The Reef (8 page)

Jennifer gave up. ‘Mum, Blair and I want to take you out, or do something together . . . have a talk . . .'

‘Who? Oh, that boy. I don't have anything to say to him, Jennifer. Why don't we go out for a meal, seems ages since we had a little tete-a-tete.'

‘Mum, I want you to see Blair, talk to him.'
Deep breath.
‘We're engaged.'

Light laugh
. ‘Whatever are you talking about, engaged? That's ridiculous. At your age.'

Silently Jennifer held up her hand, dangling the ring before her. Christina's expression darkened, then looked tortured. ‘You can't be serious. Jennifer, you're so young, you don't know what you're doing. You can't rush off with the first fellow who's smitten –'

‘Mum, listen to me. Blair and I have been together for over a year. We're very committed to each other, he's proposed and I can see a good future with him.'

‘Rubbish. What would you know about staying together? You haven't done anything in your life. Why throw it away on some man?' She looked genuinely concerned.

Jennifer was hurt, but she wasn't angry with her mother. Some instinct recognised the rationale behind her mother's objections and she saw that her mother's protective flare was ignited.

‘Mum, it'll be all right. He's a decent guy, he has a good job, big prospects. What don't you like?'

‘Jennifer, what do you know about him, really? His family. What are they like?'

‘I've just met them, they seem nice. But Mum, we've got lots of time. We're not rushing into anything. We haven't even set a date.'

Blair had made noises about getting married in six months' time. Jennifer wanted to delay the big day, though she hadn't told Blair that it was because of her studies. Nor had Blair told Jennifer that Jeff, the hotel manager in the Hunter, had advised him that having a wife made his chances of promotion much better. ‘They like couples, mate,' he'd said. ‘A wife can be an asset if you're posted away, it also takes away the temptation to eye-off guests or staff.'

Christina had another thought. ‘And how much is all this going to cost? I can't afford to pay for some fancy wedding.'

‘I'm sure Vi and Don will help out,' said Jennifer quickly. ‘I just want to keep it simple.'

As the weeks passed, Christina took over the wedding planning with an enthusiasm bordering on obsession. She called Jennifer constantly to check small details until Jennifer asked wearily if she could save up all her questions till they met on
Saturday morning. This was when Jennifer and her mother met for coffee, ran through Christina's inevitable list and then made a foray through fabric shops, gift shops, homeware places, and talked to photographers, florists and bridal stores.

‘Now, isn't that lovely? That's just the sort of dress we want. Let's try it on,' enthused Christina, eyeing a frothy confection of lace and tulle.

Jennifer shuddered. ‘Mum, that's not my style. Too fussy.'

‘Oh Jennifer, you like such plain things. Surely your wedding dress could be a bit more . . . showy.'

‘I like simple, uncluttered lines, and it's far too expensive anyway. I'd much rather Vi's friend the dressmaker make me something. You have to find your outfit, don't forget.'

The mother of the bride outfit diverted Christina's attention long enough for Jennifer to pick the fabric and pattern she wanted and have Vi's friend start sewing. Nevertheless Christina insisted on buying and presenting Jennifer with her ‘trousseau outfit'.

Jennifer showed Vi the nylon shortie and matching robe, both embroidered with lace flowers and small beads, all in pale baby-doll pink.

Vi giggled. ‘What'll Blair make of you appearing in that on your wedding night?'

‘Probably throw up or call me cupcake. I can't hurt Mum's feelings, but we do have such different tastes. I'm a white cotton girl, which she hates.'

‘I don't think she had any frills when she
married your dad, so go along with all this, Jen. Soon enough you'll have control of your own life.'

Jennifer looked at Vi. ‘Do you think so? I just worry Mum will be over to the house redecorating. Blair has everything the way he wants it. He won't want her interfering.'

‘Darling, it's your home too now. You make sure you put your stamp on it even if he owns it. You and Blair need to move somewhere else, start out fresh together.'

Jennifer nodded. Vi was right of course. But she didn't like to mention moving because she knew Blair could be offered a job anywhere, even overseas. And while they considered themselves equal partners in the relationship, Blair was older, made more money and had a definite career path. Jennifer's rambling studies of biology, biodiversity and natural history as part of her environmental science course were not exactly pointing to a clear career choice. Teaching was a possibility but it didn't excite her. After studying the work of early and renowned ecologists and biologists she wanted to research, explore and examine something that would add to the knowledge and preservation of the natural world.

