might drag out some favourite cushions, photographs another framed degree, stored in Don's shed, to take back.

Jennifer had given Christina ten days' notice of her visit so she could rearrange her social life and they could go shopping, do some things together. She was trying to work out how and when to tell Christina, in a firm but loving way, that moving to Headland Bay was a crazy idea.

It was dusk as she drove into Vi and Don's. Jennifer pushed open the front door, calling, ‘Yoo hoo, anyone here? Mmm, what smells so good?'

Vi came bustling to the door, wiping her hands-on her apron. ‘Oh darling, it's so good to see you.' She stepped back and patted Jennifer's belly.
‘You're starting to show! Jenny, this is so lovely. Don, Don . . .'

‘I'm here, luv.' He was beaming, and hugged Jennifer. ‘You look terrific. Look it that suntan. Come on, come ands it down, you must be tired. I couldn't do a drive like that any more.'

‘I am weary.' She looked around, ‘Don't tell me Mum is out somewhere?'

Vi and Don exchanged a quick look. ‘Kind of, come on, luv, sit down first. How about a nice cuppa, or do you want a sherry? Maybe you shouldn't, eh?' Vi bustled into the kitchen.

Jennifer sat at the breakfast table. ‘A cold beer wouldn't go astray, if you've got one, Don.'

‘Oh, he's got a little fridge out there with his birds, haven'tyou, luv,' said Vi as Don headed out the back door. ‘He loves to sit there with a tinnie and watch those birds of his when he comes home from work. If it relaxes him, why not?'

‘You bet. So, where's Mum? How is she? I thought I told her I'd be here today.'

‘Oh you did, luv. She had it circled in red on the calendar. Oh Jen-Jen, I don't know how to tell you,' Vi sat across from her, twisting her apron.

‘What? Has she had an accident? Is she sick? What is it?'

‘No, no, nothing like that, luv. She's gone. Up and went. We tried and tried to talk her out of it.'

Jennifer went cold and closed her eyes for an instant. ‘God, what now. Gone where?'

‘Headland Bay. Packed and flew up yesterday. We didn't know whether to ring your mobile to try
and stop you coming. Don thought it'd be too late. We didn't think she'd really go. But she did.'

‘You might need something stronger than this.' Don put the cold beer in front of her as Vi leapt to get a glass for Jennifer.

‘You mean she's gone to visit me when she knew I was coming down here? I suppose she knew I'd give her an earful.' Jennifer poured the beer into a glass and gulped the frothing brew.

‘It's not a visit, Jen,' said Don quietly. ‘She's gone, bag and baggage.'

‘Told everyone her daughter needs her and with the baby on the way you wouldn't be able to live on that island.'

‘Damn her!' Jennifer thumped the table, tiredness and frustration hitting her. ‘Well, she'll just have to move back. Sorry Vi, Uncle Don.'

‘She said she'd paid a year's lease on that place,' said Don. ‘Hasn't even been there.'

‘It could be horrible,' Jennifer said.

‘Don't say that, she thinks you're going to stay there too,' said Vi. ‘We saw the brochure from the real estate people, it looks very nice.'

‘Well, she can't stay with us on the island. You didn't mention about the empty unit next to ours?'