The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,21

happened to the passion she’d felt for him on Bruny Island. Mired in loneliness, she dreamed of Cloudy Bay and the farm and the sweet smell of the ribbon gums on a wet morning. It didn’t occur to her that Jack might be homesick too.

Five years later, when the job at the lighthouse came up, they both leaped at it. By then, they had two children and were living in a rented house in Battery Point. Their relationship had become strained and empty, both of them depressed by poverty and the suburban grind. It was easy to leave Hobart behind. The lighthouse was their opportunity to return to Bruny Island. It was also their chance to rediscover happiness.

5

There’s something reassuring about working on an engine. Perhaps it’s the structure of it, or the predictability of how things go together. Or it could be the ingeniousness of a functioning machine, the cleverness of design that makes a motor produce energy to turn a drive shaft and put a vehicle into motion.

It’s not just the concept of an engine that I like, but also the feel of heavy parts in my hands. The familiar smell of oil and grease. I like working out problems systematically. I like the geometry of engines. There’s a logic to them. And there’s also the solitude you can find beneath a truck.

Bill is my boss at the garage in Sandy Bay. He gives me the difficult jobs because he knows I’m good at them, and makes sure I have a clear couple of days to work them out. And if there’s nothing but routine jobs, he books me up, one service on top of another. He knows I’ll power through everything. I’m as efficient as a machine once I get going.

Fortunately, Jess is the kind of dog you can take to work, which is just as well, because she hates being left at home. In the back corner of the garage, she curls up on an old sack, only moving to get a drink from time to time. The other mechanics throw her biscuits and crusts from their sandwiches. If I didn’t tell them to draw the line at chocolate they’d throw that to her too. Just as well she doesn’t know what I’m making her miss out on.

Whenever I have a difficult problem or if I need access to a special tool or machine, I nip down to the headquarters of the Antarctic Division in Kingston—known as the antdiv—to have a yarn with an old diesel mechanic there called Bazza. Bill doesn’t mind me going because he knows I’ll be back soon with the problem solved.

Today’s project is to rebuild the engine of an old truck. The owner is Bill’s friend so the work will be done at mates rates. It’d be cheaper to install a new engine, but things are quiet at this time of year, and Bill’s happy for me to spend time sorting things out for his friend. The antdiv has better equipment than the garage, and I have a few parts that need machining, so I decide a quick break with Bazza is the best plan.

When I hook my spanner on the wall of the garage and wipe my hands on an old cloth, Jess knows we’re heading out. She slinks from her corner for a quick pat and is in the car as soon as I open the door, smiling up at me from the floor and tapping her tail on the mat to let me know she’s pleased to have a break. It can be hard work for a dog sitting on a sack all day.

In some circles, the antdiv is referred to as the Division of Broken Marriages and Shattered Lives. When I first heard it called that, I was irritated. At the time, it seemed like sour grapes from people who’d missed the privilege of going to Antarctica. But then I discovered its truth. They’ve got manuals for everything that happens down there, except how to get on with life after you return.

The antdiv is a series of square grey buildings joined by covered walkways much like the tunnels that used to connect the old buildings at the Antarctic stations before the new big comfortable ‘sheds’ were built. Near the front entrance, a bronze leopard seal is stretched out on a concrete block beside a cluster of Adelie penguins with their crests raised. I like to think the sculptures are there to remind everyone what Antarctica’s really about,