Stars Over the Southern Ocean

by J. H. Fletcher

  ‘Yes?’

  One word and she knew him.

  ‘Greg? It’s Esmé.’

  ‘Goodness … I didn’t recognise you. Come in. Come in out of the rain.’

  She did so, hanging up her coat and shaking raindrops out of her hair.

  ‘Come and sit down.’

  There was a welcome fire; she did as he asked, spreading her hands to the burning logs.

  ‘I didn’t know you were in the country. When did you get here?’

  ‘A few days ago.’

  ‘Staying long?’

  ‘Could be.’

  Logs crackled in the silence. Greg was obviously not going to say any more, while Esmé was an expert in not asking awkward questions.

  ‘Will Tamsyn be in later?’

  ‘I expect so. Don’t know when, though. You know Tamsyn: always working.’

  He asked if she wanted a drink; she shook her head. He fetched one for himself. They sat on either side of the fire, watching the flames in companionable silence.

  After the histrionics of the previous day, the endless pressure from Donovan to coerce her into his bed, it was a pleasure to sit here, warmed not only by the fire but by the undemanding presence of this man she barely knew.

  She studied him surreptitiously. They’d met only a few times, but from what she’d heard she’d formed the impression that Gregory Trevelyan was an irresponsible playboy. The impression he gave now was altogether different, of a quiet man happy to sit peacefully in front of a blazing fire.

  She felt peaceful in his company.

  It was Greg who eventually spoke, after he had placed a fresh log on the fire.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ he said.

  She was astonished. ‘Thank you. I’m surprised you knew it.’

  ‘I’m good at things like that. Not at much else, perhaps, but I suppose it’s something.’

  ‘But how did you know?’

  ‘Tamsyn must have mentioned it. Or maybe my mum: I forget.’

  ‘Have you seen anything of her since you’ve been back?’

  ‘No. I spoke to her the day I got here. I told her I’d drive over to see her as soon as I could, but I haven’t got around to it. It’s awkward, not having a car.’

  Esmé didn’t think that, generally speaking, she was in the least impulsive but she told herself there were exceptions to every rule. In many ways she’d been glad to see the back of Donovan Lewis but there was always emotional stress in a break-up and she needed a break; she had some leave owing and there was nothing much on at the office at the moment; it had been quite a while since she’d seen Marina. Most important of all: she felt comfortable with this man, this almost-stranger, and thought it would be good to spend some time in his company.

  ‘Let me make a quick phone call,’ she said.

  Within minutes she was back.

  ‘Fixed it,’ she said. ‘I’ll drive you there tomorrow.’

  Greg stared. ‘You will?’

  Esmé smiled.

  Tamsyn came home. She looked from one of them to the other. She, too, smiled. She wasn’t the sort to miss much.

  ‘Glad to see you’ve caught up with each other.’ She turned to Esmé. ‘How’s Donovan?’

  Esmé gave her look for look. ‘Who’s Donovan?’

  ‘Good,’ Tamsyn said.

  ‘You’re taking us out for a meal,’ Greg said.

  ‘I am?’

  ‘Esmé’s birthday.’

  ‘Oh God, I’d forgotten. Of course we’ll go out.’

  They went to Mako’s, on the wharf. They ate snapper in a lemon sauce and shared a bottle of Keebunna dry riesling as they watched the boats in the harbour. They had a good time together, with plenty of laughter. Greg still hadn’t said why he was in Tasmania instead of Thailand, but Esmé didn’t care; she’d never been one for mysteries but knew he would tell her eventually if she and Greg became friends.

  Would they?

  Too early to tell, but she was at least prepared to contemplate the possibility. It was a four-hour drive to the west coast from Hobart: plenty of time to discover how she felt about this new man who had arrived so unexpectedly in her life. Off with the old and on with the new, she thought. Except that the old had been a pain and she was daring to hope the new might be an improvement.

