The Reef (43 page)

‘No, he's my friend. Tony is an investigative journalist. We're collaborating on a writing project.'

‘Doesn't sound right for a married woman – a
pregnant
married woman – to be quite so friendly with a stranger,' said Christina briskly.

‘He's not a stranger, he's a friend. I have a lot of friends on the island. And, Mum, you might as well know right off the bat, I'm not staying a married woman. Blair and I are separating.'
Oh God, it just fell out of my mouth! Oh well, it's done now.

Christina grabbed Jennifer's arm as she stopped the car at the carpark exit. ‘You're
what?
In your condition? Are you mad, Jennifer?'

‘No. I thought you'd be pleased. You never seemed to like Blair much.'

‘Don't try to blame me. He's your husband. What about the baby?'

‘It's coming. I'll raise it and love it and Blair will be around as much as he can.'

‘Oh, this is wicked. Just terrible. I can't stand it.' Tears trickled down Christina's cheeks, stunning Jennifer.

She reached out and squeezed her mother's shoulder. ‘Mum, I'm sorry to shock you. I guess I've got used to the idea. Everything is going to be fine. I've thought it through and Blair is fine too. We were never right for each other.'

‘It's history repeating itself. It's your father's fault,' she blubbered.

A car tooted behind them.

‘Mum, that's silly. Come on, let's go and have a coffee somewhere and I'll explain things.'

Christina shook her head, brushed her cheek. ‘I will not be seen in public like this and, besides, we don't want anyone listening to this. Oh dear, poor Vi and Don, they'll be so upset. And they'll worry. Really, couldn't you have waited, or just tried? Marriage isn't a bed of roses. You have to take the bad times with the good.'

‘Mum, nothing would have changed. Why hang on and be unhappy?'

‘I did,' said Christina quietly. Then, ‘I hope that man doesn't have anything to do with all this.'

‘What man? Oh, Tony? Good heavens, no.'

‘What about that other man? The professor person I met. What was his name again?'

‘Mac? No, Mum, this is between Blair and me. No one else.' Jennifer decided to edit Susie out of the story. Her mother would take up ‘the other woman' scenario like a terrier and twist it so that Jennifer lost her husband for all manner of reasons. ‘Mum, it's my decision, my choice, and I'm organising my life to suit myself.'

‘And how are you going to support yourself and a child? It's not easy, I can tell you.'

‘I know that. Isobel is helping me. She's a very clever lady. Don't worry, I'm in good hands.'

‘Nice you have clever lady friends to help you. You might ask your mother for some advice or help from time to time, you know,' she sniffed.

‘Of course, Mum. I just don't want you to worry. Let's just look forward to the baby, shall we?'

‘Poor thing. Coming into the world without a proper father.' Christina gave a tut-tut then squared her shoulders. ‘Well, it looks like it's just you and me, Jennifer. As it used to be. A good thing I moved up here then, isn't it?' She sounded quite cheered and didn't notice Jennifer's shoulders sag and her body slide down in her seat.

Ebb Tide

T
HE WEEKS PASSED.
E
ACH
day dawned, was filled, the sun set and then Jennifer rested. It was a rhythmic, methodical, calm sequence of minutes, hours, days. Jennifer had a routine and it was productive. The pile of papers and research material sent to her by Mac was diminishing. She wrote and rewrote. And when she felt her writing was becoming dry and academic with too many statistics, she went back to work on what she called Tony's book, even though it was being done for Mac and his university.

She walked along the beach at sunrise, did her stretching exercises, made herself breakfast and
settled at her desk. She wrote and answered emails from Mac, Tony, Isobel and Trisha, her friend from Sydney, before settling to work. Late in the morning she walked through the pisonia forest to the resort for coffee with Rosie. Once she saw Blair crossing the freshly swept and raked sandy square in front of reception. He was hurrying, a folder under his arm, wearing long white pants, the turquoise and white resort shirt, and dark glasses. He was joined by Gordon, the English staffie, and they chatted for a few moments, then walked on together in deep discussion.

She watched Blair as if he were someone she knew once, long ago. He was familiar to her, she knew what his body looked like beneath the clothes, the sound of his voice, the way he walked, yet she remained strangely unemotional. Her hands went to her tightly swollen belly and she hoped their child would love and know its father and not feel this estrangement. How she had wanted a father in her life, and Jennifer promised herself that she would work hard to keep Blair involved with their child no matter that she no longer loved him. She continued walking, aware that in those moments something had gone from her life and she was free to begin again.

