Chapter Two
Jenny was having another conversation with her plants next morning when the phone call came. She had spent the previous evening curled up on the sofa, with a glass of wine – well several glasses of wine – watching movies. Not weepy chick flicks, but thrillers with lots of gunfire and explosions and gory deaths. It had made her feel a lot better and there was a good chance most of the plants were going to survive her attentions this time.
Mandy hadn’t come home last night. Jenny was glad of that. At some point she was going to have to tell her family what had happened. She could almost imagine the scene. Her father and oldest brothers would be all in favour of some rearrangement of Ray’s face. Her mother would cope by making endless pots of tea and baking more cakes than even her large brood could possibly eat. Her eldest sister, Lisa, fancied herself a white witch, and would be casting spells, while her youngest brother, Mickey, would launch an internet campaign to expose Ray as an evil seducer of innocents. She was just telling the plants that she wanted to avoid all of that for as long as possible when the phone rang.
She sat looking at it for a few seconds. It couldn’t be Ray. He only ever called on her mobile, which was still switched off.
‘Hello.’
‘Miss Payne? Ahh … Jenny Payne?’ The voice sounded almost as if the speaker was ill.
‘Yes …’
‘Schofield here. Southern Cross Cruise Lines. You sent us your CV.’
‘Yes. Yes. I did. Yesterday,’ Jenny tried to keep the excitement out of her voice.
‘Indeed. I have to ask you Miss Payne, when you would be able to start, if we were to … ahh … offer you a position?’
‘I could start immediately.’
‘Yes, well …’ the voice dripped disapproval, ‘normally we would have gathered some references, and gone through a rigid interview process, but we find ourselves in something of a … ahh … dilemma.’
This was getting more and more interesting. ‘What sort of dilemma?’ she asked cautiously.
‘Two of our expert lecturers have been taken ill with suspected salmonella.’
‘Oh.’ She didn’t like the sound of that.
‘No reflection on any of our vessels of course,’ Mr Schofield continued. ‘Something to do with children cooking at a school event.’ He sounded as if he disapproved heartily of both children and schools.
‘I understand.’
‘The problem is that both were due to leave today on our new showpiece cruise. We might consider going with one less expedition lecturer, but we couldn’t possibly go without two.’
‘No. No. Of course not.’ Jenny bit her lip, willing the man to talk faster.
‘No … Unfortunately, none of our … ahh … existing crew are available on such short notice. They are all assigned to other expeditions. We need someone immediately.’
‘I’m ready and willing to go!’ She almost shouted down the phone.
There was a moment’s silence. She bit her tongue and prayed.
‘Yes, well. Ahh … This is most irregular. The ship sails this afternoon. You will, of course, need to pass an interview before we allow you on board.’
‘Of course,’ Jenny was practically jumping up and down on the spot.
‘Yes …’ She could feel his hesitation. His uncertainty.
Please! Please! Jenny lifted her eyes to the heavens. This was perfect! A couple of weeks cruising the South Pacific. Sun. Sand. Drinks with fruit and umbrellas in them. It solved the problem of a job and where to live all in one go. As for her former love life? Well, a tropical cruise was probably the best remedy for that as well.
‘Where would you like me to come for the interview?’ Jenny prompted, resisting the urge to add ahh. ‘And at what time?’
‘Circular Quay,’ Schofield appeared to have made his decision. ‘Two o’clock.’
‘I can be there!’
‘Very well. And Miss Payne, please bring your things with you. And your passport. If you are suitable, you will … ahh … need to board the Cape Adare immediately. She sails at four.’
‘Yes, sir!’ Jenny snapped to attention and saluted.
