‘James and Neil,’ he says, shaking their hands, ‘delighted to see you both again.’ He smiles at me. ‘I was surprised when you said we should meet here, but perhaps it’s for the best. I presume you want to ensure your interests are protected, in respect to the maritime inquiry?’
After we sit at the giant oak table, I open my pad and glance at the notes I wrote last night. Neil cranes his neck to have a look.
‘Oh,’ he says. ‘I was hoping for a picture.’
‘Can I start?’ I say.
‘As you were the one who called us together, certainly,’ James says.
I clear my throat. ‘First, I want to make sure everything I say is confidential. I can’t get into trouble for telling you things I might have done wrong, can I?’
James shakes his head. ‘Unless you’ve committed a heinous crime … no.’
‘I might have committed forgery. And I might have lied under oath.’
He grimaces. ‘Off you go then.’
I give James and Neil a sanitised version of everything I lied about while covering for Drew. When Tan pulls a copy of my evidence to the inquiry from his bag I hold up my hand.
‘What I said at the inquiry might have been true,’ I say.
He purses his lips. ‘But it wasn’t.’
The mediator takes a deep breath. ‘Harry,’ he says, ‘what do you want to achieve from this meeting?’
‘I want the professor to agree that he’ll say nothing about what I might have done wrong. Or talk about Drew’s diagnosis. I don’t want him to leak to the media and pretend he did it by mistake. That’s why I want witnesses.’
‘I’ll agree to no such thing,’ Tan says. ‘In fact I’ll do the opposite.’ He opens a folder and shows me a press release, and a series of ideas he’s formulated to publicise the fact that I shouldn’t be held responsible for losing The Watch.
I try to stay calm. ‘Have you seen the footage of Drew in Palau? People adore him, they always have. You should be promoting his reputation, not diminishing it. What people are going to remember, no matter how you pitch this in the media, is that he was to blame. That he lost The Watch.’
The professor raises his brows. ‘That’s what they say about you.’
‘I can show people I’ve learnt from it, that I won’t make the same mistakes again.’
‘If you pursue this course, we won’t get the funds to finance The Adélie,’ Tan says. ‘Are you willing to accept responsibility for that as well?’
On the day The Adélie left for Antarctica, Per said my association with the foundation and the environmental work I do is only a part of who I am. Tan heard what was said but he didn’t listen. It’s about time he heard it from me.
‘The foundation is Mum and Dad’s legacy. It represents the passion they had for the environment and the causes they believed in. Like them, I care about the environment, and I’ll keep fighting to protect it. But that doesn’t mean I’ll continue to do whatever you want me to do. If you release information about Drew, I’ll leave the foundation.’
Tan blinks. ‘What did you say?’
‘You know as well as I do that the foundation is an independent entity. Dad set it up like that for a reason. He wanted it to carry on whether a Scott was involved with it or not.’
Tan collects his papers and stacks them neatly on the table. He smiles stiffly as he gets to his feet.
‘What are you going to do, Professor?’ James says.
He looks at James and Neil, and then he looks at me. ‘It wouldn’t appear I have a choice,’ he says. ‘There’s a slim chance the foundation will get The Adélie permanently if Harry continues to support the foundation. Without her support there’s no chance at all.’
He’s at the door when he turns and faces me again. He doesn’t seem to be particularly angry or upset, even though he didn’t get his way. Then again he’s a pragmatist and a strategist. I’m valuable to the foundation, even with a tarnished image.
He raises his brows. ‘You haven’t posted anything on the website recently about the commander. Why is that?’
Because whenever I type his name all I can think about is how much I miss him. And that makes me cry.
‘I’ll write something, Professor. Later today. I promise.’
The Scott Foundation: Environment Adventure Education
The Adélie has been gone for a week. She’s in the Ross Sea, in the Bay of Whales region. This was the starting point for Roald Amundsen’s expedition to the South Pole (Robert Falcon Scott left from Ross Island—he followed Ernest Shackleton’s route up the Beardmore Glacier, and onto the Polar Plateau).
