In At the Deep End

by Penelope Janu

  It takes a week to get back to step three. The following day I want to go to step four.

  ‘You’re already nauseous,’ Per says. ‘That’s never a good way to start.’

  I sit straighter in his lap. ‘I want to try it.’

  He frowns over my shoulder as he puts his hand on my chest and checks my heart rate. It’s much faster than his, but I must pass his test because he holds me firmly and stands.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ he says.

  I swallow. ‘Yes.’

  He sits on step four. I don’t want to see how close his mouth is to the water so I bury my face in his salty damp hair. My arms are wound tightly around his neck.

  ‘All right?’ he says.

  ‘Yes.’

  He smooths my hair away from my face and rubs his cheek against mine. ‘How long are you going to stay angry about Palau?’ he says.

  ‘Forever,’ I say.

  CHAPTER

  28

  I’m getting used to the feeling of weightlessness. If Per didn’t hold me down I’d float above his knees. He’s telling me about water mass transformation beneath ice shelves. Over two weeks have passed since we argued about Palau and now we’re on to step five. In two days’ time, he’ll be back at sea.

  I point to the bottom of the pool. ‘Tomorrow you’ll have to stand up. We’ve run out of steps.’

  ‘Slutt å avbryt.’

  ‘Are you insulting me?’

  ‘It means “stop interrupting”. I was about to tell you about tidewater glaciers.’

  ‘Not everyone loves ice like you do, you know.’ I run my fingers through the water.

  He pulls me closer. ‘You said I should talk about the environment.’

  ‘But you’re such a scientist.’

  ‘Did you tell Roger what happened in Brazil?’

  I hesitate. ‘You’re not supposed to talk about Brazil.’

  ‘I’ll rephrase my question. Did Roger ask what triggered your fear of the water?’

  I sit up straighter in his lap and narrow my eyes.

  When his lip twitches I relax against his chest again. ‘Drew wanted me to tell Roger what happened. I refused.’

  ‘By breaking Roger’s nose?’

  I touch the end of Per’s perfectly straight nose with the tip of a finger. Then I trail my hand across his cheek to his scar. ‘Why won’t you tell me what happened?’

  He stiffens, lifts my hand and puts it on his shoulder. Takes a deep breath. His words when he finally speaks are clipped.

  ‘I was a child.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It was the worst fucking day of my life.’ He narrows his eyes. ‘Until I met you.’

  It hurts, the way he shares so little. I push myself off his lap and stand, and he stands too. The water swirls around my hips and waist. A few drops hit my face. I’m light-headed all of a sudden. He must see it because he grasps my elbows, holding them firmly.

  ‘Why did you stand so abruptly?’ he says.

  ‘To get away from you.’

  He jerks me up against his chest. ‘Do you think I enjoy this?’

  ‘Seeing me fail?’

  He speaks quietly. ‘Seeing you suffer.’ When I try to pull back he holds me more tightly. ‘You’re always cold. You’re deathly pale. Your hands shake constantly. You—’

  ‘Stop it!’

  His face comes even closer to mine. His eyes are inky grey. ‘You fight for every breath when we walk along the sand. Your pupils dilate when the whitewash gets close.’

  ‘I get it!’

  ‘Do you? You fall to your knees and sob because the pain in your head just won’t go away. You’re frightened all the time. And when you vomit? Jesus. It kills me.’

  I have to swallow twice before I can speak. ‘I want to go home.’

  He puts his hands on my shoulders and mutters swear words in Norwegian. And then he feathers his thumb across my cheek, stroking.

  I’m holding back tears. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He takes a few deep breaths, and rests his forehead against mine.

  ‘Sorry isn’t enough, Harriet. I want more than that. It’s been twelve years now— almost half your life. So for Christ’s sake, tell me. What happened in Brazil?’

  It’s like Per has opened a door and I can’t force it closed again. Thoughts crash through my mind and I try to get them in order. A car tumbling over a cliff. Deafening noise. Silence. The vines and the shrubs and the trees and the river. So many shades of green.

  ‘Lime, avocado, bottle, apple, emerald, olive, sea,’ I say. ‘That was what I saw.’

