In At the Deep End

by Penelope Janu

  ‘God only knows what was in Drew’s drink,’ I say. ‘I only had a few sips but I could hardly string a sentence together afterwards.’

  ‘Not necessarily the best time to publish something,’ Liam says. ‘Heartache?’

  ‘I was drunk! And if I change it now it’ll look suspicious. I just have to hope Per doesn’t understand it.’

  Liam ruffles my hair and messes it up. ‘Maybe Polarman won’t read it.’

  ‘It mentions Amundsen so he’s bound to.’

  ‘Well … he may think you were referring to his heartache.’

  ‘I’d prefer not to talk about it.’

  ‘That’s a shame. Because I have a personal interest in your relationship with Polarman. My condoms have a personal interest. You didn’t hear anything from him in the six weeks you were gone? Nothing today?’

  ‘Nope. And he leaves tomorrow.’

  Liam slowly shakes his head. ‘Polarman works in mysterious ways.’

  ‘Why couldn’t I fall in love with a human, like you?’

  He nudges my knee. ‘Good point. Let’s fall in love.’

  ‘Idiot.’ I take his hand and pull him upright. We brush the sand off our legs. ‘You don’t know what proper love is because you haven’t experienced it yet.’ I can’t keep the wobble out of my voice. ‘I thought I had it with Grant, but that was nothing compared to this.’

  Liam shakes his head. His sun-bleached hair is stiff with salt. ‘Don’t tell me that, Harry. Tell Polarman.’

  ‘I did tell him.’

  ‘In a drunken postscript message? In doodles in a sketchbook? I’m not sure even Polarman’s that smart.’

  He’s not smart all of the time. Just like he’s not always in control. He hasn’t learnt to trust me. And he thinks he doesn’t need me. Going to Palau didn’t make things easier like I’d hoped it would. I’d lie awake at night and think of everything we did together at the beach, and in my bed. And everything we talked about. Glaciers, and kookaburras, and cheese and tomato on toast. His eyes are the colour of the ocean. He’s in the scent and taste of the sea. Storms and rain remind me of him. He’s there in the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. He’s everywhere I go.

  ‘I’ll be glad to get back to school tomorrow,’ I say, ‘to keep my mind off things.’

  ‘So you’re not going to the fancy Antarctica send-off the professor’s organised?’

  ‘Nope. I’ve got a double period of Year 7 Geography to go to instead.’

  It’s evening, so the sand is warm rather than hot, but we race down the path to the house anyway. The kookaburra is waiting for us on the railing. He puffs out his feathers and preens.

  Liam catches up while I’m hosing my feet. ‘Do you know what Tan’s going to do about Drew?’ he says.

  ‘I don’t think he’s changed his mind. I’ll never forgive him if he goes to the maritime authorities or makes a public announcement.’

  ‘Even though it’d enhance your reputation? You know my feelings. Drew’s never going to know the difference, and he wouldn’t have wanted you to do this.’

  ‘I don’t care. I want him to be respected for his years on The Watch. It’ll make the Palau documentary even more special. Drew’s connections to the ocean, marine life, the people, hasn’t changed at all. The footage is amazing.’

  Liam snatches the hose. He’s grinning.

  ‘What?’ I say

  ‘I’ve seen some footage of Palau,’ he says. ‘Climate change news, reef damage reports, other environmental stuff. Your shapely arse in Polarman’s wetsuit has been featured quite a bit. Hasn’t that helped the foundation’s bottom line?’

  I flick him with my towel. ‘Yes, but not enough to permanently secure The Adélie. That’s something else I have to see Tan about. But I’ll put it off for as long as I can.’

  ‘What about seeing Polarman?’

  ‘I asked him to come to Palau and he refused. Anyway, he knows where I live.’

  On the other side of the dunes, waves crash onto the shore. The sounds are carried on the breezes. He’s everywhere I go.

  CHAPTER

  42

  Just like I told Liam yesterday, I’m happy to be back at school today. I watch my Year 7 class file into the classroom. I’m sure some of them are taller than they were when I left.

  ‘How was The Adélie, Harry?’ Jonty says.

  ‘Would you like to rephrase that, Jonty?’