Captain Tom Finlay and the film crew are shooting a documentary highlighting how Antarctica’s pristine marine ecosystem could be threatened by commercial activities in the area. Meanwhile, the foundation continues to do everything it can to push for the protection of the Ross Sea under a UN sanctioned treaty (similar to the one that applies to Antarctica’s land area).
Commander Amundsen will work with his colleagues and a band of international collaborators on Roosevelt Island (the Ross Sea Ice Shelf surrounds Roosevelt Island—it’s impossible to identify it as an island at ground level because of the ice). The scientists are part of a project to drill an ice core over 700 metres deep that will be used to analyse past climatic and atmospheric conditions. Ice core research assists scientific understanding of ice shelf disintegration rates. This data is vitally important for predicting future sea level rises.
The weather in Antarctica has been mild. Zero degrees by day, with sunny skies. Winds have been moderate. This is unusual for Antarctica. It’s the windiest place on Earth!
Harriet
Ten minutes after I’ve posted on the website, I receive an email.
Harriet. Your post was informative. Its content was factual. You made reference to environmental considerations, global concerns, and an important research project. There were no hidden messages or derogatory references to Amundsen. Are you all right? Per
It’s been a warm Christmas day, well over 30 degrees. I made Drew wait until after five o’clock for our walk along the beach so the sun wasn’t so high in the sky. Now we’re sitting on the back deck, with our feet propped up on the railing. We’re watching the tide go out.
Drew turns to me. He’s still tanned from our trip to Palau. I couldn’t get him off the bridge of The Adélie and later, when we were on the islands, he only went inside in the evenings. His brown face contrasts with his white hair, tousled from the wind on the beach.
‘Where’s Matthew, then?’ he says. ‘Where’s our captain?’
I point to the horizon. The sea is dark blue; the sky is a lighter shade and cloudless.
‘I guess he’s out in the ocean,’ I say. ‘That’s what he loved.’
‘Well, you’d better get going then.’
‘What?’
‘He’ll need you out there.’
I’m not sure whether Drew thinks I’m Mum or me. He’ll need you out there.
I jump to my feet. Per tried to communicate something when Lisa Toohey asked him questions. And he asked if I was all right in his email. He’s the one who needs me out there.
Liam is hosting a Boxing Day party. He’s invited the Amazons, and other friends and neighbours we see at the beach. We’re having a barbecue on the back deck. Liam knows what my plans are for the next two weeks. The others think I’m hiking in New Zealand.
‘Well, lassie,’ Allan says, ‘we’ll miss you terribly at the football.’
‘But I’ll be back before the season starts.’
‘Don’t get lost on the Milford Track,’ Jonty says. ‘The commander’s too far away to rescue you.’
‘Thanks for that, Jonty.’
Drew winks, and pats my leg. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll keep an eye out.’
‘Have you packed warm clothes?’ Helga says. ‘You know how you feel the cold.’
‘But it’s summer in New Zealand. Just like it is here.’
‘Cond
oms,’ Liam whispers in an undertone. ‘Don’t forget those.’
The other passengers taking the cruise ship from New Zealand to Antarctica will be tourists. I’ll pay my way by writing about the trip when I get back. During the six-day voyage I’ll keep my head down, because only Liam and Tom Finlay are to know what I’m up to.
I want to surprise Per. I want to see the expression in his eyes when he sees me. Then I’ll know whether he wants me there or not.
CHAPTER
44
The Scott Foundation: Environment, Adventure, Education
For the next couple of weeks I’ll be hiking in New Zealand. Please contact Professor Tan and his team in my absence. I’ll be back in touch later in January!
Harriet
Tom picked me up from the cruise ship two hours ago. Ever since then I’ve been standing on the bridge of The Adélie, waiting for Per to come back. It was stupid to think I could surprise him in his cabin as he studied a reference book, or rested on his bunk.
