The Reef (48 page)

‘It's me. Sorry if I woke you up, I've been busy. How're things?' said Blair.

‘Ah, okay. Been a few little problems, but I'm all right. Blair, I wanted to tell you something
about Fanzio and Holding. Are you still planning on going into that deal with them? For the clubs?'

‘Why?'

‘Did you know Branch Island is owned by Gideon, and that he's bequeathed it to the university? There's no way they'd agree to that sports club idea in an environmentally sensitive area. Tony reckons it's a front, a cover for some other scheme.'

There was an intake of breath and she could tell she'd surprised him with this news.

‘What kind of scheme? How does he know? Gordon's father runs Reef Resorts International. They know what they're doing. Are you sure about this? Why wouldn't they know about the private ownership? Maybe they've done a separate deal with Gideon. Ask him, let me know asap.' Blair sounded panicky.

‘I can't. Gideon is visiting family overseas. Didn't they do their due diligence, or whatever they're supposed to do? Anyway, Tony is on the case, digging around.'

‘Where's he getting his info, and why are you telling me this?' He sounded annoyed.

‘Blair, despite what's happened between us, I don't want to see you get caught up in some stupid deal. Apparently old Patch has been watching everyone and everything on the island for years. So be careful. When will you be back? I'm going to have a home birth.'

‘At your mother's? God, don't expect me to be there.'

‘Isobel has rented a lovely house here, and the hospital is just a few minutes away if I need it. I had a bit of an argument with the doctor as I've had a few problems, but it's my decision.' She waited for his input but he brushed it aside.

‘Whatever you want. I don't know what my plans are. I'm juggling a job in Switzerland in case Fanzio's clubs don't come off. They have other places round the world they say they're doing business with. Gordon's flying back soon, and Fanzio and Holding are already here for a meeting with the money men. I'll know more after that.'

‘I heard Gordon's out on the boat with Willsy and some friends. How can you be involved with people like Willsy? After what he did, remember?'

‘Ah, he was probably pissed. People do stupid things. He's all right. He's bringing in high-profile investors.'

‘Blair! He nearly killed that girl Rhonda. What if she went to the media? His credibility would get blown out of the water. Leave them alone.'

‘She's not going to, she's been paid off. And don't you ever say anything. Be careful, Jennifer, these boys don't mess around,' he cautioned.

This is not the man I married.
‘Blair, what's going on? Listen, I'm more concerned about having this baby.'

After Jennifer hung up she got up and found Christina in the kitchen, boiling milk. Christina looked upset. Annoyed.

‘That was Blair. He sounded like a stranger. He's changed,' said Jennifer.

‘So have you. That woman is having too much say in your life. I couldn't help but hear what you said.' She banged the saucepan and swore under her breath as the milk boiled over.

‘No chocolate for me, thanks Mum. And what now?'

‘I hope you didn't mean what you said to Blair. About having the baby at that woman's house. You're mad, Jennifer.'

‘It's how I want it. And the hospital is five minutes away. Even my doctor says the midwife is excellent.'

‘So I've gone to all this trouble and expense setting up a little nursery here for you – I know it's not much – but I thought it would be nice . . .' To Jennifer's horror her mother burst into tears. She put her arms around her.

‘Mum, it's lovely. I appreciate all you've done, I really do. I just thought for the actual home birth Isobel's place would be more comfortable, practical. I'll be right back here within a day.' This seemed to placate Christina, or was it the fact that Jennifer had her arms about her in a rare embrace?

Tony had been away for ten days and Jennifer had missed her sailing lesson. When he called her she was anxious to get out on the boat.

‘I've been working very hard writing and studying. Plus, I have all the baby stuff done. My mother is not happy about the home birth. Isobel has been down in Sydney. I need an outing.'

‘Terrific. I've made quite a lot of headway. When did you want to head out to sea?'

‘Tomorrow? Can we make it an all-day thing. I'm feeling so housebound I need fresh air and easy company. The floor here is covered with eggshells.'

He laughed. ‘I'll check the weather and lay in stores.'

Tony was running late and apologised as he stowed the supplies on board and readied the boat. As they motored out of the harbour Jennifer went below to put things away. The tiny galley wasn't designed for a pregnant woman, she decided.

