Chapter 15
CHAPTER
This time when I wake, I’m not in a fiery cockpit and the cabin is lighter than it was. I don’t dare look at the porthole, but I assume the beam of light that crosses the bed originates from there.
Sebastien, head and shoulders propped up on pillows, looks younger when he sleeps.
Not boyish, but his expression is less severe.
The blanket is tucked around my shoulders but down around his waist. Our legs are touching.
We’re warm. If I move I might wake him and that’d be unfair because I’ve already woken him at least two or three—or was it four?
—times in the past few hours. The ship is still rocking. The engines hum loudly.
His lips are slightly apart. His cheekbones are sharp. The stubble on his face is dark, as are the lashes on his cheeks. He stirs then squeezes my hand.
‘Sebastien?’
No response.
He’s asleep. So how did he know to squeeze my hand?
Was he checking he still held it? That would be important to him, given that he so gravely accepts responsibility for so many things.
I look beyond the bathroom door to the second cabin that must be on the other side.
It would have been Robin’s cabin, but he told her to go to Room 222.
Did he imagine he’d sleep in Robin’s room?
He told me I was safe. Right now, he’s safe too.
I squeeze his hand before closing my eyes.
Sebastien is talking quietly to another man at the door.
‘I’ll wake her,’ Sebastien says.
‘Seems a shame, poor love.’
Sebastien, dressed in black pants and a sweat top, has his back to me. The second man, Gregory, is in the corridor. I’m sitting up and gathering the bedclothes around me when Sebastien glances over his shoulder. Our eyes meet, then he turns away.
‘Five minutes,’ he says to Gregory.
The door clicks shut as Sebastien walks to the bed.
‘Hi.’ My voice is a croak.
‘How do you feel?’
I’m hungry, which must be a good sign. After rubbing my eyes, I swing my legs off the bed and plant my feet on the floor. Do not look at the porthole.
‘Oh!’ I pitch forward.
‘Flick.’ In a heartbeat, he’s crouching in front of me. ‘I’m here.’
‘I didn’t look at it, but I thought about it.’
‘What?’
I still don’t look, just point. ‘That.’
He mutters under his breath. ‘Are you ready to dress?’
‘I need to go to the bathroom. I can do it there.’
After he puts my bag on the bed, I rummage for jeans, a long-sleeved blue shirt and the hoodie I wore yesterday. I take off his jumper, fold it neatly and place it on the foot of the bed.
‘I’m ready.’
Blocking my view of the porthole, Sebastien leads me to the bathroom before standing back.
‘Leave the door open.’
The demons wake up and stretch while I wash my face and brush my teeth. My skin is pale and my freckles are stark as, with shaky hands, I tie my hair in a plait.
Sebastien turns and searches my face as I walk out. I look beyond him, to the neatly made bed I’d slept in. We’d slept in.
‘Gregory is waiting outside,’ Sebastien says. ‘When we get to the upper deck, I’ll leave you with him.’
Do I need a babysitter? Maybe I do. I nod woodenly as Sebastien opens the door.
‘Hello, my darling.’ Gregory links his arm through mine. ‘You can stroll with me.’
Last night, Sebastien insisted I keep my eyes on him.
After I lay down, he took my hand and wouldn’t let it go.
This morning, he can’t wait to get away.
If he had a hundredth of the good-natured positivity Gregory has, I could have said: I’m sorry, Sebastien, that I kept you awake for most of the night.
He could have smiled and said: You owe me.
Gregory and I are two of only a handful of people in the dining room for breakfast. The ship rolls on the waves, but the tables have raised edges and rubber mats, so the crockery doesn’t slide around too much.
‘Seb doesn’t mince words, does he?’ Gregory winks. ‘Do this. Do that. Maybe it’s an “English as a second language” thing.’
‘English is his third or fourth language. He speaks Norwegian, German, and French, too.’
‘If my husband were here, he’d be chatting away to Seb in his charming schoolboy French.’ Gregory stands and picks up his plate. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?’
‘I have plenty of work to keep me busy.’ I open my laptop. ‘It’s likely that H5N1, a virus that kills birds and other wildlife, will spread to sub-Antarctic islands in this region. Professor Johnson, the scientist I’ll be working with, wants me to set up protocols specific to Morrison.’
He taps my cheek. ‘Thankfully, you’re a slightly better shade of alabaster than you were.’
‘I’d forgotten that the corridor to the stairs was so long.’
‘Jerry will come running if you need him.’
‘As the kitchen staff are either sick or have been reassigned, I can help Jerry in the kitchen.’
