Maid for the South Pole

by Demelza Carlton

  The man might be worse than Jay Felix when it came to demanding sex, but he hadn't grabbed her again, so she owed him his medicine.

  "Is he awake?" Doug appeared in the doorway.

  "Not any more," Audra replied. She considered telling Doug about what the man had done, but decided it didn't matter. Besides, what if Doug didn't believe her? She hardly believed it herself. Talking about it wouldn't help her forget, like she wanted to. "He roused for a bit, but he's out again. The doc at Casey said to keep him medicated until we reach the station. Probably a good idea." Then he couldn't grab anyone else. She peeled off her gloves and threw them in the bin.

  "Aren't you going to do that?" Doug blurted out.

  And risk rape? Not bloody likely. "Anyone with first aid training can do it. Just hook up the next bag when the pump beeps. Easy." Audra started scrubbing her hands in the sink. She wanted to wash her whole body.

  "Thanks, then. I'm sure Sean here would thank you, too, if he could," Doug said. "Or his next of kin will, when we get hold of her. We haven't been able to reach his wife."

  Audra felt bile rise up in her throat. Lovely. Not only had Sean tried force her into bed with him, but he wanted to cheat on his wife. The arsehole deserved both broken legs.

  "Where's my room?" Audra asked, not wanting to discuss the patient any more.

  "Oh, I stuck you in Bunkroom Three. Figured you're here first, so you get the porthole. The staff at Casey can fight over the rest." Doug grinned.

  Audra shut off the tap and wiped her hands dry. Shit, they were shaking. "Thanks. Hey, do you have anything to drink on this ship? I could really do with one."

  "Sure do. What's your poison?"

  Audra wet her lips. "What've you got?"

  She followed Doug out to the dining hall. In two days, she could hand Sean over to the doctor at Casey, happy in the hope of never seeing him again.

  FIVE

  When Jean awoke, the first thing he became aware of was the whistling wind outside. He prayed that the ship would make it through the storm to retrieve him before the morphine ran out. There hadn't been much in the bottle and he'd surely need another dose soon. Death wasn't an option. He had to get home to Dairine.

  Jean pried his eyes open. Instead of the foam-insulated domed ceiling of the hut, he saw the cable-covered curve inside a cargo plane. Home. He was going home.

  The next time he opened his eyes, the ceiling was flat, white and much closer. Disinfectant seared his nostrils and something behind him beeped. Hospital, his fuzzy mind told him.

  As the days passed, the fog faded a bit, but never enough. Doctors talked of compound fractures and possible infection and all the metal things they'd inserted into his body to help the bones heal straight. Maybe they'd mistaken him for Wolverine. Surely these New Zealanders could tell the difference between a Canadian and the Australian actor who played the character in the movies. Not that he'd mind being Wolverine right now, so he could heal instantly and hop on a plane home.

  Instead, days turned into weeks as they pumped antibiotics into his body and wheeled him in and out of the operating theatre. If he hadn't dragged his damaged legs into the water and along the beach, he wouldn't have to endure all this treatment, the doctors told him.

  Jean agreed with them. If he hadn't done those things, he'd be a frozen corpse in a lava tube.

  Then they told him there was a chance he wouldn't walk again.

  Screw that for a joke.

  When a woman walked into his hospital room and introduced herself as his physiotherapist, he nearly kissed her. Dairine wouldn't like that, though, so he controlled himself. Not that he'd have kissed the woman like he kissed his wife, of course. If Jean was one thing, it was faithful. He'd never love another woman the way he loved his wife. He'd do anything for her. Including doing everything in his power to walk again, so he could pass the medical assessments to go back to Antarctica to finish his research. Once he had his PhD, he could settle down in Vancouver with her like she wanted, take a teaching position somewhere, and be the best father he knew how to be.