  Once I’ve started talking I have to tell Per everything. How I didn’t realise we were under the water until the windscreen shattered. How I tasted Dad’s blood every time I came up for air. How he used to say I should swim with the tides. How Mum had promised she’d never leave me behind. How frightened she was. How my eyes are the same colour as her eyes.

  I can’t see Per through my tears. He’s a blur. And he’s squeezing my hands so tightly he’s hurting them.

  ‘I swam and I swam and I swam. I promise I did. Up and down, up and down, up and down.’

  The hair that’s come loose from my ponytail is sticking to my face. Per lets go of one of my hands to lift the strands and put them behind my ear. Then he holds my hands again, and we walk up the steps together. His hands are probably cold too, but they’re warmer than mine.

  ‘You’re shivering,’ he says. ‘It’s time to go home. I’ll make you toast. Ost og tomat. Can you guess what that means?’

  I can barely hear him. He’s either whispering, or the roaring in my ears is muffling his voice. When I don’t reply he answers his own question.

  ‘Cheese and tomato.’

  He lets go of my hands to gets the chamois out of his bag. I wipe my face and blow my nose. My throat hurts and I can’t think why. It’s light now. Our bodies cast shadows over the water. The Amazons are walking towards us. It must be well after seven. I’ve kept them waiting.

  Helga puts her towel down on the landing. ‘Are you all right, Harry?’

  I nod. ‘Late. Sorry.’

  She raises her brows as she looks from me to Per. He meets her eyes and shakes his head. I’ve noticed their friendliness lately. I think they chat when I’m not around. Do they talk about me? I don’t like the thought of them doing that. Per, the Amazons. They see me at my worst, when I’m vulnerable, afraid, and pathetic.

  Vulnerable. Afraid. Pathetic.

  I’ve dreamt about the accident often enough but it’s been years since I really thought about it. I held my breath and swam in a car filled with water. I dived countless times to Mum. She was under the water but I didn’t give up. Dad weighed 90 kilos. I undid his belt, pulled him through the shattered windscreen, dragged him to the surface and hauled him onto the riverbank. I rolled him onto his side to get the water out. Then I resuscitated him.

  It was hours before Drew found us. They took Dad to the hospital but I wouldn’t leave the riverbank. Not until we got Mum out. It was getting dark. Drew paid three local men to dive for her body. I straightened her limbs and her clothes. I tidied her hair. I told her she was beautiful. And that she didn’t need to be frightened anymore because I’d done what she’d asked me to do, and got myself out of the car. I made her a promise that I’d look after Dad.

  Per holds out his hand but I refuse to take it. He walks silently by my side but when we get to the steps to the dunes he crosses in front of me and blocks my path. I look towards the cliffs at the northern end of the beach. That was where I fell on the rock shelf. Where all of this started with Per.

  He puts his hands on his hips. ‘We always hold hands. What the hell is going on?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘You said I was frightened all the time. Well, maybe I’m sick of being scared. And weak. And incompetent. Maybe I’m sick of caring what you think of me, and how you think of me. Maybe I’m sick of worrying about everyone. Even you.’

  ‘Why would you
worry about me?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ I point to the ocean. ‘You swim out to sea!’’

  I can’t stand still any longer so I push past him and run up the steps and over the dunes. He catches up as I jump over the fence to the garden. His sheepskin boots are at the bottom of the steps where he left them. The kookaburra watches as I pick them up.

  Per frowns when he takes them out of my hands. ‘We have to talk about what happens next,’ he says.

  ‘No we don’t. There’s no point floating, or even swimming, if I can’t hold my breath. I learnt that from Roger. So I’m going to put my head under the water, to see if I can do it without blacking out.’

  Per adopts his calm voice. ‘We’ll get to that.’

  ‘When? At the end of October? After The Adélie has sailed? That’s not good enough. I’m doing it at a time that suits me.’

  ‘When?’

  I lift my chin. ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes! It can be our last swimming lesson. I’ll take someone else if you won’t come with me.’

  His eyes are darkest grey. He narrows them. ‘No you fucking well won’t.’

