Shallow Breath Page 12

  In wretched silence, Rick hauls Marie to his ute and pushes her in. He marches round to the driver’s side and climbs up. The tyres spin as he reverses, mud splashing from the wheels, and they are gone.

  Desi is astounded. Last time she had borne witness to Rick’s brutality, at least Marie had fought. This time she acquiesced without a word. Not only that, she’s shocked at her parents for letting them go. But they will do something now, surely. After years of holding the knowledge to herself, she is so relieved that she’s no longer alone with it.

  ‘Go after him, Charlie,’ Hester begs.

  Charlie checks around the campsite, as though to see who might be watching, but the rain means most people are cowering inside.

  ‘Not my problem,’ he replies, and disappears through the door.

  Hester stares at Desi, her face full of anguish.

  ‘Mum … do something,’ Desi pleads, thinking of Rebecca at home, unaware of what is hurtling her way.

  But Hester bows her head, then goes to follow her husband.

  ‘Mum!’

  Hester turns back. ‘What can I do, Desi?’

  Desi moves closer. ‘Call someone. Call the police. If they go round there and see him drunk and in a rage, they might be able to stop him.’

  And then a deep voice comes from the doorway. ‘Stay out of it, both of you. I mean it.’

  Shocked, Desi turns to face her father. She can see Jackson behind him, his worried eyes flitting from Desi to his mother for guidance.

  ‘It’s none of our business, Desi,’ he says, before walking off again.

  Desi is overcome with rage, racing after her father through the kitchen and into the living room.

  ‘Desi …’ her mother’s warning tone trails after her, but it sounds very far away.

  ‘Dad, it’s been going on for ages. He’ll hurt her. I’ve seen it. Rebecca sometimes has bruises too. Marcus as well, probably. Please … we have to help them.’

  Her dad shows no surprise at what she’s saying, just flicks the television on and sits down in his armchair. ‘We will not get involved, do you hear me?’

  Desi cannot believe it. She opens her mouth without thinking. ‘You disgust me,’ she says levelly, hands on hips, pinning him with a stare full of enmity.

  She hears her mother’s intake of breath. At the doorway, Jackson begins to cry and Hester hurries him away.

  As soon as they have gone, Charlie gets up and comes close to her, grips her by the arms, his fingers pincering her flesh. ‘You think you know everything, Desi, but you’re nothing but a stupid little girl, obsessed by playing mermaids with a bunch of dolphins. This is the real world. It’s about time you joined us, and stopped meddling in other people’s business. Find something useful to do with yourself, for Christ’s sake. You can start right now by getting out of my sight.’

  19

  Jackson

  Sometimes Jackson wishes his father had never seen him go shore diving off Lovelock Bay. As soon as he found out, he had begun telling guests that his son was available to take them diving. Charlie’s biggest drawcard is a group of sea lions who often laze on an outcrop a little way further south, and occasionally shuffle into the water to investigate visitors. There are pictures of them frolicking underwater displayed on the walls of the shabby caravan office, and Charlie neglects to tell interested parties that this is a rarity. That Jackson, who always has a camera with him, had got lucky a few years ago. And if people are wary of sharks, Charlie takes great pleasure in outlining to them how the shallow reefs work. ‘No sharks’ll get past them,’ he’ll say. ‘Just lots of pretty fish out there – one of the best places on the coast, since it hasn’t been overfished like all the rest.’

  Jackson has never interrupted to tell them that, actually, to see much at all you need to go to the outer reef by boat. Or that a shark is perfectly capable of navigating around the reef if it so chooses; in fact, he’d once seen a decent-sized tiger shark close to shore. He hates his father’s sour expression when contradicted, and, besides, he has never seen diving as a chore.

  But today he has to drag himself to the beach, weighted down by all the things on his mind. It’s been twenty-four hours since he sent the email, and he hasn’t heard from Kate. Despite his best intentions, he had spent the better part of yesterday sleeping. He still needs to catch up with Maya and Desi. He has hardly seen his sister these last two years. He had only gone to the prison a few times, hating himself for always getting out of it, but finding it more disturbing to see her there, never knowing what to say. He had reassured himself that she had Pete, but he knew it was a poor excuse.

