by Di Morrissey
‘Morning, Blair. Welcome, you must be Gordon.’ She extended her hand.
‘This is Rosie Jordan, the general manager. This is Gordon Blake, from the UK. I’m just giving him the rundown and orientation tour.’
The boy’s handshake was limp. ‘How do you do. Pleasure to be here, at last.’ His voice was plummy, his smile thin, as if he could just about muster the energy for conversation. The casual, colourful staff uniform looked incongruous on him.
‘Have you come direct from the UK? No other travel in Australia?’
‘Not yet. I hope to see more.’
Rosie thought this odd. ‘Branch is a small island. Australia is a very big island – well, continent,’ said Rosie brightly. ‘I hope you do see a lot more. Working here you’ll be able to save money to tour.’
‘Quite.’ He looked to Blair. ‘Where do we go next? Is it possible to see outside the resort area? I’d rather like to see the science research facilities on the island.’
Rosie tried not to feel like he was dismissing her. She continued to smile. ‘Oh, you’re interested in marine research? We do overlap from time to time. I’m afraid the research staff are only permitted to the resort on an invitation basis. It’s reciprocal, as we all have our jobs to do and social interaction is kept to a minimum. Sometimes some of the scientists give a lecture to the guests.’
Blair heard the needles in her voice and decided to move the new staffie on. ‘We’d better get along, quite a bit to cover yet.’
‘I hope you enjoy your time here,’ said Rosie.
Gordon Blake gave her a polite smile and turned away with Blair. ‘Well, he didn’t seem even faintly intimidated by me,’ thought Rosie. Arrogance of a wealthy upbringing, for sure. Why has he been sent here? Is this the new trend, to send sons to the tropics rather than to a cattle station in the outback? She’d ask Doyley to keep an eye on young Mr Blake, see how he settled in.
Jennifer hadn’t noticed the time pass. She’d been hesitant at first as they picked their way across the edge of the exposed coral. She was glad she had her ‘Shepherd’s stick’ to help her balance as she waded through the water in sandy patches to step up onto the dead coral. Pools, and tiny channels, ran between the limestone rock formed by millions and millions of coral deposits and bodies of molluscs, worms, algae, sea urchins, starfish and sponges that had over time become rock-hard reef.
Tony bent down and lifted a clump of brain coral.
‘Isobel talked of the power of the individual, it takes just one coral polyp to secrete lime and make a hard cup around itself, then multiply each growing polyp into colonies that become cities, then countries, then whole nations of coral! By dying, living things build and create beautiful forms.’
‘And within their borders all manner of inhabitants, the good, the bad and the ugly. Very fanciful,’ added Jennifer.
‘It’s the symbiotic relationship between everything that’s intriguing. The tiny algae, plants that live in coral tissue, use sunlight to give the coral oxygen and carbohydrates, while the coral gives the plants a home, carbon dioxide and waste products as fertiliser. The food chain ranges from minuscule planktonic animals to great whales. Right along the line they all depend on each other. That our world was so constructed,’ he sighed.
‘But isn’t the most important thing for the reef clean water at the right temperature?’ said Jennifer.
‘Therein lies the rub – global warming is apparently killing off great chunks of the reef. Mac’s mob are doing serious research into the effects. Not to mention the water pollution.’
‘Even out here . . . hard to believe, isn’t it?’ said Jennifer.
Tony pointed at a brilliant orange fan of soft coral that was lazily swaying in a rock pool. ‘It’s the colours that amaze me. Why are some fish and coral such vivid colours? And others totally camouflaged? Do you think the colours obvious to us are seen the same way by other animals?’
‘One of the grads is studying colour vision and how sea creatures perceive their environment. Apparently reef fish and little creatures like shrimp have retinas far more complex than ours,’ said Jennifer.
‘I think I’ll come back in my next life as a marine biologist. There’s so much to investigate, and it’s a pretty good lifestyle,’ laughed Tony. ‘What interests you most in what the gang at the research station are doing?’
