‘What a nice looking ship,’ Vera Horsley said as she approached the big vessel tied up next to the dock. ‘Don’t you think so, my dear?’
Her daughter walking next to her didn’t look too enthused. ‘Are you sure you want to do this Mum?’
‘Of course I’m sure. Why shouldn’t I want to do this?’
‘Antarctica seems such a long way. And you’ll be missing Christmas dinner with the family. Maybe you should wait until someone can come with you. When the kids are back at college, I could …’
‘Nonsense, Mary. I’ll be fine by myself. Just because I’m not as young as I was, there’s no call for you to start thinking I’m in my dotage. Seventy is not old.’
‘No, Mum.’
Everything about Mary’s voice suggested that she actually thought seventy- year-old mothers should be whiling away their days knitting shawls, and not setting out on expeditions to the South Pole. Vera chose to ignore her.
‘I am sorry about Christmas,’ she added in a conciliatory tone. ‘But this was the only cruise available. And Christmas in Antarctica does sound like fun.’
Mary gave a derisive snort.
‘If you could just help me with my bag,’ Vera said, ‘you don’t have to wait around until the ship sails. I shall be perfectly all right on my own.’ Vera did not add that she’d prefer to explore the ship alone, without her daughter’s disapproval to spoil her fun.
A large section of the massive steel hull appeared to have been folded up, creating an opening in the ship’s side. A long, gently sloping ramp led to a set of stairs which would take her into the brightly-lit interior. Vera settled her large purple bag more comfortably on her arm and took a firm grip on the railing. Despite her brave words to her daughter, her not-quite-as-young-as-it-used-to-be body did sometimes let her down, and she wasn’t going to risk a fall now. Nothing was going to keep her from being on board this ship as it sailed out of the Derwent River estuary, leaving Hobart in its wake.
‘Welcome aboard the Cape Adare.’ A young man in uniform was standing at the top of the ramp.
‘Thank you,’ Vera felt just the tiniest thrill as she stepped over the threshold.
‘If you go through there, the receptionist will help you.’
Vera followed his instructions, and made her way to a lovely polished wooden desk. ‘This is just like checking in to a hotel,’ she told the girl behind the desk.
‘Yes, Ma’am. That’s exactly what it’s like. And here is your room key,’ the girl presented her with a piece of hard plastic about the size of a credit card. ‘This also allows us to keep a record of who enters and leaves the ship,’ the girl added. ‘So you will have to present it whenever you set out on an excursion. And when you come back. That way we can be sure you don’t get left behind.’ The girl grinned.
‘I’m not so sure about those excursions, Mother.’ Mary said as they set out in search of Vera’s cabin. ‘Reading the brochure, they sounded a bit much for you. Open boats. Walking on the ice. You need to be careful.’
‘I will be,’ Vera said, thinking all the while that the excursions sounded rather fun.
‘Now, Mother, you are on deck five. The Shackleton Suite. Cabin number 543. The lifts are just over here.’
Vera looked about with interest as they made their way to her cabin. The ship was more luxurious than she had thought it would be. The blue carpets were thick and soft. The pastel shaded walls adorned with rather lovely framed photographs of ships and icebergs and assorted wild things. She was starting to feel very excited.
‘Here you are, Mum. This door looks like it’s made of iron. Isn’t that going to be difficult for you to manage?’
‘Not at all,’ Vera gritted her teeth, trying to appear at ease as she swung the heavy door open.
Mary followed her in to the cabin, and deposited her bag on the bed. ‘It’s supposed to be a suite. This doesn’t look like a suite. It’s awfully small. I should go back and talk to that girl at reception. She must have made a mistake.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Vera said sharply. ‘It said the name of the suite on the door. This is the right cabin. It’s more than enough room for me, and look, there’s a balcony.’
‘Won’t that be a bit cold when you get right down … there?’
Vera suppressed a sigh. Mary wasn’t that bad. Not really. She was just a terrible fusspot who worried about anything and everything. She’d worry if she had nothing to worry about. In moments of absolute honesty, Vera knew she was partly to blame for that. Mary had always been of a nervous disposition, and it can’t have been easy for her, as a child, to overhear all those conversations about grisly crimes and murder trials. She was making this much fuss because she loved her mother, and didn’t want her going to such a wild and distant place on her own. Although Vera understood all that, and loved her daughter dearly, it was hard to take sometimes.