When she seemed to be below a long time, Tony stuck his head through the hatch. ‘What are you doing?' he called. ‘You've been down there for ages. Come on up, we've got dolphins keeping us company on the bow wave.'

Jennifer settled into her favourite seat, crosslegged, nursing the bulk of her belly, lifting her face to the breeze and salt spray. The gentle rocking of the yacht was now familiar and comfortable.

‘You all right? Want lunch soon?' called Tony. He glanced at the sky. ‘Few clouds building up. Might swing around to a strong nor'easterly for the run home.'

‘What's the weather report say?'

‘Forgot to check, too busy in the bakery. But
we have all the high-tech gear on board, no worries.'

‘I'm not worried. I never imagined I would feel so good on a slip of wood skimming the surface of the sea,' said Jennifer.

They ate lunch. Tony had a cold beer and with the boat hove to they wallowed slightly, the rocking lulling them to sleep as they stretched out in the sun.

Tony woke first, leapt up, glanced at the sky and shook Jennifer. ‘Wake up, sailor, we might get wet. Squall on the horizon.' He spoke lightly but he went and checked the instruments and, seeing the rapidly falling barometer, cursed under his breath. ‘Pack as much gear away as you can and make sure all hatches are closed tight. In the forward locker there's wet weather gear. Pull it out, just in case. Also, put on the safety vest.'

In minutes the sunny day turned sour and defiant. Jennifer couldn't believe the speed at which the day had deteriorated. She watched Tony's calm, efficient handling of the boat and was determined not to panic.

Wrapped in the plastic gear she heard Tony talking on the radio and her stomach contracted as she saw his face. ‘What's up? Is it a storm?'

‘Afraid so. Happens in the tropics. Trouble is, we're past the point of no return. Decision time.'

‘What's that mean?'

‘We're halfway to anywhere . . . it's virtually the same distance back to Headland or to get to the lee of one of the islands. There are a couple
this side of Sooty. We can head into the storm, which will slow us down, or keep it behind us and run with it.'

‘Whichever is quicker. The island, I suppose. You decide.' She hugged the plastic to her clammy skin.

He gave a quick grin. ‘You said you wanted an outing. While we're in radio contact I'll tell the coastguard in Headland what we're doing.'

The sea was no longer benign. The waves blocked sea, sky and horizon in a heaving grey wall of water. The rain lashed sideways in sharp arrows, the boat climbed one wave to be almost airborne before crashing on the other side. Only the tiny storm sail was up, which gave them some steerage and control. Jennifer felt sick and frightened. Tony tried to insist she stay below deck, but he kept the engine running so the bilge pumps would remove the water they were taking on board, and the diesel fumes and bilge smells made her nauseous. She also wanted to watch that he was all right. He clipped a safety harness around her and to the rail, trying to be cheerful.

‘With that built-in Mae West you'll float if you go overboard.'

‘I hope Lloyd's father renovated this well.'

‘We'll be able to give Heath a full report.'

Time was waterlogged. Minutes were measured by getting through and over each wave, avoiding the shifting wind and ignoring the water that streamed across the hull, soaking the deck. At one point there was a crack and Jennifer feared the mast
had snapped, but it remained intact, though some rigging had broken. The boat strained but surged forward. Each time Jennifer lifted her head, through blurred wet vision she saw the silhouette of Tony moving, standing, holding the ropes and wheel, heading into a blanket of rain and water. She huddled, hugging her belly, protective and knowing all she could do was trust Tony, the boat and that the elements would not be too savage.

Tony was shouting at her, his voice whipped in the wind, but his arm was pointing. He kept glancing at the small luminous screen charting the bottom banks of coral. Jennifer moved closer to him, inching around in the well, holding on to the railing, cupping her hand behind her ear and signalling.

Tony leaned towards her. ‘Look to starboard, there's a line of foam. We're coming in through a channel. The island is through that chunk of white water. I just hope we can navigate our way through without being whipped off course and onto the coral.'

‘What island is it?' she shouted.

‘It's just a rocky island. Cookshead. Shaped like Captain Cook's hat.'

‘Well, at least he didn't leave his head here,' Jennifer tried to joke. ‘No hostile natives then.'

‘There's nothing here. No water, no trees. Birds, I guess. We'll find shelter and anchor.'