  It was a shock to find herself thinking like this so soon, but it didn’t trouble her. If it is my destiny it will happen, she thought.

  After they’d eaten, they strolled around the harbour for a while. Tamsyn dropped Esmé off at her place and they agreed she would pick up Greg first thing the following morning.

  She lay in bed, sensing an inner turmoil that she’d not experienced before. It was far too early to think of anything remotely like love or even enduring affection, but there was something or at least the possibility of something there, and it gave her a good feeling.

  She slept.

  CHAPTER 56

  The next day the weather had cleared and the new leaves of the deciduous trees along the road were a vibrant green against a turquoise sky, with the evergreen gums showing glimpses of yellow blossom on the higher ground.

  The air was fresh and cool with the windows down and Esmé drove fast along the road that ran north-west through the mountains. There were few houses along this road and she looked at the green of the vegetation, the blue-grey of the mountains, and asked herself for the hundredth time what she thought she was doing.

  Her father’s death when she’d been a child and the way her grandparents had treated her in the years that followed had made her cautious both of people and events. She did not make friends easily. The romantic relationships she’d had had seldom lasted long and she found it hard to believe that on her own initiative she should now be driving to Noamunga with Gregory Trevelyan sitting beside her in the passenger seat of her little car.

  They’d left Hobart at six. Once they were clear of the city there was little traffic and they made good time along the Lyell Highway. They stopped for a snack at Derwent Bridge before driving on. They both had bacon and eggs with strong coffee and she felt Greg assessing her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Neither of them had said much so far but after they’d left the roadhouse Greg began to talk.

  ‘You like living in Tasmania?’

  ‘Very much.’

  ‘You don’t miss India?’

  ‘Not at all. After my father died, I like to think my grandparents tried to do what they thought was best for me, but it wasn’t easy for them. They were old and had old-fashioned ideas. They wanted to raise me as an Indian, but I wasn’t an Indian. My father had been a westerner and had brought me up with Western ideas. That meant that my grandparents and I never saw eye to eye. In truth I was a nuisance to them. Then my grandfather died, my grandmother wanted us to move to the other side of the country to be with her sister, and I didn’t want to go. I wrote to Tamsyn, she sent me the money, and here I am.’

  ‘Is your grandmother still alive?’

  ‘She died a year ago.’

  ‘Did you go to her funeral?’

  ‘I only heard weeks later when her sister wrote. I wouldn’t have gone anyway. She hated Tamsyn and didn’t like me very much, either. I don’t think she liked anyone very much.’

  ‘You thought of Tamsyn as a stand-in mother?’

  ‘To begin with. She was my stepmother. I don’t think of her like that now, of course. Now we’re more like sisters. The best of friends, too, and that’s what matters.’

  They drove for a while in silence. They were through the mountains now and beginning the long run to the coast. When they’d passed the Strahan turning, they would head north to Boulders, very close to their journey’s end.

  Esmé took her eyes off the road to glance at him. ‘Your turn,’ she said.

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘To tell me why you’re here and not in Thailand. Don’t you have a project on the go there?’

  For a minute he stared through the windscreen without answering. Eventu
ally:

  ‘I had a spot of bother,’ he said.

  ‘Tell me.’

  Again a minute’s silence, then he told her about his grand plans for the resort, about Somchai and Mongkut, and how everything that could go wrong had gone wrong.

  ‘I was in jail,’ he said. ‘You can’t imagine how terrible it was. If Mum hadn’t bailed me out, I’d be there still. Or more likely dead. I ran for it and got away, thank God. For a time I was so paranoid I even thought they might have sent somebody after me—’

  ‘They?’

  ‘My partners.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘To get rid of me. They wanted the resort for themselves, set me up on a fake dope charge, but I got away so I’m still a threat to them.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re paranoid,’ she said. ‘I’ve read about such things. But what do you plan to do about it?’

  ‘That,’ he said, ‘is the million-dollar question.’