  Per thought he had a duty to rescue me when he suspected the Torrens wouldn’t get to The Watch in time. No one takes out an inflatable—even one with a fibreglass hull—in six-metre waves. But he did. And once he’d decided to teach me to swim he had to look after me too. He thinks I’m vulnerable and afraid and pathetic. Scared and weak and incompetent. I’m not really like that. I wasn’t like that in Brazil.

  I’m hanging my wetsuit on the washing line when Rachael walks onto the deck.

  ‘Liam’s gone already,’ she says. ‘Time for a coffee?’

  ‘That’d be nice.’

  I’m sure my eyes must be red, but Rachael doesn’t say anything when I walk into the house.

  ‘I’ll be out of the shower in ten,’ I say.

  I organise cereal and toast while Rachael operates the coffee machine. I’m feeling better now that I’m dressed, and my hair is washed and tied back. My mind is surprisingly clear. Tomorrow will be the last time Per and I go to the pool. My fear when I’m with him isn’t only because of the water. I care about him. The idea of losing him frightens me more than it should.

  The wind is picking up and my wetsuit swings around on the washing line. It spooks the kookaburra and he flies off his perch on the railing.

  ‘It’s going to get cold later today,’ Rachael says. ‘Speaking of which, what’ve you been up to with Polarman?’

  I take another mouthful of cereal. ‘He’d so hate it if he knew Liam called him that.’

  She laughs, and tells me she’s heard so much about him from Liam that she fantasises about them having a threesome together. Then she gives me an inquisitive doctor look, and asks again what happened this morning. I’m non-specific when I answer, telling her I told Per some personal stuff I haven’t thought about in years.

  ‘Now it’s time to move on,’ I say. ‘I’m not going in the water with him anymore.’

  People thought I’d been brave, dragging Dad out of the car and resuscitating him. But they didn’t know the truth—that he mightn’t have had a brain injury if I’d saved him straight away. I made a mistake. Every day that he lived I was reminded of that. And when he took off his oxygen mask and told me not to call an ambulance because he’d had enough, I did as he said. I always wondered whether I let him die for his sake, or for mine.

  Rachael clicks her fingers in front of my face. ‘Want to talk about it?’

  I take a breath. Things are clearer now. I think Dad wanted to die for both of our sakes. I did what I was told because that was what Dad wanted. He knew I loved him. He knew I was courageous. He had faith in me.

  I give Rachael a shaky smile. ‘No, thanks. I think I’m good.’

  ‘Sure you’re not going too far with this? Not seeing Polarman in the water doesn’t mean you can’t see him at all.’ She raises her brows. ‘Don’t forget, I saw those lips of yours after the dinner.’

  ‘Shut up.’ I slap vegemite on my toast. ‘And enough about me, anyway. What about you and Liam? What’s going on there?’

  Rachael’s not expecting my question, and doesn’t quite manage to get the sadness out of her eyes before I see the truth. How could I not have noticed earlier? She cares for Liam. A lot.

  ‘No!’ I say.

  At first she denies it, but then the words spill out. It was like me in the pool—except that Rachael’s eyes stay dry and her nose doesn’t run. It seems she’s pretending to be happy with an open relationship because that’s all Liam is offering. But she’s thirty-three; she wants much more.

  How can Liam not realise what she feels for him? Or does he know, and having an open relationship is his way of being honest with her? I don’t like telling her that Liam’s being a shit but I don’t have much choice.

  ‘You’re clever and gorgeous and nice and … you’re wasting your time with Liam. Dump him. I’ll do it for you if you want me to.’

  She groans. ‘I know the theory, Harry. The practice is much more difficult. And to be honest, I thought he might be prepared to commit to me once you found someone. But you being with Polarman didn’t make any difference at all.

  ‘I’m not with Per. And even if I were, Liam wouldn’t care.’

  Rachael picks up her bag. ‘Promise you won’t say anything?’

  I’ve already told one big secret today. I’ll do my best to keep hers to myself.

  CHAPTER

  29

  Per and I exchange texts at recess.