Eight months later they were married. The wedding had escalated from Jennifer's original idea of keeping it simple, but she went with the flow of organisation that had zapped between the two
families. Neither Blair nor Jennifer had a strong church affiliation but Jennifer's desire to be married outdoors ‘in nature's cathedral' was brushed aside. They chose the small church in Lavender Bay and had their reception at Kirribilli Yacht Squadron, which Blair's parents arranged and paid for. For their honeymoon they planned to fly to a lodge in New Zealand famed for its food and fishing as Blair wanted to ‘check it out'. And they got a discount.

Their honeymoon was Jennifer's first time out of Australia and her mood and spirits lifted higher than the plane as they left the east coast behind them. They toasted each other with a glass of champagne and Jennifer felt the stress of the wedding finally disappear.

As Jennifer's wedding day had drawn closer Christina had become withdrawn and distracted. She was quick to explode and everyone tiptoed around her.

‘What's wrong with her, Vi?' asked Jennifer.

‘Don and I have been thinking that maybe it's hit her that her little girl is leaving home and making a life without her.'

‘Well, that's not really the case, is it?' sighed Jennifer. ‘A ten-day honeymoon and I'll be back in the same city and see her as before.'

‘She's probably thinking of your dad . . . not being there to give you away.'

‘Uncle Don is like a dad,' said Jennifer and impulsively hugged Vi. ‘You guys are so cool. With Mum, me . . . everything.'

‘We love you, Jen. You know you can always count on us.'

Everything had gone as smoothly as possible on the day until they were about to leave for the church. Jennifer came out of a bedroom dressed in her gown – a straight cream slub silk with a square neckline and three-quarter sleeves. It was softened by a very low back with a slight train falling from the point of the V back. A plain tulle veil hung like a mist over her head and face and to the floor at the back. She carried a bouquet of wildflowers and native orchids and wore a strand of pearls Blair had given her.

Her mother hadn't seen the entire bridal outfit on and she stopped dead in her tracks as Jennifer came out of the bedroom. Here she was ready to step from a mother's reach into a realm where the mother–daughter relationship was now one of equal rights. Custom required Christina to relinquish her role of authority and it struck her like a sudden injury. A wound that was raw and, she felt, one that would never heal. There would always be a scar, a scab, that she'd pick at till it festered and bled. And it was that blood that united them, through distance, through silences, through moments of forgiveness and love. And loss.

Seeing the shock on Christina's face, Vi quickly bustled around exclaiming how utterly beautiful Jennifer looked. Don wiped a tear away.

Jennifer smiled at her mother. ‘You're a knockout, Mum, you look fantastic. I'll throw the bouquet to you.'

They all agreed Christina did look very glamorous in her cyclamen silk suit, a wisp of a matching bow and feather perched on the side of her head. She had matching brilliant lipstick and nails. But suddenly Christina clutched her chest and staggered forward, gasping for breath.

‘God, Tina, what's wrong?' Vi rushed forward as Christina looked like she was going to faint.

‘Mum!'

They helped her into a chair and Don rushed for a shot of brandy. He poured one for himself as well. ‘Here, luv, have this.'

‘Don, do you think it's her heart?' asked Vi.

Christina waved an arm as Jennifer crouched beside the chair. ‘Don't crush your gown . . . I'm all right.'

‘Should we get a doctor?' Don glanced at his watch.

Christina gulped the brandy and mopped her forehead. ‘I'll be fine . . .'

She rallied and, apart from looking pale and saying little, she got into the car with Vi while Don and Jennifer waited for the bridal car. They later assumed it was stress that hit Christina but Vi was irritated when they arrived at the church and Christina stepped from the car smiling and greeting guests ‘like a queen', Vi told Don later.

Christina wasn't to be seen when Jennifer finally threw her bouquet, but when she and Blair
were leaving the reception for their hotel Don took Jennifer aside.

‘You'd better see your mother. Say goodbye. She's upset.'

Blair rolled his eyes and turned back to his friends who wanted to chauffeur the newlyweds in a wildly decorated car. Jennifer had refused and asked for a taxi.

Christina was at a table in the empty restaurant, sobbing into a tissue, Vi's arm around her shoulders.