Blair had initially baulked at the swiftness of her presenting him with solicitor's papers beginning separation and settlement proceedings. Isobel had been so strong, so sweetly insistent to the solicitor they'd found in Headland. Christina had felt ‘that woman' was forcing Jennifer to rush into
things, but could not come up with any good reason to delay, so had reluctantly agreed Jennifer was doing the only and best thing under the circumstances. They'd all met for a coffee to read through the documents yet again, and Christina had sat there with tight lips looking disapproving. Jennifer saw her studying Isobel carefully, as a woman who saw a rival. And she knew her mother would never warm to her passionate, hotblooded but clear-headed Brazilian friend.

She'd been surprised that Blair had caved in to her requests after his initial squawks. He had agreed to provide for the future of his child and to support Jennifer financially. Isobel felt Jennifer deserved a bigger settlement for her own future but Jennifer did not want to see Blair lose everything he'd worked for. He'd brought the house into the marriage, he could keep it. Nevertheless, to her surprise, he said he would sell it and split the proceeds. She suspected Blair had other plans, though he'd stopped hinting about becoming wealthy through the big deal his slick mates Holding and Fanzio were making with Reef Resorts. Probably so he wouldn't have to share any future profits with her.

Jennifer tapped at Rosie's door. ‘Ready for a break?'

‘Am I what. Been chaotic. I'm out of here. Blow having coffee in the restaurant, look there.' She pointed to a small basket on the floor. ‘Fresh muffins, thermos of coffee, fruit. Let's go down to a quiet bit of beach.'

‘Great.'

They settled themselves under a pandanus tree. The sea was iridescent aqua, the air balmy. They both wore hats and sunblock.

‘I saw Blair with that English boy this morning. I'm surprised he's lasted this long. Connected to the resort owners, isn't he?'

Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘He disappears for chunks of time, but he's Blair's responsibility. And Blair has promoted him to help manage Sooty Isle with Susie. They all spend a lot of time over there. Gordon is keen on boats, it seems.'

The reference to Susie and Blair on Sooty together registered, but Jennifer let it slide. ‘Have the slick boys been back at all?' she asked. ‘They seemed a cosy bunch. I hope Blair isn't involved with them. Do you think their super sports club idea is ever going to eventuate?'

‘What do you care? Not your life any more.'

‘I guess not. But I'd hate to see Blair get into financial trouble. That affects me, and the baby.'

‘You're too soft. And we'll know what they're all up to after the London board meeting. Blair is going, with Gordon, who's going to see Daddy and Mummy.'

‘Why Blair and not you? He's not on the board! I didn't really think he'd go.'

‘Blair wants a job in Europe. Through Gordon and the slick boys he's getting a hearing from head office. Good luck to him. I'm happy in Australia. I've done the overseas thing. Frankly, Beverly and I don't want to leave Queensland. She loves her
job at the hospital and as soon as I can I'll take early retirement and make ceramics,' said Rosie.

‘It will be hard for Blair to see the baby regularly if he's overseas,' said Jennifer thoughtfully.

‘Did you get enough money to go and see him twice a year?' asked Rosie.

‘It's so hard thinking about all these things when the baby isn't even here yet!'

‘Won't be long by the look of you,' laughed Rosie. ‘What, two months or so?'

‘I have another check-up next week. I have to go more often now. I don't mind the trip over on the cat. I can have lunch with Mum, come back at four. It's a nice day out.'

‘I recall you were terrified of the catamaran when you first arrived,' smiled Rosie.

‘I was a total wimp all round. Isobel and you, this whole island, have changed my life.'

‘You've found your feet, a direction, and have supportive friends. What more could you want.'

‘At the moment, that's great. I can't help wondering about the future, long term. Will I stay a struggling single mum? Will I find the great love of my life?' Jennifer flung out her arms in a joking gesture, but these were questions that hovered in her heart.

‘You know what they say – stop looking and it drops into your lap.'

‘I haven't
been
looking. I couldn't possibly manage a relationship in my condition! And who'd want to know? Never mind, I want a
healthy, happy baby and first-class honours. That's enough on my plate for the minute.'

‘I'd say so,' agreed Rosie. She poured the last of the coffee into their mugs. ‘How well do you know Tony? I've always had a lot of respect for him as a journo. Hard to get to know personally, but you've spent a lot more time with him. Would you trust him?'

‘God yes! Absolutely,' said Jennifer instantly. ‘Why?'

‘I think there's something going on here. I'm worried about Patch, for a start.'

‘Where is the old boy? Haven't seen him around,' said Jennifer. ‘I know he's talked to Tony. I never have anything to do with him. I still think he's a bit . . . off,' she said, unsure how to express the feelings she had for the old man.

‘He is a strange old bugger,' agreed Rosie, ‘but he's got all his marbles, have no fear. He's reclusive, but he's not like Gideon, who is more selective in the company he keeps, the way he leads his life. Poor old Patch has always been a victim, I suspect. A POW, not that he'll talk about the war. And like a lot of them, he never adjusted. Walked out of his marriage and left his kids, something he regrets as he's lost touch with all of them. He's a loner, and, while he might be a bit of a harmless peeping Tom, I think he hovers on the edge of other people's lives, living his life vicariously.'

