The Reef (31 page)

‘Ah, you are a student then. A graduate of . . . ?'

‘I'm attending London University . . . I'm travelling before settling into my business degree. My father wants me to follow in his field, but I must
say I'd like to know a bit more about your research. I'm more interested in medicine.'

Rudi thought his approach a bit unorthodox. ‘Very enterprising of you. Can't help you other than explain what I'm doing. Be quite some time before I have anything conclusive to report. But the initial results and leads are quite promising.' Rudi switched effortlessly into lecture mode. The young man was polite, attentive and had a ready supply of surprisingly in-depth questions.

After forty-five minutes of talking, showing samples and discussing the plants in his tanks, Rudi glanced at his watch. ‘I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. I can run you round the station in ten, give you a bit of a feel for what we're doing, but after that you'll have to come back another day – if you're interested.'

‘Absolutely. I'm most grateful to you.'

‘Give me a bit of time and I could point you in the direction of further work in the field. Some names and places where you might apply.'

‘Excellent, I'd appreciate that.'

The meeting was being held in the living area of Mac's little house, but the group gathered around the dining table, papers and notebooks in front of them, had the air of a board meeting or formal conference. Mac gave a brief rundown of the status of each of the graduates' work, the projections and assignments for everyone in the next three weeks. Tony sat quietly on the sofa in the background, taking notes. They went round the table, with each person present, students and
scientists, raising problems, making requests, recounting small successes or failures.

Mac turned to his associate professor. ‘Rudi, do you have anything to add?'

‘When the coral spawns I'd like to see it documented on video as well as stills. We can do that more easily with the control tanks outside. But I think there should also be observations recorded in the sea, if we can.'

‘Could we use Gideon's submersible?' asked Carmel. ‘I don't like the idea of swimming in coral sperm.'

‘Possibly. It has strong lights, it'd be fantastic to be right down in it when all the coral spawn,' said Kirsty. ‘Like driving through a pink underwater snowstorm.'

‘How are your results going, Rudi?' asked Carmel.

Mac raised his hand. ‘If I can jump in here. As you know, Rudi's toxicity investigations are proving to be quite intriguing. And there's been a great deal of interest from outside the university.'

‘How's that?' asked Andy, whose audiosensory study of whale and dolphin songs and language had attracted a lot of public interest, while his studies on fish communication were little known.

‘Andy, what you're doing with the whale songs is touchy-feely stuff. The general public love it. Rudi's work, as it's developing, is showing potential for bio-technical, chemical, industrial applications. And that means, potentially, big
investment. So I'm asking you all to keep what we're doing here to ourselves.' He swung around and indicated Tony. ‘While Tony is an independent writer, he has agreed not to publish any material without the consent of Rudi, myself or the chancellor.'

‘So who's interested? We normally have trouble getting any kind of publicity for our work,' said Kirsty.

Mac fiddled with his pen. ‘Unfortunately, some of Rudi's results were posted on the website and there was interest from a couple of companies. I don't have to tell you guys how competitive it is to attract funding for research programs. We compete with other unis for students, money, resources, acclaim, you name it. As you know, our funding also depends on the quality of our research. There are other people working in the same fields and so we don't want anyone to pinch, copy or discredit what we're doing. While I know you all want to get your qualifications, make a name and get work, we mustn't forget one of the prime reasons we've chosen to work in the field of marine research.' He looked around and Carmel raised her coffee mug.

‘Here's to the seas of the world!'

‘To the reef,' said Rudi. ‘May it survive.'

‘It's got about thirty years at the rate it's going,' said Mac. ‘Now, let's talk about Isobel Belitas and her work. She's asked for volunteers to assist, hopefully for some accreditation or acknowledgment, in her beyond-the-reef survey.' All hands around the table shot up.

‘She's not seriously considering really deep dives in Gideon's shark mobile, is she?' asked Tony.

‘Up to two hundred metres, yes, for beyond the reef to a thousand metres, plus she's bringing the Sea-Life over from the US. It's pretty revolutionary, up there with what Hawkes and Co are designing.