Jennifer went and touched her arm. ‘Mum, what is it? Please don't spoil my day.' Jennifer was tired, it had been a long, exciting, draining and stressful day. They had stayed too long at the reception and she wanted desperately to be alone with Blair to savour all the moments of their wedding.

‘Spoil? Jennifer, I've tried so hard to make this a wonderful day for you. I've only ever wanted to make everything nice for you. How can you say that?' Christina was sobbing.

‘She didn't mean it like that, Tina. Jen hates seeing you upset. It's been a wonderful, wonderful wedding,' said Vi.

‘It has, thank you so much, Mum. I mean it. What's upset you so much?'

Christina lifted her tear-stained face. ‘How can you ask that?'

Jennifer looked despairingly at Vi.

‘She feels she's losing you. Her little girl is leaving the nest. It's just hit her.'

‘I'll be so lonely without you, Jennifer. You're all I've got in this world.'

‘Mum, don't be silly. Nothing is going to change, you'll see us just as often. And you have Vi and Don and all your friends. Come on . . . cheer up.' Jennifer spoke brightly, determined not to get into a maudlin discussion.

Vi spotted Don waving at the doorway. ‘Jenny, your taxi is ready. Better not keep your husband – and all the guests – waiting,' Vi said with relief as she got to her feet.

Christina's head snapped up. ‘Taxi? We paid for a bridal car.'

‘Mum, you should see what the boys have done to it. It's embarrassing. I'm not about to arrive at the hotel trailing tin cans and rude slogans all over the car.'

Christina smoothed her skirt. ‘Honestly, Jennifer, sometimes you can be such a stick in the mud. Why wouldn't you want everyone to know you just got married? It's nothing to be ashamed of, after all.' Christina was on her feet, leading the way out of the room. ‘Come on, Don, let's go throw roses, rice, whatever we're allowed . . .'

Vi's shoulders sagged and she squeezed Jennifer's hand as they headed for the taxi that would drive Jennifer and Blair to their new life.

Adrift

T
HE FIRST YEARS OF
Jennifer's marriage to Blair had blurred. They'd slipped into a comfortable routine and it seemed to Jennifer that not a lot had changed after she signed the marriage certificate. She'd imagined there would be heart-stopping moments and a great sense of freedom. Being Mrs Blair Towse gave her an identity that meant trades people asked for her husband, bills came addressed to him and, increasingly, Blair made decisions about what items they could afford to buy for the house or where they'd go for dinner. If she suggested a restaurant he generally shook his head, ‘No I want to try this other place, see what
the chef is doing, check out the decor. It's getting good write-ups.'

‘Why don't you go for lunch? Then we can go out on a weekend for fun, with friends.'

‘Jennifer, I don't have time for lunches. I eat in the hotel. You don't seem to realise the kind of pace I work at, what's involved. I have to be on the case, on top of everything. We've got a lot of important people in the hotel, a convention, so I have to be around.'

‘That's fine, Blair. Just give me a clue about the dress code for Saturday night.' She'd been caught out a couple of times, dressing too casually for a five-star restaurant then overdressing the following week for a new French brasserie that was yuppily casual. ‘I'm off to class. I might stay late and talk to some of the students about their papers.'

He nodded, his attention on the computer screen. Jennifer had lost her small workspace in the terrace house and Blair refused to consider buying anything bigger.

‘This place is very rentable and the mortgage is reasonable. Why should I sell when we're sure to be moved when my promotion comes through?'

Jennifer hadn't argued. The house had been bought by Blair and stayed in his name. She kept her salary for her personal purchases, running her little secondhand car and buying some household things as well as paying half of the weekly food bill. She thought they could have economised more on the food end but Blair liked the best
quality organic produce, expensive cheeses and good wine.

Jennifer had invested in a sophisticated laptop through the university which helped her workload. When she had to work at home on assignments for her undergraduate degree the laptop was compact and easy to set up on the kitchen table as Blair generally had the TV on. He kept it on whether he watched it or not. When he wasn't there Jennifer rejoiced in playing her CDs.