‘It's still creepy. Anyway, why are you worried about him? His health?'

‘He's in his late seventies and quite fit, despite losing his eye in the war. He works on a contract basis and he's a whiz with mechanical things, so we keep him on. But I saw him the other week and he mentioned that if anything happened to him I should talk to Mr Tony.'

‘“Happen”, like if he keels over with a heart attack or something?'

Rosie was thoughtful. ‘You'd think that's what he meant. But the way he said it, I don't know. He seemed scared, sort of. Oh, never mind. It's just that Patch doesn't volunteer information without a reason.'

‘What else has he told you?'

‘Oh, I wouldn't say he gossips, but if pressed he's been useful in flushing out information on some of the staff, who's been up who or whatever, when I've needed to know. He's been pretty accurate in picking out the troublemakers. We had one kid stealing stuff. Patch knew who it was.'

‘So what's he told you, Rosie?' Jennifer had the feeling she was holding something back.

She shook her head. ‘He has his hit list of people “up to no good” – Fanzio and Holding, Gordon, Blair, maybe, and he can't stand the glamour-boy Willsy, that TV guy. Willsy is a big fan of the resort and keeps coming back. Gordon will have him over on Sooty while Susie and Blair are away in London.'

Jennifer let the reference to Susie pass, and wondered if she should tell Rosie about the attack on Rhonda – what seemed an age ago. She would
have handled that situation differently now. ‘Why maybe Blair?'

‘I think Patch thought Blair was being stupid, impressed with people's positions. Look, I'm not going to worry about some lonely old bloke's fixations. Got to go. Hey, want to have a meal with Bev and me next week in Headland? Bring your mother?'

‘Thanks, Rosie, I'd love to see you guys. But you don't always have to include Mum. I'm sure Beverly sees enough of her at tennis, and the hospital.'

‘Your mother seems to enjoy playing Florence Nightingale, bringing succour and smiles to the prisoners in bed,' laughed Rosie.

‘You mean magazines, sweets and her life story. God, those poor people who have to listen to Mum go on about her days on the farm and so on. From what Bev's told me she's invented a whole new family history,' said Jennifer. ‘Anyway, I'm glad she's busy and feeling useful.'

Occasionally Jennifer went around to Gideon's to watch the sunset or share a meal. He always walked back with her to the research station for his ‘evening constitutional'. She was grateful, for although the island was familiar and the dark night in the pisonia forest didn't scare her, the empty cottages and labs at the research station looked forlorn. Where there had been music, chatter, laughter and activities, pumps and machinery
operating, lights blazing, now there was the one light in the cottage shared by Mick and Sandy, the couple doing the coral research.

Without the presence of the others in the group, Gideon allowed his philosophical and poetic ramblings full rein. Jennifer loved the old man's company, she told him about her childhood, growing up on the farm, and asked him endless questions about his days sailing, travelling and what the island was like when he first arrived. He talked about the wildlife, the incredible fishing, the great love affair he had with a bohemian Polynesian artist. ‘A female Gauguin, she was. Could have sold her work for a fortune to big galleries. I arranged an exhibition for her in London. She hated the greyness. She went back to her family. Our children were raised in her big extended family. Very loving, but when I was away one time my father sent my uncle to rescue the “poor, barefoot illiterates living with natives”. They had a terrible time at boarding school till I kidnapped them back.' He chuckled. ‘They spoke and read in three languages, could dance, sing, play instruments, sail a boat, knew astronomy, loved nature, swam like fish, climbed coconut trees, I mean, what more do you need to know?'

‘I hope my baby learns all those kinds of things,' sighed Jennifer.

‘We'll make sure of that,' said Gideon. ‘This is your baby's home turf now. There'll always be a place for you on this island.'

‘I hope so. Do you miss where you grew up?
You never talk about England, your family,' prodded Jennifer.

‘Ah, boring stuff. Anyway, I told Tony about it. Once is enough. It's on the record now.'

Jennifer hadn't had time to go through all Tony's notes and tapes. In the evenings she listened to the radio after dinner and worked before going to bed with her reading material from Mac and books sent from the university library. She made a note to attack some of Tony's tapes. If her book was about the island and the work being done by the research team, she needed all the background that Gideon could provide. Most of all, Gideon talked of the mysteries of the deep sea and the bizarre fish he had seen one night: ‘As big as a child, glowing luminous blue with fins like fingers and stubby legs.'

‘Like a four-hundred-million-year-old fishy water-baby,' said Jennifer.

‘Maybe some souls go into the sea rather than the sky. I rather like to imagine the bowl that is the Planet Earth being tipped upside down so the sky and stars are below us and the ocean above so we'd look up to see clouds of coral and rainbows of fish.'