‘God, that's one of the world's most advanced marine machines. It'll cost zillions,' exclaimed Andy.

‘She's got massive support from institutions and private foundations,' said Rudi.

Mac spoke quietly. ‘As you know, the Pacific Ocean has an average depth of four thousand two hundred metres, the bulk of it unexplored. For a start, commercial concerns – fishing, energy, oil and gas, biochemical industries – are interested. But research has to be done sensitively and cooperatively. The days of drilling the Great Barrier Reef for oil, minerals and lime for sugar cane fields are over.'

There was silence at the table for a moment. Rudi spoke first. ‘It's a huge field with many opportunities. A bit like conquering space. A universe filled with alien creatures, unknown geological features, ancient shipwrecks, even clues to the origin of life.'

‘That was the study which found multibillion-year-old Archean microscopic life forms in ancient lava, wasn't it?' remarked Kirsty.

‘Yes. So what Isobel and others are concerned about is that industry doesn't overtake science.
Hence the need to have human involvement in deep ocean discovery.'

Tony sat with his pen poised, too fascinated to make notes. ‘It's a big story all right. But you know what interests me the most? Not the commercial or scientific applications, but the marine life. What creatures, life forms, are way down there.'

‘We can only guess. We know some – giant squids and jellyfish, huge eels, bizarre fish and, of course, the sharks,' said Rudi.

‘Sharks way down in the deepest part?' asked Tony.

‘Having no swim bladder helps them to manoeuvre more easily in the deep. Quite incredible creatures. It's a strange world down there. We could find the equivalent of the Loch Ness monster or keys to our own future,' said Mac.

‘It's a lot to think about,' said Tony.

‘Any questions, Tony, get back to me. I'll do my best, but there's no one who's an expert in this area!'

‘The first explorers down there will be the experts,' said Tony.

Jennifer walked two blocks from the waterfront up a hill and, glancing at the address on the piece of paper in her hand, realised the cream-brick block of units called ‘Ocean Tide' was where Christina was living. She went into the lobby past the wall of letterboxes and found the buzzer
beside number eight. The metallic buzz was cut off by Christina's voice.

‘Yes? Who is it?'

‘Me. Put the kettle on.'

‘Well, you might have rung! I look a mess. Come up, come up. Turn left out of the lift.' Her voice was laughing. Pleased.

Christina stood in the doorway, watching Jennifer come down the hall. Each swiftly appraised the other. Jennifer was surprised to see her mother wearing bright orange shorts and an orange and white flowered T-shirt.

‘Turn sideways, let me see how much you're showing. Why're you wearing a man's shirt, haven't you got any nice maternity outfits? We'll have to go shopping.'

They embraced awkwardly in the narrow doorway, and Christina turned into the apartment.

‘Mum, people don't wear those ghastly things they wore in your day.'

‘No, they let it all hang out. I've seen them. Young girls walking around with their bellies hanging over their jeans. Disgusting. I hope you don't expose yourself over on that island.'

‘How about tea? I'm dying for a cuppa. This is nice . . .' Jennifer walked through the small sitting room to the tiny balcony. ‘You can see the ocean. Branch Island is way over there.'

‘Come and see your room. I'm not very organised yet, haven't found where the decent shops are. Mavis downstairs says there's a great warehouse thing where you can get stuff so cheap . . .'

‘What kind of stuff? This is okay, isn't it?' She ignored the reference to ‘her' room.

‘Well, baby stuff, of course. Where's the poor thing going to sleep?'

‘Mum, let's get this straight. I'm not moving in, we can use those porta-crib things. We don't need any
permanent
arrangement.'

Christina froze with the kettle aloft. ‘You can't possibly stay on that island before, during or right after the baby comes. I have moved from Sydney – lock, stock and barrel – to help you!'

I didn't bloody ask you to! And you didn't ask me!
‘That's terrific of you, Mum. Really appreciate your help. But Blair and I can manage pretty well.'

Christina plugged the kettle in and flicked the red On button. ‘I don't think Blair is the type to actually help. Like doing things, feeding, bathing. Pacing around when it bawls with the colic.'

