by Di Morrissey
‘Jesus, Jennifer, what are you talking about?’
‘You know very well.’
‘I’ve told you not to listen to gossip.’ He took a large gulp of wine.
‘Blair, don’t try to deny it, at least give me that.’
Blair topped up his wine. Jennifer’s glass of white had yet to arrive. ‘It wasn’t anything.’
‘You slept with her,’ she hissed.
‘What do you want me to say then?’
‘Sorry would be a good start.’
Blair didn’t answer and Jennifer felt vulnerable despite her anger, but wasn’t going to show it. ‘Was it me? Why did you go off with . . . her?’
He twirled his glass, avoiding her eyes, and didn’t answer.
‘Just tell me what I did wrong, Blair. So it won’t happen again.’
‘Keep your voice down. It won’t happen again.’
‘How do I know that? Is it because I’m pregnant? I’ mugly? You don’t want this baby?’
‘Jesus, Jennifer, get yourself together. No. I don’t know why it happened, for God’s sake. Maybe I was lonely.’
‘Lonely! You’re always surrounded by people. I’m the one who’s lonely.’
‘How can you say that when you spend all your time with those other people? Talking academic stuff. You treat me like I’m some dummy because I didn’t go to uni.’
Jennifer was stunned into silence as the waiter, who’d been waiting for an appropriate pause, placed her wine in front of her and quickly moved away.
‘You’ve never told me that before. Blair, I don’t think that at all. You’re the one who’s clever, entrepreneurial, who makes the money.’
‘Don’t tell me you don’t have ambitions. I always feel you’re just going along with my career plans until something better comes along for you.’ He looked so crestfallen, so hurt, Jennifer was bewildered.
‘I guess I had dreams, I wasn’t sure how to achieve them. I felt trapped by what my mother expected me to do, become . . .’
‘Your mother has a lot to answer for.’
‘We can’t blame her for this! I suppose I wanted it all, as they say. It didn’t seem such a big ask. A husband, both of us with careers, a family one day. Why is that impossible?’
‘I thought we had that. I wanted a wife who supported me, who had her own interests as well, and, when kids came along, we’d deal with it. What’s so hard about that?’
They stared at each other with the uncomfortable realisation of the other’s position and feelings, and the knowledge they might have wanted the samething but were coming from different directions. That they’d never talked about each other’s goals and dreams.
‘So where do we go from here?’ asked Jennifer.
‘I have a job to do, a contract that keeps me here. You’re my wife. I thought you’d agreed to support me in my job.’
‘You sound as if I haven’t done that,’ she snapped, hurt by the unfairness of the insinuation.
‘Come on, Jennifer. You did nothing but complain about being here. You hardly ever came and socialised with guests, got to know the staff, did things that help me. Instead you’re off with those university people who have nothing to do with this resort.’
‘That’s so unfair of you. I’ve done everything you wanted,’ she hissed, trying not to raise her voice. ‘I’m the one who gave up my career, you recall.’
‘You were happy enough at the time. What about all the bullshit about writing some book for that professor? What’ve you done? Got pregnant, that’s been it, and that’s not helpful in my situation.’
‘Well, excuse me. You had nothing to do with that? It wasn’t planned, we slipped up, but you can’t blame me. And what’s the problem? Rosie is quite happy for us to stay on after the baby is born until your contract is up.’
‘Yeah and then what?’
Jennifer’s anger was ignited by the bitterness, the accusing tone, in his voice. ‘Blair, you went off and had an affair.’
‘So we put this behind us. Learn from it.’ Blair was sounding brisk.
‘That’s easy for you to say.’
‘Jennifer, don’t start –’
‘Blair, I cannot go back into that unit, our bed, as if nothing has happened.’ She tried to sound calm but she felt her fury rising at Blair’s total lack of acceptance that he had betrayed her.
‘Come on, don’t be ridiculous. Grow up. What do you want to do, go and live with your mother?’
‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, I’m not leaving you alone over here.’
‘Jennifer, that’s unfair. C’mon, I said nothing is going to happen. It was just . . . Oh, never mind, do what you want.’
