‘Well?’ said Bridget. ‘What do you think of our star attractions?’
‘They’re beautiful,’ said Zoe. ‘Absolutely beautiful.’
Six dolphins cruised around the natural saltwater lagoon that formed part of the Kiawa Reef Centre. The three smallest ones were particularly energetic, leaping from the turquoise pool in graceful arcs. Those must be the spinners, Stenella longirostris, literally meaning long-beaks. One of them shot forwards and approached Zoe. She hadn’t seen specimens of this species before. They lacked the fixed smile of their bottlenose cousins, and were around half their size. Far more dainty, with slender beaks – rostrums – and soft brown eyes. Almost human eyes.
‘This is Baby.’ Bridget sat down at the edge of the water. The sleek little dolphin rolled upside down and presented his pale pink tummy to be scratched. Bridget obliged, then nodded to Zoe. ‘Come and say hello.’
Zoe knelt down and tentatively stretched out her hand, enchanted by this strange and exotic creature inviting her to play. But she was also a little scared. Truth was, Zoe had never had much to do with real live animals. She’d grown up in a two-bedroom flat in Bankstown, sharing a room with her older sister Stacey. Her mum worked as a cleaner and her dad drove Greyhound coaches between capital cities. The family seldom had enough room, time or disposable income for pets.
When Zoe was little it had been fun sharing with Stacey. She’d adored her big sister, who told stories about princesses being rescued by white knights, and always let Zoe crawl into bed with her when bad dreams came knocking. Everything changed though, when Stacey hit her teenage years. She no longer had time for her kid sister. With Mum working nights and Dad away so much, they weren’t allowed to have friends around very often. Zoe abided by the rules, even though it put her on the outer at school. But Stacey began bringing boys home behind their parents’ backs. She’d bribe Zoe with lollies or money to get lost. If that didn’t work, she’d threaten harm to Zoe’s most precious possessions. ‘If you don’t give me and Jayden some privacy, I’ll dump those stupid fish books of yours in the toilet. And don’t you dare tell Mum either.’ How Zoe had hated it. Banished from her own room, trapped in the cramped flat, unable to block out the mysterious giggles and thumps coming through the thin walls, no matter how loud she turned up the television.
When Stacey was seventeen she moved in with her boyfriend and Zoe suddenly had some space to herself. What a luxury. She landed an after-school job at Bankstown public library and soon had enough money saved to set up a small aquarium in her room. She loved her fish, but it wasn’t quite the same as having a dog or a cat. You couldn’t form a relationship with a guppy, and she was timid when it came to connecting with more challenging animals. And yet here was Baby, staring at her with those curious, intelligent eyes, demanding just such a connection.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Bridget. ‘You won’t scare him.’
Zoe took a deep breath. Good. Bridget didn’t realise that she was the one who was afraid. But then, who’d expect her to be afraid of dolphins? They were so universally loved. Like so many little girls, Zoe’s side of the bedroom had overflowed with dolphin stickers and posters, closely followed by those of horses and unicorns. Dolphins, horses and unicorns – symbols of magic, power and fantasy in the life of a lonely child. She drew their pictures all over her school books and wrote sentimental stories and poems about them.
But she’d since discovered that horses could be scary close-up, having fallen off the only time she’d ever ridden one and broken her collarbone. Likewise she’d discovered that dolphins weren’t always the amiable characters of fairy-tale fame, spending their days frolicking happily in the waves and saving people from drowning. They were effective and cunning predators, capable of real aggression, and had been known to bite swimmers when provoked or frightened. ‘Do not be taken in by dolphins and their winning smiles,’ her first lecturer had warned. Then he told the story of the Brazilian dolphin Tião, who sent twenty-eight people to hospital before killing a swimmer.
Bridget slipped out of her jeans to reveal bathers underneath. Zoe looked at her boss’s toned, tanned thighs, and then to her own plump white legs emerging from khaki King Gee shorts. Baby uttered a series of swift clicks and whistles. ‘He wants us to join him,’ said Bridget. ‘Come on, you’ll dry out soon enough.’
Zoe hesitated for a moment then sat down on the concrete edge, trailing her legs in the lagoon. Baby rubbed up and down against her like a smoochy cat. Zoe gently eased herself into the water. She stretched out her hand to feel skin as slippery and firm as wet rubber. Baby was surprisingly warm, a living, breathing beach toy. He sidled close and on impulse she wrapped her arms around his sleek, streamlined body. It throbbed with a strong, steady heartbeat. The dolphin’s physical presence delighted her, chasing away all apprehension.