You're probably dead rightthere.
‘Mum, I'm not going to have a colicky, crying baby.'
Think positively, Rosie said.
‘Anyway, that's a long way off. Let's talk about you. I didn't expect you to uproot yourself. I thought you were happy at Vi and Don's. The club, your friends . . .'

‘Family comes first, Jennifer.'

Haven't you heard of letting go, cutting the apron strings?
‘But, Mum, what are you going to do here? I can't be here all the time, every week. I can't move from the island. Blair now has an eighteen-month contract – though he could be
posted to Europe at the drop of a hat too. I'm starting a uni course over there, and there's no problem keeping the baby with us after it's born. As a matter of fact,' Jennifer seized at a straw, ‘Blair's boss, Rosie, the general manager, is here for her break. You could meet her, we could have lunch tomorrow.'

‘I doubt such a person would be interested in meeting the likes of me.' Christina took down mugs from the cupboard. Solid, cheap, rental stuff, Jennifer noted. Then she added, ‘And, Jennifer, you don't have to worry about what I'll
do.
I have a lot to do, and I already know people. People who enjoy my company. You act like I need a nursemaid.'

‘Good for you, Mum. You've just arrived in a new place, a new state, after years being with a family in one place. It must be a bit strange. What about a job? You can't afford to do this.'

‘You'd be surprised.' Milk and a plate of Jennifer's favourite biscuits were put on the tray. ‘I've tucked something away for just such a rainy day.'

‘Mum, this isn't a rainy day. That money is for you. Blair and I are doing fine. Having a family is part of being married.' She saw the pursed lips. ‘It's lovely of you to be here, but once the baby is settled into a routine –'

‘Then you won't need me any more and I can be dismissed, sent away like some hired help.' She poured boiling water into the teapot.

‘Mum, let's take it day by day. You just can't plan things . . .'
And don't we both know that.
‘How long are you renting this place for?' Jennifer looked around. There didn't seem to be very much in the way of personal decor. Christina certainly hadn't nested. The pot plants, pictures, cushions, all looked to be rental furnishings.

‘For as long as you need me.'

You mean you need me.
‘Thanks, Mum. Well, let's have that tea. So, what have you been doing? Checked out the town? Trust you to know people after a few days.'

‘Jennifer, how long are you here for? You are staying with me, I hope?' There was a lost, pleading look in her eyes.

‘'Course I am. Having lunch with Rosie tomorrow, have to see the doctor, but maybe you and I could look around for baby gear. Some sort of a pram that you can convert to a carry bed.'

‘I know exactly what you need . . .' Christina was away.

Jennifer sipped her tea, her mother's familiar voice droning on and on with all her ideas for baby trappings. The sun began to sink and Jennifer thought of the tourists preparing to watch the sunset from one of the most romantic spots in the world. The happy honeymooners believing this was the start of a blissful life . . . Had she and Blair felt like that? She couldn't remember.

When finally she did take her bag into the second bedroom, she found her mother had decorated this one room. Jennifer was touched. Her long-forgotten doll, Molly, was propped up on the bed. Her old dressing gown, which she'd left years
before at Vi and Don's, was laid at the foot of the bed.

Christina hovered. ‘Just thought it might make things a bit homey . . .' There was a rare catch in her voice. ‘We haven't had our own place, just the two of us, for such a long time.'

‘I know, Mum.' Jennifer didn't want the dam inside her to burst. ‘Things change. Be two-and-a-half of us in here soon enough.' She tried to smile.

‘Are you all right, Jen-Jen? Really all right?'

Please don't let me say anything about Blair.
‘Yep, just great, Mum. Bit tired, that's all.'

‘How about I make a nice dinner? One of your favourites.' She bustled away, happy.

Jennifer lay on the bed and pushed her knuckles into her eye sockets.

Ebb and Flows

T
HE THREE WOMEN SAT
at an outdoor table on the terrace of The View restaurant, overlooking Headland Harbour. Rosie put on her glasses and studied the menu. Beverly poured sparkling mineral water and smiled at Jennifer.