‘I’m sure it will be just lovely. After all, it is summer.’
‘Yes, but I read that the temperature never gets above freezing down there – even in summer.’
‘I’m well prepared.’ Vera opened her suitcase, the woolly contents of which immediately overflowed onto the bed. ‘You’ve made sure I have everything I need.’
‘Well …’
‘I’m fine. Honestly. Why don’t you head off now? I’ll just unpack. Look, there’s a kettle. I can make a nice cup of tea and then later on I shall go on deck as we sail.’
‘All right then, Mother. If you’re absolutely certain …?’
‘I am.’ Vera felt an unexpected wave of affection as she hugged her daughter goodbye. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’
‘You call me. Or get one of the staff to help you e-mail, if they have it. Just so I know you are all right.’
Vera nodded. Mary had never quite grasped the fact that her short, elderly, grey-haired mother probably spent more time in front of a computer than she did. The sound of the door closing brought a wave of welcome relief to Vera. She made no attempt to unpack. Or to make a cup of tea. She found the ship’s information brochure on the desk and studied the plan. The passenger observation lounge looked good. It had a bar. Vera wondered if it was too early in the day for a G&T. Surely not. Not when she was about to begin the adventure of a lifetime. A small cocktail wouldn’t hurt. She opened the door and looked down the hallway. Mary had long since vanished. Slipping her room key into her voluminous handbag next to her notebook and pen, Vera set off in search of adventure.
Lian Chang put her bag down on her bunk and looked around. The cabin was tiny. Even smaller than she had expected. Cabin 320 was an inside cabin, which meant no porthole. No daylight. It was well lit but just a bit claustrophobic. Still, it had been the cheapest cabin she could get. This trip was all about timing and money.
It didn’t take her long to unpack. Her case held mostly jeans and jumpers. She grimaced slightly as she put the jeans away. She wouldn’t grow out of them in just three weeks. Would she? She laid her hand across her stomach. No bump. Not yet. She wasn’t sure when it would start to show. Hopefully not too soon. Not before she got to the ice. To Colin. His photograph was in the bottom of her bag. She sat down on the bed and stared at his face. Colin had such beautiful blue eyes and a shock of sun bleached blond hair. By comparison, her hair was long and dark and straight, her eyes so brown they were almost black against the golden tones of her skin. Everyone said they made such an attractive couple. Everyone except her parents. They’d never met Colin. They would be horrified to think of their daughter with a gweilo. A ghost. A foreigner.
And now …
She put her hand on her stomach again. For her conservative parents, marriage to anyone other than the son of a good Chinese family was out of the question. And if they knew …
But they didn’t. At least, not yet. They didn’t know she was on board this ship. They thought she was up in Queensland, visiting the Gold Coast with her girlfriends. By the time they found out she wasn’t there, it would be too late. She would be on her way to find Colin. She would tell him about the baby and they would announce they were engaged. Would her parents accept a white son-in-law and a mixed race grandchild?
‘They have to,’ she whispered. ‘But it doesn’t matter if they don’t. We’ll love our baby.’
Of course they would. Even though the baby was an accident, Colin would love it. She was certain of that.
Almost certain.
Lian got to her feet. Sitting here moping was doing her no good at all. The ship was due to sail in a little while. Maybe she should go up on deck to watch. It wasn’t as if her parents were about to appear and drag her off the boat. And if they tried – well, she was twenty-one years old. That was old enough to make her own decisions! Not even her parents could override the law in their adopted country.
As she set off down the passage towards the lifts, Lian spotted a crowd of people in the entrance area. More passengers arriving, she guessed. The third deck was the poor end of the passenger accommodation, but it was also the lobby and reception desk. Once they were away from port, she guessed – she hoped – that most of the passengers would remain on the upper decks. She was looking for a little peace and quiet.
‘Sorry,’ a tall gangly youth with a huge rucksack tried to push past her. For a few seconds they did a tiny dance in the hallway.
‘Hey! Barstow! What are you doing to that poor girl?’ Another youth appeared. This one was shorter, but solidly built. ‘Hello there!’ he beamed at Lian. ‘Is this chap bothering you?’ Lian wasn’t sure if the upper crust English accent was real or just put on.