Their life revolved primarily around Blair's career. He earned more money, he held their future in his hands, while her job was considered an interesting side bar. And one that no one apart from Vi and Don took any interest in. Her mother was more concerned with their domestic arrangements. Their friends had corporate or sales jobs and couldn't relate to an ‘academic'. Though Jennifer felt flattered to be considered ‘an intellectual', she was still fumbling her way in her quest to find a proper role and direction within the fields that interested her. She had a bread and butter job, but she was still seeking a way to move in a direction that would allow her to research, to exchange ideas, to make her own mark somehow. The professors and PhD students in the school of environmental sciences were accommodating, sharing information, letting her read papers, and answering her questions. But they were frequently absent on research and study excursions and when they came back they went to the pub and talked about places and experiences she couldn't share.
Jennifer wondered where she would find a particular niche in her life that was hers alone.

She touched lightly on the subject with Vi who told her, ‘Sweetie, it's all well and good, interesting to you, and maybe in some small way it's valuable, but that's not your life. Your future is linked with Blair's. The fella is the breadwinner, I can't see a lot's changed even with all this gender equality and women's lib.' She saw Jennifer's face close up. She was thinking Vi was out of touch. ‘Mark my words, you'd better accept that it is the woman who always has to compromise. So keep your hand on the tiller and your toe in the door, but be ready to change everything if Blair gets a job in Vienna, Paris, Bangkok, wherever.'

Jennifer and Blair were snuggled close in bed. Blair, satisfied after lovemaking, was sinking into sleep. Jennifer stroked his arm.

‘Sweetie, what do you think about children?'

‘What about them?'

‘Well, when, I mean, maybe we should try . . .'

Blair opened his eyes. ‘What do you mean? You don't mean now, do you?'

‘Why not?'

‘Jennifer, don't be crazy. How can you ask that? A kid would complicate our life, my job prospects, no end.' Blair was wide awake.

Jennifer felt his arm stiffen. She took her hand away. ‘What about my job prospects?'

‘C'mon, if you're thinking of a family you
can't be serious about full-time work. And a kid would cost heaps. There's plenty of time.' He paused. ‘Are you bored?'

‘Not at all.' She rolled away from him. ‘I thought I could juggle motherhood and uni, plenty of women do.'

He heard the resentment in her voice. ‘Jennifer, if you had a baby you'd have to do most of the looking after it. You know what my work schedule is like. Unless you want your mother here all the time.'

‘If
we
have a baby. It's a joint effort.'

‘Let's discuss this another time. Don't spoil a nice evening.'

It's all right for you, you've had a great meal, the house is clean and tidy, you're sexually satisfied, you don't want to think about anything that might mean you have to put yourself out.
‘Forget I mentioned it.'

Blair decided that would be best. He turned on his side and was swiftly asleep. Jennifer lay awake for some time thinking about her future. Their future.

‘Look at this. What a disaster!' Jennifer was eating a piece of toast, watching the early-morning TV news. The news helicopter was flying along the southern coastline of Sydney where a sludgy brown slick was covering several kilometres of the normally pristine ocean.

‘What is it?' Blair glanced up from the newspaper.

‘A sewage leak. That's raw crap floating out there. It's a disgrace.'

‘Better swim at the northern beaches.' He returned to the paper.

‘Blair! That's not the point. Haven't you heard about the contamination around sewerage outfalls? Now they're finding that fish are changing sex or not developing their reproductive organs properly as a result of the estrogens in contraceptive pills flushed down toilets through the drains and out to sea.'

Blair gave a slight smile. ‘Sure. One of the chefs says some of the fish they serve are known as shitties 'cause they feed where the sewage goes into the ocean.'

‘That's disgusting. The sea isn't a waste dump. All that the government and councils worry about is making sure that shit doesn't land on the sand.' Jennifer dropped her bowl in the sink. ‘I'm going to uni.'

In the staff room in the environmental sciences block there was heated debate stemming from the morning news on the issue of the outfalls and the health of ocean ecosystems.

One of the staff summed up, ‘Damage to marine biodiversity is a major issue that isn't recognised or funded enough.'

‘Big field of study, too. There's a PhD in that for you, Jennifer,' added another.

‘Oh, I hadn't thought that far ahead,' she said. ‘I've got too many areas of interest.' But she was thinking of Blair, his career, his plans, his
reluctance for her to get too involved in interests outside the home. Even in the home, like having a baby.

‘Professor Matt Dawn is looking for a grad student to work with him on his study of the EAC. You could apply,' suggested one of the lecturers.

