Shallow Breath

by Sara Foster

  Their lives changed on a Thursday. Rebecca would always remember that, since it was the only day she had to take Caitlin with her when she went to her father’s, because she didn’t have time to go home before Caitlin’s dance class. She wouldn’t let Caitlin go inside with her, because she never knew how Rick would be – instead, Caitlin would sit in the car in the driveway and read a book until Rebecca had finished. But that day they had to take Rick to an appointment. He was only beginning to get sick then, and he was as mad as hell about it. It had been late afternoon by the time he had marched down the driveway to the passenger door, and as Rebecca followed her first fear had been that Rick was about to let loose on Caitlin for sitting in his seat.

  She had heard the engine first. It roared a warning as the car shot towards them, up the verge, across the neighbour’s grass and into the driveway. Rick had turned, frozen, and then at the last second – the very last second – he had jumped out of the way, so that Rebecca could hardly believe that he was still standing as one car ploughed into another with a sickening bang.

  Desi had climbed out so calmly. She stood staring at the crumpled cars with a frown, as though trying to figure out how she had missed.

  But Rebecca was already running, even before Caitlin began to scream.

  As she remembers, somewhere inside her there is a madness bubbling, waiting to spill over and begin its poisonous flow. Because no one has ever offered her an explanation. She still doesn’t understand what went on with Rick and Desi – but she is damn sure it goes further than she has been told.

  Theo is the only person she has confided these suspicions to. And, predictably, he has tried to turn her mind away from them. Theo doesn’t know about malice – she has carefully chosen the opposite of her father. He is kind and dependable, and not at all ‘weak’, as Rick has called him more than once, because Theo refuses to be needled into an argument.

  She holds onto the door frame and watches her dad carefully. ‘Desi is out of prison, Dad. She’s home.’

  Nothing moves in the lounge, but only now does the atmosphere feel frozen.

  ‘Dad, did you hear me?’ she says.

  He will not answer her. She would love to go closer, to shout in his face until he responds, but she doesn’t dare. If she pushed him, it wouldn’t surprise her if he could summon some latent strength, enough to get up and tower over her and give her the glare that had always sent her running.

  She closes the door and scurries down the steps. She needs to hurry; Theo is waiting for her. She is gone so fast that she doesn’t hear the television go off behind her, the house plunged into silence. Nor does she see her father at the window, peering through the gap in the curtain, watching her go.

  14

  Desi

  ‘All that money on a few bloody fish. It’s a disgrace, when businesses will be going broke and local people need all the help they can get. These money-men, they come in here while the going’s good, and turn their backs as soon as it gets a bit hard. Bastards.’

  It is 1991, and Desi can hear Rick clearly even though she has retreated to her bedroom. As predicted, the gates of Atlantis are closing forever. The crowds have disappeared, and the sea lions are gone too – diagnosed with tuberculosis and destroyed. The animals from the aquatic tanks have been dispersed between other aquariums. Only the dolphins remain. They have been moved to a new sea pen in the marina, in preparation for their return to the ocean. Their successful adaptation to their new home and one another had made Atlantis the victim of its own success. When they procreated, the pools had not been built to allow for such an increase in numbers. New laws came in: each dolphin needed two hundred cubic metres of water, and not the twenty-two previously decreed. The owners of Atlantis had two choices: build bigger pools, or call it a day. They went with the latter. So, after years of captivity, the dolphins are being taught what it is to be free.

  Rick and Charlie are sitting outside in the hot summer night, and now and again there comes the clink and fizz of bottles. When the girls were young, the families would have spent the evenings together, but Rebecca and her mother have not visited for some time. When Rick arrived tonight, Hester quickly put Jackson to bed and disappeared into the kitchen. What do you know? Desi wants to ask her mother. Have you seen what I’ve seen? Yet she understands without ever having been told that it is dangerous to speak of such things.

