In At the Deep End Read online

  I’m dreading the bell. Two weeks have passed since the first mediation. The second is scheduled for four this afternoon. Jonty waves his arms around to get my attention.

  ‘Harry!’

  ‘It’s Miss Scott when we’re at school, Jonty. You’re well aware of that. You have a question?’

  Jonty grins. ‘Can you tell us a story, Miss?’

  I often tell my students adventure tales set in the Andes, or the Galapagos Islands, or up north in the Daintree. They learn about things like sustainability without knowing they’re doing it.

  ‘One with The Watch in it,’ he says. ‘Please, Miss.’

  Two girls at the back of the class exchange glances. Many of my students will have seen me burst into tears on national television just after I returned from Antarctica—a journalist had asked how I’d felt when my ship had gone down. I send the girls a weak smile. Then I address Jonty.

  ‘Have I told you the story about my father being arrested when he boarded a Japanese whaling vessel?’

  Jonty grins. ‘No, Miss.’

  ‘The Watch followed the Japanese boat all the way back to Japan. Meanwhile, Mum gave interviews to people all around the world about the commercial whaling industry, and how it was threatening species like the Blue and Sei whales.’

  ‘You did interviews too!’ Lucy says. ‘I’ve seen that show.’

  The media couldn’t get enough of the story. I was a cute chatty kid with long fair plaits. Mum was an articulate anthropologist and biologist. She was clever, passionate and beautiful.

  ‘How long was your dad in jail?’ Jonty asks.

  ‘Just a few weeks.’ I stand and tap Amber’s desk until she turns off her phone. Then I draw a few polar bears and a cub on the white board. They’re stranded in the ocean on a narrow patch of ice. ‘But by then it was March, and summer was over in the south, so we headed north to Sisimiut in Greenland, close to the Artic Circle.’ I go to the world map and point out our route.

  Amber continues to look at the board, and raises her hand. ‘Miss Scott?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What’s going on with the bears?’

  The bell sounds but no one packs up.

  ‘We’ll look at that tomorrow. C’mon, collect your things. I have to get to the city.’

  It’s pouring with rain when I hop off the bus near Wynyard Station. I contemplate buying a cheap umbrella at the pharmacy, but there’s a queue, so I reconcile myself to getting wet. It’s not like I have to impress anyone at this mediation anyway—even if Per decides to assist the foundation he won’t want me to be involved. My boots are flat-heeled and mid-calf length; I tuck my jeans into the tops, hold my backpack to my chest, and dash into the rain.

  Ten minutes later I cross Hunter Street against the lights. Then I walk further up the hill towards Macquarie Street. I’m almost there when I see Per standing on the corner, watching me. He’s wearing a thin grey jumper, dark trousers, and suede lace-ups. And he’s holding a black umbrella. His hair, brutally short, is dry.

  ‘Hey,’ I say. Most of my hair is tied up in a bun but the shorter strands at the front are plastered to my face; I swipe them out of my eyes and scrape as much as I can behind my ears. My long-sleeved T-shirt is sticking to my skin and hanging off one shoulder. I pull it up so my bra strap doesn’t show. I don’t know what Per’s thinking as we walk together under the cover of his umbrella, being careful not to touch each other. Neither of us speak until we step into the foyer of the lawyer’s building. Then I remember the parcel I want to give him, and reach into my bag. My hands are cold and clumsy, and I struggle to find it.

  ‘Can you give Kat something for me?’

  He looks at his watch as he folds his umbrella. ‘I’m meeting James before we convene. I’ll take it later.’

  I’m muttering ‘Piss off to you, too,’ as I walk towards the bathrooms on the far side of the lifts. When he says my name, I turn around to face him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I heard that.’

  Neil Reid, the kindly mediator, smiles when I walk into the conference room. ‘Hello, Harry,’ he says, as I shake his hand.

  James Talbot stands. He shakes my hand too.

  Professor Tan is sitting at the round oak table sorting through his papers; he looks up and nods. When I called him to ask what he and Per had talked about at the Swedish Ambassador’s cocktail party, he only mentioned complementary research interests. I presume that means fundraising didn’t come up.