He’s in the ocean, gesturing to the pilot of an inflatable boat. Even if I weren’t watching him through binoculars I’d recognise him. It’s the way that he moves. When the inflatable gets close enough he grasps a handhold and lifts himself out of the sea. He rolls over the rounded side and gets to his feet. The Ross Ice Shelf, palest blue, soars vertically behind him.
The Adélie rocks on the swell. Tom reaches for my arm but I regain my balance on my own. Then I hold the handrail tightly. The air temperature is minus fifteen and the winds are gusty. Tom and I are both wearing hooded jackets and our faces are covered up to our eyes against the icy gusts of wind and snow and sleet.
I shout above the squall. ‘What’s Per doing?’
‘Got back from Roosevelt Island last night. Wanted to get a dive in. Storm’s coming through.’
The inflatable boat ploughs haphazardly through the waves, dodging the chunks of ice that flow into its path. Mists roll in. They blanket the ocean like low-hanging clouds.
There are three regular crewmembers on the inflatable with Per, and two women and a man from the documentary team. Per is sitting near the bow, wrapped in a grey waterproof blanket. The others in the boat are blanketed in white—the sleet and sea spray has frozen on their outer layers, and their hair and beards. When the inflatable pulls up alongside The Adélie Tom takes my arm and shouts into my ear.
‘Don’t hang around on the deck, Harry. You’re frozen. And he’ll have the film crew all over him when he gets on board. They’ve been waiting for him to get back from Roosevelt. Go to my cabin. It’s bigger than yours. I’ll send him down to you.’
My fingers are stiff with cold, and so is my face. My body is cold as well, but that’s not the only reason I’m shivering. I feel sick with apprehension.
‘I’m all right,’ I say. ‘I’d prefer to wait here.’
For the thousandth time I remind myself that Per feels something for me. Even on the day he sent me to Palau it was clear that he desired me. And it doesn’t matter whether he admits to needing me as long as I’m certain that, deep down, he does. It’s been almost a month since I saw him on television, and ten weeks since we’ve seen each other in person. I hope he’s missed me as desperately as I’ve missed him.
When he strides up the ramp from the loading dock to the main deck, our eyes lock. He stops and stares. A gust of wind blows his fringe into his eyes. He brushes it away with an impatient sweep of his hand. His eyes travel downwards from my face to my feet, and up again. It’s very unlike him, staring at me so obviously, in front of all these people. He still hasn’t moved.
I walk towards him. When I pull back my hood my hair, damp with mist and cold, flies around my head. His eyes are dark, even darker than I remembered them. Is it the reflection of the leaden skies, or the grey of the sea? They’re obsidian.
When he still doesn’t move I put my hand on his arm.
‘I guess you’re surprised.’
His voice is raspy. ‘I hate surprises.’
‘I thought you might. You like to have time to think things through.’
He stares at my mouth. ‘You’re cold.’
The film crew is hanging around near the galley door, waiting for Per to go inside.
I touch his arm. ‘We’d better get out of the wind.’
He nods jerkily, and follows me.
As I shrug out of my coat, the documentary producer and a cameraman corner Per in the galley. Just like Tom said, they’re determined to pin him down while they have the opportunity.
Per takes off his dry suit. He’s wearing tight black thermals underneath. I’m reminded of the wetsuit he wore in Avalon, the one that matches mine. The film crew ask him questions. Even though he rarely takes his eyes off my face, his responses are thoughtful, detailed and complex. He talks about his research, and communicates all the reasons why Antarctica needs to be protected. His dark hair is damp. I’m weak with wanting to hold him.
The film crew finally leave Per alone, but the producer still hovers in the background. The cook is here too, sorting out a problem with the coffee machine. A few other members of the crew are playing cards in a booth. One of Per’s colleagues is lounging in his chair with a book on his lap. I’m not sure how Per would react if I launched myself into his arms so I walk slowly towards him.
When I take his hands he squeezes my fingers tightly. Then he raises them to his mouth and glides my knuckles across his lips. He warms them with his breath.
‘So cold,’ he says.
‘You said that before.’