  Overhearing the men now, she longs to burst through the door and yell at them, ‘They’re not fish, they’re mammals, and you can’t dump them in the sea because you don’t want them any more!’ But she knows Rick will smirk and raise his eyebrows at her, and her father won’t say anything, just stare at the lip of his beer bottle, playing with the rim.

  Desi had been heartbroken when the official news of the closure had reached her. Along with all the others who worked at Atlantis, she loved the dolphins like family, and fretted over their future until she heard about the planned release. She trusts the decision, but part of her wishes they had found another captive home, where their safety would be assured. This release project is groundbreaking. No one is sure how it will work out.

  Originally the dolphins had all been caught individually from the local population. But the hope is they will now stick together, if not as a complete group then as subgroups. Desi fears for some more than others. Of the males, Frodo and Nero are already a team, but she isn’t sure what will happen to Rajah, friendly but often excluded, one of her favourites. The juveniles are eager to learn and enjoy chasing fish, but will they catch enough in the wild, when it’s no longer a game? And what about Mila with her newborn calf, and pregnant Rani?

  Rick’s voice booms louder, interrupting her thoughts. ‘I’ve heard it’s well over a million bucks. I mean, come on! They’ll spend all this time faffing about, let them out, and they’ll probably be dead within a week. What the hell is the point?’

  Desi realises he is coming inside, and rushes to close her bedroom door. But he is down the corridor too fast, and she finds they are centimetres away from one another, she with her hand on the smooth, cold wood of the door, but not daring to shut it in his face. He stops in front of her in the low-lit hallway. His shorts and T-shirt are filthy, and he smells of fish and brine. His face is sunburnt and shiny, his arms and legs solid muscle. He is staring, angry challenge in his eyes.

  Desi tries to hold his gaze, but can’t. She looks down for a moment, then back at him, and he is still there, his sneering stare running the length of her, daring her to take him on. Panic makes her heart skitter and she teeters on the point of shouting to her mother. But then he stalks away, as though knowing he has harried her to the edge of control. She hardly dares move yet, so watches him walk to the bathroom. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, but stands silhouetted in the dark, unzipping his shorts and reaching inside.

  Desi jumps back into her bedroom as she hears a stream of urine loudly hitting the toilet bowl. She closes the door, lies down and puts a pillow over her head so she doesn’t have to listen. She has to be up early to work in the cafe, and needs to sleep. But, much later, when she has heard the final creak of chairs and the slamming of car doors, she is still wide awake. The cold certainty in his eyes makes his words ring in her ears. They’ll probably be dead within a week. Could he be right?

  The next morning, before her shift at the cafe, Desi strolls down to the marina. The sea pen has been built between two jetties, and there is often a small crowd, but security has been tightened so there are no-go areas unless you are involved. The car park behind the marina slopes up to the boundary wall of the shopping centre, and Desi sits down here, so she can keep her distance as she watches. She can already see the dolphins – they surface often, their arched backs flashing silver in the bright morning sun. She tries to spot who’s who, but she is too far away to make out any identifying marks on their bodies. The only one she can be sure of is Mila, because her small calf echoes her movements.

  To the south of the marina, the two rocks after which
the town was named jut stolidly out of the sea. This morning, each one is lined with a crowded row of jostling seagulls, as though the dolphins have found a new audience. There aren’t many other people around yet, but it is still early. As Desi looks on, three of the dolphins break the surface in unison, their bodies rising from the water until they are dancing on their tails. They shimmy backward, waving their pectoral fins at a trainer standing to one side. Desi bursts out laughing, and hears a few onlookers clapping in delight, but the trainer glances down and scribbles furiously on his notes.

  There is a man standing next to him, saying something to the trainer, who now has his eyes back on the water. It takes Desi a moment to place him, then she realises – it is the man who spoke to her briefly on the beach as the sun disappeared, what, six months ago now? She remembers his name: Connor. He can’t have stayed around the town, she would surely have seen him. Why is he here again now?