‘Time, a little time, that’s all I want, Blair.’
‘Fine. Talk to Rosie, see if you can stay in that suite for a bit. Of course, the staff will love to gossip about this. You’re not making it easy for me.’
Why should I? ‘Let’s just leave things for the time being, please, Blair. Time out.’
13
Beyond the Reef
THROUGH THE MISTS OF sleep Jennifer hear dearly-morning calls of seabirds, lapping water and surf breaking on the reef. A soft, salty breeze curled over the second-floor balcony, lifting a curtain. She opened her eyes in a strange room and, as the previous day and evening came back to her, she started to cry. It was like a bad dream. If only. Dinner with Blair had been difficult, She just wanted to get away from the resort. Pulling on shorts and a T-shirt from her bag, which she hadn’t unpacked, she dressed, slipped on sandals, a hat and dark glasses, and left the room.
The staff were setting up for breakfast, the clatter of plates, cutlery and chatter drifting across the grounds where one or two early risers were walking or waiting to go into the dining room. Jennifer had arranged to meet Isobel at the research station as soon as she woke up.
‘Come at dawn, any time. Wake me. It doesn’t matter. Tell me how things went with Blair and how you feel,’ Isobel had urged.
The door to Mac’s cottage was open, a dripping swimsuit hung on the clothes line at the entrance, and Isobel, a towel around her dark curls, was wrapped in a cotton kimono, her feet up on a chair as she sipped a mug of coffee.
‘Good timing, the pot is still hot. Or do you prefer Australian tea to Brazilian coffee?’
‘Maybe strong coffee is a good idea. I’ll get it. Anyone up?’
‘Just me, I’ve been for a swim. And Rudi is kayaking around to Boomerang Cove for exercise.’
The kitchen was cluttered: dishes, remains of a meal, empty beer cans, wine bottles and papers were spread over the table. Mac’s guitar lay on the sofa. It reminded Jennifer of her uni days. She sat on a director’s chair next to Isobel. The sun was lifting above the screen of trees. ‘I feel disoriented. Out of my routine. I’m sad, hurt, but also mad.’
‘Mad is good. How was dinner?’
‘Awful. I thought it would be better to be in the public gaze rather than shout at each other on our own. We ended up shouting in whispers or hissing across the table.’
‘Did you achieve anything, come to any conclusion?’
‘Not really.’ Jennifer was reflective. ‘We just went round in circles.’
‘He can’t deny he is in the wrong.’
‘He doesn’t, but he’s trying to pass it off like it was my fault! Being pregnant when we didn’t plan it, not supporting him in his career, blah blah blah. Shit, why does he think I’m here? Thinks I’ve been hormonal, moody and distant. Being pregnant is no excuse. That kind of stuff.’
Isobel chuckled. ‘Outrageous. When in the wrong, shove the blame. Never apologise, never admit you were wrong. Say women are hormonal. I know that type. How did you leave matters?’
‘Up in the air. I think he feels it was a brief fling, I should be understanding and we’ll go on as before. I wonder if he’d feel like that if it had been me!’
‘And what do you want to do?’
Jennifer rubbed her eyes. ‘I don’t know, Isobel.
I just said I need a bit of time to . . . adjust. The awful, sad thing is we both seem to want the same thing and the other doesn’t see it that way.’
Isobel was quiet for a moment. She could see very clearly they were going in opposite directions. Finally, she said gently, ‘Sometimes one partner hasn’t grown up properly, or begins to grow and goes in a different direction. It happened to me.’
‘How long have you been divorced?’
‘Years. I had two little boys, but I managed. I had supportive parents even though they believed marriages endured, no matter what.’
‘What went wrong?’
‘In the beginning, nothing. I tried to have it all. My problem is that my passion is difficult to share – unless you dive with me! I have always been incredibly motivated, I go at something to the exclusion of all else. So juggling a home life was hard. It was not a traditional relationship. Scientists are obsessives, like some poets, musicians, painters. I can’t turn off my curiosity and that strained the marriage ties until they broke.’
‘You’re a big success and famous and contributing to science. Has it been worth it?’ Jennifer hoped she wasn’t trespassing into personal territory too much, but she needed to ask these questions.
