Chapter 30
CHAPTER
It’s impossible to see the ship in the rain, but Jerry tells me it arrived in the early hours of this morning and, once there’s a break in the weather, a boat will bring the visitors ashore. Sebastien’s visit to Morrison is a stopover between Casey and Hobart—he’ll only be here for one night.
‘Here you go, Flick.’ Jerry hands me a packed breakfast. ‘The weather is even worse than usual. You sure you’ll be okay?’
‘Gentoos turn up rain, hail or shine.’
‘Will you be back for Clarissa’s meeting? There’s a lot on the agenda.’
‘Sebastien is giving an update on his project.’ Storing my breakfast in my bag is an excuse to look away. ‘Assuming he’s here by then.’
‘Whenever he turns up, Angelina will be down at the beach, waiting.’ He winks. ‘She puts Seb on Morrison’s socials and gets quadruple the likes.’
By the time I return from the gentoo, the rain has eased.
Three of the ship’s crew eat lunch in the mess with the rest of us, but Jerry tells me that Sebastien is having a working lunch with Clarissa.
Our monthly meetings are held in a room in the admin block, and I walk up the path with Kingsley.
As we enter the room, Sebastien looks up from adjusting a monitor and our eyes meet, but then he goes back to his task.
Is he cranky about last night? Eighteen hours have passed, but I doubt I could explain without sobbing.
When the phone rang in my room early this morning, Robin shouted through the wall, ‘If that’s your mother, don’t pick up.’
I took Robin’s advice and ignored the phone. Knowing that Richard has told me about the debts, my mother will consider they’re no longer her responsibility.
Sebastien looks up again, briefly, directly, but then he turns away.
For his talk, he stands next to a screen and addresses the bullet points.
The environmental impacts of tourism, maintaining existing Antarctic stations and establishing new ones, commercial fishing operations on the fringes of Antarctica, increased maritime and air travel.
He talks about the specifications of ships and aircraft and how their environmental footprints could be reduced.
Then he gives data on air and ocean temperatures, and meteoritic ice, which includes the Antarctic ice sheet and shelves.
After answering questions about some of those things, he nods formally. ‘I’ll see you at dinner,’ he says to the room.
By the time Clarissa calls time on the remaining agenda items, it’s after five. Many go straight to the mess, but I work for an hour in the professor’s office before showering and changing. I glance in the mirror before I leave the bathroom. My eyes can’t still be puffy, can they?
Back in my room, I jump when the phone on my side table rings. It’s Jerry calling from the kitchen. ‘Come get your dinner. And a heads-up—the Norwegian wants a chat.’
Sebastien, Clarissa and the crew members staying the night are seated at one of the tables. Kingsley has saved my usual spot at another table.
‘Not bad,’ Kingsley says as he jumps to his feet to take his bag from my chair. ‘We’ve only just started dessert.’
‘Sorry I’m late.’
He reaches over the table to squeeze my arm. ‘No worries.’
Dougie asks Sebastien, ‘What time do you leave for Hobart?’
‘Seven.’
He’ll be gone in twelve hours. Do I call him?
Does he call me? Robin suspects we’re closer than I’ll admit to, as does Angelina, but Sebastien must know I wouldn’t want him to do anything that might draw attention to the two of us.
Is it up to me to grab his hand and pull him away? How would he react if I did?
How can I not know the answer to those questions?
I’m pushing sticky date pudding around my bowl when Angelina puts her hands on Kingsley’s shoulders. ‘Do me a favour?’ she asks.
He rolls his eyes. ‘What do you want?’
‘Swap places.’
As Kingsley walks away, Angelina sits and puts her elbows on the table. ‘You and Robin were up late last night.’
‘Did we disturb you?’
‘Yes, but that’s not why I’m here.’ Her smile is sympathetic. ‘Do you have anything you’d like to share?’
‘I make mistakes with my mother, but I’m not sure how to stop.’ I push my bowl away before bringing it back again. ‘Have you heard of Yogi Bishnu?’
‘Who hasn’t? He’s the guru to the stars.’
‘His hourly rate has tipped me over the edge.’
‘Your mother used your money to pay him?’
‘As she doesn’t have her own money, yes.’
Angelina thumps the table. ‘When we get home, I’m going to run an intervention.’
‘For me or my mother?’
‘Both!’
After pointedly looking towards the table next to us, she turns back to me. ‘As to the here and now, what are you planning to do with our poor Captain Thorsen? He’s utterly miserable.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Sex. On. Legs. I told you to go get him weeks ago.’
My spoon clanks on the plate. ‘Angelina …’
‘The tension is killing me. God only knows what it’s doing to him.’
‘We haven’t—’
‘That’s the problem!’
I rearrange what remains of my dessert. ‘I don’t know what’s happening.’
She groans. ‘Nothing ever happens.’
‘He said he wanted a relationship.’
‘What!’ Her eyes are wide. ‘When?’
‘Ages ago.’ I push my bowl away. ‘He’s respecting my boundaries.’
‘Interaction doesn’t have to mean sex, not if you don’t want it to.’
‘We have long-distance interaction.’
‘He can’t keep his eyes off you.’
‘I’ll call him later.’
‘Why do that when he’s sitting right here?’ She drums her fingernails on the table. ‘I’m sure I’ve said that before.’
Standing abruptly, I pick up my bowl and Kingsley’s, stacking them and holding the cutlery under my thumb. Sebastien, a plate in his hand, stands too. With less distance to travel, he gets to the counter first, throws the cutlery in a basket and adds his plate to the existing pile.
‘I haven’t seen you for a month, and I leave again tomorrow.’ Jaw tight, he searches my face. ‘This is fucked.’
‘I’m sorry about last night.’
‘Why wouldn’t you talk to me?’
‘It was personal.’
‘Like us.’
He’s cranky and hurt and confused and I’m cranky and hurt and confused right back. He takes the bowls, our fingers touch and a blanket of warmth envelops my heart. I trusted him when he looked after me on the plane and the ship. After he gave my work to Dougie, he asked me to trust him again.
Dougie’s behaviour has been odd. Increasingly jittery, he hangs around the professor’s office as if that will make me work more quickly.
He encourages people to play cards but doesn’t appear to enjoy the games.
Is it time to ’fess up to Sebastien? To trust that he’ll be angry but then he’ll forgive me.
To trust he’ll let me finish the work I came here to do.
‘When will you be back?’
‘Late December.’
I can’t mislead him for another month. I’ll have to own up now. ‘I have something to tell you.’
‘The thing you wouldn’t tell me last night?’
‘Something else.’
‘Seb!’ Dougie, all smiles, throws an arm around Sebastien’s shoulders. ‘We’ve missed your poker face around here. You’re not getting out of playing tonight.’
A chorus of voices echoes Dougie’s.
‘Get over here, Seb.’
‘We’ve got a lot to catch up on.’
‘We need you!’
I’m sitting in an armchair in a corner of the lounge attempting to read an academic paper on south polar skua migration when, an hour after they started playing, the card table takes a break.
Sebastien, stretching his arms behind his back, walks to me. ‘You’re tired.’
I keep my eyes on the page. ‘How do you know?’
‘You yawn.’
‘The font on the footnotes is tiny.’
When Dougie calls Sebastien back to the table, he curses. ‘Meet me here in the morning.’
‘Six?’
‘Five.’