  ‘How was the ship, Miss Scott?’

  ‘She was great. So was Palau.’

  ‘The commander’s taking The Adélie to Antarctica today,’ Lucy says.

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t get the commander,’ Amber says. ‘Why’d he bother rescuing you from The Watch if you don’t get to go back to Antarctica? He’s sexist.’

  ‘No he’s not!’ Lucy says.

  ‘My gender has nothing to do with it,’ I say. ‘I never intended to go on the Antarctica voyage.’ One day I will go back to Antarctica. I’ll say farewell to The Watch, but I won’t apologise to Mum and Dad for losing her. It’s the last thing they would have wanted because I didn’t fail them in Brazil, or afterwards. I’ve finally worked that out.

  Jonty raises his hand.

  ‘Yes, Jonty?’

  ‘I reckon the commander would’ve taken you if you’d asked.’

  I have to swallow the lump in my throat before I can reply. ‘Not sure about that.’

  He points to the screen at the front of the room. ‘Can we watch the TV? The Adélie’s on the news channel.’

  ‘Today we’re looking at mangrove swamps, and I’ll—’

  There’s a collective groan from the class.

  ‘I’ll tell you how Dad’s canoe sank in the Serengeti, when a hippo—’

  ‘Please, Miss,’ Jonty says. ‘It’s educational.’

  Even Alex, one of my quieter students, is linking his fingers together and pleading. Jonty’s hand shoots up again.

  ‘Yes, Jonty?’

  He’s looking at his laptop. ‘The commander, Miss. He’s on the ship. Lisa Toohey’s there too.’

  I’ve been telling the class about Scott and Amundsen and their treks to the Pole for months. This is the final school week of the year. It’s unfair to deny them because I happen to be heartbroken. I open my laptop and connect it to the screen at the front of the room.

  ‘Fifteen minutes, tops,’ I say.

  I know him, yet I don’t. His jawline is more angular. The shadows beneath his cheekbones are pronounced. He’s grim and unapproachable. He takes himself far too seriously. I watch him on the screen as a gust of wind lifts the dark straight hair off his forehead. For an instant I see his widow’s peak before it’s hidden again. He mustn’t have had his fringe cut since he was sick. I’ve never seen his hair kink up at the collar. He’s dressed from head to toe in black fatigues. There’s a discreet Norwegian flag affixed to one arm. He looks like the man I sketched in March. He’s Polarman.

  He’s standing to one side of the group assembled on the deck of The Adélie. If I were there I’d take his arm and introduce him to everyone so he’d feel more comfortable, and they’d feel less intimidated. Tan and the other foundation board members are chatting with the dignitaries. Tom is there too, with senior members of the crew. There are a few people I don’t recognise, probably Per’s scientific colleagues. They’re dressed appropriately but their clothes appear new, and freshly pressed. Some members of the group fan their faces with their hands. A woman’s hat blows off in the breeze and dances across the deck. Per picks it up and smiles when he returns it. It’s a formal smile, a courteous one. It’s not like the smile he has when he’s trying not to smile and his mouth twitches. The expression in his eyes softens when he smiles like that.

  Tan gestures that Per join him, and he walks gracefully to his side. He’s got his panther stride back. Then the professor starts talking into a microphone, giving a run down of what’s planned for the voyage and how delighted the foundation is to have its regular crew
on board, together with a Norwegian naval officer and his scientific cohort. Per shakes Tan’s hand, and then he takes his place at the microphone, standing at ease with his hands behind his back.

  ‘Miss Scott!’

  I wrench my attention away from the screen. I’d forgotten about the class. Most of them are staring at me. ‘Yes, Lucy?’

  ‘The commander’s hair. It looks nice, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Shhh,’ Jonty says. ‘He’s saying something.’

  Per talks about being a scientist and a sailor, and describes the vital role research plays in working out the best ways to protect fragile environments like the North and South Pole. When he says that environmental policy should be based on scientific evidence and informed opinion, the Environment Minister nods in agreement. Per doesn’t use notes, and he doesn’t seem to be nervous. He seems no less stiff than when he talks to people one on one. Professor Tan, beaming, steps up to the microphone after Per has finished, and asks whether there are any questions for the commander.