Isobel sighed. ‘Jenny, that was my choice in life. Yours might be different. I would have preferred to stay married but the urge to explore and seek answers to help save oceans is, for me, an irresistible force. I also know I could not have fought it.’
Jennifer mulled these comments over, thinking again what an indomitable woman Isobel appeared to be. Then she too sighed. ‘If only I wasn’t pregnant. It adds an unfair dimension, puts pressure on me to make things work out. Plus, there is my mother champing at the bit over the ocean waves.’
‘Ah. Maybe you could go and spend some time with her?’
‘No way. She’d sniff something was a miss and pounce on me. I’m not getting out of the way and making it convenient for Blair and that bitch Susie. And, I don’t want to go. I like it here.’ She gestured around her. She was about to say she wanted to get on with her work with Mac and the others. To be with Isobel and Gideon.
Isobel tilted her head, looking at Jennifer who had stopped mid sentence.
‘My God, I don’t believe I said that!’
‘Go on.’
‘That I like it here. I do! I really do. I never thought I’d say that.’
‘Why? What do you like?’ asked Isobel.
‘The island. Being surrounded by water. It brought back nightmares. Now . . . knowing what the others are investigating, it’s so important.’
‘And what else?’
Jennifer spoke slowly, trying to analyse and articulate these new feelings. ‘The beauty, the lifestyle, that we are coexisting with nature, the animals. We have to adjust to them rather than the other way around. But mostly it’s the people. You, Mac, Gideon, everyone here at the station.’
‘Perhaps we have interests in common – that’s very powerful glue,’ said Isobel.
‘Friendship glue. Is that what it is? Still, I can’t help thinking you are very special people. It’s more than a friendship . . . I can’t quite explain.’
Isobel touched her hand and smiled. ‘You don’t have to. Now, what were you saying?’
Jennifer took a breath. ‘I like the idea of a book, and if Mac thinks I can do it – I will.’
‘Brava! The best thing you could do.’ Isobel was pragmatic. ‘However, you have to consider your domestic arrangements. Are you prepared to go back to the marital home and bed?’
Jennifer was silent. She tried to imagine things as they’d been with Blair. And would they still be the same?
‘It’s a hard one, yes?’ prompted Isobel.
‘Yes. I suppose I should try, to be fair to us both. We do have a child on the way. But you know what? In thinking about our life together these past years, and especially since being here on Branch, we’ve hardly shared anything. Maybe that’s not unusual in young couples with busy careers. I’m gone when he gets up, in bed when he comes home. Our interests rarely overlap.’ She drew a tight breath. ‘I’ll try to do what he wants, socialise and play the hostess and so forth. I’ll have to make more of an effort.’
‘So will he,’ said Isobel.
Later Jennifer went into her little workspace next to Rudi’s lab. She spread out the papers from Mac and studied them. Yes, she decided. She could do this. She wanted to do this.
‘Hi. Am I interrupting?’ Tony Adams poked his head around the door. ‘You’re at it early.’
‘Come in. I’m starting a new project – doing more studies.’
‘You finished the book for the deadly dull professor?’ He sat and stretched his long legs. He was wearing khaki shorts, a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a cotton vest with a lot of pockets. She thought he looked exactly as a foreign correspondent should look.
‘I have. He’s pleased. Did Mac talk to you about my doing a book on the exploits of Gideon, the shark mobile thingy, and Isobel? I don’t want to cover the same territory, tread on your toes though.’
‘Different readership. We’re coming from separate perspectives. But it would be helpful to collaborate. There’s a lot of ground to cover.’ He patted one of his pockets, took out a packet of Lifesavers, popped one in his mouth and passed her the packet, looking thoughtful. ‘I sense there’s quite a story lurking here. Or several stories. Can’t put my finger on it.’
She tossed him the peppermints, which he stowed in his pocket, smoothing the flap. She grinned. ‘What do you keep in all those pockets?’
‘Old habits. From the war, being on the run. Everything from chocolate, glasses, pen, paper, cassette tape, digital camera, American dollars, cigarettes.’
‘You smoke?’
