by Sara Foster
‘Hey.’ He kneels down on the floor next to her. ‘It’s not over yet. And it doesn’t take away what you achieved in that time.’
‘Doesn’t it feel like we’re delaying the inevitable?’
‘If you look at it that way,’ he says. ‘But there’s nothing more rewarding than prolonging it – and at least giving everything a fighting chance.’
In the late afternoon, Connor naps while Elizabeth waits by the telephone. It doesn’t ring, but he hears people coming and going at times, and hushed, tense conversation. He wakes at dusk, and Elizabeth shows him to an outdoor toilet where he has a half-hearted wash using a bucket and towel. When he comes in again, Elizabeth is on the balcony, and they watch in silence as the blood-red sun dips lower and lower in the sky. In the background, Connor can hear the distant rhythm of drums.
When they go inside, Elizabeth lights two lamps using matches, and sets a few mosquito coils burning. She pulls over a foam esky and hands him a plate. ‘That’s called nshima,’ she says, pointing to what looks like mashed potato. ‘It’s maize and corn, one of the staples here. The rest of it is mixed vegetables and sauce. And I did get hold of a couple of these,’ she adds, pulling out two bottles of Mosi beer.
‘Awesome,’ Connor says, grabbing one and opening it, taking a long swig.
‘So how was Australia?’ she asks, beginning to eat.
‘Actually’ – Connor can feel his smile creeping wider as he thinks of Desi – ‘I met someone who seems to be as nuts about dolphins as I am.’
Elizabeth laughs. ‘She’s perfect for you, then.’
‘Yeah … the only thing is, I’m in America, she’s in Australia. Not easy.’
‘You’re in Africa, actually, Connor,’ Elizabeth reminds him playfully, and he shakes his head in disbelief. ‘But I know you – when you’re determined, you’ll make it work. And what about your study – you know, what you actually went there to do?’
Connor puts down his plate and sits back. ‘Yeah, it’s incredible. It’s like I’m standing at the tip of an iceberg and there’s no telling how deep it goes.’ He begins to explain his findings to her, and she nods enthusiastically.
‘You know, so much of what you’re saying is reminding me of elephant research. I’ve read some recent papers showing that elephants can “hear” through their feet. They’re sensitive to vibrations over great distances – and I’m talking fifty kilometres or more. I’ve seen an increasing number of findings on nonverbal behaviours too. There’s so much to learn, if only we have time.’
Eventually they settle down on the mats. Connor is too uncomfortable to doze in anything longer than snatches, and while he’s awake he listens to the noises of the night – the scuffles and scratching on the outside of the hut, the distant thuds and unidentifiable calls. He sits bolt upright as he thinks he hears a lion roar, but it doesn’t happen again and he wonders if he was dreaming.
He tries to imagine what Desi is doing right now. He’s a long way from Monkey Mia, but lying on a hard floor in the dark, listening to the sounds of nature, reminds him so much of those nights on the boat with her that he can almost feel himself swaying.
He wakes to daylight and the office phone ringing. Elizabeth jumps up to answer it and, as she listens, her face crumples and she puts a hand on her forehead.
‘What is it?’ Connor asks.
‘They’ve found Mali’s herd. We have to go.’ She is already grabbing her keys and rucksack. ‘Quickly.’
They spend a frenetic ten minutes getting ready, and run outside to the jeep. As Elizabeth begins to drive, she explains. ‘Our worst fears have been realised. They’ve wandered outside the national park zone – we think they’re in the GMA.’
‘GMA?’
‘Game Management Area. While they were inside the national park, they were safe. But the GMA is different. It basically means that anyone can go after them now, and there’s not much accountability. Sadly, elephants don’t recognise man-made fricken boundaries.’ She lets out a short yell of frustration, and swerves to avoid a congregation of startled cattle.
‘It’ll take us about an hour to get there.’