It didn’t take long to pack. After all, she wouldn’t need much. Swim suits. Shorts. Tank tops. She tossed in a couple of skirts and shirts. She probably needed to look a bit more professional when she was lecturing the passengers. But even so, no one got formal on a tropical cruise – did they? Then she thought of the captain’s dinner. She’d sighed over Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet in Titanic. Not the iceberg bit – the elegant dinner. Ball gowns. Champagne. Dancing. She knew how it worked. She pulled out her best (only) cocktail dress – a sexy wisp of dove-grey silk and added that to the pile along with her five-inch Jimmy Choos (bought at a sale but still an extravagance she couldn’t afford) and some underwear bought from a mail order catalogue. Underwear that she had never worn, because Ray …
No. She wouldn’t go there.
As a concession to work, she tossed in a couple of books about marine mammals and ocean currents, not that she’d need them. She had a degree in marine biology. She wasn’t going to have any trouble talking to a bunch of middle-aged cruise passengers about the lifecycle of the humpback whale. That was, of course, between long periods on a sun lounger with a cocktail in her hand as she sailed as far away from her old life as she possibly could.
She glanced at the phone and thought about calling her mother. She winced and decided against it. An e-mail would do just fine. She scribbled a quick note for Mandy, telling her not to expect to see her for a few days. That would do for now. She’d deal with the rest of her family if – when – she got the job. She could tell them everything from a safe distance. Walking out the door was difficult because she was wearing her rucksack and carrying both a suitcase and a laptop bag. Walking away was actually easier than she thought.
It shouldn’t be called Circular Quay, Jenny thought as she lugged her things down from the overhead railway platform to ground level. There was nothing circular about it. Sydney Cove was almost entirely square – from the walkway leading to the Opera House, to the ferry docks and the great ugly passenger ship terminal.
She weaved her way through the crowds of busy tourists and smiled at the aboriginal busker playing a didgeridoo. Overhead, the sun was shining. Some tanned teenagers were kicking a soccer ball around the lawns outside the Museum of Modern Art while children were buying ice cream from a vendor in a brilliantly coloured van. The water of Sydney harbour was a pleasing shade of blue, and the graceful arc of the Harbour Bridge was looking its picture postcard best. All the omens were right and Jenny was beginning to think she might just survive this day. Then the next, and maybe one day she’d find herself enjoying life again.
The ship was huge and exactly as she had imagined it. She stopped and stared. The top half was painted a blinding white. The lines of the hull sloped gracefully to the water. Even from this distance, she could see the lace curtains decorating the portholes. In fact, if she squinted, she could see a dining table set with silver cutlery and elegant long-stemmed wine glasses. A few passengers were leaning on the rails on the top deck. There would be a swimming pool there, she guessed. Deck chairs and a bar. There might even be handsome young men wearing bow ties serving drinks. It was the perfect remedy for her broken heart.
The cruise ship terminal was big and square and busy. Two tour buses were parked outside: one loading passengers, the other unloading them. Security men in bright green vests seemed more interested in sneaking outside to smoke cigarettes than giving directions. A tall wrought iron fence separated the public from the dock. On the other side of the fence, two fork lifts darted back and forth, loading pallets stacked with cardboard boxes through an opening in the side of the ship. Jenny checked out the labels on the boxes. Champagne. That was just the ticket. She would feel right at home on a ship that ordered champagne by the pallet-load.
Mr Schofield was short, round and grey, with a harassed frown on his pale face. Jenny had a feeling that expression was not caused by his urgent need to find crew for his ship. It looked permanent. He met her in the foyer of the terminal and showed her through to a small office.
‘Thank you for coming on such short notice,’ he said, the frown growing deeper. ‘This is highly … ahh … irregular.’
‘It’s no problem at all,’ she assured him.
The interview seemed the take forever. Mr Schofield must have read her CV in advance, but he went through it again, almost line by line. Then he pulled out the cruise company’s rule book for another line by line review. Jenny was hard put to pay attention, when just outside the window, she could see passengers starting to board the ship. She just wanted to walk up that gangplank and sail away to somewhere with sun and surf and single men – honest single men.
‘Have you got any questions, Miss Payne?’ Schofield dragged her back from her daydreams.