Two more dolphins approached, playfully slapping their tails. One of them held a rubber dumbbell in its mouth by a little handle, and appeared to be playing keepings off. It hid the toy beneath its belly and between its fins when the others tried to snatch it.
Zoe relaxed and began to appraise them with the eye of a scientist. Baby was a healthy young male, but according to Bridget the rest all bore injuries serious enough to prevent their return to the wild. The problem was obvious with the smallest bottlenose, whose tail was permanently bent to the right, making it a clumsy swimmer. A second spinner nosed its way into her arms. Zoe winced to see the scar of a massive shark bite on its left side and a bullet hole through its dorsal fin. ‘That’s Baby’s mother,’ said Bridget. ‘Koko.’
‘Why, hello Koko,’ said Zoe as the dolphin offered her flipper to shake. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’
The biggest dolphin approached and Zoe drew in a quick, admiring breath. Indo-Pacific bottlenoses were large dolphins, she knew that. But such theoretical knowledge hadn’t prepared her for the real thing. The animal swimming straight for her was two and a half metres long and must have weighed well over two hundred kilos. Bridget jumped up onto the paved lagoon edge. ‘Get out,’ she said. ‘Kane’s our most talented performer, but he gets grumpy if you don’t have any fish for him.’
Zoe hurried from the water. The big dolphin cruised by, casting a baleful glance her way as he passed, rolling to reveal an attractive pattern of spots along his sleek, muscled side. The animal looked in good physical shape, apart from a drooping dorsal fin and a bloody laceration on his rostrum.
‘What happened there?’ asked Zoe. Several of the dolphins had cuts and scrapes on their skin, but Kane’s nose was by far the worst.
‘Kane fights the gates,’ said Bridget. ‘It’s a game he plays.’
‘What’s his story?’
‘A fisherman found him trapped in a net, suffering from shark bites and a stingray barb to the jaw. He recovered here at the centre and we released him into the bay. He was a bit of a lone wolf, raiding nets and intimidating swimmers. We took him seventy kilometres out to sea, but he returned within days, cadging fish and biting people. We don’t know why. Our vet, George Fairthorn, thinks the stingray barb may have permanently damaged his jaw so he can’t catch his own fish. Fisheries and Wildlife declared him a public nuisance. So for Kane it’s either the centre or a bullet.’
Kane turned and lazily swam past them again. His perpetually smiling mouth gaped wide. There didn’t look to be much wrong with his jaw, or with his gleaming rows of sharp white teeth.
Further out in the lagoon, keeping its distance, swam another bottlenose, smaller than Kane. A dazzling, graceful animal, in delicate shades of blue and grey with a pale blaze extending from head to dorsal fin. ‘What about that one?’
‘Mirrhi is from the offshore Bora Reef pod. We identified her by scars on her dorsal fin. She washed up two years ago on a sandbar in mangroves, half-dead and tangled in plastic. It’s been a long road to recovery, and sometimes she still has seizures.’
Zoe jumped as she became aware of somebody standing close behind her. It was Josh, wearing bathers and swim goggles and holding a towel. ‘Where did you spring from?’
‘He’s always doing that,’ said Bridget with a laugh. She waved him over, took the boy’s hand in hers and gave him a warm smile. ‘Aren’t you, Josh? Always sneaking up on people?’ Josh’s face flushed a little and Zoe didn’t miss how his gaze slipped momentarily to linger on Bridget’s legs. It looked like young Josh had a crush on someone.
There was a flurry of movement in the pool. The dolphins were all crowding around Bridget now, slapping tails and spy hopping for a better view. Even shy Mirrhi seemed excited. ‘It’s getting near time for their training session,’ said Bridget. ‘They love learning new things. It’s all part of the environmental enrichment program we offer here at the centre, to encourage natural behaviours. We use a combination of sight, smell, taste, touch and physical interaction. It’s as important to provide mental stimulation for the dolphins as it is to provide nutritious, well-balanced diets. Bored dolphins can develop some very negative habits. That will be one of your duties, Zoe – to dream up some new fun stuff for these guys.’