  Jean threw himself into his physical therapy like he was training for the Olympics. When they finally released him from hospital, he headed for the Antarctic Research Centre near the airport in Christchurch, where the US expeditioners had their staging area. His status as a PhD candidate at an American university earned him a desk and some temporary accommodation, where he spent hours working on his thesis in between daily sessions of physiotherapy. He would walk again. Without a wheelchair, without crutches, without leaning on anyone. When he returned home to Dairine, he'd be a whole man again, not half of one, he swore.

  Daily, he fought the urge to call her, but he'd promised he wouldn't, because she'd said the waiting between calls while he was in Seattle had killed her a little each time, and it would be worse this time, with him on the other side of the world. He understood. He missed her just as much, of course, but while he was out in the field, discovering new things every day, she kept to her routine. She'd work and spend the evenings at home or with her family in Vancouver, while catching up with her friends on the weekends. He'd slot back into that life as soon as he could, he swore. Shit, what he'd give for a family dinner, with her family or his.

  He took a break from thesis writing for another painful trip to hospital to remove all the pins and rods that had held his smashed bones straight enough to heal, followed by more physical therapy, until the day when Jean was allowed to walk without crutches. He was glad Dairine couldn't see him now, taking his first steps like the baby he hadn't given her yet, but he could count the days now. Soon they'd let him go home to her.

  Finally, the doctors declared him fit to fly. He had to swear to do daily exercises and attend a clinic in Vancouver, but he felt whole again. Whole enough to be Dairine's husband.

  Winter gripped Christchurch when he flew out of the city, headed for summer at home for the first time in two years. He couldn't wait to see Dairine again, six months earlier than expected.

  Maybe he'd give her that baby she wanted before the week was over. He'd damn well try.

  SIX

  Audra clutched at the lectern with both hands. "So, all I have left to say is: let's go out there, fellow graduates, and take the country by storm!"

  Polite laughter rose over the applause as Audra headed for her seat and finally allowed herself to relax. All through the Diploma of Meteorology course, she'd strived to get the best possible results. What she hadn't realised was that the student with top marks automatically became the valedictorian of the class, complete with speech responsibilities at graduation. Well, she'd discharged those responsibilities now, so all she had to do was collect her degree before she could head home to celebrate.

  She waited for her name to be called. A quick walk across the stage with a handshake from the Director in the middle, before she was handed her piece of paper and allowed to return to her seat in the audience.

  At the end, the Director stood up to give his speech, which was surprisingly short. When he was done, he waited for the applause to die down before he said, "I also have an announcement to make. As part of the Bureau's commitment to ongoing education, next year we're holding a contest. The prize will be a training voucher that you can use for courses, conferences or research, as long as it's relevant to your job. And you'll be paid for your training time, too, for the duration of your course."

  Murmuring broke out among the audience. The Director waved his hands for silence.

  "In order to win, we're looking for staff who can raise the Bureau's online profile, so we can continue to attract the best graduates for our diploma program. We're looking for blogs or social media accounts where our staff tell the world about a day in the life of a meteorologist, or photos of weather phenomena, or whatever it is about your job that you feel best represents the Bureau's mission and values. We feel that..."

  Audra tuned out at that point. Most of her fellow students had already stopped listening, holding whispered con
versations with those around them, or trying to catch the eyes of their family members in the other rows.

  She didn't have any family members here – they hadn't been able to afford the flights, let alone the hotel accommodation. She couldn't deny that she was disappointed, but she'd never really expected them to come. Now, when the ceremony ended, it meant she could take advantage of her lonely state and corner the Director for a few questions about the contest.

  But first, she could have one drink before driving home, so she snagged a glass of sparkling wine from a passing waiter. It was definitely a champagne occasion.

  "I liked your speech, Audra."

  Audra nearly choked on her drink as the Director appeared beside her. He held beer.

  "Thank you," she managed to say.

  "I hope you're considering entering the contest. With a record like yours, you could use it to fund a Masters degree, or even your PhD," he continued.