‘The wind is dropping. Look, there it is!'

The rain was easing and they saw the thin wedge of paler light between the water and the sky
and the dark smudge of the tiny cay. There was a slight bang and crunch and the boat lurched. They were over the rough water and although there was a swell the waves decreased, the mad open sea was behind and they were in a choppy channel.

‘We're through, keep a lookout just in case.' Tony dropped the storm sail and engaged the prop, easing the boat slowly forward.

Why did she feel like they'd ridden through a wild night when it was probably only four in the afternoon? ‘There, look, a kind of cover under that cliff.'

The small white boat and its weary crew of two eased into the comforting curve of a small cove cut into the coral rock that rose sharp and sheer around them.

‘It's deep water here. I'll put out two anchors and extra chain. No wading ashore, I'm afraid.'

‘What shore? Captain, that was well done. I salute you.'

Tony touched her wet hair. ‘Go below and see if you can find something dry to put on. I have T-shirts and stuff below the main bunk. Don't get sick.'

‘I'm not sick, I'm pregnant. But thanks, I will try to dry off. You too.'

‘I'll make us a hot toddy. See if I can raise the mainland and let them know we're safe.'

Jennifer, wearing Tony's T-shirt, a pair of his cotton drawstring pants tied under her belly, and a large shirt, sat and sipped the hot coffee with a dash of rum. Tony was on deck and she could hear him trying different radio frequencies.

‘No luck,' he said, swinging inside. ‘The aerial on the mast has snapped. If I could get on top of the hillside I might be all right with the sat phone.'

‘You can't climb up there. What's around the other side? Are we staying here till the storm stops, or what?' Jennifer didn't welcome the idea of going anywhere. She just wanted sunshine and smooth seas.

‘I had a close look through the binoculars. There's a bit of a goat's track in the cleft between the two hillsides, above that rocky beach. I reckon I can get ashore in the dinghy and race up and give it a go before it gets dark.'

Jennifer was dubious. ‘You told the coastguard we were coming out to an island. They won't be sending search planes or anything, will they?'

‘If they don't hear from us by tomorrow's sked the alarms might go off. But with no distress flares or maydays they'll probably figure we made it.'

The realisation of how dangerous the trip had been, and how well Tony had done to get them to this tiny dot, hit Jennifer. ‘Did you ever think we weren't going to get in here?'

‘Often! Just joking,' said Tony, but she knew he wasn't.

Tony gave her a swift lesson in the communications and how to set off a flare should he not come back from his ‘excursion'.

‘Are you sure?' she asked for the fifth time.

‘Back in a flash, Jen. It's stopped raining. Though it might come in again. Don't move around
and trip or topple overboard. The water looks calm but sometimes movement can be unexpected.'

Jennifer had a flash as he spoke. The seventh wave, the unexpected water sweeping all and everyone before it. She shuddered and closed her eyes.

‘Are you cold?' asked Tony. ‘I won't be long.'

Grabbing the satellite phone, a torch, a knife, binoculars and a length of rope, he unlashed the small rubber dinghy and dropped it over the side as Jennifer held the rope. He clambered onto the transom, into the dinghy, and when the oars were fitted, nodded as she threw him the rope.

‘Be careful!'

‘Stay below,' he called.

As she waited in the empty boat swinging at anchor, a bruised sunset struggled behind leaden clouds. Jennifer wondered about this speck of rock. Who else had ever been here? Had the intrepid Cook passed in sight of this island as he charted the islands and cays of the Great Barrier Reef? Why was there a track on it? Had some sailor been shipwrecked and gone ashore? Had some animal survived and lived alone? Suddenly wild stories she'd heard in Mac's cottage of wrecks and pirates and outlandish deaths came back to her. The husband and wife washed ashore, he was sitting on a hill on the island believing his wife dead but heard her cries for help only to find she'd been washed into a cave below. The ship's captain beheaded in the rigging as his ship was crushed into a coral outcrop. People who mysteriously disappeared from their
boats at sea. The threat of pirates further north.
Oh my God, why am I thinking of all this stuff now?
She peered through the porthole, unable to see Tony or the grey dinghy on the dark shore. The light was fading fast. No romantic sunset this evening.