The Reef (13 page)

‘We'll fly her out tomorrow morning,' he continued. ‘Say she had an accident, too many drinks, walking back she fell on the rocks, the sea wall, something. She's due to leave anyway, she can leave now with all her stuff and entitlements. She'll agree with that, I bet.'

The shower finally stopped.

‘What would Rosie say?'

‘She's off the island so I'm in charge. She's not to know about this. Rhonda fell, end of story. It's what she wants, too.'

Jennifer was numb. ‘I'll get her some clean clothes.'

They cleaned Rhonda's wounds, gave her painkillers and made a bed for her on the sofa for
what was left of the night. They left a light on and locked the doors. She lay there clutching the sheet around herself, eyes squeezed shut, tears still shining in her lashes.

In the bedroom, Jennifer curled beside Blair, her arms encircling him. She was too tense to sleep and felt deeply disturbed. It had been a hard first day and now this horrific event. She was having difficulty coping with it all. She kept imagining how it must have felt, to suddenly be grabbed, thrown to the ground . . . Jennifer tried to still her mind, not think about what had happened to Rhonda. But it only confirmed the sense of foreboding she had about being marooned on this island. Beautiful it may be, but beneath its still waters she felt there was a malevolent presence. Would she ever adjust to living here?

The Beachcomber

J
ENNIFER HEARD BLAIR OPEN
the curtain near the bed. She stretched. Pale washed-blue sky. The top of a tree. In the courtyard at the base of the outside shower – a simple arrangement of a showerhead on a pole above a square of tiles – there was a large clamshell full of water. A grey heron was gracefully dipping its beak into the shell, throwing back its head, shaking sparkling droplets. She smiled and rolled over, wondering why she felt so tired.

Then she remembered. She sat up, the calm morning sullied. ‘What time is it? How's Rhonda?'

Blair, in casual shorts, was pulling on a T-shirt.
‘Not sure. We have to get her up and packed. I've called the chopper and said she'd had a bit of a fall . . . nothing madly urgent. Didn't want to set off alarm bells.'

Jennifer grabbed a sarong, wrapped it around her and tiptoed into the shadowy dim lounge room. Trying to be as quiet as possible she found the electric kettle and was carrying it into the bathroom to fill when Rhonda spoke calmly.

‘I'm awake. Make as much noise as you want.'

‘Did you sleep?'

‘Not really. It's better being awake. I kept dreaming . . . nightmares . . . I heard Blair on the phone. I'm being picked up at eight?'

‘I guess so. I'll help you pack up your things.'

‘That's all right. I can manage. I just hope my roomies and Sheree don't think it's all a bit . . . odd.'

‘Say it's Blair's idea. He's being overcautious. In case you have any severe concussion or something. Are you owed any holiday leave? Say you're using that up.'

‘Makes sense. Are you making coffee?'

‘I am. Shall I get you some breakfast? I could bring it over here,' offered Jennifer, knowing Rhonda wouldn't want to be seen with a gashed face and bruises.

‘I'm not hungry. Just coffee.' She swung her legs over the edge of the sofa and rested her chin in her hands. ‘This isn't how I saw leaving the island for good.'

Jennifer bit her lip as she emptied sachets of
coffee into cups. ‘Could you come back for a farewell party? Or have one over on the mainland? When are you going back home to Ireland?'

‘My ticket is booked. I leave in ten days. A family wedding. I'm a bridesmaid.' She touched her face. ‘Damn him to hell.' She was angry.

‘You'll look fine by then, really you will,' said Jennifer, thinking to herself,
The bastard. He'll go on like nothing happened. At least Rhonda is mad rather than sorry for herself.

Blair came out of the bathroom and smiled at Rhonda. ‘I've had an idea. We know a really nice lodge down in the Hunter Valley. Would you like to chill out there for a week before you leave? Recuperate. I'll arrange a special deal for you.'

Rhonda brightened slightly. ‘If it's not too expensive, I'd like that. I just want to go away by myself. Lick my wounds.'

Blair pulled open the living-room curtain to the bright shiny day, which bore no resemblance to the frightening night. ‘The main thing is that you don't have any guilt or bad feelings. If you want to see a counsellor, we can arrange it through the staff medical fund.'