‘No. You’ve explained it all quite clearly,’ she said.
Schofield frowned. Had she missed something important?
‘Very well. As I said, this is highly irregular … If it wasn’t something of an emergency … ahh …’
‘I understand totally,’ Jenny hastened to reassure him. Now she was this close, she wanted that job more than anything else in the world.
‘Yes …’ Schofield shrugged in a resigned fashion and pushed some documents towards her. ‘If you’ll just sign these …’
Jenny had a quick glance at the contents. There seemed to be an employment agreement and something that looked like insurance. She signed and slipped her copies into her rucksack.
‘Can I go on board now?’
‘Ahh …’
Schofield looked as if he was searching for a reason to say no. When he couldn’t find one, he nodded, and slipped his papers back into his briefcase, which he took with him as he escorted Jenny through the terminal. She showed her passport to a uniformed officer at the gate and turned towards the gangway.
‘No, Miss Payne. Not that way.’
‘Sorry?’ Jenny looked the full length of the ship. Unless they expected her to jump, the gangway was the only way on board.
‘That’s not the Cape Adare.’
She looked up at the name painted on the graciously curved hull. He was right. ‘Then where …?’
Schofield indicated that she should follow him as he walked away from the cruise ship towards the far end of the dock which was noticeably bare of anything resembling a ship of any kind. Was she expected to swim?
‘Seaman Brown will take you to the Adare.’
Jenny stopped a few centimetres short of the edge and looked down. Some sort of inflatable boat sat bobbing in the water about a metre below. A young man in a uniform was grinning up at her.
‘Umm …’
‘The Adare has been undergoing a refit. We are not taking passengers on board here in Sydney, so she is docked in … ahh … White Bay. It’s just a few minutes away.’
‘Oh.’
‘Just toss your stuff down,’ Seaman Brown called.
Jenny shrugged and did what she was told. She spotted some concrete steps leading down to the water. They were wet and looked very slippery, but they seemed her only option. She dropped onto a small bench seat that crossed the middle of the boat, and gripped the edge tightly. This probably wasn’t the right time to say that she wasn’t very keen on small boats.
‘This won’t take long,’ Brown said as the engine roared to life under his hand.
The little rubber boat surged forward with startling speed. Jenny almost lost her seat. Only the tenacity of her death-like grip kept her upright. The boat powered towards the Harbour Bridge, leaping and bucking like some wild horse with every ripple on the water. As they sped under the bridge, Jenny did not even have time to admire the impressive structure. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the floor of the boat. If she was to lose her seat – she was aiming to land on the floor, not in the water.
‘There she is.’
Jenny kept her fingers locked on the seat, but looked up to follow the seaman’s pointing figure.
‘That little boat is the Cape Adare?’
‘Not so little,’ he appeared affronted. ‘She’s eleven thousand tonnes.’
Jenny had no idea what that meant, but she did know the ship they were approaching was a lot smaller than the one they’d left behind. It looked very small to be tackling the Pacific Ocean – but she couldn’t argue. The name Cape Adare was painted in large letters along her side.
‘She’s just been refitted for these special trips,’ Brown continued as he eased back on the throttle. ‘There won’t be a lot of passengers on board. Not a lot can afford what she’s offering.’
That sounded better. If this was the sort of ship that attracted rich people, then it sounded pretty attractive to Jenny as well. The inflatable began to move into the ship’s shadow. Jenny admitted that up close, it was bigger than she had originally thought. But …
‘Aren’t we going to the dock?’ she asked.
‘No. This Zodiac has to go back on board, so I figured you may as well ride it up with me. You’ll have to do it sooner or later.’
‘Ride it up?’ she didn’t like the sound of that.
The seaman pointed upwards. Slowly Jenny tilted her head. High above her, some sort of gantry was protruding from the side of the ship.
‘You don’t mean …?’
‘Why not?’
