Turtle Reef

by Jennifer Scoullar

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Dugongs aren’t people.’

  ‘Makes no difference. They’ve as much right as anyone to be here, more actually. They were here first.’

  Quinn fixed her with those penetrating grey eyes of his and Zoe felt her presence of mind slip. It was like he could see right into her soul. ‘How are the dolphins in the bay doing?’ he asked her. ‘Are they in trouble too?’

  ‘As a matter of fact they are.’

  ‘Dolphins don’t eat seagrass.’

  ‘Everything’s connected. They’re top of the food chain – apart from us.’ At least he was listening: that was something. ‘I don’t blame cane chemicals directly for the dolphin’s predicament. A virus is killing them off, but something’s lowered their immunity and let this disease take hold.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Banned toxins have shown up in their tissue samples, including Dieldrin.’

  Quinn whistled through his teeth, inadvertently summoning Captain to his side. ‘Dieldrin. Dad used that before it was banned. Nasty stuff.’ He offered her more tea. She nodded, calmer now. Quinn was paying attention. Maybe she was getting through to him.

  ‘Let’s take Swallowdale as an example. There are problems with the way you store your chemicals.’ She showed him her checklist. ‘The biggest issue is that records don’t seem to have been filled out. Unless Rob’s passing them on to you?’

  Quinn fondled Captain’s ears. ‘I’m lucky if Rob passes the time of day on to me. I’m afraid he’s never seen me as a fitting heir to Dad’s throne. My management style isn’t tough enough.’

  ‘Rob should be more worried about his own management style. Without records, there’s no way of telling what chemicals are being used on the farm, or when or how heavily they’ve been applied.’

  Quinn’s brow furrowed as he examined the sheets of paper. ‘There’s a legal obligation on farmers to comply with this stuff?’

  ‘Yes, you’ve got some work to do.’

  ‘I’ll look into it, Zoe, but please don’t go poking around here without asking. You shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘And in return, you need to talk to your canegrowers, remind them of their obligations. Let them know how harmful their chemicals are to the reef. There’s more to it than safe storage and record-keeping.’ Zoe flipped through the pages. ‘This outlines best practice.’ She read out topics as she went. ‘“Subsurface fertilising, slow release pellet pesticides, waterway exclusion zones, bans on wet-weather spraying” – it’s all in here.’

  She handed him the booklet. Quinn frowned and put it down. ‘Stick to what you know, Zoe. My blokes won’t appreciate being dictated to by a blow-in from Sydney.’

  ‘Is that how you see me?’ The heat was back again; her eyes flashed flame. ‘As a blow-in?’ Captain whined and came to sit beside her. She was too angry to pat him. She’d misread Quinn. He hadn’t been listening at all. ‘Maybe Josh was right,’ she said.

  ‘Why? What did he say?’

  ‘That you’re stubborn and don’t listen, just like your father.’

  Quinn’s nostrils flared. ‘You know nothing about my father.’

  ‘And you know nothing about the reef. You have no right to harm it just because you and your mates won’t drag yourselves into the twenty-first century.’

  Quinn laced his fingers and flexed his knuckles. ‘This conversation is over.’

  ‘Only for now.’ Zoe threw the checklist at him as she shoved back her chair. ‘I’m not finished, not by a long shot.’

  A lump lodged in Quinn’s throat as Zoe stormed away, taking the timber steps two at a time and striding down the path leading to the guesthouse. Captain stared longingly after her. ‘Don’t you dare,’ said Quinn. The collie gave him a reproachful stare, barked twice and then ran after Zoe.

  Quinn dug his fingers into his fist. He didn’t blame the dog. He wanted to go after her himself. This wasn’t meant to happen, not at all. He’d missed Zoe, missed her a lot. Hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Several times a day he checked the cottage carport. Felt the blood surge in his body whenever he heard a motor, hoping to see the Lexus turn into Swallowdale’s gates. He’d started to worry that she might not come back at all. And then today, there she was, flashing that beautiful smile, wanting to have tea with him. A tide of relief and happiness had washed through him, startling in its power, making him feel like singing. And now he’d gone and ruined it.