‘She reads a menu like it's homework. What do you feel like?'

‘Whatever Rosie wants to try. I'm used to this, Blair is the same.'

Jennifer liked Rosie's partner Beverly, who was in her mid thirties, tall, striking and thin with short dark hair. A contrast to the big-boned, rounded Rosie who'd visited the hairdresser that
morning and had a vivid scarlet rinse through her red curls. Beverly was a nurse at Headland Hospital and had filled Jennifer in on the staff, routine, scandals and systems of the regional hospital.

‘Sounds like the incestuous life of an island community,' said Jennifer.

‘I suppose it's inevitable that people working closely together in a confined space can get over involved,' said Beverly, and Rosie threw her a glance at her inadvertent remark. ‘So how has your mother settled in?' asked Beverly, changing the subject. ‘Does she know anyone here?'

‘The lady downstairs. Mum is pretty good at chatting people up – superficially, you know, socially. She never lets anyone get too close. I'm hoping she'll join the tennis club again.'

‘Ooh, I play. Would she like me to take her along?'

‘That'd be great. Do you play, Rosie?' asked Jennifer. She'd never seen Rosie indulge in any recreational activity at the resort. Sitting around at Gideon's had been the most relaxed she'd seen the general manager.

‘I'm not about to blow my credibility with the staff by being seen in a tennis outfit, or a swimsuit lazing by the pool. I do snorkel but I go out with Lloyd and Gideon and Mac's mob.'

‘She's a strong swimmer. We have a pool at our apartment,' said Beverly. ‘I'm the poolside with a book and a pina colada type.'

Jennifer thought they were a well-matched couple, comfortable with each other, both with
careers and a shared life as it suited them. She enjoyed the older women's intelligent and amusing company. If it hadn't been for Rosie and Isobel, close female friendships on Branch were hard to find. She enjoyed Carmel, Kirsty, and the other grad students, but they were wrapped up in their work and relationships. Although they were only two or three years younger than Jennifer, she was married, unemployed and pregnant. Rosie was a great support on the island, understanding Jennifer's personal issues without being disloyal to Blair. She and Rosie knew each other well enough not to compromise their friendship.

Isobel, now she was someone very special. While Jennifer knew that Dr Isobel Belitas was hugely respected around the world, she felt such empathy, such a link to this woman, which she simply couldn't explain to herself.

Rosie caught her thoughtful mood. ‘What are your plans? Want to go for a stroll along the harbour foreshore this evening? Have a drink? There's a cute little bistro and bar down where the proposed marina will be. Bring your mother.'

‘Actually, I might do that. Just a quick drink, we might go for a walk and I'll take Mum to dinner.'

‘Join us, we'll eat at the bistro probably,' said Beverly.

‘I don't want you to be overrun with Mum. But to meet and suggest the tennis would be great. Thanks so much.' Jennifer smiled, then, remembering the reason she was there, ‘Mum knows nothing about any problems with Blair.'

‘And nor should she. Everything will sort itself out, Jenny, don't worry,' said Rosie comfortingly.

Jennifer wondered whether she should tell her mother that Beverly and Rosie were a couple, but decided not to. Her mother would enjoy them and find Beverly a friendly, helpful woman.

‘You didn't give me any notice, but I've stocked up the fridge anyway. Mavis downstairs wants to meet you. I thought afternoon or morning tea tomorrow? When are you seeing the doctor? Has he done one of those sound machine things?'

‘Ultrasound. Not yet, Mum. I just want to chill out a bit. What've you been doing?'

Jennifer let her mother ramble on. The talk was all about the town, what Christina had been doing, who she'd met and what she'd seen in baby stores. She didn't ask about the island, Jennifer's university work, or Blair. She eagerly agreed to meet Beverly and Rosie for a sundowner.