  That answered one of her questions. "But how would it pay for a PhD? I mean, there aren't any course fees. Is the money enough for a scholarship for the three or four years it'll take?"

  The Director shrugged. "It's not enough to live off for three years, no. But you'd still have a full time job with the Bureau for that time, so you shouldn't need to. What it will pay for is equipment and expenses, conferences and travel. And you'd have the full support of the Bureau to complete your degree, so you'd have a study leave allocation."

  "So, basically, the Bureau would pay me to get my PhD?" Audra asked. It sounded too good to be true.

  "Ah, but first you'd have to win the contest. That's not going to be easy. We'll officially open it next week, and it'll run for six months, until the end of March. You'll have six months to create content that can...ah, go viral, I think it's called. Our PR manager is one of the judges, and she assures me there are several criteria you'll be assessed against. The quality of your message, the number of followers you have, how well you align with the Bureau's mission...like I said, it won't be easy."

  Nothing was easy, especially not for Audra. Why should this be any different? She waved away his concerns. "When you say social media, could it be an online video channel?"

  Another shrug. "I imagine so."

  "Then I think I'll be entering," Audra said, sipping her bubbly.

  The Director beamed. "Good to hear! I look forward to your videos of...where are they posting you?"

  "Officially, we don't find out until Monday," Audra said carefully. "But the Chief Meteorologist at Davis Station in Antarctica told me she'd requested a graduate this year, if a member of our class with the right training applied for a regional posting. I have it on good authority that I'll be on the next icebreaker south to Davis." Perfect for photos or video. After all, everyone loved penguins.

  "But won't it be cold in Antarctica? You're from Perth, right? It doesn't snow there!"

  At least the Director of Meteorology knew a bit about weather. Audra replied, "Yes. The coldest place on Earth, actually. And I helped install new equipment at Dome Argus last year, which isn't far from Vostok Station, where the coldest temperature ever was recorded. I'm dying to go back to the South Pole, Director. And this posting would be a full year, including winter. I'm told the winter storms are nothing short of spectacular."

  The Director looked stunned. "I didn't think we sent graduates to Antarctica, let alone ones we hadn't fully trained yet. I'll be following your blog with interest."

  Video channel, not blog. No one read web pages when they could watch a video. She didn't correct him, though. "Thank you, Director."

  The Director moved off to speak to some of the other executive staff who'd turned out for the graduation – or, more accurately, for the free food and drink – and Audra drained her drink, setting the empty glass on a table. She made her way out of the building to her car, sober enough to easily manage the drive home.

  Not that it would be home for long. Eight months she'd lived in Melbourne, sharing a house with some other students, but that would change soon enough. Who'd have thought she'd one day call Antarctica home?

  SEVEN

  Jean climbed stiffly out of the taxi. Long flights had taken their toll on his body. He took care not to favour either leg as he shouldered his backpack and wheeled his duffle up the driveway to his house. The lawn looked like it was overdue for a mow – he'd take care of that tomorrow, once Dairine let him out of bed.

  He dug his keys out and unlocked the door, grateful that the landlord hadn't changed the locks while he was away. He'd done that once while Jean was meeting with his research supervisor in Seattle, and he'd had to sit on the porch all day, waiting for Dairine's shift to finish so she could come home and let him in.

  The smell of cooking hit him like a punch to the gut. He'd forgotten how good Dairine was in the kitchen. That smell meant she was home. A grin lit his face as he headed for the kitchen.

  "You're home early," Dairine said over her shoulder as she stirred something on the stove.

  "I thought I'd surprise you," he replied, closing the distance between them so he could kiss her.

  Dairine spun on the spot, looking horrified. "J-Jean? What are you doing here?"

  Jean stopped short, trying to tell if she was joking or not. "I'm your husband. I live here."

  "No, you bloody don't! We're divorced!" she hissed.

  Divorced? Jean couldn't seem to make his tongue say the word, and his mouth wouldn't close, either. "Since when?" he said hoarsely.