The seaman signalled to someone above, and Jenny heard the whir of a winch. No. No. She wasn’t doing this. How could she ever have thought the ship was small? That great iron hull was the size of a ten storey building. At least. Maybe twenty. She wasn’t going to get winched up there in some blow-up rubber dinghy.
Seaman Brown stood up and started moving around the boat, which rocked alarmingly. Jenny bit her lip. She was not going to make a fool of herself. Not yet, anyway. In a matter of seconds, Brown had clipped four rather thin looking wire ropes to the corners of the boat.
‘Here we go.’
The earth moved – or rather, the boat moved. It broke free of the water and began to ascend, passing the portholes with alarming speed. Jenny wanted to close her eyes, but was afraid that would be even more frightening. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor of the Zodiac. With a jerk, the boat stopped moving. Jenny cast a quick sideways glance at Brown, who seemed totally unconcerned by the sudden pause in their ascent.
‘Out you go,’ he said cheerfully.
Out? Jenny looked around. The boat was dangling over the water next to the open deck of the ship. Two men were looking at her expectantly.
‘What about my bags?’ As a delaying tactic, it wasn’t much, but it was all she could think of in a hurry.
‘I’ll take care of those.’
There was nothing for it but to do as she was bid. Jenny slid tentatively towards the edge of the Zodiac, her fingers still gripping the seat with every ounce of strength she possessed. As she did, one of the seamen on board the ship opened a gate in the deck rail. That was an improvement. At least she had nothing to climb over. Now all she had to deal with was the gap between the boat and the ship – the gaping chasm that led down to the water several kilometres below.
‘Take my hand.’
A hand the size of a bear’s paw was reaching for her. She gripped it like her life depended on it – which it probably did. Slowly she straightened her legs then, with a sudden rush, she almost leaped out of the inflatable boat, onto the comfortingly solid iron deck.
The bear-like paw held her hand for a moment longer, shaking it. ‘Welcome aboard!’ His voice was as big and powerful as he was. ‘I’m really glad you could make it. I’m Karl Anders, the expedition leader.’
As Jenny’s heart rate began to return to something approaching normal, she noticed that the rest of Karl was as bear-like as his hand. He had masses of curly rust-coloured hair with just a touch of grey, a beard that several birds could nest in and he towered over her.
‘I’m pleased to meet you,’ Jenny said as she regained the power of speech. Behind her, the Zodiac was being swung onto the deck, bringing Seaman Brown and her bags with it.
‘We were a bit worried that we’d have to go without you. That would have been a shame. It’s going to be a great trip. We are expecting spectacular weather. Sunshine all the way.’ Karl was the friendliest and most cheerful bear she’d ever met.
‘That’s great …’
‘First up, let’s get you settled in,’ Karl continued before she could get a word in edgeways. ‘You’re with the rest of the expedition team. Deck Two Port side. 213.’ He handed her a piece of white plastic about the size of a credit card.
‘Yes. Right,’ Jenny bent to pick up her things.
‘You’ll meet the rest of the team a bit later. My wife Anna will kit you out. We’re meeting in the theatre after we clear the harbour. Brown, would you help Jenny with her bags,’ Karl gave the young seaman a slap on the back that would have felled a decent sized gum tree.
‘Yes, sir!’ Brown said quickly. Jenny caught a flash of what she thought was a wink as the young sailor hefted her rucksack and bag. ‘Follow me.’
She grabbed her laptop bag and hurried after him, wondering what was involved in being ‘kitted out’.
They made their way along a covered walkway. To her left, a lifeboat hung in a gantry. Before she could get her bearings, Brown pushed open some heavy glass doors leading to the interior of the ship. Jenny followed him into a world of gleaming wood and thick plush carpets.
‘This is deck six,’ Brown explained. ‘There are lifts and stairs forward.’
He led Jenny to the stairs and began to descend further into the ship, her bags in no way slowing him down.