They turn off the gravel road onto a narrow, bumpy track, and Connor holds tight to the rail, weariness and hunger making him nauseous. Eventually, Elizabeth pulls up behind another vehicle. An African man gets out and comes quickly to greet her. ‘This is Connor – a friend,’ Elizabeth says, and the man nods. ‘Connor, this is Chibesa. We have to follow him – we need to go the rest of the way on foot.’
Connor hurries through the long grass after them, surprised. ‘Aren’t there lions in this area?’ he asks Elizabeth.
‘You’ll be fine’ is her brusque reply.
Connor raises his eyebrows and keeps walking. Elizabeth and Chibesa are a lot more adept at negotiating the uneven terrain, and he is almost running to keep up with them. At one stage, he looks up into a tree and is startled to see the hind leg of an impala hanging down, and a leopard’s half-hidden face watching him, eyes bright with curiosity. Disbelieving, he hurries on.
Without warning, Chibesa stops, and the other two pull up quickly behind him. He gestures forward, and Connor peeps around a tree. A little way off, in a small clearing, an elephant is busy pulling down branches. Beside her, a juvenile searches the grass, her trunk incessantly rooting for hidden titbits.
‘That’s Mwana,’ Elizabeth whispers to Connor in delight. She leans into Chibesa. ‘Are we national park or GMA?’ she asks him.
‘GMA,’ he says, still watching the elephants.
‘Damn.’
No one speaks for a while. ‘What are you going to do?’ Connor asks.
Elizabeth turns to him. ‘Chibesa is going to track them until we can get something worked out. We need to encourage them into the national park area if we can. And we have to get the sanctuary fence up and working again, otherwise we can’t keep them safe.’ She pats Chibesa on the shoulder, and he nods.
‘We’ll go back,’ she says to Connor. ‘Come on.’
They have only walked for a couple of minutes when Elizabeth suddenly stills, and motions for Connor to stop. He immediately freezes, his heart hammering as he watches her listen. He is half-expecting to see a lion coming racing out of the bush at terrifying, unstoppable speed. But nothing happens, and his frustration gets the better of him. ‘What is it?’ he whispers.
‘I thought I heard movement, and voices.’ She thinks for a moment. ‘We should go back to Chibesa.’
‘Why?’ he asks, as they turn around. ‘You think it’s poachers?’
She shrugs. ‘Could be. There’s strength in numbers. I don’t want to leave Chibesa on his own.’
It is obvious as soon as they see Chibesa that he is already aware of another presence. He has turned his attention away from the elephants and is staring into the bush. Then he suddenly races off towards a patch of trees.
Elizabeth begins to run after him and Connor brings up the rear. To his surprise, when they get there they are confronted by two men and a boy, all carrying rifles.
Chibesa and the other African man begin having a heated argument, while Elizabeth walks over to the Caucasian pair. ‘What are you doing here?’
The man puts an arm around his boy and stands straight-backed. ‘We’re on a game hunt,’ he says, and Connor jolts at the familiar North American accent.
Elizabeth leans closer to Connor. ‘They’re trophy hunters,’ she whispers. ‘They pay thousands of dollars to come here and have a few days of excitement, killing animals to decorate their mansions.’
As Connor watches the man standing proud, his rifle in his hand, and his teenage son resolute and defiant beside him, he comes the closest he has ever felt to wanting to murder someone. But before he can do anything, the ground begins to shake.
Connor turns in alarm to find Mali watching them less than twenty metres away, stomping her feet, her ears flaring. Young Mwana is hidden behind her.
‘Mali! Mali!’ Elizabeth yells, and Chibe
sa is so confident he even walks forward, but Connor’s attention is distracted by the hunting trio, who have all crouched and readied their weapons. Elizabeth glances quickly around at the sound, and cries, ‘No!’
Too late. A shot fires off, then another, and Mali trumpets loudly. The ground trembles as the six-tonne animal begins to charge towards them.