  "Since more than a year ago! I told you if you go to the South Pole, I didn't want to see or hear from you again. You left, so I filed for divorce. I told them to send your copy to the university, seeing as I didn't know where you were."

  "But I thought you wanted...children. You and me, we were going to start a family. Every day I was in Antarctica, I was counting down the days until I could come home to you." Jean stared at her in anguish. "I promised to give you a baby."

  His gaze dropped to her belly, always so flat in his memory. It was anything but flat now. She looked like she'd swallowed a weather balloon.

  "Is that...are you...whose is...when's it due?" He couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence while his heart crunched into fragments inside his chest.

  "Ed and I are having twins, and they're due next month, if my obstetrician doesn't insist on delivering them early," Dairine said reluctantly.

  Edward. That pasty-faced IT guy in her office who looked like he'd never spent five minutes outside in the sun in his life. Jean had seen Ed eyeing Dairine off at work parties, but Dairine had never taken any notice of him.

  "Did he get you drunk at the work party, and that's when you slept with him? Is he going to be around to help you when they're born, or are you going to be a single mother with twins?" Jean bit out.

  Dairine's hand delivered a stinging slap to his cheek. "Don't you talk about my husband like that! We celebrated out first anniversary a few weeks ago, Ed and me. He's everything a husband should be. He comes home at night. Takes care of me. And he's giving me a family, something you never managed to do."

  Guilty as charged, but there were extenuating circumstances. "I was away so we could build a future together, once I got back. I'm here now, Dairine. Please don't do this."

  "I already have," she said tartly. "Get out, Jean. You shouldn't be here. If you're looking for your stuff, I sent it back east to your folks' place. There's nothing for you here." Her expression told him what her words couldn't: there truly was nothing for him here.

  Without another word, Jean turned on his heel and strode out of the house. It wasn't home any more.

  EIGHT

  Audra had almost decided on her graduation gift. She'd been ninety percent certain before the Director's announcement that she wanted an action camera for her second trip to Antarctica, as the lovely DSLR camera that Jay Felix had given her didn't always work well in polar conditions. Well, it worked for a little while, until the cold got to the batteries and fogged up the lenses. But these cameras
were designed to work when it was cold and wet. Even better, they were easy to operate while wearing thick gloves. The only question now was...which model to buy? She could afford the top of the range one, and it would take awesome video to share on her yet-to-be-created channel, but...

  Her laptop chimed, alerting her to an incoming video call.

  Audra didn't even have to look at the name to answer, "Evening, Jay."

  "Congratulations," he replied. "I did get the date right, didn't I? It's your graduation?"

  He wore a shirt tonight. It must be cold at the resort where he lived.

  "It is," she said. "I'm now officially a qualified meteorologist."

  "Why aren't you out celebrating, then?"

  "Who says I'm not?"

  Jay grinned. "Your webcam, for a start. I recognise your room."

  A room he'd never been in, but it didn't matter. She'd started taking his video calls after a few weeks in Melbourne, and somehow they'd fallen into a strange friendship.

  "Still celebrating, though."

  Jay leaned forward so all Audra could see was his forehead. "I don't see any alcohol."

  "I drank it already," she admitted. "But I'm picking out a graduation gift. I've decided I need a video camera for my first graduate posting."

  "What's wrong with the camera I gave you?"

  She knew he'd whine. That was Jay – everything was about him.

  "It's a beautiful camera for a tropical island resort, but it's not so good in the snow."

  His eyes widened. "You're going back to Antarctica?"

  Audra beamed. "Yep. I can't wait."

  "When do you leave?"

  "Not sure yet. The first supply run leaves Hobart in October, so I have a few weeks, at least."

  "Come up and visit me, then," he said.

  Tropical Romance Island Resort would be a dream compared to wintry Melbourne weather. So tempting, especially as she'd be in Antarctica for close to eighteen months, depending on the shipping schedules.