‘Thanks, Blair.' She took the cup of coffee. ‘You've both been so kind. I feel awful about spoiling your first day here, Jennifer.'

‘What did Blair say? No guilt. Just get on with your life. Consider yourself lucky. It could have been worse. Look forward to going home. And, please, let us know how you are.'

It felt a trite comment but Jennifer didn't know what to say. The episode had unnerved her, but more, she was shocked at Blair's reaction. How would he have felt if it had been her instead of Rhonda? Would he still put the reputation of the resort first?

There were few guests around as Jennifer watched the pretty redhead pick up her small sports bag. A hat and dark glasses shaded Rhonda's face. A box and a suitcase would be sent on the catamaran. Rhonda shook hands with Blair who took Bob, the pilot, aside.

‘No need to mention to anyone this was a special trip. I want this kept as quiet as possible. It was just a bad fall, you understand?' said Blair in a low voice.

The pilot looked unconvinced but shrugged. ‘Sure, whatever. These things happen.'

Jennifer took Rhonda's hand as she said goodbye.

Rhonda looked miserable. ‘I don't know that Sheree bought my story. Can you say something to everyone, explain things, sort of . . .'

‘Of course we will,' said Jennifer. ‘You're not leaving under a cloud, we'll tell them we just want to make sure you get checked out at the hospital. After your fall.'

Rhonda hugged Jennifer. ‘I hope I see you again. And please, don't let this put you off. This island, the reef, it's really, really special. I've loved being here,' she said earnestly.

How can you say that after what's happened?
‘I'm sure I'll settle in. Look after yourself, Rhonda.'

With Rosie away, and Blair acting manager, Jennifer was left to her own devices. She moved the table and chairs from the small front balcony of the cabin next door to the rear courtyard, setting them up under a tree, and here she had her breakfast of fruit, cereal and pot of tea. Blair had promised to send over a toaster as their kitchenette was sparsely supplied with utensils. She hadn't bothered to pack such items, thinking more about personal things and her work needs.

Guiltily she thought about the computer and box of papers she'd pushed into the back of the closet the morning she'd arrived. Her enthusiasm for Professor Dawn's book and her need to know she had work and an objective to achieve during the next few months here had utterly vanished. She still felt tired, mentally, physically, emotionally. She put it down to the humidity and heat, the languid lifestyle and lack of focus. She hadn't seen a newspaper or watched TV and had to force herself to listen to the morning news on Don's little radio. Events on the other side of the world, even in Sydney, held little interest for her. She was in a cocoon here and she wondered when and what she'd become when she finally emerged. She felt a pang of remorse at not having contacted her mother or Vi and Don other than a fax telling them she'd arrived.

Their cabin was serviced so after breakfast she left the unmade bed, the dirty dishes, her wet towel flung over the bath. It was unlike her, she hated to leave a mess each morning but here she had no routine, nothing familiar around her. She wandered over to the reception area and looked in the recreation room library for a book from the help-yourself shelf.

She watched guests setting off on their morning activities – diving, fishing, a reef walk, kayaking around the island, sailing in small boats, carrying a hamper and beach towels to a secluded picnic, an underwater trip on the sightseeing submarine.

Others claimed their favourite reclining chair by the pool, setting out towels, sunlotion, books, magazines, sunglasses, a small table ready for snacks and drinks. Some would spend the day there playing cards, chatting, reading, drinking exotic drinks or chilled wine and icy beers in tall glasses, sleeping off their drinks till it was time to change for sunset cocktails.

There were no squealing children in the pool or running around the grounds. Under fourteens were not permitted at the resort, and there were few special events for teenagers. Most were there to share the experience of the island and reef with their parents.

She'd seen on the weekly calendar of events a lecture and video presentation by a marine biologist to acquaint, she presumed, overseas visitors with the ‘History, Science, Heritage and Mystery
of the Great Barrier Reef'. Through the year visitors could go with a naturalist from National Parks on a bird-watching tour, turtle observation tour during egg-laying season and, later, a chance to observe the hatching of the eggs.

As she walked past the pool she stopped and caught her breath, her chest tightening. Standing with several young men in boardshorts and brief swimsuits, she saw Willsy the TV host. They were laughing and kidding around wearing dark glasses and holding breakfast beers.