  He never knew quite how to react to Zoe. She was so full of surprises and yes . . . damn aggravating at times. Today was a prime example. Unbelievable, that she’d gone rummaging through the spray shed uninvited. A city girl like her. What would she know about farm chemicals? And then she had the hide to criticise him for what she’d found, as if somehow he was in the wrong instead of her. And she’d talked about his father, a man she’d never met. Just as well too. He could only imagine the sort of row those two would get into.

  A breeze blew the booklet with its attached checklist off the table and he picked it up: Code of Practice for the Storage and Use of Chemicals in Rural Workplaces. He’d never seen it before. Dad had his tried and tested ways of doing things around the farm and since his death nothing had changed. There was no reason to, was there? Quinn opened the booklet. Chemical storage areas must be locked and secure. That was actually a good idea. If he’d locked the shed, Zoe wouldn’t have been able to snoop. Quinn read on. He didn’t know about half this stuff. Regulations covering bunding, record keeping, chemical mixing, spraying. Accreditation. Ensure all operators have up-to-date training and relevant accreditation. A list of recommended courses followed. That was a good one. Quinn imagined sending Rob off to enrol in a chemical management course. Heaven help anyone who tried telling that old bastard what to do.

  He flipped over a few pages. Reef Wise Farming. Obligations and Penalties For Non-Compliance. This was something he did know a bit about. Canegrowers in the northern catchments had been saddled with onerous new regulations governing chemical and fertiliser use, all designed to protect the Great Barrier Reef. The protocol did not extend as far south as Kiawa, which was the cause for much celebration in the ranks of the Canegrowers’ Association. Still, the controversial changes had many local farmers up in arms. They saw it as the thin end of the wedge, government gone mad.

  They were particularly enraged about growers having to undergo random farm audits by reef protection officers. With the price of sugar in the doldrums, the financial burden of implementing the resulting reforms had been the last straw for some of their northern neighbours, sending them to the wall. To stay in business and ignore the new rules risked fines of thirty thousand dollars. A 79 year-old famer in the Burdekin had shot and killed an officer when he’d tried to inspect his property late last year. Some Kiawa growers, especially the older ones, had quietly applauded.

  Not Quinn, of course. The reckless act had stunned him with its savagery. But as far as the new Reef Wise regulations went, he’d been as angry about them as his peers.

  He imagined how wild Dad would be if he knew about them, then checked himself. Dead for two years, and he was still viewing things through the prism of his father. Quinn hadn’t seen this as a problem before. Reacting as his father would have reacted was one way of honouring him, of keeping his memory alive. But something Zoe said had struck a nerve. A taunt purportedly based on Josh’s words. You’re stubborn and don’t listen, just like your father.

  Quinn put the booklet down and rubbed his forehead. The seed of a headache was germinating behind his eyes. Why had he snapped at Zoe like that? He knew what she was like and shouldn’t have been surprised by what she’d done. He’d wanted so much to talk with her, share a laugh, something that never seemed to happen at home with Bridget.

  Bridget. The thought of her intensified the pain in his temple. The things Zoe said about her had been going round and round in his head. He couldn’t silence them, not when he was hauling cane out to the siding, not wh
en he was arguing with the manager at the mill . . . not when they were in bed together at night.

  He had no firsthand knowledge about what had been going on at the Reef Centre. However the tenor of Zoe’s words, the implication that Bridget had been dishonest somehow, holding things back – that rang true. And if Josh really was the one training the dolphins? It meant Bridget had been using the boy, something Quinn could not forgive.

  Funny, he’d always imagined that the day Bridget moved in would be the happiest day of his life. He’d dreamed of it during her years away studying, longed for it while she stubbornly insisted on staying with Leo at Cliffhaven. Spent night after sleepless night craving the press of her flawless, perfumed body against his. And yet, now she was here, a vague and terrible disquiet had taken root. Something was wrong with Bridget.

  She seemed oddly detached, as if living in her own little world. Oh, she went through the motions all right. She came home each night, ate dinner, watched television, was a willing partner in the bedroom. She rose early each morning to shower and change, kissed him goodbye and left for work.