He brings my hands to rest against his chest. ‘When we were in the mountains you said I shouldn’t touch you in public.’ He looks over my shoulder. I can’t see who’s there but I know we’re being watched. ‘This is in public.’
I take a step closer. Our hands are pinned firmly between us.
‘I think I’ve made things public already, coming to claim you like this.’
His eyes flash silver. He dips his head and whispers against my lips. ‘Jeg elsker deg.’
I recognise the words. He said ‘jeg elsker deg’ when he backed us up against the door and kissed me in the professor’s office. And I’m pretty sure he said it at the pool. We were on step two because I couldn’t stop throwing up on step three, and I was crying because we were going in the wrong direction. He brushed my hair off my face and rested his chin on the top of my head while I sniffed against his chest. ‘Stop crying, Harriet,’ he said. ‘We have plenty of time. Jeg elsker deg.’ I was too miserable to ask him what it meant.
I want to know what it means now. ‘What did you say, Per?’
He breathes the words into my mouth. ‘I love you.’
I wrap my arms around his neck and press my body against his and kiss his salty mouth.
CHAPTER
45
Per slams his cabin door shut with his foot, leans against it and pulls me into his arms.
‘Gift deg med meg. Marry me.’
His body is rigid with tension. I put my hands on his shoulders and shake him, trying to loosen him up.
‘I want to kiss you first.’
I explore his mouth slowly. I stroke his face and examine his jawline and his perfectly straight nose and his cheekbones. He’s tolerant at first. But then his kisses demand more and the heat builds between us. His taste, the feel of his tongue stroking mine, the way he supports the back of my head. His touch is familiar yet new and it’s all that I’m ever going to need to make me happy. He lifts his arms when I pull at the hem of his thermal top. He’s wearing other layers underneath. I smooth my hands over his T-shirt, tracing the lines of his abdominal and pectoral muscles, his ribs and sternum. And then, even though I’m fully dressed, he runs his hands over me. My face and neck. My breasts. My waist and bottom. My arms. It’s like he has to reassure himself I’m standing here in front of him. I thread my fingers through his dark straight hair. Then I kiss his mouth, hard and possessively, and hold his head between my hands. I step back, and scrutinise his fac
e.
‘What?’ he says.
‘You have to get your hair cut. Your bone structure is far too good to hide under a fringe.’
He kisses my nose. ‘Whatever.’
I kneel, and try to pull his thermal pants down past his hips. He laughs as he hauls me to my feet again. And that’s when I see Liam’s kookaburra.
The cabin is tiny. All it accommodates is a long narrow bed and a built-in side table, cupboard and desk. And four sketches pinned to the wall at the foot of the bed. In the first sketch the kookaburra is a fledgling. He has creamy fluffy feathers on his chest. It’s the drawing I did in March, the first time I saw him. Drew and I were sitting on the deck and a storm was brewing. In the next two sketches the kookaburra is a cocky adolescent, waiting for Liam to feed him, or for me to tell him how handsome he is. The last sketch is the picture I finished in October. Per was sitting next to me, convalescing on the deck. The kookaburra is almost fully-grown. He’s puffing out his chest and preening, showing off the blue adult feathers on his wings.
When Per squeezes my shoulders I turn to him again.
‘You told Tan you were donating your sketches to your school,’ he says. ‘I called Allan, asked him to bid for me.’
Tears fill my eyes as my gaze shifts from Per, to the sketches, and back to Per. He’s standing stiffly as if he’s in control, but his expression is wary, guarded.
‘The blue,’ he says, ‘it’s like your eyes.’
I put my hand on his arm. ‘Liam only stopped bidding because Allan seemed to want them so much. Liam was furious when he discovered they’d been bought for someone else.’
Per points to the cupboard. ‘The drawings you did when I was unwell. They’re in there.’
I swallow. ‘I thought you didn’t like them. You sent me away.’
Within a heartbeat he’s kissing me again, hungry rough kisses that leave me breathless. But then he pulls back, and I’m teetering on my feet.
In At the Deep End Page 28