‘Sounds like my sort of job,’ said Zoe. ‘I’ll get right onto it tonight.’ Researching the latest developments in captive dolphin enrichment was a far cry from cataloguing engineering journals. She couldn’t wait to get started, couldn’t wait to prove herself to Bridget. Zoe stared about the sparkling cove and at the brilliant, blue curve of the bay beyond. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty breeze blowing straight off the wild ocean. Sydney and its crowds and concrete seemed a world away.
Bridget checked her watch. ‘Josh, can you go ask Karen for a bucket of fish and some of the dolphins’ toys?’ Josh dropped his towel and sprang to his appointed task. Zoe noticed that he wore a whistle on a cord around his neck, identical to one that Bridget was wearing. ‘Such a sweetheart,’ said Bridget. ‘He loves spending time with the animals here. It’s a bit of a nuisance of course, but I can’t seem to say no to him.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’ Zoe couldn’t help comparing Bridget’s personality with that of her former boss, old Miss Addis, head librarian at the engineering faculty. She was just plain mean. Petty, narrow-minded, always finding fault. Miss Addis regarded library users as the enemy and loathed them with a vengeance. In her mind, students existed only to muddle up her neat shelves and disrupt her rigidly organised cataloguing system.
By contrast, Bridget was so friendly and generous. Willing to put herself out, to interrupt her day in order to please an intellectually disabled boy. Did Bridget realise that she might be as much of an attraction for Josh as the animals were? Probably not. She seemed almost unaware of how charismatic she really was. ‘Can I stay and watch?’ Zoe was determined to make a good fist of this job, and if that meant learning how to train dolphins then she’d learn, and quickly. How hard could it be?
Bridget gave her an apologetic smile, sunlight glinting off perfect white teeth. ‘Not today, I’m afraid. The plan is to hand you over to our head keeper, Karen. She’ll show you around the seaquarium and the rescue centre. Currently we have two pelicans, two turtles and several rays as inpatients. Karen will outline their recovery plans, and also bring you up to speed on the new research project – mapping seagrass meadows and monitoring dugong populations.’
The tantalising prospect of getting close to some real-life research pushed all other thoughts from her mind. Dugongs worldwide were in real trouble. Elusive and mysterious, they still held an almost mythical significance in many cultures. But they also faced butchery as a result of people’s ignorance, much like elephants and rhinos did. Myths abounded. That dugong tusks were aphrodisiacs; that their hair and oil held miraculous medicinal value. Even their tears were believed to have magical qualities. To top it off, their meat was a delicacy in many parts of the world. Australia remained the dugongs’ last stronghold, but so little was known about their lives. What an honour, to be involved in research that would help protect them.
Josh returned with a bucket of fish, followed by a stout middle-aged woman with steel-grey hair and bright blue eyes. ‘I’m Karen.’ She shook Zoe’s hand. ‘Been looking forward to getting some help around here. Come and I’ll show you round. If there’s time, we’ll take a trip out to Turtle Reef. How does that sound?’
‘Perfect,’ said Zoe.
‘Well, then,’ said Bridget. ‘I’ll leave you in Karen’s capable hands.’
Zoe followed the keeper towards a low, rundown building on their left, an ugly brick and concrete structure of seventies vintage. ‘Might not be too pretty to look at,’ said Karen. ‘But you’ll appreciate it in a cyclone. This place is built to withstand a category four.’ Cyclone? Zoe hadn’t banked on any cyclones. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Karen cheerfully. ‘They don’t happen very often.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ A swift look back revealed Bridget standing on the edge of the lagoon, with Josh close beside her.
‘We use only sand-filtered seawater and natural sunlight in our seaquarium,’ said Karen proudly. ‘There aren’t many built that way any more.’ They pushed through the doors and were immediately bathed in soft aqua light. Fish of various shapes and sizes sailed around, all in the same direction, behind panes of floor-length glass. Snapper, cod, coral trout. A pair of graceful stingrays. A splendid lionfish, bristling with colourful spines. Zoe moved closer until her nose was almost pressed against the window. She gasped with delight as a green sea turtle swam past, mere inches from her nose.
‘Wait a moment,’ said Karen. ‘Our new guest should be by any minute . . . there. Meet Chopper.’ A three-metre shark cruised past. Pointed snout, stout body and underhung jaw laden with rows of long, ragged teeth. A grey nurse shark. From the white-tipped claspers on its belly she could tell it was a male. ‘He’s magnificent.’ She frowned at the ten-centimetre deep scar encircling the animal’s neck, maiming its first two gills. ‘What happened to him?’
