Even at three a.m. there was enough light for Kit to see the image he had created on the paper napkin. To see her eyes looking back at him. He had drawn her long auburn hair loose around her face. And her lips were smiling.
But something was wrong.
Those were not his wife’s eyes.
Kit lifted his face to stare out over the ocean. The sun was low on the horizon and the light had a soft pink tinge to it. During the night they had passed into the Ross Sea – and the water was calm and glassy, although still dotted with ice. He closed his eyes and tried to picture her face – the face he had loved for a decade or more. But he just couldn’t do it.
He opened his eyes and reached for another bar napkin. Somewhere deep inside him, in the place that was the core of his being, he found what he was searching for. The pen in his hand moved quickly and with assurance across the soft white paper.
This time – the face that looked back at him was the right one.
He laid the two napkins side by side … and wondered …
The lounge door opened with a loud crash.
Startled, Kit turned his head to see what looked like a tree falling through the doorway. Quickly he slipped the sketch – the right one – into the safety of his pocket.
‘Oh. Sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect there to be anyone in the lounge this late … umm … early.’ The crewman looked flustered. ‘I’ve got to put this up, you see, sir. Now we’re here.’
Kit could now see that ‘this’ was indeed a tree. A Christmas tree. How could he have forgotten the date?
‘It was too rough before, sir,’ the crewman continued. ‘But now … well I have the captain’s orders.’
‘Of course,’ Kit said. ‘Go right ahead. I was just leaving.’
‘There’s no need to leave, sir,’ the seaman added. ‘I’ll just be here in the corner with the tree. There are some decorations to go up as well.’
Even more of a reason for him to leave. There were too many memories that would come rushing back if he allowed them to. Christmas with Dana. Christmas without her. Kit stood up and moved rapidly towards the door. He turned towards the stairs that would lead to the top of the ship and the place he had spent so many hours staring out to sea. The place he had waited. The place where Jenny would join him.
He changed direction in mid-stride and almost ran down the long corridor towards his stateroom. Once the door closed behind him, he pulled the napkin from his pocket. Gently he spread it on the table. He stood looking down at his drawing for a few moments. The boxes he had so far failed to open were all stacked in the corner behind the table. He turned to them now and began tearing them open in a kind of frenzy.
He found the huge sheet of oilskin and carried it to the glass doors that led to his balcony. It would be cold out there. Too cold. He glanced around his beautifully appointed stateroom and shrugged. He could always offer to buy new carpet. Once the oilskin was down, he set up the rest of his tools.
He paused then to look at the bar napkin again. He pulled out the sketches he had done during the voyage so far and spread those out on the table. A couple fell to the floor but he left them there.
He was close. He was so close. But had he come far enough? The passion and inspiration that had deserted him … was it back?
Silence echoed through the room. Silence echoed through his heart and soul.
Frustration began to claim him again, but this time he was determined the anger and the darkness would not win. He shook his head, and his gaze fell on the small cabinet beside his bed. He strode over and pulled open the top drawer. The drawer was empty except for a small white envelope. He lifted it, feeling the weight of something not made of paper. He tried not to look at the printing on the envelope. The text and logo were in sombre colours that suited people who dealt with death. The envelope was shabby. It had travelled far. He turned to look at the seal, closed a lifetime ago. Then he tore the top and tipped the contents into his hand.
The gold shone dully. The diamond sparkled even in the dim light streaming through the glass doors leading to the balcony. He closed his hand around the ring and the memories came flooding back. That day in the park. Dana so beautiful. The tears in her eyes as he slipped this ring on her finger. It was the happiest day of his life with other even happier days to follow. Until the darkness came to claim them both.
Fingers still clenched around the ring, Kit opened the sliding glass doors and walked out onto his balcony. It was freezing. The wind had dropped and the ocean was still – but it was so cold that it was painful on the bare skin of his face and fingers.
The ship lay at anchor. The water was like a mirror. He opened his fingers and looked at the ring one more time.
‘Goodbye, Dana.’ He whispered conscious of the tears streaming down his cheeks. Were they caused by the wind? Or by what he was about to do. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. There was no one to see him. To blame him. No one but himself.
He stepped to the railing, and closed his fist once more around the ring. He took a deep breath and threw the ring as far as he could. His eyes lost it. He caught no glimpse of gold. No flash of light reflected from the diamond. Not even a ripple where it fell.
But it was gone.