‘You’re an absolute trouper. I just hope Seb is all right with this. Captain Simpson said that whatever Seb wants, he gets with a cherry on the top.’
I’ve only been working for an hour when Dr Leeton, well into his sixties with a craggy face and thick white hair, walks into the dining area. He nods formally before sitting next to me.
‘Good morning, Felicity. Hard at work, I see.’
‘I’m lucky not to be seasick. How are Robin, Kingsley and the others?’
‘Under the weather.’ His brows lift. ‘As were you last night.’
‘Did Sebastien pass that on?’
‘I’m your new GP, by default, but anything you say will be entirely confidential.’
I sit up straighter. ‘I knew I might panic when I flew, but I didn’t know a ship’s cabin would set me off as badly as it did.’
‘All enclosed spaces? Rooms without windows? Cupboards? Do you have a phobia? Is there an impact on everyday life?’
‘Not all enclosed spaces, but yes to the phobia. In addition to cabins, it’s noise and vibrations.
’ My breaths shorten and I sit back. Breathe, Lisse.
‘When I was fourteen, I witnessed a plane crash. The whining of the engines, the fire …’ I swallow.
‘The pilot was trapped. That’s what started this off. ’
‘Treatments?’
‘Cognitive therapy—replacing negative thoughts with positive and rational thoughts. Exposure therapy, which hasn’t worked very well. Hypnotherapy, though I didn’t like that.’
‘Medications?’
‘I didn’t want to go there.’
‘You might have to.’
‘If I didn’t go on a plane, I figured I was okay.’ I close my laptop, push it aside. ‘Turns out I’m not great with portholes generally.’
Dr Leeton’s eyebrows disappear into his hair. ‘Seb said you were initially reluctant to sign up to this expedition. Because of your fears?’
‘Among other things.’
‘Your research interests, your expertise, could take you around the world. You must have turned down conferences and other opportunities.’
My nod is stiff. ‘Do you think I should be more courageous?’
Another lift of his eyebrows. ‘We want to avoid harm to you, and to others.’
‘Sebastien looked after me last night, and I hope not to adversely affect anyone else with this. If I thought I’d be a risk to others, I wouldn’t have come.’
‘If I have the full picture about what prompts these attacks, I’d be well positioned to reassure others. Reassurance that would go beyond Seb Thorsen.’
This isn’t the first time Sebastien has expressed doubts about my competence to a stranger. Then again, he has an obligation to consider the people I associate with. It shouldn’t hurt.
I link my hands on the table. ‘I’m not afraid that the plane will crash, I’m afraid I won’t be able to get out. I wasn’t sure how I’d go on a ship. Up here is okay, but down in the cabin …’ I take a shaky breath. ‘That was difficult.’
‘Clifftops are acceptable?’
‘Caves, trees, I can watch birds from anywhere.’
He stands, grasping the table when the ship tilts. ‘Would you care for a hot chocolate? A milky beverage is a weakness of mine, and I doubt there’ll be many other takers today.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
Dr Leeton and I agree that two shakes of chocolate powder on the top of each drink is better than one. And as he’s not as steady on his feet as I am when the ship rolls, I hold the lidded mugs as we return to our table. I wrap my hands around my mug as he spoons froth from the top of his.
‘How long is it since you’ve had treatment?’
‘Therapy is expensive and not easy to access in the country, and I have other commitments.’ I push my mug further away, bring it back again. ‘But I went back to a psychologist, Rani, when I signed up for this trip.’
Dr Leeton sighs. ‘You witnessed a plane crash. I can see how that would be triggering.’
I sip the chocolate, carefully put the mug on the table. ‘My brother was the pilot.’
His eyes widen. ‘Good God.’
‘I’m not sure how the cabin of a ship got messed up with the cabin of a plane. Open spaces? Sky and ocean? And like I said, the noises, the vibrations.’
He taps his head. ‘The mind plays games.’
The sweetness of the drink is comforting, which is possibly why Dr Leeton suggested it.
‘I went off the rails after Matt died and ended up in juvenile detention. In that period, I got migraines, but not panic attacks. The first time that happened was six years ago—it was the first flight I’d taken since the accident. ’
‘This is complex.’
‘I’m determined to improve, Dr Leeton. I’ll continue to work hard.’
‘I have the impression you’ve had prior success in surmounting hurdles.’
‘Will you pass that on to Sebastien?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘It was Sebastien who asked you to see me, wasn’t it?’
‘He thought, quite reasonably, that you should be given options, including the possibility of medical assistance and medications.’
‘My father died of an accidental heroin overdose. My mother battled a prescription drug addiction. With my family history, medication would be a last resort.’