‘There’s so much! Andy’s acoustic study is fascinating. We know about whale songs and dolphin-speak, that clack and click language. But the idea that fish can communicate is pretty amazing.’
‘He’s deciphering vibrations, underwater sound waves?’
‘Yeah, I liken it to high-pitched whistles dogs can hear and we can’t. But whether it’s movement of their fins, swim bladders, gills banging, who knows? And how sophisticated are their messages?’
Tony shook his head. ‘As technology improves with sonar equipment, hydrophones, whatever, I guess they’ll learn more and more. But, talking with Mac, the overall sense I get is a kind of quiet urgency to protect and save the reef – mainly from humans.’
‘Yes, I think Rudi’s work is interesting, too,’ said Jennifer. ‘Perhaps because I can see a practical reason for it. Chemicals derived from marine organisms that can cure cancer maybe, add UV compounds to paint to make it last years longer in the sun, that kind of thing. He talks about coexistence too, the reef fish that live in anemones, a marriage of poisons that is quite common, one protecting the other.’ Jennifer stopped. Was that the relationship between her and Blair? Her and her mother? At times poisonous but each needing the other?
Tony didn’t seem to notice her pausing. Peering through his viewing cone held on the surface of the water, his American baseball cap pulled low, he said, almost to himself, ‘It’s better than television. It’s like being God, sitting in the sky peering down at all the doings of this little universe.’ Without looking up he added, ‘Makes all our day-to-day dramas, joys, tragedies, seem a little insignificant in the big scheme of things.’
For Jennifer, the casual comment hit home. Tony had no interest in her personal life, no knowledge of what had transpired between her and Blair. Well, she assumed that was the case, while everyone else on the damned island seemed to know the details. He was still a reclusive, introverted person, he wouldn’t have been interested anyway. In the big picture maybe the rift between her and Blair wasn’t such a massive event, but to her the hurt and unfairness burnt with a constant pain. She straightened up, wondering why her back was aching. ‘Oh, we’ve been here two hours!’
Tony was also surprised and glanced at his watch. ‘The tide is turning, we’d better head back. Follow me.’
He placed his feet carefully, the water was rushing in to the channels and once again Jennifer was glad of her walking stick. She hadn’t realised they’d moved across the exposed reef so far that they were only a few metres from the drop-off point into the deeper water. It was behind her now and she concentrated on following Tony’s feet in the old reef shoes. Occasionally she lifted her head, looking towards the postcard picture of the strip of sand, the line of palms half hiding the resort, coloured dots of people on the beach and along the reef.
As they pulled off their shoes to hang them on the side of the dive shack with the other array of shoes, cones and walking sticks, Jennifer felt more relaxed than she had for ages. ‘That was fascinating. Thanks for the tour.’
‘I don’t know as much as Isobel, or have her flair for presentation, but I’m glad you’re venturing forth.’ He gave a warm smile.
‘She’s very enthusiastic, isn’t she?’ agreed Jennifer. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘I’ll pass, thanks. I’m going to talk to Rudi. Apparently there’s some agency interested in his work. I’d like to find out more. What are your plans?’
Without thinking about it she found herself saying, ‘I have to go to the mainland this afternoon. My mother has moved over there. Grandmotherly anxiety or something. Maybe we could talk with Mac, about the book, when I get ba
ck?’
‘Sounds good. The team are starting to get the submersible ready for a test dive. Enjoy your visit with your mother.’
She stood up. ‘I’ll try. I hate being fussed over.’
He laughed. ‘Enjoy it while you can.’ He walked down to the beach, heading for the track to the research station. Jennifer hoped Blair was busy and she could slip into their cabin and pack her things for the mainland. She couldn’t put off her mother any longer. Just as well. There was a note from Blair on the coffee table, delivered, it seemed, by one of the housekeeping girls. ‘Your mother keeps ringing. For God’s sake call her and go over.’