As Connor watches Elizabeth turn, he knows instantly what she will do. She has known this elephant for seven years. She has led her to safety once, and spent countless hours nearby, helping Mali and her family adjust to life in the sanctuary. Her love for Mali overrides all her sensibilities, and sends her running unthinking into the path of a charging elephant, and the line of gunfire, as though she can stop both. And when the elephant’s foot hits her hard in the chest and she goes over and is trampled, it is love that sends Connor after her.
He forgets everything except Elizabeth. While his ears ring with deafening gunfire, he races towards her motionless form. Nearby, Mali has slowed, beginning to stagger and lurch. The bullets keep on coming, and Mwana screams in agony as a ragged line of bloody holes appear in her face, trunk and chest. Without warning, Connor feels a hard, solid thwack in the centre of his shoulder blades, and finds himself falling over Elizabeth’s body.
In the moment before the pain arrives, he knows he has been badly hurt. A fierce drumming begins in his ears, rising and rising in a long crescendo as the story of his life plays out before him. The wind catches the tail of each beat and carries it away, while he sees the forest in his lungs; the ocean in his veins; the story of his life written in the twist of a cloud and the bark of a tree. For a moment he thinks he can hear the entire earth breathing.
And then a fire rushes through his chest, and turns the world to cinders.
37
Desi
It is December 1992. Outside, the jacaranda is in full flower, purple corsages dripping from its branches. Inside, Desi is struggling.
She is going through the motions of living as best she can. She eats and sleeps when her mother tells her to, and keeps away from everybody, withdrawing to her room or taking long walks on the beach. Rebecca and Pete visit frequently, and she can see how hard they are trying, but she cannot summon the energy to enjoy their company. Instead, she endures it, trying not to look at the clock.
Each day she has to remind herself that Connor is dead. She still cannot believe it. It is as though life has become nothing more than a trick of the eye, and now and again she sees through it momentarily, to confront the horror of Connor gone for eternity. But just as quickly the vision rearranges itself into a more general miasma of absence. Her family have never been churchgoers, and Desi has not paid God much attention before, but now she says her prayers every night – as though, if she believes hard enough, and begs for long enough, Connor might still return.
Her stomach is beginning to swell. She drives to the doctor, who confirms the pregnancy. His expression turns concerned as she bursts into tears and cannot answer his question as to whether she is pleased. But the next day, with this new certainty comes a fresh determination.
Connor’s child is growing inside her. There is a connection between them now that cannot be lost.
She cradles the knowledge to herself for a little while, but once she is starting to show she decides it is time to confess. She thinks of telling her mother first, but doesn’t want to put her in an awkward position with Charlie. And above all, she wants to make it clear to her father that she is not a coward, and not ashamed. So she waits for her opportunity, which comes one morning at breakfast, while Jackson is busy playing outside.
She sits down in front of them and says without preamble, ‘I have something to tell you both. I’m pregnant.’
Hester looks up with no surprise, and Desi can see she has already guessed. Her mother’s steady gaze holds no censure, but transmits a calm strength. Meanwhile, Charlie gets up without a word, and walks away.
Desi thinks that’s it, but a few seconds later he returns, tightly gripping the top of his chair, his face burning red. He addresses Hester as though Desi isn’t there.
‘What did I tell you? He took her and used her and dumped her back here.’
Desi is up in an instant, the chair grating harshly on the tiles as she flings it away. She marches over to her father, pushing her face towards his. ‘He’s dead, Dad,’ she says, spitting each word at him, trying to catch hold of her breath. ‘He didn’t abandon me. He died.’
Her words release a torrent of emotion that washes away her composure. She runs out the kitchen door and across the caravan park, crying, not caring who sees her. She stumbles onto the beach, pockets of sand tripping and trapping her in unseen hollows. She sits down heavily and stares hard at the water. Come back, Connor, she pleads. Make this nightmare go away. Make it all a terrible mistake.
But the ocean is flat and empty all the way to the horizon.
