The Lost Swimmer (4 page)

Inside the spacious clubrooms, airy floor-to-ceiling windows gave expansive views to the emerald course. I was surprised to see that tonight's decorations for Stephen's party were horribly minimal – a few balloons and some tacky bunting. My son James approached. At twenty-three he still had the pure skin and rosy cheeks of youth, but his body was tall and fit like his father's. His fair hair and blue eyes came from my side. Sweet and thoughtful, he was studying dentistry and lived in a flat in Melbourne with two old schoolmates. James was a good scholar but could be a shocking judge of character.

‘Is this too daggy, Mum?' He forlornly held up a limp bunch of blue and red bunting. ‘I think Klair got it at an op shop,' he whispered. ‘I'm so sorry. I thought she'd be up to it but clearly she isn't.'

His girlfriend Klair, who a year ago had spelled her name with a C, made a beeline for us. Gaunt and Goth with white powder and black robes, she was in her early twenties, trumped up and full of herself. ‘So, you've come to help?' she demanded.

‘I can't stay,' I replied. ‘I need to keep Stephen occupied.'

‘Oh.' Klair didn't hide her gormless disappointment. ‘We're running late – James and I slept in. Big night out, you know how it is.'

‘You'll be fine,' I said, trying to stay positive. ‘We're cramming lots of people in and we'll dim the lights.'

‘It's four o'clock already,' said James.

‘I'll phone Melinda and see if she can get here to help,' I said and James nodded, relieved. ‘Just do your best,' I kissed his soft hair – it always reminded me of emu feathers – and kept a smile on my face as I dialled Mel's number. My mind was ticking in double-time as I waited for her to answer. If she couldn't help I didn't know what I'd do.

•  •  •

Erin, my daughter, twenty-one and happily living on campus in Melbourne studying law, had come early to organise the music. Her deep blue eyes and impish face dropped when I broke the news that there was a change of plan. She stood up trailing electric cables, her delicate hands wrapped tightly around a power cord, strangling it. She had been excited to be tonight's DJ.

‘Darling, I know it's not fair. It's just all I could think of to save this mess. Melinda's nephew is a professional DJ who comes with a huge lighting set-up. And we're desperate for that, given the lack of decorations. I've asked him to use your tracks as well as his own.'

‘Just because James stuffed up with his stupid pretentious girlfriend shouldn't mean all my hard work goes to waste. I'm out of here, then. There's no point staying now.' Her slender body slumped in on itself, tearing my heart. She bit back tears as she kicked the cables violently into the corner.

‘I'll make it up to you, I promise.'

Erin shot off.

‘Where are you going?' I tried to follow but she wrenched her arm away from my grasp. ‘Please stay?'

‘I'll be where I'll be, if you really care,' she snapped cryptically and hurried through the doors to the outside world.

•  •  •

The last vapours of pink hung in the air like fairy floss and a gorgeous blue, rich and vast, flooded the sky. The wind had mellowed to a soft breeze; the evening was going to be clear and mild, perfect for comet hunting. I'd chosen my attire carefully – I couldn't look too fancy or the game would be up. My new dress had a gorgeous cherry-blossom print and smelled faintly of jasmine and gardenia. It was short, low cut and rustled as I walked, making me feel young and light. Stephen's white shirt, rolled at the sleeves, glowed; with his navy trousers, and jacket slung over his shoulder, he had a nautical feel. He draped an arm around me, then suddenly crushed me close and kissed me passionately.

Through the dusk I could see our neighbour Clarkey watching from his verandah; I felt like a china doll on show. I broke off the embrace and slipped into the passenger seat of Stephen's shiny new car. The leather made a satisfying sigh and embraced my legs sensuously, giving me an unexpected deep thrill.

‘Let's go,' said Stephen with undisguised excitement.

We'd done this years before, when the kids were very young and a spectacular comet was visible. We'd left James and Erin with friends and taken off along open country roads to view the heavenly apparition. Alone, just the two of us with the universe. I'd been worn out at the time and temporarily getting away had been remarkable. I hadn't expected to become enthralled by the comet but its majestic tail and white, bright centre had entranced me. It was one of the most memorable nights I'd ever had. Could we recreate it?