  As she watches, Connor says something else to the trainer, who doesn’t respond. Then he turns, and now he is walking up the hill towards her, squinting in her direction. Desi remembers how unsettled she felt by him last time, and jumps down off the wall, scurrying around to the cafe. She grabs her apron and gets to work, glancing at the door constantly, half-expecting him to come in. But he doesn’t. And she pretends she can’t feel her disappointment.

  After she finishes her shift, Desi drives down to the lagoon. All day her mind has felt murky, and she doesn’t want to think any more. She lays her towel out on the beach, strips to her bikini, and dives enthusiastically into the surf. The water offers her a gentle greeting, lapping softly at her skin, and she dives through a few small swells, rejoicing in the refreshing clarity of cold water. Swimming always forces her thoughts to slow down, allows the rhythms of her body to take over for a while. As she returns to the shallows and finds her footing, she is pleasantly tired, her worries forgotten. A few more people have come onto the beach, and she goes and lies down on her towel, feeling her skin grow tight with salt as it dries.

  The sun is bright when she sits up. She runs her eye along the water line, and as she does she sees him again. Connor is unmistakable, with his long, dark hair, and a cigarette between his fingers. He is lounging close to the edge, wearing board shorts, leaning back on his arms, eyes on the ocean.

  She really wants to talk to him. To find out what he knows about the dolphins. She gets up, then hovers, unsure about approaching him. Eventually she takes a deep breath, sucking in courage and using it to propel herself across to his side.

  ‘Hello. Connor, isn’t it? Do you remember me? We spoke briefly a few months ago – on the beach.’

  Connor turns around and lifts his sunglasses, squinting to scrutinise her. Then he jumps up and offers a hand. ‘The dolphin girl. Yeah, I remember you. How are you?’

  She had forgotten his thick American accent. And she hadn’t realised that his upper body was so lean and sculpted. She feels herself blush and tries to focus on his face. ‘Fine, thanks. I saw you down at the marina this morning. Are you helping them out with the release?’

  He laughs. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘So, do you know how it’s going?’

  ‘Aah,’ he shrugs, sitting down again. ‘Not for me to say. It’s a strange and complex exercise, taming a creature and then teaching it to be wild again. You saw their antics this morning?’

  ‘You mean when they waved at the trainer?’ she says, smiling.

  ‘They weren’t waving, they were begging. For food or for attention. But it doesn’t work any more. They can’t be rewarded for tricks now.’

  She sits on the sand next to him, taking that in, staring out to sea. He has gone back to watching the waves, and doesn’t seem inclined to speak either. Eventually she asks, ‘So do you think it will be a success – the release?’

  Connor shrugs. ‘It’s risky. Some of them appear to be doing better than others. Their survival instincts will be rusty, and they may not have the right skills to catch enough fish. The younger ones have never known anything but handouts – although they seem eager to try, so it might work. It must be very strange for them at the moment. Their original training depended on teaching them the predictability of cause and effect. They perform the right action, it gets rewarded. Now, suddenly all the rules have changed, and they won’t know why. The ocean is a tough place to survive when you’ve grown used to regular mealtimes. But I hope I’m wrong.’

  ‘You know a lot about it?’

  ‘Not about this project – but I know a fair bit about dolphins. I’m a marine biologist. I’ve been given a small grant to do some postgrad study on dolphin communication, up in Monkey Mia – have you heard of it?’

  She nods.

  ‘Well, I’m planning to spend the next few months dangling a hydrophone in the water, see what I can discover. I’m on my way there now, but I couldn’t resist calling by to see how this was going.’

  ‘That sounds amazing.’ She can picture him up there already, out on the ocean, solemn and industrious, groups of dolphins swimming round his boat. The image fills her mind for a moment, and it is glorious technicolour when she lines it up next to the dull blank of her own future. All through her teenage years, she hadn’t thought further than getting a gig with the dolphins at Atlantis. Now it’s all gone she has no idea what her dreams are, let alone how she’ll chase them.

  Perhaps he catches the wistfulness in her tone. ‘So, what are you doing with yourself now the park has closed?’

  She doesn’t want to tell him about the cafe. ‘Trying to figure out what next. I’m thinking of going to uni.’ She can’t hide the flatness of her voice.