In the following weeks, Charlie announces that Desi will need to find somewhere else to live before the baby is born. Hester tries to talk him out of it, but he will not be swayed. Desi is ambivalent. She longs for some privacy, and doesn’t want her child’s grandfather scowling every time they are in the same room. But she has no idea where she can go.
Pete is her saviour, arriving with a cheque from Connor’s family. ‘I told them about you. I hope you don’t mind,’ he says. ‘They sent this. It’ll get you a deposit and then some.’ Overwhelmed with gratitude, she writes to thank them and begins to search for somewhere to live. It seems like fate that the shack is for sale. Hester encourages her, assisting her with the bank applications and acting as guarantor for the small mortgage. Before she knows it, Desi is living in her childhood home again.
But when she moves in, she starts to discover all the things she had been too preoccupied to notice on inspection. The recent owners have not tended to the property as carefully as Hester did. As a result, the place feels unfamiliar – shabby and neglected. After Pete, Jackson and Hester have helped her move in, and left her alone, she allows herself to panic.
Why has she trapped herself by buying this house, and signing on for a mortgage? She is stuck. Once the baby has come, and she has had the first few months of government support and the extra from Connor’s money, she will have to get a job. Who will take care of her child then? And what kind of employment is she going to find around here?
One step at a time, she tells herself, during the sleepless nights that follow. Fix the house up. Sell it. You can still go north one day. She reminds herself of the risks she has already taken, hitching all the way to Monkey Mia to take a chance on her dreams. There is no reason she cannot do that again.
Except that Connor had been the source of her confidence. He was the one with the convictions, and the exciting way of thinking about the world. It would never be the same without him.
Desi becomes lost within this endless swirl of thoughts. As her belly keeps growing, her dreams begin to shrink, until they are as small as a single grain of sand, hidden with countless others along a deserted shoreline of possibilities.
She stops working on the shack, and begins to drift aimlessly through her days. The only place she feels calm is on the verandah, where she can watch the ocean. After a while, she moves an armchair outside and takes blankets too, so she can stay curled up long after it is dark, lulled by the murmuring waves. During the day, she begins to eat her meals there, checking the horizon after each bite as though the answer will eventually come into view, if only she waits long enough.
For a while the ocean becomes her closest friend. She gets to know it intimately, observing the many changes of its day. She watches as its colours merge from the lilac blues of morning to the shimmering gold of sunset. She witnesses it sparkling in sunshine and glowering in the deep grey of a storm. She sees the smooth surface begin to roll, or become choppy with a million flashing breakers, before it subsides, and starts again. And eventually it dawns on her that this kaleidoscope of colour and animation does no
t begin with the ocean, but with external forces – the sun, the wind, the moon, the clouds. What would the ocean be like if you took these away? Would she recognise it at all?
Her perspective begins to shift. Perhaps her purpose was never in Monkey Mia, she consoles herself, rubbing her belly and getting an obliging kick in return. This is Connor’s child, after all. She taps her fingers against her necklace. Perhaps one day she will discern a different meaning in everything that has happened.
And yet, it still feels as though she is walking down a long, dark tunnel, with no idea what will be at the end. As she waits for her baby to arrive, one empty day follows another, until they are tethered together like paper-chain dolls, and the world outside the shack ceases to exist.
38
Maya
Four a.m.
Maya’s alarm is ringing under her pillow, and she hastily switches it off. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face, and gets up with purpose, grabbing her swimsuit and pulling it on before shrugging into her wetsuit. She packed her gear last night, and now runs through her bag quickly, checking she has everything she needs.
When she opens her door, Kate is already outside, waiting.
They don’t say a word as they make their way to the beach. Maya is nervous – she knows this is a test she must pass if Kate is going to let her help. How strange that yesterday she had known so little about Kate, and nothing of her plans, and now she is consumed by her desire to be part of them.
They are navigating by the light of the moon. ‘It will be darker than this, I hope,’ Kate murmurs as they get onto the beach. ‘And we won’t have to do so much messing about with our kit – it will all be waiting for us.’