The car hummed down the driveway and we waved to Clarkey, who gave a friendly wave back. We were off, part one of the plan unfolding seamlessly. The first star of the evening twinkled pale, growing clearer by the second.

As we drove towards the beach we could see a crowd gathering in the darkness of the river mouth. Kids ran squealing, a lone woman's voice soared in an eerie song, and strumming guitars echoed across the water. We parked and Stephen opened the sunroof, placing us as if within reach of the ever-darkening sky. More stars were peeking out and time felt suspended in breathless anticipation.

Silence was spreading as we walked hand-in-hand to the river. Small schools of fish darted in the current, shimmering in rippling pools of light from the boardwalk. I scanned the horizon at the point the comet was due to make its appearance. Empty. Through the centuries, comets had often inspired fear. Harbingers of doom, strange visitors foretelling events, usually of the ill variety.

I squeezed Stephen's hand.

‘I wonder what it'll look like?' he said grinning, anticipation bringing out the young boy. The music grew louder as we walked onto the beach where the river met the sea. The crowd was large, about two hundred people. There was a hedonistic feel and yet no one was drunk or out of control. People were content. Clearly these observers didn't share the dark superstitions about comets, celebrating instead the theory of comets as life givers, bombarding the planet billions of years ago and providing water and carbon, changing everything.

Suddenly the murmur in the crowd turned to a roar as the comet appeared on the horizon. It moved quickly as it hurtled through space and time, its brilliant white ball luminous, trailing translucent silvery feathers of light. Its core transformed to glow a deep, rich red as its effervescent tail shimmered brightly against the inky sky.

Its perfection was overwhelming.

‘Hop in!' Stephen said.

With great effort I peeled my eyes from the celestial traveller and realised with a jolt that we had walked back to the car. Stephen opened the door and I slipped inside. Seconds later we were away, chasing the comet, which now shot from one side of our vision to the other as we twisted along the ocean road in pursuit. Stephen let out a cry of delight. His eyes gleamed as he navigated the road and simultaneously looked up at the comet. He was on full alert, completely lost in the moment.

The heavenly apparition danced and played across the sky. There one minute, disappearing the next, then back again, now a brilliant golden orb trailing sparkling silver threads. Although I knew that its nucleus was ice, gas and dust, its coma burning bright a dense cloud of water and gas, its luminous tail nothing but smoke-sized dust particles reflecting the sun's light, the joyous comet seemed far removed from such mundane explanation. It was unique, alive, profoundly vivid. It burst into the heavens and simultaneously exploded in my mind, a messenger breathing promises of higher planes, of absolute union with the sky and one another. It was both spiritual and other, random and yet perfectly positioned as it played hide-and-seek in the dark orb above us.

Stephen put a burning hand on my arm and pulled into a shadowy, empty car park. He urged me outside, down a steep, sandy path towards the throbbing ocean. The comet was passing in an orderly path to the north. It seemed slower, more refined. And absolutely familiar.

‘Dinner can wait,' said Stephen. ‘The kids won't mind.'

The kids, I thought – James with his girlfriend problems, Erin's fury with me. We lay down on the sand and watched the comet, waves crashing in the dark, and I felt a sudden shock. What if the heavens opened and revealed with a roar the force of all dark omens foretold by comets? As Stephen drew me to him, ghastly possibilities whirled and snapped through my mind. He kissed me tenderly, and I wanted to ask why he was suddenly so physical, but this was going to be Stephen's big night; perhaps he was only lustful because he was turning fifty, trying to keep age at bay? After all, there was nothing bad in our marriage; it was easier now the kids had moved out. Over the years Stephen had taken far more than his share of looking after Erin and James while I was away on digs. He'd always encouraged and supported me in my work but I'd been a burden, stretching his kindness, leaving him to deal with the children's resentment of my absence.

Now all that was behind us and we had freedom in our daily routines. We both loved our academic research and were absorbed in our writing. It was a good time of life.