Jenny hurried after him, too intent on keeping her feet on the stairs and her laptop on her shoulder to pay much attention to her surroundings, other than to note the muted colours, polished wood and large framed photos of ships and seascapes. The company must run a lot of cruises to different places, she thought as she passed a brilliant green photo of the Northern Lights.
Four floors down, the stairs ended in a tiny, plain lobby. No carpet here, just serviceable rubber floor. The sign on one of the doors said ‘Sick Bay’. Another said ‘Crew Only’.
‘The security code is C8576X,’ Brown said as he tapped it into the keypad lock on the door.
‘C85 …’
‘… 76X, that’s right.’ Brown swung the heavy metal door open and Jenny followed him through.
In the crew quarters, the framed photos gave way to cork notice boards covered with postcards and snapshots, notices and computer printouts. Through an open doorway, Jenny saw a few people were sitting at tables in some sort of a common room. They looked up and smiled in a welcoming fashion. Jenny barely had time to nod back, before she had to hurry on after Brown.
‘Ward room,’ the seaman said. ‘Through there is the kitchen. We’ve got internet access for the expedition team down here and some recreational facilities. TV and so on.’
‘There’s not much room,’ Jenny noted as she followed Brown down a narrow corridor, with a very sturdy-looking hand rail bolted to one side.
‘Depends on your viewpoint,’ Brown said. ‘Right here you are 213. Easy to find – remember the odd numbers are down the port side.’
‘And the port side is …’
Brown looked at her and raised an eyebrow. ‘Left.’
‘Yes. Yes. Left. Of course,’ Jenny tried not to let her embarrassment show. She stood there, uncertain of what to do next.
‘The key.’ Brown suggested.
‘The key!’ Jenny dug into her pocket and retrieved the small rectangle of plastic. She slid it into the lock and pushed the door. It barely moved.
‘The doors are a bit heavy until you get used to them,’ Brown offered.
Jenny pushed even harder. The door swung inwards and revealed her new home.
The cabin was long and narrow. A single bunk lined the far wall below a small round porthole. To her right, just inside the door, was a walled cubicle that she assumed was a toilet. It was about the right size. There was a small desk and a couple of very small cupboards for storage.
‘Here you go,’ Brown dropped her bag. ‘See you later.’ He grinned and was gone.
It’s green, Jenny thought as she stood there, too stunned to move. Pastel, insipid, pale green. She hated pale green, but if the colour of her cabin was the worst thing to happen to her today, it would be one hell of an improvement on yesterday.
She stepped a little further into the cabin, and tentatively opened the cubicle door. Not only did it contain a toilet, there was also a shower, hand basin and a wall-mounted cabinet to hold a toothbrush and bar of soap. A very small bar of soap. Stepping back out of the cubicle, Jenny examined the rest of her quarters and found the same theme. Space was obviously at a premium on board a ship.
‘Not that it matters,’ she said out loud as she threw her things into the drawers, ‘I’ll be on deck most of the time, enjoying the sunshine. Swimming in the pool … or taking passengers on snorkelling expeditions on the coral reefs.’ That sounded better.
Jenny slid her empty bags under her bunk, and then kneeled on the bedcovers to peer through the small porthole. Just a few centimetres below the glass, the waters of Sydney Harbour flowed past. Flowed? They were moving? Jenny stood still, and concentrated, but there was no sensation of movement at all. Turning she left the cabin and retraced her route to the deck. She did not see another soul until she emerged through what she thought were the same glass doors onto the covered deck. The ship’s rail was dotted with people, taking in the spectacular sight of Sydney Harbour as it passed in front of them.
Jenny made her way along the deck, to a place near the back of the ship, where she could be alone. Now that she was underway, she was starting to have second thoughts. She was on board a ship, with dozens, maybe even hundreds of people crowded in together. Why then was she starting to feel lonely?
Either side of the ship, the bays and beaches of Sydney Harbour were slipping past. Behind them, the afternoon sun glinted on the windows of houses where families would soon be settling down to their evening meal. In the restaurants and nightclubs, friends and lovers would come together – to celebrate a special event, or just to share the day’s experiences.