  They drove through Boulders without stopping and Esmé changed gear as they climbed the steep hill beyond the town. At the summit of the ridge she drew to a halt. In the silence they could hear the engine block ticking and the faraway rumble of the sea. From this point, with the sun shining as it had all morning, they could see the coastline, partially blurred by spray, running south past the old Cameron place.

  The distant sound of the surf had a hypnotic effect on them both, so for a minute neither of them spoke, then Esmé turned to Greg.

  ‘I asked you a question. What do you plan to do about this Thailand business?’

  ‘No idea. I’m not sure I care anymore. It was a dream I had. Now it’s gone.’

  ‘But you must do something about it. If you don’t, you’ll have this drug accusation around your neck the rest of your life.’ She spoke fiercely. A voice inside her head was asking why she should care, that she hardly knew him, that he had been foolish to trust men whom he’d been warned were potential trouble, yet the fact was she did care, and was determined to make him understand how important it was to clear his name.

  ‘You left the country illegally. Right?’

  ‘I suppose. But I didn’t have any choice. The conditions in that prison … You can’t believe how dreadful they were.’

  She was losing patience with his obstinate refusal to face facts.

  ‘That’s where you’ll be going if they catch you. Straight back to jail.’

  ‘Australia doesn’t send people back to a country where the death penalty might be imposed. The high commission man told me that.’

  ‘So you’re happy to spend the rest of your life here and never leave? You broke Thai law. There’ll be an Interpol notice out about you. Visit any country in the world that has an extradition treaty with Thailand and you could find yourself being sent straight back.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘We’ve got to find a way to get you out of this.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. But we have to work out something.’

  It was a sobering thought, with no obvious solution, yet the fact that the problem existed at all had somehow drawn them closer. Together they would find a solution; together they would prevail.

  Esmé put the car into gear and they drove on down the hill.

  * * *

  Marina had taken advantage of the fine weather to go fishing. She had always found it an occupation that helped her think, and after what had Tamsyn had told her when she’d flown over for lunch that day, she certainly had plenty to think about. Even now, though, she refused to let it trouble her too much; she had learnt long ago that fate had a habit of deciding things, one way or another.

  She had the line curled around her finger, feeling for a bite. For the moment the fish weren’t interested but she was hesitant about moving. Until recently, she’d used a heavy concrete block to keep the dinghy from drifting but now she was finding even that simple task beyond her, obliging her to use a lightweight fisherman’s anchor instead: adequate in good weather but inclined to drag when the seas got up. It was a depressing reminder that the damned illness had not gone away, that the intermittent pain was growing worse and not better and that her time on earth was limited.

  So what? she told herself. That was true of every living creature. Stop being sorry for yourself. Catch some nice fresh fish for supper and make up your mind whether you’re going to spend the rest of your life here or not, and let the decision come in its own time, as it will.

  Yes, that was the way to think. As she’d told herself a dozen times before, she would take every day as it came, living it to the full until there were no days left, but in the meantime she’d have another go at catching some fish for her tea.

  To hear Gregory’s voice and know that he was safe had come as a balm and blessing to her soul, but what Tamsyn had told her afterwards had brought home to her the reality that she couldn’t put things off any longer. No more messing about; she had to make up her mind, once and for all, what she was going to do about Noamunga.

  ‘Heard any more from Charlotte?’ Tamsyn had said.

  ‘No. Should I have done?’

  ‘You know her real reason for coming to see you?’

  ‘I know what you say was the real reason—’

  ‘It’s real enough. The latest I’ve heard, Hector is increasingly confident they’ll strike oil any day. If they do, they’ll have to find somewhere to bring it ashore, right?’

  Marina felt a stillness in her heart and head. ‘Go on.’

  ‘You know that coastline better than anybody. Given the seas you get around there, they’d want to make the pipeline as short as possible. And that, Mum, means Noamunga.’

  ‘So that really was why Charlotte came to see me? Nothing to do with my health at all?’ Marina felt a slowly stirring anger.