  Per gets up from the table and holds out his hand. His fingers are long and his grip is firm. I’ve spent the past fifteen minutes in the bathroom thinking up ways not to annoy him. I will not speak unless I am asked a question. I will not call him names. I will not mutter swear words that might be overheard by an action hero.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he asks.

  ‘Nothing!’

  The mediator sits in the same position at the table that he sat in last time. The lawyer is to his right. Per is sitting next to the lawyer, opposite me, and Professor Tan is on my left. Things get off to a bad start when Tan hands out a detailed proposal that, on page one, refers to Scott and Amundsen’s South Pole voyages, and how their names, and my and Per’s names, will be used in the fundraising campaign for a ship to replace The Watch. As Tan starts summarising, Per mutters and tips his head back, so he’s looking at the ceiling. When Tan asks whether there’s a problem, Per fills him in about what happened at the first mediation. Then they’re both furious—at me, not each other.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ve been wasting your time, Professor,’ Per says. ‘We both have. I made it clear to Harriet that I wanted a ship, not a fan base.’

  Tan already suspects I’m hiding something about the sinking of The Watch. Being evasive about Per’s reaction to my proposal won’t improve his opinion. He purses his lips.

  ‘I suspected the commander got a sanitised idea of your plan, Harry,’ he says, ‘but you led me to believe he was prepared to commit to the fundraising component of the proposal.’

  ‘I didn’t say he was prepared to commit to it, just that he knew of it. And I got the impression he was particularly opposed because I’d be involved. But if I’m not involved, and you’re in charge, I’m hoping …’ I glance at Per. He’s scowling. ‘Praying that he’ll change his mind.’

  Tan’s brows draw together so they meet in the middle. ‘What do you mean you won’t be involved? That’s ludicrous. You’re the public face of the foundation. And you’re a Scott.’

  ‘It’s not like I don’t want to be involved.’ I gesture to Per. ‘He doesn’t want me involved. That’s why I’m putting the interests of the foundation first. Anyway, Mum and Dad were Scotts, and they’re much better known than me. And if you had Per he’d be incredibly marketable, even if he refuses to be Polarman.’

  At the mention of Polarman, Per drops his pen on the table. It’s the solid silver one. The sound reverberates through the room. I mentally kick myself for making him even crosser than he was before.

  ‘Sorry!’ I say. ‘Really! Forget Polarman. Just focus on Scott and Amundsen, like Professor Tan has. Or Amundsen and Scott, in that order. Amundsen did get to the Pole first, after all. And try to be open-minded about this. Surely having Professor Tan involved changes everything? Just think about how great it’ll be for you to have access to the foundation’s ship for a few years. Think how it’ll help your research.’

  Per’s jaw is clenched tight. ‘Don’t tell me what to think.’

  ‘I’m not! It’s just that you want a ship to conduct your research. I know—’

  ‘Harry!’ The mediator clears his throat. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you let Professor Tan speak for the foundation.’

  Nobody says a word and the silence stretches interminably. But then Tan shifts his chair, so he’s facing Per.

  ‘My apologies, Commander,’ he says. ‘Harriet’s … enthusiasm can be trying.’

  I take a pad and pencil out of my bag. ‘Please don’t apologise fo
r me, Professor. I get the message.’

  Tan presents his arguments to Per rationally and persuasively. It’s an impressive performance. I’m sketching, but I don’t miss a word. Whenever The Watch is mentioned Tan gives me a dark look, which probably endears him to Per as well. By the end of an hour, even though Tan is using my idea of engaging the public by getting them interested in Scott and Amundsen’s expeditions—and relating this to research into current-day issues like polar melts—Per is listening and asking questions. And then they discuss their research projects and talk about scientist colleagues they both know.

  Per gets to his feet. I keep my eyes down, but I sense that he’s looking at my sketch. I’ve drawn a small waterhole and three giraffes. The adults are keeping an eye on a newborn. She’s nuzzling her mother’s belly.

  ‘Can giraffes swim, Harriet?’ Per says.

  I blink up at him. Is he having a dig at me because I can’t swim?

  ‘Digital simulations have shown that giraffes could probably float, and possibly swim, but not well,’ I say. ‘No one’s seen a giraffe actually doing it.’