Somewhere, would Ray be sitting down to dinner with his fiancée? She thought the word slowly and with great care, as if to reinforce its meaning. Maybe talking about the baby. Discussing names and what colour to paint the nursery. Jenny slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out her mobile phone. Would there be mobile services in the middle of the ocean? She should just check while she was in range. She turned the phone on and waited as it connected to her network. Three missed calls. Mandy. Her mother. Her mother again. Two text messages. Mandy wanting to know where she was and a later one also from Mandy, having read her note, telling her to have a great time. That gave her just a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t exactly lied in the note she had left for her sister, but she had hinted her abrupt departure was more in the nature of a last minute holiday.
Nothing from Ray. Not even a call to find out why she hadn’t met him for lunch. Maybe he was just relieved that she’d stood him up. Or had she stood him up? Maybe he hadn’t even been going to keep their date. Maybe he hadn’t even given a single thought to her sudden disappearance. She snapped the phone shut, and for an instant contemplated hurling it overboard. She didn’t. It was an expensive phone, and besides, as a marine biologist, she didn’t approve of littering the harbour.
The seagulls wheeled, screaming around the ship’s wake, dipping into the water in search of food. How mournful they sounded. How lonely they made her feel, standing at the rail. She was on a ship full of total strangers. Only two people knew her name – and she couldn’t even say the reverse. She had no idea what Seaman Brown’s first name was – assuming he had one. All her life, she’d been surrounded by people. Her huge family. Friends. Fellow students. Now she was totally alone. More alone than she had ever been before. She would be alone for the next three weeks. She watched the white water of the ship’s wake, wondering if she had made a terrible mistake quitting her job so quickly. Maybe she should have waited.
The Cape Adare slipped between Sydney Heads, heading for the Pacific Ocean. Jenny looked up at the great stone cliffs as they were left behind. For one heart-stopping moment, as the ship changed direction, the two rock walls seemed to meet, forming a dark sullen barrier cutting her off from her family, her friends, Ray … everything and everyone she knew. Leaving her outside. Stranded. Alone …
‘Oh, stop it!’
What was she thinking? She had finally seen Ray’s true colours. He wasn’t going to change. Her family and her real friends would still be there when she got back. She was going to miss Christmas dinner with her family, but there was nothing wrong with that. She was sailing forth on an adventure. Heading for the sunny South Pacific islands. Sun. Surf. Maybe even some good old-fashioned holiday sex. She was going to have a ball!
‘Anyway – it’s too late to go back,’ she told the circling gulls. ‘I’d have to swim.’
The swimming would have to wait until the ship got into warmer waters a bit further north.
North …
North?
Jenny watched the coastline moving past, a couple of kilometres away, down the ship’s right side. The starboard side. Wouldn’t that mean they were heading south?
She took a step away from the rail. An image began to form in her mind, several images. She almost ran along the deck to the glass doors and into the foyer. The huge framed photo was still there. The green curtain hanging in a dark star littered sky. She read the small bronze name plate. The Aurora Australis. The southern lights. Southern. Visible from the Southern Ocean and nowhere else on the planet.
She darted down the stairs to the next framed photograph.
A ship. Mirror-like blue water and … icebergs.
Down another floor. Penguins stared back at her from the photo frame.
‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ she told them. A detailed plan of the ship hung on the opposite wall. She consulted it quickly. The lecture theatre was on deck five. She set off back up the stairs.
When she entered the lecture theatre at a stumbling run, she didn’t notice the plush seats, some of which were occupied. She didn’t notice the heads turning her way and she certainly didn’t notice the dignified grey-haired gentleman in uniform standing on the podium. All she saw was the image on the projector screen. The ship. THIS ship. Surrounded by icebergs. The banner said ‘Antarctic Expedition’.
‘Oh, shit!’