As she looked blank, he explained, ‘The East Australian Current. It's the biggest ocean current around the coastline of Australia. It starts in the Coral Sea and shifts a surface stream of warm water, tens of metres deep, along the boundary of the Coral and Tasman seas.'

Another professor added, ‘Scientists have been studying it for a century but only in the last decade have they realised how important it is to our lifestyle and livelihood. Not to mention aquatic plant and animal life.'

‘Sounds interesting. I think I'd rather do a study on land though. I'm a country girl.' Jennifer got to her feet, glancing at her watch. ‘I'd better go, I'm late for my class.' She was helping her professor with occasional classes, organising lectures, dealing with students and doing a lot of what was considered ‘grunt' work for the senior professor in her department. She was considered a good writer, combining academic material with a poetic and sensitive flair, and she was often asked to edit dry factual papers to make them more accessible to students.

They watched her leave. A woman member of staff said quietly, ‘Jennifer is not comfortable with oceanic studies. Her father and brother drowned.'
There was a muttering of sympathy but attention swiftly moved to their own commitments.

Several weeks later Jennifer tapped the newspaper Blair was reading. For the past three weeks breakfast had been their only time together. Blair was working a night manager's shift and on weekends he slept at the hotel. ‘Hello. Anyone home?'

‘Umm . . . yeah?'

‘Blair, I'm working on a book.' She grinned.

‘Like, writing?'

‘Of course. I'm quite excited about it.'

He looked puzzled, not fully understanding her flushed and expectant face. ‘What is it, a romance? The Great Australian Novel?'

‘No. Don't be silly. It's an academic book. On pollution. I'm helping with writing up Professor Dawn's studies.'

‘Oh.'
Is that all
seemed to drift above his head. ‘So what's that mean? More money, I hope.'

‘Maybe.' She then burst out, ‘It mightn't sound interesting, but Professor Dawn hopes it could be groundbreaking and important. Like, you know,
Silent Spring,
or something. I'm helping with interpreting his research. One day I'll do my own study.'

Blair folded the newspaper, rattled at the intensity in her voice. ‘Listen, Jennifer, you're not making a full-time career of this stuff. It's just a job . . . for now.'

There was something in his voice that made
her uncomfortable. Why were they always talking at cross purposes, never really communicating? ‘What do you mean? I'm just filling in time before we have babies? Of course it's a
proper
job.'

‘I hope you can continue this book project long distance.' He got up from the table and gave her a strained smile. ‘I was keeping my news for a surprise. I was going to tell you over a bottle of champagne.'

‘Tell me what?'

‘I've got a promotion. Assistant manager. At a resort hotel.' He opened his arms. ‘Aren't you pleased? It's a big step up. Thanks to Trudy and Jeff who we saw in the Hunter.'

Jennifer felt her head start to spin. ‘The couple who ran that hotel? What's that got to do with us? What do you mean by resort? Where is it?'

‘It's a tropical paradise. An island. On the Great Barrier Reef. How about that?' His smile faded as Jennifer stood staring at him in shock.

‘An
island
?' She could hardly choke out the words. She couldn't imagine anything worse. Somehow she'd imagined their first move, when it eventually happened, would be somewhere overseas. She'd imagined boulevards, cafes, antique markets. An island resort was the last place she'd imagined, not even Asia or the South Pacific, and not this soon.

‘It'll be great. I'll have a lot of responsibility, really be able to make my mark in the boutique hotel line.'

‘What about me? And what about uni? My book project?'

‘Listen, sweetheart, you knew this was on the cards, what our plans were. You're not on contract, and can't you do the book thing by email?'

‘But what'll I do?' Jennifer sounded on the verge of tears. This had come as a shock. ‘I didn't even know you were thinking of applying for this job!'

Blair became defensive. ‘You could get a job at the resort.'

‘What, making beds?'

‘C'mon. I'm sorry if this has come as a surprise. I thought you'd be pleased. Let's talk about it tonight. I'll bring all the brochures, pictures, CD-ROM . . . you'll love it. I'll let you know where we're going for dinner. I got the night off.'

‘Why can't you tell me now? I might have to go there straight from my meeting with Matt Dawn. God, I don't know how I'm going to tell him about this.'

Blair yawned, and headed to the bedroom. ‘I thought we might eat later with the two corporate managers. Then you can hear about it firsthand.'

Jennifer just stared at him. ‘And I won't be able to complain or say I don't want to go there and embarrass you.'