  Lisa Toohey raises her hand immediately. Her vibrant orange dress stands out among the dark colours that most of the others are wearing. She smiles brightly as she gazes at Per.

  ‘Hello, again, Commander,’ she says, reaching into her handbag for a small black notebook. ‘I have some questions.’

  ‘What’s she going to ask him about?’ Lucy says.

  ‘Maybe Syria, or Africa,’ Jonty says. ‘The commander knows all about peacekeeping forces. And guerrilla warfare.’

  The camera pans out over the audience. The documentary team, foundation volunteers and a few others are on a lower section of deck. Many turn their heads to look in Lisa’s direction. She smiles at Per again.

  ‘You’ve been working for almost a year with the Scott Foundation on the Scott and Amundsen campaign,’ she says. ‘And for the next two months you’ll be living on the ship it’s hoping to purchase. Is it safe to assume that you have a more favourable view of the foundation now than you did at the beginning of the year?’

  Per nods. ‘Professor Tan and his colleagues play an important role in the environmental movement in terms of research and public education.’

  ‘You mention his colleagues? Does this include Harriet Scott? What is your opinion of her?’

  Everyone in the class starts talking at once, and then they all yell at each other to be quiet. I was leaning my bottom on the desk with my legs stretched out in front of me but I jump to my feet. Per is looking through the heads of Sydney Harbour and out to sea. He always tells the truth. He could say anything.

  ‘I’m not going to answer that question. This isn’t the right place, or time.’

  I didn’t realise I was holding my breath until it whooshes out of my mouth.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Lisa says. ‘When you wouldn’t be on The Adélie if The Watch hadn’t sunk?’

  I don’t think Lisa has anything in particular against the foundation or me, so it’s unlikely she’s angling for Per to be too critical. And I’m not sure why she’s risking annoying him when he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to answer her question. Does she want him to defend me? Is she fishing for a romance angle? Should I phone her and tell her he’s not interested in romance anymore?

  ‘It’s a simple enough question,’ she says. ‘What do you think of Harriet?’

  Per narrows his eyes. ‘I repeat, I won’t answer—’

  ‘Can we take a raincheck on that question, Lisa?’ Tan says, stepping in front of the microphone. ‘I can’t say much at the moment, but I’m hopeful that the foundation will be making its own announcement about Harry quite shortly. It will throw a new light on—’

  Per takes Tan’s arm. ‘I’ll deal with this,’ he says. Tan nods, but he’s pursing his lips and rubbing his arm as he moves away from the microphone.

  I back up until I feel the desk against the tops of my thighs again, and then sit. A few students are looking at me. I’m probably pale. I should have seen this coming. The departure for Antarctica is a small-scale event. A news channel is covering it already and they’d share their footage with any other media outlet that asked for it. So why would someone as well known as Lisa Toohey turn up? Tan must have told her something was going to happen. He’s ready to un-tarnish my image. He wants to force me into confessing to the maritime authorities. After I do, assuming I’m not thrown into jail for perjury, he’ll repackage my image as flawed, but competent. Then he’ll bundle Per and me together and flog us off to National Geographic.

  ‘Yes, Commander?’ Lisa says.

  Per tips his face up to the sky and takes a couple of breaths. The action is so typical of him that even though I feel sick with apprehension I smile. He can’t avoid her question, and he has to tell the truth. Yet … he won’t want to hurt me. I must be like one of the men or women under his command. Kat said he treated admirals and seamen the same. He may still want to know what I’m hiding, but he knows this isn’t the right way to get the information out. He’s fair, and just.

  ‘The first time I saw Harriet she was on board The Watch,’ he says. ‘She was standing on the bridge in gale-force winds. The waves were breaking all around her ship.’

  ‘Why does the commander call you Harriet?’ Lucy says.

  ‘Shut up!’ Jonty says.

  Per is looking directly into the camera. His eyes are dark grey under his straight black brows. ‘I thought she was courageous,’ he says. ‘I also thought she was dangerous, and out of her depth.’ He shrugs. ‘First impressions.’

  ‘That’s character assassination,’ Amber says. ‘It’s sexist.’