As she gazed around, again Jennifer was overwhelmed by a sense of being trespassed on, that this was no longer her, their, private space. Trying to remember what she’d left in her bag in the resort suite she hurriedly grabbed clothes, personal items, her laptop, file of papers, several books, Vi and Don’s radio, bundled them into Blair’s sports bag and dragged it into the courtyard. She gulped the humid air and sat down, unsure what to do next. The heron was back at the clamshell under the shower. It was a graceful creature, but as a seagull warily approached, it sprang forward and the seagull swerved away with a sharp screech. The heron ran its sharp beak through its feathers, pleased with itself. The seagull simply waited for another opportunity. Jennifer looked at the arrogant grey bird. ‘You’re beautiful, but you have mean, yellow eyes.’
Leaving her bag, Jennifer took a roundabout route to reception to book herself on the cat and see Rosie. She felt utterly depressed, heavy hearted, faintly nauseated and too sad to cry. What had happened to her life? She was having a baby, she had little money of her own, a disastrous split in the relationship with her husband, and had no idea what was going to happen to them, to her.
Behind the staff quarters, she passed the big shed where the resort vehicles and machinery were stored. There were workshops and the maintenance and utilities offices. A man was working on repairs to a boat that was on a trailer behind a small four-wheel drive. She saw Patch talking to a young staff member she didn’t recognise. They were deep in conversation and neither man noticed her walk quietly past.
Rosie was standing outside reception talking to some guests. Jennifer hung back until Rosie had given the couple directions. Then Rosie, looking concerned, came over to her.
‘You look so down, sweetie. How are things with Blair? How did the dinner go? What’s the plan?’
‘No plan,’ said Jennifer miserably. ‘I felt like I was getting my life together. I’d start the course with Mac, do the book with Tony, Isobel and Gideon. Now,’ she shrugged, ‘I’m going over to see my mother and I don’t know if I should come back.’
‘Take a couple of days’ break, see how you feel.’
‘This is not a good time to be visiting my mother.’
Rosie spoke firmly, wishing she could shake Jennifer. ‘Listen, you can’t let this get on top of you. I know you’re hurt and upset, and she’ll spot that right off. Why don’t you change tack – instead of expecting the worst, assume this is a new start. Share the baby with her.’ Rosie stopped talking as Jennifer didn’t look convinced.
‘And then what? Where do I go, what do I do, Rosie?’ She was on the verge of tears again.
‘Do you want to stay in the suite?’
‘Not really, thanks. I hate being in our apartment. I can just . . . sense them there together.’
Rosie took her arm. ‘Talk to Mac. I’ll talk to him. And listen, I’m due for two days off. I’ll take them tomorrow and meet you over in Headland. Come and have lunch. Meet Beverly, my partner.’
‘Rosie, that would be great. You can meet my mother.’ She managed a smile.
‘Done. Give me your mobile number. I’ll ring you tomorrow sometime. Don’t worry. You mustn’t stress the baby. Will you tell Blair, or do you want me to pass the message on?’
‘He sent a note. He expects me to go to Headland. There’s not much else to say. Besides, I don’t want him to . . . make any plans while I’m away.’
‘He wouldn’t dare. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Mac, see if he can set you up in accommodation at the station. They have plenty of student share places, but they keep a couple of spots for their visiting VIPs. Like Tony. I’d put you in the empty cabin next to Blair’s and your place, but that seems a bit pointless. Don’t worry, it’ll be sorted out by the time you get back.’
‘Thanks so much, Rosie.’ Her practical help and friendship meant a lot to Jennifer. ‘Would you mind asking Mac to let Isobel know?’
‘Sure thing. How about we go and have a slap-up lunch, then you can catch the cat.’
‘I didn’t have any breakfast. Sounds great.’ Jennifer felt better.
Rudi was peering down a microscope, watching the cells on the slide meld and change colour. He made a note of the activity and gave a start as there was a voice at the door of his little lab.
‘May I come in?’
‘Er, yes. Sure. How can I help you?’ Rudi looked at the young man, trying to place him.
‘We haven’t met, Dr Orlov. I’m a new arrival, Gordon Blake.’
For a young man he was very self-assured, thought Rudi. Very upper-class British accent. ‘Are you a student?’