  ‘Why hasn’t the theory been tested?’

  ‘By dropping a giraffe into water? Out of its depth? You’re the scientist. You know that’s impossible from an ethical point of view.’

  Seconds pass as he looks at me. I can’t read his expression. He turns away eventually, and addresses the mediator. ‘May we take a break? I have calls to make. James, can I use your office?’

  Tan and I make coffees from the machine on the sideboard, and the mediator pours himself a glass of water. None of us refer to Per. It’s like we’re afraid we’ll jinx the outcome of the meeting if we do. I take my coffee to the window; it’s still raining and pedestrians are dashing along the footpath, dodging each other’s umbrellas. Neil walks around the table and looks at my pad.

  ‘Remarkable,’ he says, smiling, and gesturing to my sketch. ‘So that’s why Per asked you about giraffes.’

  I shrug. I’m not sure why Per asked his question, but something about the way he did it makes me uneasy.

  When Per and James return to the room we all sit down again. I’m trying to read Per’s intent as he takes his seat. Tan looks like he’s doing the same. Meanwhile, Per’s gaze travels from the mediator, to Tan, to me. He refers to the issues he’d face—costs, hassle and uncertainty of success—if he brought a personal action against the foundation, or me. He agrees that the use of a ship would make working with the foundation an attractive proposition. Then he praises Tan and his faculty’s exceptional research work. Finally, he tells Tan that he’s spoken to the University of Oslo, and Norwegian Navy personnel. They like the Scott and Amundsen angle in principle, and think it can work in all sorts of ways, with minimal personal involvement from him.

  ‘But Harriet’s other idea is out of the question,’ he says.

  ‘Agreed,’ Tan says. ‘No Polarman. But Harry will have to be involved with the Scott and Amundsen campaign, including the documentaries. It won’t work without her.’

  I hold my breath when Per hesitates. ‘I expected that,’ he finally says. ‘And I’m prepared to tolerate it. Provided two conditions are satisfied.’

  ‘Name them,’ Tan says.

  ‘Firstly, I don’t want Harriet on my Antarctic expeditions.’

  Tan looks at me.

  Antarctica is the last place I want to go to with Per. ‘I accept that.’

  ‘Good,’ Tan says. ‘We’ll save you for the other voyages.’

  ‘Secondly …’ Per looks pointedly at Tan. ‘I presume you know that Harriet can’t swim?’

  I jerk upright. The mediator looks at me sympathetically, and shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

  ‘Yes …’ Tan says. ‘Which is why those travelling with her ensure, as far as is possible, that she’s kept out of danger.’

  ‘She wasn’t wearing a life jacket when I took her off The Watch. And she was the only one on the ship.’

  ‘We were a life jacket short,’ I say. ‘And there was a mix up with the lifeboats. What are you getting at anyway? I’m not proud of it, and the foundation doesn’t publicise the fact, but it’s no secret I can’t swim.’

  Tan clears his throat. ‘There was an incident many years ago, in Brazil. Harry—’

  ‘Professor! If the commander wants my history he can google me.’

  Per stands. ‘I don’t need to read about your history. I’ve seen you in action. It’s not just that you can’t swim, is it? That doesn’t explain your behaviour in Antarctica. You have aquaphobia, something far more serious. Which begs the question, why were you allowed anywhere near The Watch?’

  I stand too, and hold on to the table with both hands. ‘Like I said in our last meeting, I can control it.’

  He slowly shakes his head. ‘You can’t. The crew on The Watch, Kat, and other personnel on the Torrens. Their lives were put at risk because of you.’

  My hands are shaking in earnest now. ‘I wasn’t planning to go to Antarctica. Everything went wrong.’ I swallow down nausea. It’s not going to help my case if I throw up on the lawyer’s oak table. ‘Ships are all right because they’re big, and I’m not too close to the water. I only do transfers to shore when the weather is calm.’

  Per narrows his eyes. He speaks softly.

  ‘You’re very pale, Harriet. Have things got worse since Antarctica? Been paddling in the ocean lately?’