  ‘No it’s not!’ Lucy says. ‘He said she was courageous. That means brave and beautiful. Just like Joan of Arc. Cleopatra. And Boudicca!’

  ‘Jesus,’ Jonty says.

  ‘And second impressions, surely?’ Lisa Toohey says. ‘In one of her speeches, Harriet said that she’d been accused of incompetence. Was that you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You flew to the mountains recently, to rescue her again?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘She didn’t need rescuing!’ Amber says.

  The lump is back in my throat, but I can’t take my eyes off the screen. Tan is itching to get back to the microphone. Per blocks him with his shoulder.

  ‘Perhaps you can elaborate?’ Lisa Toohey says.

  The wind picks up. Per swipes his hair off his face. Then he addresses the crowd. They all have their eyes pinned to him. So does my class.

  ‘Scott and his team were 11 miles from their supply base when they died. Although the weather was abysmal, there’s an argument that it wasn’t as bad as Scott recorded in his journals. Why the discrepancy? There’s a theory that Scott’s men lied to him about the conditions, knowing he was too unwell to travel imminently, if at all. They also knew that if he’d thought it was feasible for them to leave, Scott would have ordered them to do so. Scott earned the loyalty, admiration and affection of the people who followed him. Harriet has earned hers too.’

  ‘Are you saying she has your support?’

  ‘She doesn’t need my support, or approval.’

  A slight crease puckers Lisa’s brow. ‘Do you agree she’s good for the foundation?’

  ‘Her association with the foundation, and the environmental work she does—that’s only a part of who she is.’

  ‘I’ll go back to my original question, Commander. What do you think of Harriet Scott?’

  He peers into the distance again, out through the heads. Then his gaze returns to Lisa.

  ‘I’ll be back in Sydney in two months. That’s when I’ll see her, and answer that question.’

  Two months! The image of Per disappears when I yank the cord out of the computer.

  My black marker pen flies over the whiteboard. Polarman is on the bridge of The Adélie. A segment of fringe is across one eye, and his scar is a thin black line on his cheek. His hands are on his hips, and one leg is slightly in front of the other. He’s looking over the bow at the wild seas
that seethe around the ship. In the distance I draw the shoreline, dominated by a jagged glacial wall. I take a couple of steps back.

  The Polarman I’ve sketched is an action hero. Per is my action hero. I know the difference between them now. Per is smart and shy. He’s brave and afraid. He’s strong and vulnerable. He’s arrogant and kind. Does he need me to show him all that?

  ‘Um. Miss Scott?’

  I spin around. The students are looking from me to the drawing. We’re supposed to be studying mangrove swamps today. And marshes, bogs and quicksand.

  ‘Yes, Lucy.’

  ‘Is that the commander?’

  ‘Course it is,’ Jonty says. ‘Look at his muscles and his scar.’

  ‘He said you were courageous,’ Lucy says.

  ‘He said you were like Scott,’ Jonty says.

  ‘You reckon?’ Amber says.

  If Per was sending me a message it wasn’t very clear. Which confirms he’s not only useless at communicating with me by email, phone and text, but in interviews as well.

  CHAPTER

  43

  A week ago I told Liam I wanted to avoid Professor Tan. Not anymore. When I requested a meeting with him he said, ‘Excellent. Let’s put this business with The Watch behind us and start fresh for next year.’ I asked Per’s lawyer and Neil the mediator to join us. We’re assembling in the conference room in James’s building in Macquarie Street.

  When the lift stops, I walk straight to the bathroom. I tidy my hair and tuck my shirt neatly into my jeans. Last time I was here I was dry retching into the toilet because Per had asked whether I’d been paddling in the ocean since The Watch had sunk. He waited for me outside and told me not to rush things, that I shouldn’t swim if I wasn’t ready. I elbowed him in the stomach for his trouble.

  He’s been gone for almost a week. I’m not sleeping well. I wonder whether he is.

  Neil kisses my cheek when I walk into the meeting room. James shakes my hand.

  ‘Thanks for doing this,’ I say.

  James smiles. ‘It’s a pleasure. You’ve piqued our curiosity.’

  Professor Tan walks into the room shortly after I do.