  So there are too many things niggling him as he strides through the caravan park to collect the quad bike, noticing with dismay the broken reticulation pipes, the sand patches standing out against the yellowing, dying grass, a portion of washing line sagging towards the ground. He pauses by the empty cages that had once been full of his mother’s orphaned-animal projects. The convalescing creatures had been a drawcard for the tourists, but once Hester was gone and they died out they hadn’t been replaced.

  There is such a lot to do. Jackson is sometimes surprised they don’t get more complaints, but perhaps you could get away with it when your customers were an itinerant lot.

  When Jackson was a boy, his father had great plans for the caravan park. They would build some luxury accommodation, then add a small jetty and take people on trips by boat. But once Hester had died, Charlie lost all motivation. He did the minimum necessary to keep the park running and the place had grown tired and shabby at the edges, as the toilet-block paint began to peel, and the flowerbeds died off and weren’t replanted. All talk of the hotel, the jetty and the boat faded away. Jackson is resigned to always taking divers from the shore.

  He finds the quad bike, hooks up the trailer, loads it up with the tanks and equipment, then makes his way to the beach. The couple are already sitting on the sand waiting for him, next to Charlie’s small dinghy. They introduce themselves as Gayle and Tony, and Jackson explains that the little boat won’t be needed; it will be easier to dive from the shore. Gayle is polite and efficient, collecting the equipment and beginning to get changed. But Tony isn’t quite right, nervous and clumsy while kitting up, his skin pale. Jackson runs through their buddy checks with them, making sure their gear is connected properly and their tanks are on. He gives them a briefing on the dive plan, and then they begin to edge backward into the surf. Once the water is deep enough, they swim on their backs until they are clear of the breakers. Jackson pulls his mask on and has a quick glance down. Then he gives them the signal, and begins to let the air out of his jacket.

  Diving this site always makes him think of Maya now, since he’s spent the best part of a year teaching her here. He hopes that Desi will be pleased about that. Jackson had persuaded his sister to get her PADI card on his first trip back from Ningaloo, and she had dived intermittently with him over the years. Now they could all go together. In fact, he thinks, as he reaches the seabed, it would probably do Desi good right now to spend some time on the ocean floor, putting her worries into perspective.

  This particular route is a perfect beginner dive, less than ten metres deep, and only a thirty-metre swim to the edge of the reef. From there Jackson usually navigates south, passing over a few small bommies, working his way along the outer side of the reef to a section of overhangs, then returning to shore. Mostly he finds himself pointing out the usual fish species of scalyfin, bullseye and old wives, or sea squirts and sponges, maybe a wrasse, occasionally a small, shy Port Jackson shark. He is normally captivated by everything, big and small, but today he sees it all indifferently. The incredible encounters of the Galapagos dives have spoilt him, left him wanting too much.

  Still, the conditions are good, with fair visibility and a gentle current. Even a novice shouldn’t have much trouble, but already Tony has released too much air from his jacket and hit the bottom hard. Now he is flapping like a floundering fish, his fins carving u
p the ocean floor, raising thick clouds of sand.

  Jackson kicks his way across, grabs Tony’s hand, and points to remind him about the button on his buoyancy jacket, pressing it to add some air in short coughs. Jackson keeps hold of him and they begin to float upwards together, panic clear in Tony’s expression once again. Jackson holds the tube high, expels a little air, and they drift down. Tony’s knees hit the sea bed, and Jackson holds him by the shoulder until he is sure he is steady. Scuba masks make everyone appear slightly surprised, but Jackson can see the fear in Tony’s eyes. Jackson brings thumb and finger together to make the sign for ‘Okay?’. Tony nods, then remembers protocol, and lifts his own hand to repeat the signal.