He didn’t give himself time to think. He turned back to his cabin, leaving the doors open so the pain of that freezing wind would stay with him. He looked at the tools laid out on the table. He pictured a smiling face and short dark hair. He heard her laugh. And talk to the dolphins. He reached for the brightest colours.
The tree was lovely. It wasn’t a real tree, of course. But it was beautiful anyway. Red and gold tinsel glistened in the light from what seemed like a hundred tiny silver bulbs. There were gleaming round balls of the same colours. And candy canes. And right at the top of the tree, a star shone brightly, lit from within.
Lian thought it was the most beautiful tree she had ever seen. Her parents had migrated to Australia as newly-wed adults and had never really adopted the western Christmas traditions. They celebrated the Lunar New Year and Tomb Sweeping Day. The Ghost festival rated highly in her family. But not Christmas. Lian had always loved the traditional Chinese celebrations, but she was as Australian as she was Chinese. Her parents had never really understood how much she wanted a family Christmas as well. She had joined school friends and work colleagues for Christmas parties, but that just wasn’t the same. Spending Christmas on board ship with her new friends would, in some ways, be easier than spending the holiday in her parents’ home.
‘You will be so lucky, little one,’ she said softly. ‘You will get both traditions. You’ll have the hungry ghosts and Santa Clause. I promise.’ She wasn’t in much of a position to make promises, but she knew that this one she would keep.
She made her way towards a table by the side window. From there she had a glorious view out over the ice-studded ocean. She wouldn’t be taking any excursions. She wasn’t about to risk her baby by venturing into a tiny rubber boat. In some ways, the thought saddened her. She would have liked to see something of this amazing place. After all, Colin lived and worked here … and would until after their baby was born. Lian closed her eyes and forced back a tear. It was going to be all right. It really was. It had to be …
‘Lian, you’re up and about early.’ Vera settled herself into a chair.
‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Is everything all right. You’re feeling fine?’
‘Yes. Just nervous. Tomorrow we should be at McMurdo Station.’
Vera beamed. ‘I imagine you’re anxious to see your young man. And he no doubt feels the same.’
‘He doesn’t know I’m coming,’ Lian whispered.
‘Doesn’t know?’ Vera’s carefully arched eyebrows shot up. ‘But surely you have let him know you’re on the ship?’
Lian shook her head. ‘We e-mail every day. But I haven’t told him.’
‘Why ever not?’ Vera asked.
‘He’d want to know why I was coming and then I’d have to tell him about the baby. I wanted to do that in person.’
‘Oh, my dear.’
Vera reached out to pat her hand in a motherly fashion, something that Lian found rather comforting. Her own mother wasn’t one for casual outward displays of affection.
‘You have to tell him. Today,’ Vera said. ‘He has to know you are coming – otherwise he might be away from the base on some expedition. You might miss him altogether.’
Lian’s heart sank. She hadn’t even thought of that. She buried her face in her hands. Everything she touched was turning bad.
‘Now. Don’t you worry,’ Vera said. ‘Let’s just go down to the internet café. There won’t be anyone there at this hour. You can e-mail him. You don’t have to tell him about the baby. You could say it is a Christmas surprise.’
Lian thought about that for a few seconds. ‘That’s a really good idea, Vera,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.’
‘I’ve had a bit more practice,’ said Vera getting to her feet. As she did, something caught her eye. She leaned over to retrieve a white bar napkin from the floor.
‘Oh …’ said Vera.
Intrigued, Lian leaned over for a closer look.
‘It’s another one of those drawings.’
Vera spread it out on the table. The sketch was of a woman, smiling out at them. She was quite beautiful, with long hair curling down to her shoulders.
‘I know this is silly,’ Lian said, ‘but I think she looks a little bit like Jenny.’
‘That’s not silly,’ Vera said. ‘It’s the eyes. She has Jenny’s eyes. Isn’t that interesting?’
Vera tucked the sketch into her handbag and together they left the lounge. At deck five, they parted ways. While Vera returned to her own cabin, Lian headed down one more flight of stairs. The internet café was deserted, but the PCs were sitting there, their screens glowing dully. Lian lowered herself into a chair and wiggled a mouse. The screen in front of her sprang to life, inviting her to take advantage of the free internet service the ship was pleased to offers its guests.
Quickly she logged in to her e-mail. There was nothing new waiting for her. Colin had e-mailed yesterday – but she’d already read that one. More than once.
New e-mail.
Hi Colin, she wrote. I’ve got a surprise for you – I hope you’ll think it’s a good one.