  ‘What would you like to study?’

  ‘I don’t know. I had my heart set on studying while I worked at Atlantis – they were great at supporting people to do that. But there’s nowhere else like it near here, and I can’t afford to move out, so I’m stuck. I enjoy being outdoors, so I’m not sure about full-time study for years.’

  Connor is nodding along as he listens.

  ‘You know, study doesn’t always have to take place in a classroom.’ Before she can answer that, he continues, ‘Do you believe in fate, Desi?’

  She has no idea what to say – he seems to unravel or contradict everything she comes out with, and the intensity of his gaze is making her blush.

  ‘Sorry, big question. It’s just, I’ve had a complicated time lately. My research assistant let me down – and since everything else was in place, and it would have cost me a few thousand to reorganise, I’ve come anyway. I’ve managed to find someone to help me to begin with, but only for a couple of months. They have to go back when term starts, so I need an assistant…’

  He suggests it so casually, but Desi is stunned. The image of her standing next to him on the boat in the dream-picture is suddenly extremely vivid. Is that really possible? She doesn’t dare believe in it. Her mind goes into overdrive with questions, and she has to force herself to listen to him.

  ‘… the pay is lousy – which means there isn’t really any money, but I can probably stretch to sharing my food. However, you do get to observe dolphins all day. Although you have to remember you can’t ride on these ones,’ he says, a teasing note in his voice, ‘or you’ll ruin my study. And it’s basic living conditions – you’ll need a tent.’

  Desi’s mind is still whirling when he jumps up. ‘I realise that’s a bolt from the blue, and you might not even be interested. Are you interested?’

  Dumbstruck, shading her eyes so she can see him against the sun’s dazzling corona, she nods.

  He laughs. ‘Well, have a think about it. If you want to talk more, then call me at the Monkey Mia caravan park – there’s only one. It’s a tiny little place, but it’s paradise. I’m driving north tomorrow, so I’ll be there in a few days.’

  He offers her a hand as she sits there on the sand. ‘Maybe I’ll chat to you again soon, Desi,’ he says. ‘I promise you, when you spend time with the dolphins up there, it changes y
our life.’

  She watches him stroll up the dune path towards the car park. Only when he’s gone does she realise that, although they haven’t spoken in six months, he’s remembered her name.

  15

  Jackson

  ‘There’s a couple asking about diving – can you take ’em?’

  Charlie is standing at Jackson’s door, hands on hips, his baggy top already lined with a V of sweat despite the early hour. The craggy line of his brow is furrowed even more than usual as he waits for an answer, squinting into the early morning sun.

  There is no ‘How was your trip?’. Jackson wonders whether Charlie even remembers he’s been gone, except the grim line of his father’s mouth betrays him.

  ‘Not today, Dad,’ he says. ‘I need time to get things organised. But tomorrow I could – if they’re still around.’

  ‘Right-o,’ says his father, ‘I’ll let them know.’ And he marches back down the path.

  Jackson sits down on his bed and wearily rubs his face. His flight had landed at two that morning, and it has taken nearly three days of flying and airport layovers to get home. In Galapagos, every moment of his day on the boat had been timetabled by someone else, and he’d rather enjoyed that. Now he is overwhelmed by the empty weeks ahead of him, and the pressure to fill them. He tries not to look too far ahead, just thinks about this morning. Should he contact Kate, or go and see Desi, or get the bloody diving equipment from a shop that’s a 45-minute drive away? Perhaps he should forget them all and get some more sleep – but he doesn’t want to spend days fighting jetlag.

  He rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen them, and decides that an early swim must come first. He throws his case onto the bed and grabs from it a musky-smelling towel, which will have to do. Flinging it over his shoulder, he makes his way through the campground, listening to a crow cawing indolence to the sunrise. He passes Maya’s door, and wonders if she is awake, whether she might want to come. He could find out more about Desi, see if they have caught up yet, but he doesn’t want to wake Maya this early.