  Yesterday Tony had said he was a qualified diver, and shown Jackson his PADI card, but he hadn’t produced a logbook. He’d confidently told Jackson he’d done over twenty dives, but Jackson now suspects that most of them were in the pool. The pool might allow a diver to get comfortable with equipment and learn the basics, but its environment is safe, its challenges few. The ocean is different: a lot colder, with currents to contend with, limited visibility by which to navigate, and myriad sea creatures, mostly benign, but you never knew when you might face one that wasn’t. It is easy for Jackson to forget how frightening it is down here for beginners. Even though the novices are far more out of their depth mentally than they are in reality. There are two groups of divers by Jackson’s reckoning: the ones who do it for something to boast about, pumped at their ability to command a new environment; and the others, who see something beneath the sea that shifts their perspective on life. This group don’t kick their fins as forcefully; they are never in a hurry. Behind the windows of their masks, their eyes are wide with the wonder of discovery.

  Jackson can spot who belongs where straight away, and he has Tony pegged for the first category. The man is beginning to exasperate him – he just cannot get control of his buoyancy. Gayle follows calmly behind Jackson, arms clasped together, observing all that’s around her. But every few minutes Tony takes off towards the surface like a hot air balloon, and Jackson has to swim after him to drag him down again.

  Eventually, Jackson abandons the idea of investigating the deeper overhangs, and gestures to them to turn towards shore. The dive has been so shallow that they don’t need a safety stop, and they follow the seabed as it rises, until they can stand. Jackson stays at the back, so he can monitor them. Instead of standing up, Tony sits in the water and begins taking his BCD off. ‘Fins first!’ Jackson yells, as a wave comes in and spins Tony round, dragging him out to sea again on his back like an upended turtle. Jackson catches the straps of Tony’s half-undone life jacket as he flies past, and hangs on. ‘Fins first,’ he says again through gritted teeth, and Tony nods, letting Jackson help him off with his fins. ‘Now stand up,’ he says, and Tony stands obediently. Jackson takes the tank off him, and it is as though he has lifted the tension from the man’s shoulders. Tony staggers to shore, with Jackson following, clutching one heavy tank with another still strapped to him.

  ‘You okay?’ Jackson says, setting down the tank and unclipping his own, then patting Tony’s shoulder as he bends double, trying to sound sympathetic. Behind them, Gayle is proficiently removing her gear, ignoring them.

  Jackson has been so absorbed in all this that he has forgotten about anything else. But as he looks up he sees a small figure sitting on the dunes. For a moment he thinks it is Maya, and lifts a hand in greeting. But as she stands up, he realises his mistake, and his stomach skitters. He starts to walk towards her, eyes straining, double-checking he isn’t kidding himself. But she is really here. And she ignores the fact he is dripping wet, stands on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around his neck.

  ‘Did you miss me?’ Kate asks.

  And all his questions are forgotten for the time being, swept away by the relief of finding her, and the desire to hold onto her as tightly as he can.

  20

  Desi

  On the night of the argument, Hester tries again and again to speak to Desi, but she has wedged furniture against the door of her room. She is finished with talking. She doesn’t want to understand her parents’ point of view; she does not want a reason to excuse or condone them as they stand by and watch Rick tear his family to pieces. It is wrong, and should be stopped. Where can she have learnt this from, she wonders, if not from them?

  She cannot sleep that night. Thoughts swirl around her head like a vicious tide. She has always known that her father is impassive and implacable, but her mother has shocked her. Hester is the most compassionate person she knows, and yet to defer to Charlie in this … well, perhaps she is weaker than Desi had realised.

  Charlie’s words are ringing in her ears:… you’re nothing but a stupid little girl. How relieved she is that they have no inkling of Connor and his offer; that she can hang on to her escape route and keep it undamaged by their slurs. While Charlie had never befriended her, she hadn’t realised he thought so little of her. It surprises her how much it hurts.

  Eventually she falls asleep for a little while, but wakes soon after dawn has broken. Hester knocks at the bedroom door. ‘I’ve made you some toast and tea,’ she says. ‘Your dad will take you down to the cafe when you’re ready. He didn’t mean what he said last night. Try to let it go.’