  Harriet. Don’t go to the

  beach without me. Per

  No, sir!

  Don’t call me that.

  Do you think Scott would

  have survived if he’d been

  luckier with the weather?

  If he’d been better prepared

  for the realities that lay ahead,

  he wouldn’t have needed to

  rely on luck. I’ll see you

  tomorrow at six.

  The end of the day can’t come quickly enough. All I want to do is climb into bed and sleep. Lucy raises her hand but I can’t remember what we’ve been talking about. Climate variation measurement?

  ‘Yes, Lucy?’

  ‘Commander Amundsen said Robert Falcon Scott mapped the Ross Sea in the Discovery, and kept journals when he was on the Terra Nova expedition. Scientists can look at what Scott mapped and wrote about in Antarctica, even when he was dying, and then look at what’s there now.’

  Lucy has woken me up. ‘Good answer. When did Commander Amundsen say that?’

  ‘Last week, on the science camp. Mrs Latimer set up a Skype session.’

  A number of the kids start talking at once, telling me Per told them all about glaciers. It’s the first I’ve heard of it.

  ‘So Mrs Latimer got in touch with him?’

  ‘I asked him if it’d be all right,’ Jonty says. He looks around to make sure he has everyone’s attention. ‘I saw him with Gran at the beach.’

  ‘Mrs Latimer said Commander Amundsen is hot,’ Lucy says. ‘Do you think he’s hot, Miss Scott?’

  Mrs Latimer is retiring next year. She must be sixty-five at least. ‘I’m sure Mrs Latimer didn’t say that, Lucy.’

  Lucy shrugs. ‘She said he’s a honey. That’s the same, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think it was an excellent idea to ask him about ice formations,’ I say. ‘He’s got a PhD on those.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a scientist,’ Jonty says. ‘I want to be an officer in the navy. But the commander said I have to finish school for that too, which sucks. He joined up early because he couldn’t live with his dad anymore. They hated each other’s guts, that’s what I reckon.’

  I’m not sure how to respond to this. I’d like to sit Jonty down after the class and ask him to repeat every word that Per said. The kids are silent all of a sudden. Maybe they sense how much I want to know about Per’s childhood. How he got h
is scar. Whether he’s close to his twin. Why he left home at sixteen. All I’ve got out of him is heart-rate statistics and information about glaciers. I should have made him talk about his family when we first started going to the beach. It’s too late now.

  Thankfully the bell rings. ‘Pack up, class. I’ll see you all tomorrow.’

  Lucy shouts over the chatter. ‘Can we Skype the commander? So he can talk to our class too?’

  The class quietens again. ‘He’s very busy,’ I say. ‘And he’s a scientist. This is a geography class.’

  ‘But he knows about continents like Antarctica,’ Lucy says. ‘That’s geography.’

  ‘He swims at Avalon all the time,’ Jonty says. ‘You could bring him in.’

  If Jonty knows that Per swims lengths of the beach, he probably knows he holds my hand. He shuffles his feet when I give him a teacher look.

  ‘Tomorrow’s the last time he’s coming to Avalon,’ I say. ‘He’s going back to sea.’ I pick up my bag and walk to the door. ‘C’mon, let’s get going.’

  It’s 3 am and I’m sitting on the sofa, drafting a post for the foundation’s website.

  The Scott Foundation: Environment Adventure Education

  ‘I am just going outside and may be some time.’

  This is what Laurence Oates was reported to have said when he walked out of Scott’s tent and into a snowstorm. Suffering from frostbite, exhausted, and weak with malnutrition, he didn’t want to slow the progress of his colleagues, so ended his life. Shortly afterwards, Scott wrote, ‘He went out into the blizzard and we have not seen him since.’

  Scott and his remaining two men were only 18 kilometres from food and fuel, but the storm was unrelenting …

  Harriet

  There’s a drumming sound on the roof when I wake up. Rain darkens the timber on the deck and dense clouds obscure the waning moon. And it’s windy; the lilly pilly branches scratch against the kitchen window. Per walks onto the deck in his wetsuit and sheepskin boots. He faces me, his back to the storm.