  ‘I’d lay odds on it. Trident will want to buy Noamunga off you before they know for sure the oil’s there. They’ll want to get it as cheaply as possible.’

  ‘We’re talking of your sister,’ Marina said.

  ‘We’re talking of an oil company, Mum. We’re talking millions.’

  ‘Millions?’

  ‘They strike oil, you can name your own price.’

  Marina was conscious of a steadily increasing indignation. ‘Then I’ll have to think about it, won’t I?’

  The fish still weren’t biting, so she fired up the outboard, hauled in the anchor and motored a hundred yards down the reef to see if she could find a better spot.

  A metaphor for her life, she thought. Keep going and never give up.

  The line tightened around her finger as the first fish struck.

  It was an hour later when, looking back at the shore, she saw a car she didn’t recognise bumping down the track towards the house. Gregory had said he’d come when he could but he’d sounded doubtful and she hadn’t expected him to make it any time soon. She wouldn’t get her hopes up but watched the car, her fingers crossed. She’d already caught all the fish she needed so she hauled in the anchor again and headed for the beach. She was halfway there when the car parked, the doors opened, and two people got out.

  Marina’s heart jumped. She ran the dinghy ashore in a sandy space between the rocks, switched off the engine and, infirmities forgotten, ran up the beach, arms outstretched.

  ‘Gregory!’

  Cuddle, cuddle, half-laughing, half-crying. She hugged him tight, feeling the hard reality of the man’s body beneath the clothes.

  ‘How wonderful!’ She held him at arm’s length while her eyes ate him up. ‘I thank God every day that you’re safe.’

  Gregory freed himself, laughing self-consciously. ‘I’ll drink to that!’

  Marina turned to Esmé, standing to one side. ‘Forgive me for ignoring you. But it’s such a joy to see my son safe home again.’

  ‘It’s lovely to be here again. I’m sorry it’s been such a long time.’

  ‘It’s a long way to come. My fault, of course, but the truth is I’
m happy here.’

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘That’s the thing. I have the birds, the sea, the sky. There are dolphins and fish. I can walk for miles whenever I like. Boulders is only a few minutes’ drive away. I can have as much company as I want or as little. How can you think I’m alone?’

  ‘You’re not well—’

  ‘I suspect Tamsyn’s been getting after you. When you get back you can tell her I’m fine where I am and have no thought of leaving.’ She laughed, joy still lively in every vein, as she looked at the two unexpected but so-welcome guests. ‘You should have let me know you were coming. I could have organised some lunch for us.’

  ‘We wanted to take you by surprise. It was Esmé’s birthday yesterday,’ Gregory said. ‘We thought we’d like to take you out for a change. A belated celebration. Is the Tin Miner still the best pub in Boulders?’

  ‘It’s the only pub. Still looks as though it’s likely to fall down at any minute but people say the meals aren’t too bad. I’ve never eaten there, myself.’

  ‘Then today’s your chance,’ Gregory said. ‘Still got the old bullet holes?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  Esmé looked from one of them to the other. ‘Bullet holes?’

  ‘They were a wild bunch in the old days,’ Gregory said.

  Esmé went out to the car and Gregory and his mother were alone.

  ‘Thank you for saving my life,’ he said. ‘Without your help I doubt I’d have survived.’

  ‘Shhh,’ Marina said. ‘I am so thankful it came off.’

  ‘I’ll pay you back,’ he said. ‘I don’t know when, but I’ll do it sometime.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ Marina said.

  Esmé drove them into town, where parking was never a problem.

  From the outside, the Tin Miner did indeed look as though it was about to fall down. Inside was a different story, with the dining room, small but cosy, off the main bar. The shaded wall sconces cast a golden glow, the food was good and plentiful, the wine one of Tasmania’s best.

  ‘Cordon bleu, west-coast style,’ Gregory said as he cut into his steak.