  Her words grate on Desi even further. If Charlie didn’t mean it, why doesn’t he tell her that himself? The way her mother speaks to her, with that wheedling tone, it’s as though she thinks Desi is the one being unreasonable. She is glad that Jackson has already gone to school. Out of all of them, he is the only one she would have difficulty facing this morning.

  In the car, they sit in stony silence, until Charlie flicks through the radio stations and finds one of his contemptible country channels. He is probably playing it to annoy her. In her wildest dreams she had hoped he would apologise, but it’s soon clear that he has no intention of doing so. She hugs her rucksack to herself. Neither parent has realised it is larger than usual. Neither parent looks hard enough at her any more to notice these things.

  Desi goes about her chores in the cafe quietly that morning. She will have to post a letter of apology to Rachel, who has always been kind to her and doesn’t know she’s about to be abandoned. But Desi is determined not to stay under the same roof as her father for another night.

  She is planning to leave at lunchtime, while she has a few hours of light to help her on the first leg of the journey, but then Rebecca comes into the cafe.

  ‘Do you want to have lunch?’

  Desi doesn’t want to raise her suspicions by saying no when she has no reason to. They go and sit together on the wall behind the shops, overlooking the marina.

  Two dolphins surface in unison. ‘I wonder how they feel about being back,’ Rebecca says, before taking a bite of her sandwich.

  Desi shrugs. ‘Perhaps they’re disappointed that the gate is closed again. Or maybe they’re happy to be safe. But it makes me sad watching them. Their adventure’s over. The rest of their life is predictable.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rebecca says. ‘At least they’ll get regular meals and veterinary care. Who knows where the others are now. They might be dead. Predictable is surely better than that.’

  They are silent for a while as they eat. ‘Your mother was at our house for a while last night…’ Desi says eventually. ‘Until your dad came to fetch her. Is she okay?’

  ‘Don’t, Desi.’ Rebecca will not look at her. Instead, she picks up the wrapper of her sandwich and screws it up tight. ‘I’ve got to get back now,’ she says. ‘I’ll come down again tomorrow, see if you’re around.’

  And she walks away.

  Desi remains sitting near the marina for another few minutes. Why does Rebecca keep rejecting her help? Why are all the people she knows burying their heads in the sand, while Rick gets away scot-free? How do they live with their consciences? And how will she live with hers, if she joins them?

  She would stay if there was anything she c
ould do. But she has spent years encouraging Rebecca to talk, and nothing changes. Rebecca has been dating Theo for a few weeks; perhaps he will have more success. As for Desi, it is time to put herself first.

  Yes, she says to herself, breathing in deeply. You are doing the right thing, Desi. Be strong.

  She takes a final glance at the dolphins, and tries to be happy that they are going to be looked after for the rest of their lives. It won’t sink in; she cannot feel uplifted. She picks up her bag and walks quickly away from the shopping centre, towards the main road out of town.

  It is a long trek along Breakwater Drive to Wanneroo Road, and Desi is soaked with sweat by the time she reaches it. She has never hitched before, and it is hard to pluck up the nerve to begin sticking her thumb out as the trucks approach. She has heard too many stories to believe this is a good idea, but she has no other choice.

  Her first ride is with an old-timer called Harry, and he berates her all the way for hitching alone. Taking her under his wing, when they reach a rest stop he speaks to other drivers and arranges the remainder of her journey as far as the Overlander, the outback roadhouse six hundred kilometres from Perth that marks the turn-off towards the Shark Bay peninsula and Monkey Mia. By the time she sets off on the second leg, darkness has fallen and she tries to sleep. There is one hard bump as they speed along, and she opens her eyes.

  ‘What was that?’ she asks the driver, who she can barely make out beyond a bulky silhouette.

  ‘If I stopped for roos, I’d never get there,’ he snaps.

  She shivers, tries not to think about it. But she cannot sleep again. Instead, she witnesses the headlights picking out dead marsupials that line the verges like macabre route markers, their bodies ravaged by scavenging birds, leaving only empty pockets of fur and whitened bones.