He saw Jennifer across the pool and lowered his sunnies to give her the once-over with an appreciative flirty smile. Furious, she turned and walked quickly away as Willsy's mates pushed him into the pool.

She nodded at the young woman on reception and walked to Blair's office, hovering in the doorway. ‘Can I come in?'

‘What's up?' He was glued to the computer screen on his desk.

‘That awful man, Willsy, he's goofing around at the pool. They're all drinking, for God's sake. He even looks pleased with himself.'

Blair jumped up and pulled her into his office, closing the door. ‘Listen, Jennifer, hush up. There's nothing we can or should say. What's got into you?' He kept his voice low.

‘I think it's despicable. Can't we let him know that we know what went on last night?'

‘That won't achieve a thing. You can't accuse someone and, besides, we promised Rhonda we'd
say nothing. Anyway, they're leaving on the cat tomorrow. Just keep out of their way. What are you doing today?'

‘I was going to sit by the pool. I won't now.'

‘Get a picnic hamper, go and explore, find a bit of beach. The tide will be full by lunchtime. Have a swim, it's magic, you don't have to go out far. It's perfect at high tide, just wade in to your waist, it'll be like crystal. At low tide you have to watch for rocks in the shallows.'

‘I don't know about that.'

‘I know you're not a beach person but, for crying out loud, we're surrounded by a lagoon. At least go and lie under a palm tree. Work on your tan.'

‘What about your lunch?'

‘I'm eating here at my desk. Trying to get through a bunch of stuff.'

‘I'll see you then.' She left his office feeling like a chastised child.

The mid-morning sun was hot. She ordered her lunch hamper and went into the boutique to buy thirty-plus sunblock, and passed Doyley on the way out.

‘Hey Jennifer, settling in okay? Bloody dreadful about Rhonda taking a spill. Not like her to get so pissed.'

‘It was dark, I guess. She's sorry she didn't have a proper goodbye party.'

‘Ah, we'll try to catch her up on the mainland if she hasn't left. So what do you think of our little paradise?'

‘It's a great place for a holiday, that's for sure. I'm taking a picnic and a book off to find a shady tree. I'm not into growing melanomas if I can help it.'

‘I'm with you. Stick to a whiter shade of pale. There's a terrific little cove around from Coral Point. You can't get there from the beach at high tide but you can if you take the track over the headland. Bit of a hike, not many people bother. But it's worth it.'

‘Thanks, Doyley. See you.'

Jennifer put on her swimsuit and a large floppy hat, pushed a towel in her cotton shoulder bag with the sunblock, her book, radio, room key and a bottle of water. When the picnic hamper arrived she found it to be a huge basket with napkins, glasses, plates, cutlery, chilled fruit juice and food in little containers. She took out some fruit, the juice, a bread roll, and corned beef and salad, tied it in a plastic bag and added it to her carry-all. She slipped on canvas shoes in case she had to climb over rocks or a rough track, and set off.

At the point, she turned in from the beach and spotted the narrow track leading over the headland away from the main path that headed back towards the resort. This was new territory and she hesitated, then continued. At the top of the headland there was a clearing, an informal lookout. Someone had strung a hammock between two trees. While it wasn't a great height the slight rise and cleared top of the point gave a vista straight out to sea. Sooty Isle sat at the edge of the horizon, a tiny blip in the
flat blues of ocean and sky. The reef was covered by the tide, which sloshed around the base of the point. Apart from a fishing boat churning through the movie-set backdrop, it looked like a painting. Sooty Isle intrigued her, maybe she would go over and see it. Even stay overnight. It looked a calm enough trip, even for her. Jennifer turned away and as she moved down the scrubby slope of the small hill she saw on the path ahead the figure of a tall man. He was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, an old leather peaked hat squashed on greying hair. He wore patched cotton pants pulled in with a wide leather belt and a faded blue shirt. He was watching something in a tree.

She stopped, worried this might be the perving Patch. She waited. Then saw what he was studying. In the tree a massive twiggy nest was heaped into the topmost fork. Perched to one side was a large bird. Its underbelly was white and its head, back and wings were a mottled brown, though its wings had creamy tips. It seemed to have a ruff around its neck. The bird leaned forward into the nest, feeding its young. Jennifer took several slow steps forward.

Without looking at her the man said softly, ‘It's a sea eagle. She's got two young uns in the nest.'