‘No. Did for a while but gave it away. Offering American cigarettes is a good way to get people to talk to you. Well, used to be. So what’s your take on this place?’
‘On the island as a whole? You know, even though it’s a small place it’s like three separate states or three separate tribes. There’s the resort with the staff and the tourists, there’s the research station and the scientists, and then there’s Gideon and the wildlife.’
They both laughed.
‘And the reef out there as a living border keeping invaders at bay,’ added Tony.
‘So where are you starting?’ asked Jennifer.
‘Supposedly Captain Cook discovered the reef. But there’s evidence that probably Portuguese and Spanish explorers were here centuries before 1770. And I’ve been skimming scientific stuff, how reefs are formed and some fascinating early references to coral.’ He pulled a small notepad from another pocket and read out. ‘The poet Ovid and the Roman author Pliny describe coral as a soft plant underwater that hardens in air. And two millennia later a French scientist finally identifies coral as being formed by minute animals. What had previously been considered flowers were truly more like upside-down jellyfish – cnidarians.’
‘So the reef is a living formation, each generation growing on the skeleton of its parents until the colonies become hundreds of years old and the reefs develop over thousands of kilometres,’ said Jennifer. ‘And incredibly beautiful.’
‘Especially when seen from underwater, undisturbed. But what intrigues me is what Gideon and Isobel are after – what’s way, way below the reef? Do you believe in monsters of the deep?’
Jennifer shuddered. ‘I don’t even want to think about it. You do the underwater research, thanks.’
Isobel appeared in the doorway. ‘Ah ha. The collaboration begins, eh?’
‘How can Jennifer write about the mysterious wondrous reef without seeing it?’ Tony said. ‘What did Gideon say about doing things you’ve never done before?’
‘A journey begins with a single step, Tony. It is a process. Like having a baby,’ smiled Isobel.
He looked at Jennifer. ‘Oh yes, I heard. Congratulations. That’s why you are looking so . . . healthy,’ he finished, lookin
g slightly embarrassed.
‘Tony, the tide is out. Remember what we did yesterday? Why not take Jennifer and show her what is the tip of the iceberg, shall we say?’ Isobel smiled at Jennifer. ‘A simple reef walk. Go, get some fresh air. Off you go.’ She waved at them and headed for Mac’s.
‘You’ll need rubber shoes. Let’s go to the resort and get a walking stick and viewing cone. Sunblock, hats, the lot. Disguise ourselves as tourists,’ said Tony.
‘Sorry, you don’t have to do this. Isobel is a very definite sort of person,’ said Jennifer.
‘But I want to. She opened my eyes to so many things!’
‘She’s good at that. Well, I suppose . . .’
He touched her lightly on the shoulder, remembering what she’d told him about her childhood trauma. ‘We won’t go near the edge of the sea. Just the inshore bits. Okay?’
They walked through the pisonia forest and took the track to the resort, chatting animatedly about the various research projects Mac’s students were undertaking. Suddenly Jennifer stopped, realising she’d got to her and Blair’s cabin.
‘Is something wrong? Have you forgotten something?’ asked Tony.
‘Ah, no. It’s all right. I’ll just run in for the sunblock.’
‘I’ll wait here.’ He sensed her discomfort.
Jennifer went to the rear courtyard, slid the glass door open and pulled the drawn curtains. She always left them open. The place smelled different. Was it another woman’s perfume, or her imagination? The girls had been in to clean, but instantly she saw things were out of place, not as she left them. Different CDs were lying around. A couple of magazines she never read were on the coffee table. Despite the folded clean towels and Blair’s tidy array of shaving and hair products, something looked out of place. The bottle of nail polish. Not hers. She grabbed the tube of sunblock and hurried outside, avoiding looking at the bed. No. She could not come back and live here with Blair. Not yet.
Rosie was on what the staff called her walk about – a casual wander through the grounds, staff area, recreation rooms and entertainment areas. But her eagle eyes were taking in sloppy or unattended tasks, staff not properly dressed, any untidiness or uncleanliness. She saw Blair talking to a pale young man in the staff uniform and walked up to them with a smile.