  I only just make it to the bathroom at the end of the corridor before I start retching. I haven’t eaten much, and I don’t have a migraine. I’m not having a full-on panic attack either. Even so, it takes a while until I’m breathing evenly again. I drink water from the tap, and lean my forehead against the wall tiles. At least five minutes pass before I open the door.

  Per is waiting for me. His arms are crossed over his chest.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he says.

  I stop directly in front of him. ‘You mentioned a second condition. What is it?’

  ‘We don’t have to do this—’

  ‘Tell me!’

  His lips tighten. He doesn’t like it when I raise my voice. He wants to be the one who issues commands. Not that he’d shout them. He’s too controlled for that.

  ‘My second condition is this—if you can prove yourself to be a competent swimmer in the next few months, I won’t object to you going on the ship. If you can’t swim, there are two possible outcomes. One, you stay on shore. Two, you travel on the ship, and I’m no longer involved. Meaning Professor Tan will have to choose between us.’

  ‘You’re giving me an ultimatum?’

  ‘I’m giving you a choice.’

  I shove my shoulder into his chest as I push past him. And I almost get to the meeting room door before my leg locks up. It’s the knee I hurt in Antarctica—the one that I carefully stretch out before I go for a run. I gasp, and grasp it. I teeter on my good leg while I will the other one to do what I want.

  The corridor is deserted except for Per and me. I hear the murmur of voices on the other side of the door. And then Per is behind me, gripping the tops of my arms and pulling me upright.

  ‘Is it a cramp?’

  ‘Yes. Let me go.’

  ‘Lean on me. Ease it straight. Don’t force it.’

  His hands slide from my arms to my waist. I feel the imprints of his fingers and thumbs through my shirt. And then my shoulder blades are resting on his chest and my bottom is touching the tops of his legs. I feel his belt buckle against the small of my back. His torso is rock hard. I’m hot all of a sudden, and my good leg is wobbly. His breath stirs the hair at my temple.

  ‘You can’t rush this,’ he says. ‘Tell Tan you won’t swim. That you’ll pull out.’

  Per doesn’t want to be associated with me. He sees me as a liability. The only reason he suggested a second condition was to please Tan. It makes it look like he’s prepared to compromise.

  ‘I’ll do what’s right for the foundation.’

  When he takes a deep breath I feel
it. I’m leaning against his body, just like he told me to. I don’t even have a cramp anymore.

  When I jerk my elbows into his stomach he doesn’t react. Except to release me slowly and deliberately. I think he wants me to know that he could have kept me exactly where I was for as long as he liked if that’s what he’d chosen to do.

  He opens the door wide so that I can precede him into the meeting room. I sit on my chair but he stands behind his. His face is grim and his eyes are darkest grey—I can barely distinguish the pupils from the irises. James and Neil appear to be concerned about me. Tan ignores me as he rifles through his folder.

  Per tells the others about his second condition. ‘Harriet is reserving her decision on it,’ he says.

  When the men look my way I refuse to meet their eyes.

  The mediator clears his throat. ‘It’s been a long afternoon,’ he says. ‘But undoubtedly a productive one. And I think it’s only fair we give Harry some time to consider her response to Per’s suggestion.’

  ‘It’s not a suggestion,’ Per mutters, as he walks behind my chair and studies my giraffe sketch again. He holds out his hand, palm up. ‘You said you had something to give me, for Kat.’

  I stuff my pad into my bag. ‘Forget it.’

  Tan clicks open his briefcase fastenings. ‘I’ve got a plane to catch on Friday morning. Can we meet on Thursday evening? Six o’clock in my office at the university?’

  After Per nods, Tan turns to me. ‘Brazil was ten years ago, Harry. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

  I’m at the door when I reply. ‘It was twelve years ago, Professor. Yesterday.’

  The Scott Foundation: Environment Adventure Education

  Professor Tan recently posted an item about the anniversary of Mum’s death. Thanks everyone for your messages. Mum would be delighted the Scott Foundation continues to support the environmental work she and Dad were committed to.

  Thanks also to those who’ve been asking after The Watch’s former Captain, Drew McLeish. He’s been unwell since January but in typical Drew fashion, he’s optimistic about the future. Please say hello to Drew and me when you see us out and about. Drew loves to chat just as much as he ever did!