  But it was a shell of a relationship. They didn’t talk about anything, not really, not about what mattered. They didn’t laugh and joke, or tell silly stories, or discuss their hopes and dreams. Whenever Quinn tried to engage her, she put on that perfect smile and allowed the conversation to grind to a halt. Or she changed the subject, steering the discussion safely back into shallow waters.

  ‘How about we turn off the television tonight, go sit out under the stars and talk,’ he’d say.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I don’t know. What our lives might be like in five years’ time? Do you want to see Paris one day? If somebody handed you a magic lamp and gave you three wishes, what would they be? Anything.’

  ‘Quinn, you’re being silly.’ Her smile was ambiguous. ‘Let’s watch a movie instead.’

  The truth was, he was profoundly lonely. The physical passion they shared was a hollow delight, like making love to a stranger. Afterwards he couldn’t sleep. He’d wait until Bridget had drifted off, then get dressed and go walking, restless and dissatisfied. And more and more during these solitary nocturnal interludes, his thoughts would turn to Zoe: beautiful, fascinating, infuriating Zoe.

  CHAPTER 22

  ‘Think about it,’ said Zoe. ‘Without turtles and dugongs and dolphins, what sort of an eco-resort will the Bennetts have on their hands? If something isn’t done about run-off from the cane farms, I reckon your deal’s dead in the water.’

  Leo stabbed the meat on the barbecue grill with a fork and turned it over, the aroma of seared steak competing with the scent of the sea. He swung around to face her. ‘And you’re sure about it – this contamination?’

  Zoe brandished a sheaf of stapled papers at him. ‘It’s all here in these reports. Analysis of samples, pollution levels, effects on wildlife. Independent results from Queensland Uni will be in any day now, and I’m certain they’ll confirm these findings.’ Leo poured a glass of wine and handed it to her, his expression unreadable. He might not be much of a greenie, but he was an astute businessman. An appeal to commercial reality was her best bet. ‘I don’t need these to prove my point.’ She tossed her notes aside. ‘In the last thirty years we’ve already lost fifty per cent of the Great Barrier Reef. Now the Bundaberg Guardian is reporting fish kills, algal blooms . . . dead dolphins and dugongs washing up on our doorstep. You’re the mayor, Leo – freshly re-elected what’s more. It’s your job to do something and fast.’

  ‘Dugongs are dying too, you say?’ He scowled. ‘Let me show you something.’ Leo disappeared through the French doors of the patio for a few moments, returning with a folder. ‘Carla Bennett sent this through. Mock-ups of their proposed resort logo.’ Zoe opened the cover to reveal an elegant emblem of coral white and sapphire green, Mermaid Cove emblazoned across it in a fancy typeface. Where Dolphins and Dugongs Dance in smaller letters. A stylised silver dolphin and dugong waltzed together to complete the graphic. ‘Your story about sailors mistaking dugongs for mermaids intrigued her. She wants to feature the theme right through the resort. It won’t bloody work if there aren’t any dugongs, will it?’ He was growing more and more agitated. ‘And you say you’ve gone to Quinn about it?’

  ‘Yes, but it didn’t go well. We both got a bit hot under the collar. I think me going through his chemical shed shocked him so much that he didn’t really listen after that.’

  Leo snorted in derision. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Quinn’s a lovely bloke. I wouldn’t let my daughter marry him if he wasn’t. But he’s not a decision maker. Marshall always had to do the thinking for him.’

  Zoe wanted to leap to Quinn’s defence. As far as she could tell, Marshall never gave his son a chance to decide anything at all. But this wasn’t the time, not when she was winning Leo over.

  Leo checked underneath the steaks. He grimaced and forked them onto plates while Zoe fetched the bread, salad bowl and cutlery. They sat down and Leo investigated his scotch fillet further. ‘Bloody hell, it’s overdone. Where’s my daughter when I need her? She normally does this sort of thing.’

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ said Zoe. ‘I’m no chef.’

  ‘Bridget is a great little cook, I’ll give her that.’ Leo sawed at the corner of his steak. ‘It’s the one thing she’s really good at.’

  Zoe put down her forkful of food. ‘Why do you run her down?’