‘No. Really. I was just heading to the lifts.’
‘Are you down here with us?’
With the arrival of the third youth, Lian suddenly realised that they all had something in common. Each was wearing a sweatshirt emblazoned with some sort of crest. She looked more closely at their faces. Seventeen, she guessed. Maybe eighteen.
‘I say, Barstow, she’s far too lovely for you,’ the newcomer angled his body between Lian and the tall youth. ‘She’s obviously a girl of taste and discernment, so you’re out too Miles. I am, on the other hand, just …’
‘Gentlemen. I hope you’re not bothering that young lady!’
‘No, sir.’ The three youths almost snapped to attention as an older man approached.
‘All right, why don’t you go and find your cabins. Then round up the rest of them. Let’s meet in the lounge on deck five in fifteen minutes. I want to do a head count as we depart – just to make sure no one has fallen overboard before we even leave port.’
‘OK.’ With an assortment of grins and winks, the three youths vanished down the corridor. Lian could hear them laughing as they went.
‘I hope they didn’t upset you,’ the older man said courteously.
‘No. It’s fine, really,’ Lian assured him. ‘Are you all really English?’
‘Yes. It’s gap year for them … They are taking a year off between school and university,’ he explained when he saw Lian’s frown. ‘I’m their teacher. I’m also supposed to be the chaperone.’
‘Good luck.’
‘I might just need it.’ A sudden yell echoed from further down the corridor. ‘They are harmless really. Well, mostly harmless and they will settle down. But if you do have any problems, don’t hesitate to come and find me.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be fine. Thanks.’
Lian resumed her journey. A group of hormone-fuelled teenagers wasn’t her first choice for travelling companions, but it didn’t really bother her. They might be a bit noisy, but perhaps having some cheerful voices and all that youthful exuberance nearby would take her mind off things once in a while.
The lift had just deposited another two passengers when Lian arrived in the lobby. She quickly jumped aboard and pressed the button for deck seven. She guessed she’d get all the fresh air she needed up there.
At deck five, the lift paused and the doors slid open. An elderly woman clutching a huge purple handbag smiled at Lian as she joined her. A few seconds later, they had reached deck eight.
‘Thank you,’ the elderly woman said as Lian stood back to let her alight from the lift. Lian followed her, a little surprised to see someone of her age on board the ship. Still, she thought, she was hardly the right person to question anyone’s motives for making this journey.
A huge crowd of people had gathered at the dock to wave farewell to the Cape Adare. The first sailing of a new, luxurious cruise ship to the most remote place on Earth was news. From her vantage point on the eighth deck, Jenny saw a sea of faces smiling up at her. People below were waving at friends and relatives on board the ship, while the hinged section of the great steel hull slowly folded back into place, sealing the gangway entrance against the ocean. Uniformed men scuttled around the dock, releasing the huge ropes that had held the ship fast. All it needed now was a brass band to give it a real sense of occasion.
She could hear the ship’s engine, a low background noise, but at first there was no real sensation of movement. A thin gap appeared between the ship’s hull and the dock, gradually growing wider. Then the ship began to move slowly forward. It had docked facing up the river, looking towards the graceful arc of the Tasman Bridge that spanned the estuary. Now, slowly, the Cape Adare began to turn, pointing her eager bow to the south.
The crowd on the dock was beginning to disperse, but not so the crowd on the observation deck. Jenny could see bright smiling faces all around her, people eager for adventure. They were a mixed group, of all ages, although no children were allowed on the cruise. She’d heard quite a few English accents, particularly among the lads leaning precariously over the side railing. There were quite a lot of couples, holding hands and smiling at each other in anticipation of the adventure ahead. Jenny sighed as she looked at them. If only … she thrust that thought aside. This wasn’t a time for self-pity. She had an adventure ahead – and who knew what was in store for her. She let her eyes wander once more over the excited and happy crowd.
The face she was looking for wasn’t there. The man from cabin 642 obviously had no one to wave goodbye to him from Hobart dock. She wondered if there had been anyone at Sydney to wave him away on his journey – or had he also spent that departure alone in the confines of his cabin?