Headland Bay waterfront and harbour was not Monte Carlo, but in the setting sun, the rigging tinkling on moored yachts, people walking along the seafront, sitting in the small park, fishing from the wharf where the Reef Cat was locked down for the night, kids on bikes outside the fish and chip shop, the coffee shop and bistro doing a steady trade, it was a cheerful and pretty rest stop between the sunny day and the oncoming cooler night.

Christina was entranced. ‘Well, this is a find. I'll have to come down here more often.'

Jennifer introduced Rosie and Beverly, who handed Christina a glass of champagne.

‘How extravagant! I suppose one glass won't hurt me. Of course, Jennifer can't have any, being in the family way.'

Christina sparkled, told vivacious, outrageous – untrue – stories that kept Rosie and Beverly laughing. She was immediately enthusiastic about joining the tennis club.

‘And are you retired, Christina? Not looking for work?' asked Beverly, thinking the energetic sixty-something woman would be an asset in a town full of retirees and casual workers.

‘Oh, I don't have any skills to speak of . . . not like my talented daughter here.'

‘Mum, that's not so –'

Rosie cut Jennifer off at the pass. ‘There're a lot of opportunities up here. Talk to Beverly, she says the hospital is always looking for people. Workers and volunteers.'

‘It'd be good to fill in the time and meet people,' added Jennifer, hoping that if her mother got a job it would dilute her desperate interest in her life.

‘And make a bit of money. I'm happy to introduce you to the right people in the health system,' said Beverly.

‘Why don't you give Christina your phone number?' suggested Rosie, ‘And you two can work things out . . . tennis and so on.'

As they were exchanging numbers, Rosie suddenly said, ‘Blow me, the slick boys have become a trio. What do you suppose they're doing?'

Jennifer quickly looked behind her to see Fanzio and Holding with a young man who looked familiar. ‘Who is he?'

‘That's the young pommy bloke who's arrived to work on staff. Referred by head office, obviously some bigwig's son,' said Rosie. ‘Arrogant young jerk. I think he's more interested in the research station. He was at uni but is taking time out to travel. Sounds suss to me.'

‘You mean he didn't pass his year so Daddy has sent him abroad,' said Beverly. ‘Surely he's not working in the kitchen, or cleaning?'

‘That's Blair's area. He's the one who's been dealing with them all. The kid must be well connected if he's strolling around with the slick boys.'

‘Why aren't they wearing ties and sitting behind a desk in Sydney?' asked Jennifer.

‘Perks, I'd say. Didn't you say they had girlfriends on the gin palace boat?' Beverly asked Rosie.

‘Yeah. I hope they don't see us.'

‘Well, that all sounds intriguing,' said Christina. ‘So, Jennifer, are we going to dinner? Or shall I make something?'

‘There's a great take-away gourmet joint down the road,' said Beverly.

‘Oh, we don't eat that sort of thing. Waste of money, and you never know how clean those places are,' said Christina.

Jennifer grinned at the girls as she stood up, ‘No, Mum, I promised you dinner at a nice restaurant. See you both later.'

As Christina got up, Jennifer glanced at the three men getting onto a small tender to go out to the luxury cruiser
Kicking Back,
which she had spotted at anchor. ‘I know where I saw him before. He was at the maintenance shed. Talking to Patch.'

‘God, whatever for?' wondered Rosie. ‘I think I might be keeping closer tabs on this Gordon Blake.'

Two days passed quickly. Christina was a whirlwind of activity and Jennifer was longing for a rest, not so much the put-your-feet-up rest that her mother kept suggesting, but a mental break from the constant chatter and talk of Christina being there to help with the baby. If Jennifer mentioned the island, Blair or Rosie's being supportive about their staying on, Christina's conversation swerved in a different direction. In the evening they watched TV as they'd always done, Christina controlling the remote and browsing through a name the baby book.

‘Luke. No, I don't think so, too religious. Hollister . . . too American. Hector, no . . .'

‘Apparently it's going to be a girl, Mum.'

Christina looked up sharply. ‘Oh, who says so?'

‘Isobel. The famous oceanographer I told you about.'

‘What would she know? It's too early anyway,' sniffed Christina.