‘Tangled in a shark net off Kiawa beach,’ said Karen. ‘Luckily the contractor responsible for checking the nets knew these guys are endangered and brought him here. Not before two smaller ones drowned, though. On a brighter note, we hope he’ll mate up with our female. There might be the splish-splash of little fins before too long.’
‘I certainly hope so.’ Grey nurse sharks were known as the labradors of the sea, placid and harmless. She felt an angry catch in her throat at the sight of his mutilated neck. ‘Shark nets don’t work. They actually have the opposite effect, attracting sharks to feed on the bycatch. My professor wrote a peer-reviewed paper on the topic, backed up by some very solid research.’
Karen sighed. ‘Try telling that to the mayor. Leo Macalister says the nets are important to convince tourists that the beaches are safe. If you ask me, it’s all a big publicity stunt.’ She led Zoe out the back of the building and up a flight of stone steps.
‘Macalister . . .’ Zoe turned the surname over in her mind. ‘Any relation to Bridget?’
‘The mayor is Bridget’s father,’ said Karen. ‘And, what’s more, he owns this whole place, including the cafe over the road and the beach shack next door.’
‘I don’t quite understand,’ said Zoe. ‘You mean Bridget’s father owns the Reef Centre?’
‘Lock, stock and barrel.’
Zoe wasn’t sure why she was so taken aback. What was wrong with that? Somebody had to own the place. It was probably a good thing. Maybe with Bridget’s help she could convince the mayor to look at that research paper on shark nets.
They emerged onto the roof, which offered stunning views across Turtle Reef National Park. Concrete pathways bordered an assortment of large open-air tanks. ‘We’re at the top of the seaquarium up here.’ Karen pointed to a rusty ladder leading down into the water. ‘That’s the access to the main display tank. It’s how you’ll get in for the shark feedings.’
Zoe’s jaw fell open. ‘Shark feedings?’
Karen nodded. ‘Our last girl quit on Friday. There’ve been quite a few disappointed visitors this week, I can tell you. I’d do it myself, of course, but my back’s not so good these days.’ Her hands found the small of her spine for emphasis. ‘Gives me hell.’
‘I’m a researcher,’ said Zoe. ‘I’m here to, well . . . to research. Not to swim with sharks.’
Broad amusement showed on Karen’s ruddy face, but she stopped short of laughing. ‘Your dive qualifications are up to date, right?’
‘Well, yes, but —’
‘No buts about it,’ said Karen. ‘We all pitch in where we can.’ Zoe was opening and closing her mouth like a fish, but no words were coming out. ‘You’re not scared are you?’ asked Karen. ‘Grey nurse sharks are quiet enough.’
‘Wasn’t there another shark up the back?’ asked Zoe. ‘It didn’t look like a grey nurse to me.’
‘Oh, you mean Rosie? She’s our bull shark. Been here for years. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
Zoe didn’t want an argument on her first day, but bull whalers, along with tigers and great whites, were one of the few sharks potentially dangerous to people and were responsible for most of the shark attacks in Sydney Harbour. She had no reason to believe that their Queensland cousins were any more friendly. Still, if Rosie was tame and well-fed, she probably presented no real threat.
There was another, more compelling reason why Zoe didn’t want to become the centre’s daily shark feeder. Wetsuits weren’t flattering garments for anybody carrying extra weight, and being the centre of public attention wearing only skin-tight rubber would be an exquisite torture. They exaggerated a person’s natural physique. Bridget would look even leaner and more amazing in one. Of course she would. Zoe, on the other hand, would appear considerably fatter than she was. She could cope with that on a research dive, with a handful of colleagues all focused on their work. But to be gawked at by crowds of strangers? Kids making jokes? Skinny women smugly noting how heavy she was compared to them? Zoe sucked in her stomach. It had been straining against the top button of her shorts. She imagined herself swimming clumsily around the tank, resembling a plump dugong, tempting the good-tempered Rosie to make a meal of her.
‘Well?’ said Karen. ‘I’d hate having to tell Bridget that you won’t do it. Might even be enough to make her look for somebody else.’
‘No problem.’ Zoe blurted the words out so swiftly she surprised herself.
‘Excellent.’ Karen gave her a broad grin. ‘I knew we could count on you.’