  ‘Paternal privilege.’ Leo laughed. ‘She knows I’m joking. But don’t you worry. Anyone else says something against her? They’d better watch out.’

  Now Zoe wanted to stand up for Bridget. Point out the sad irony that she could cope perfectly well with criticism from anyone – anyone except her father. She gulped her wine, refusing to get distracted.

  Encouragingly, it was Leo who got the conversation back on track. ‘I’ll support you to the hilt when it comes to tackling this pollution problem, Zoe. I’ve been in cane myself most of my life, still lease out some farms, so I know what I’m talking about. Kiawans are a fiercely independent bunch. They don’t take government regulation seriously.’

  ‘You’ve got some responsibility here yourself, Leo. Archie rescued a dolphin mother and calf from your shark nets last week. They drown turtles too. You have to get rid of them.’

  ‘Of course, of course . . . I’ll be guided by you on such things.’ Leo waved his hand dismissively. ‘This town has a great future, an exciting future. But the biggest growth will be in tourism, not cane. Tourists mean jobs, trade, money for the local economy.’ He drained his beer, lit a cigarette and winked. ‘Don’t tell Bridge about the fag, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Zoe. ‘Now keep talking.’

  ‘The price of sugar’s at an all time low and cheap overseas suppliers are flooding the world market. It’s time to be smart – play to Kiawa’s strengths. And with a world-class reef on our doorstep? Well, you’d be mad not to protect a potential money-making asset like that.’ Zoe nodded, smiling on the outside, troubled on the inside to hear Turtle Reef described in such calculating, economic terms. Leo was charming, flattering even, and a great deal of fun to be with. But there was another aspect to Leo: a mean and selfish side. ‘So,’ he said. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Let’s wait until the second set of samples are analysed. Once my initial results are confirmed, I’ll tackle Quinn again, try to talk him round.’

  ‘Tell him to stop those bloody cane fires while he’s at it. Simon won’t want smoke blowing over his resort.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed Zoe. ‘But we need to bring the farming community along with us. As president of the Canegrowers’ Association, Quinn has a lot of clout.’

  ‘No idea why – the man’s not a patch on his father. Hasn’t got his backbone.’ Zoe’s smile was tight-lipped. ‘But I reckon the growers will go along with what he says. And don’t forget that I’m mayor of this town. I’ve got clout too.’

  ‘I know you do.’

  ‘Good girl.’
Leo rose from his seat and moved to stand behind Zoe’s chair, massaging her shoulders with firm fingers. It took her only a moment to stand and slip sideways.

  Since Zoe had been staying at the shack, she’d spent a lot of evenings with Leo. She was lonely; so was he. It seemed like the perfect arrangement. She’d even toyed with the idea of taking things further, of turning her flirtation into a fling.

  But it couldn’t go any further; Zoe knew that now. Although grateful for his support and friendship, today she’d come face to face with all the things she didn’t like about Leo. What would it have been like for Bridget, growing up with such a man for a father? Without the support of a mother. Depending on Leo’s brand of casual, qualified love to shore up her fledgling confidence. How many times would Bridget have heard Leo belittle her, ridicule her, compare her unfavourably to her sisters?

  Zoe couldn’t imagine her own father behaving in such a way, not for a second. And to think that a few short months ago she’d been jealous of Bridget. Zoe wouldn’t want to swap places with her now for anything – except in one regard. Bridget had Quinn. For once Zoe dared an honest examination of her heart. The truth was blindingly clear. It wasn’t just attraction. She was in love with the quiet cane king.

  Leo heaved a deep, theatrical sigh, as if he somehow guessed at the tumult within her. ‘Am I wasting my time here, Zoe? Do I have any hope with you, any hope at all?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’ He clasped a hand to his heart in mock despair. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me, Leo. Lending me the car, keeping me company, making me smile.’ He shrugged. ‘Letting me stay at the shack . . .’

  ‘I have an ulterior motive there.’ Leo stroked his moustache rakishly. ‘One of these nights I’ll be round to change your mind.’ Zoe laughed and Leo’s brashness slipped away. He looked genuinely deflated. ‘You must think me a silly old fool,’ he said, ‘chasing after you like this.’

  ‘No —’