‘She's such an interesting woman. Amazing what she's done and plans to do. I really like her. She's very warm, very special . . .' Jennifer clammed up, halting the compliments.

‘I thought these scientist women would be very mannish. It is a man's world. How old is she? Does she have a family?' Christina's eyes hadn't left the quiz show but there was a critical tone to her questions.

‘Mum, science isn't a man's world any more. In fact, women have always been in the forefront, they just never got the credit. I have a Bachelor of Environmental Science degree! And Isobel is in her fifties, I guess, with two grown sons, and divorced.'

‘I bet she was more interested in her work than her family. See where it's got her. I hope you realise what your priorities are.'

‘According to Isobel, being happy and fulfilled should be my priority.'
I'm on thin ice here, but what the hell.

‘Family should be your priority. But I don't suppose you're going to listen to me when you have some world-famous clever lady scientist to advise you.'

And by family you mean you, not my husband.
‘Family will always be important in my life, Mum. Such as we have. Why haven't we kept in touch with Dad's side of the family? My baby must have second cousins out there somewhere.'

Christina swung her feet to the floor from the fake leather ottoman. ‘There's cake left out there, want another cup of tea?'

‘Why won't you talk about Dad?' persisted Jennifer.

But Christina was in the kitchen and would not be drawn and Jennifer was too emotionally weary to fight her.

In her little bedroom with her mother sleeping noisily in the next room, Jennifer wondered about her father. How would he have felt about being a grandfather? With the baby growing inside her she was thinking more and more about family. What kind of family would she and Blair create? What baggage would they pass on to this child and any future children? Now all the vague stuff she'd read and heard about blaming your parents for trauma in childhood, and later life, took on new meaning. She hadn't resolved her own parental issues, what on earth was she going to dump on her child?

The doctor's appointment went smoothly. Jennifer introduced her mother to the doctor in the waiting room, and as she went to follow them into his room, he politely asked Christina to wait outside.

Jennifer thanked him. ‘My mother is well meaning but over anxious.'

‘Very normal. What about your husband? Does he plan to be present at the birth?'

‘Oh. I hadn't thought that far ahead.' Jennifer tried to imagine Blair in a mask and hospital
gown, holding her hand or whatever fathers did at that time. Was he the squeamish type? She didn't know.

‘Most couples do childbirth classes. It's up to you. There is a new birthing centre at the hospital. I don't go in for the water birth business. We'll have to book you in soon. You're both coming along just fine.'

Christina grilled Jennifer on her weight, blood pressure, diet, extra vitamins and what the doctor had said. ‘He looked a bit of an old codger. Does he know what he's doing? Is he up with the latest things?'

‘Of course. He did tell me my calculations were out, so I'm at least four months' pregnant. He also asked if Blair was going to be at the birth,' said Jennifer.

‘Good grief, you don't want that. Take my word for it, men can't cope with that sort of thing. Of course, if you did want someone there, you know I'm here.'

‘Thanks, Mum. I'm sure Dr Thomas has a good team on hand. Now, how about a coffee?'

Jennifer was thoughtful. The idea of Blair and her mother being involved with the birth unsettled her. She kept feeling she and the baby were a unit, an extension of each other, and no one else was involved. She felt protective and selfish. She didn't want her mother or Blair to be part of the process. As her mother ordered the coffee, chatting to the woman behind the cappuccino machine, Jennifer tried to rationalise why she felt like a single
mother. She and Blair had created this child from an act of love. Or was it love? Sex had become routine and unadventurous. The passion had dissipated after the first two years of their being together. If she was brutally honest with herself, she knew she agreed to lovemaking as a means of keeping Blair happy and easy to get along with. Times she'd refused him, or pretended to be asleep, had meant a sullen and moody Blair the following day. Which annoyed her. It was her body and he had no right to make her feel she had done something wrong in not wanting to have sex. Had that been the reason he'd slept with Susie? It wasn't fair to blame her pregnancy. She had to face it, she simply didn't want to make love to Blair. She never instigated lovemaking, she acquiesced. It was pleasant enough but there was no emotion, no mental connection to him.