‘Actually, I’m working at the resort for a while. On a bit of a sabbatical. I understand there’s not a lot of fraternisation’ – he gave a disarming smile – ‘but I’m frightfully interested in the research you’re doing. If I’m not intruding, could we chat a few minutes? I’ve read about your investigation on the net.’
‘Ah, you are a student then. A graduate of . . . ?’
‘I’m attending London University . . . I’m travelling before settling into my business degree. My father wants me to follow in his field, but I must say I’d like to know a bit more about your research. I’m more interested in medicine.’
Rudi thought his approach a bit unorthodox. ‘Very enterprising of you. Can’t help you other than explain what I’m doing. Be quite some time before I have anything conclusive to report. But the initial results and leads are quite promising.’ Rudi switched effortlessly into lecture mode. The young man was polite, attentive and had a ready supply of surprisingly in-depth questions.
After forty-five minutes of talking, showing samples and discussing the plants in his tanks, Rudi glanced at his watch. ‘I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. I can run you round the station in ten, give you a bit of a feel for what we’re doing, but after that you’ll have to come back another day – if you’re interested.’
‘Absolutely. I’m most grateful to you.’
‘Give me a bit of time and I could point you in the direction of further work in the field. Some names and places where you might apply.’
‘Excellent, I’d appreciate that.’
The meeting was being held in the living area of Mac’s little house, but the group gathered around the dining table, papers and notebooks in front of them, had the air of a board meeting or formal conference. Mac gave a brief rundown of the status of each of the graduates’ work, the projections and assignments for everyone in the next three weeks. Tony sat quietly on the sofa in the background, taking notes. They went round the table, with each person present, students and scientists, raising problems, making requests, recounting small successes or failures.
Mac turned to his associate professor. ‘Rudi, do you have anything to add?’
‘When the coral spawns I’d like to see it documented on video as well as stills. We can do that more easily with the control tanks outside. But I think there should also be observations recorded in the sea, if we can.’
‘Could we use Gideon’s submersible?’ asked Carmel. ‘I don’t like the idea of swimming in coral sperm.’
‘Possibly. It has strong lights, it’d be fantastic to be right down in it when all the coral spawn,’ said Kirsty. ‘Like driving through a pink underwater snowstorm.’
‘How are your results going, Rudi?’ asked Carmel.
Mac raised his
hand. ‘If I can jump in here. As you know, Rudi’s toxicity investigations are proving to be quite intriguing. And there’s been a great deal of interest from outside the university.’
‘How’s that?’ asked Andy, whose audiosensory study of whale and dolphin songs and language had attracted a lot of public interest, while his studies on fish communication were little known.
‘Andy, what you’re doing with the whale songs is touchy-feely stuff. The general public love it. Rudi’s work, as it’s developing, is showing potential for bio-technical, chemical, industrial applications. And that means, potentially, big investment. So I’m asking you all to keep what we’re doing here to ourselves.’ He swung around and indicated Tony. ‘While Tony is an independent writer, he has agreed not to publish any material without the consent of Rudi, myself or the chancellor.’
‘So who’s interested? We normally have trouble getting any kind of publicity for our work,’ said Kirsty.
Mac fiddled with his pen. ‘Unfortunately, some of Rudi’s results were posted on the website and there was interest from a couple of companies. I don’t have to tell you guys how competitive it is to attract funding for research programs. We compete with other unis for students, money, resources, acclaim, you name it. As you know, our funding also depends on the quality of our research. There are other people working in the same fields and so we don’t want anyone to pinch, copy or discredit what we’re doing. While I know you all want to get your qualifications, make a name and get work, we mustn’t forget one of the prime reasons we’ve chosen to work in the field of marine research.’ He looked around and Carmel raised her coffee mug.
‘Here’s to the seas of the world!’
‘To the reef,’ said Rudi. ‘May it survive.’
‘It’s got about thirty years at the rate it’s going,’ said Mac. ‘Now, let’s talk about Isobel Belitas and her work. She’s asked for volunteers to assist, hopefully for some accreditation or acknowledgment, in her beyond-the-reef survey.’ All hands around the table shot up.