But tonight things felt blurred, disturbed, and the comet's bloody nucleus made me feel that awful things could happen. Perhaps I didn't pay enough attention to Stephen. Did I take him for granted after twenty-five years? The abyss of night sky was deepening, infinite and empty, choking me, making my heart race out of control as I fell into the rhythm of our two bodies. In one startling moment I remembered all the horrendous pain and deaths of those I'd loved. My mother's dreadful, shuddering breaths, the long gaps in between that went on for hours, days, before the death rattle. ‘She died in peace,' we said. It was no such thing.

The inevitability of passing away when sickness took hold and there was no more that could be done by medicine or intervention. The gaping hole when my brother fled, unable to cope.

Stephen's breathing was rapid now, shuddering breaths of his own. Had he done this recently with someone else? Was he about to destroy our family as surely as death? Could it be my fault?

The ocean pounded. And the horror of my father's death, losing the person I'd loved most in the world to the angry sea reared before my eyes, his figure disappearing, beyond reach. Never to be reunited with his family.

Gone.

•  •  •

The sky was black and shimmering with stars when the comet departed. Panicking, I checked the time. We were late.

As our car purred up the long driveway, tall gums cast looming dark twins on the tarmac and the clubrooms appeared suddenly around the bend, lit up like an ocean liner at sea. To my relief festive lights festooned the deck creating a magical fairyland in which a swarm of shadowy revellers partied. Loud music thumped into the still bush night.

‘Someone must be having a function,' said Stephen. ‘I hope we can get in. I guess the kids would have phoned if we couldn't?'

‘I'm sure it's okay.'

I let him lead me across the car park, placing my arm through the crook of his. As we funnelled down to the restaurant the whole area became alarmingly quiet. In the adjacent gambling room, the sound of poker machines grew to a relative crescendo; as we moved away, I felt like I might choke from the suspense.

‘The music's stopped, how odd,' said Stephen.

‘SURPRISE!'

It was classic and clichéd as our friends applauded and cheered. Stephen was taken completely off guard. A huge banner was strung across the room,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEPHEN – FABULOUS AT FIFTY!
Dazzling lights played on the crowd as the music roared back to life.

‘Happy birthday for Wednesday, darling.' I brushed against the starched coolness of his jacket and kissed him. As happiness creased his eyes I loved him so much it hurt. I still felt raw from the comet but my fears seemed less rational now.

Then, as I led him into the throng of well-wishers, we both saw her.

‘What's she doing here?' asked Stephen darkly.

S
tephen marched like a man possessed to where Priscilla stood sipping champagne, wearing a simple black evening gown, a single diamond gleaming on a silver chain above her plunging neckline. I felt suddenly like a bird that is too gaudy or the kid in the daggiest frock at the party. What
was
she doing here? I glanced around the wall of guests trying to work out who her date might be.

‘I'm astonished you've come,' said Stephen. Priscilla stepped back in surprise. James made a beeline for me and I stopped him gently, desperate to hear Priscilla's reply.

‘Happy birthday, Stephen,' Priscilla purred, reaching out a flawless hand that glistened with a translucent aquamarine cocktail ring. Stephen declined to shake it.

‘Does this mean you're going to clear things up with my wife?' he said.

‘We're all friends and colleagues,' she replied smoothly. ‘How are you, Rebecca?'

Stephen's anger intensified and he glanced at me. James watched us all, confused, as other guests pretended not to notice.

‘I think it's highly inappropriate you're here given the situation,' Stephen said to Priscilla. ‘You might like to reconsider your night's entertainment.'

I was astonished by his candour, out of character for a natural diplomat. Priscilla blushed and it seemed momentarily like she might break down. It occurred to me how often a bully was cowardly when confronted by someone they felt was stronger and more powerful.

Around us the mood was buoyant, the music loud and energetic and the lights as grand as Paris by night, if a little more Tokyo neon. The Vice-Chancellor, Patrick McEwan, tall, grey-haired and paunchy, strode up and clapped Stephen on the back, nodding hello to me. ‘I hope you don't mind that I brought a guest?' He draped his arm around Priscilla. ‘Sonya's away researching in Japan for a month. I decided it was time I stopped going out alone but I forgot to change my RSVP to two.'