reassured himself that she had Pete, but he knew it was a poor excuse.
So there are too many things niggling him as he strides through the caravan park to collect the quad bike, noticing with dismay the broken reticulation pipes, the sand patches standing out against the yellowing, dying grass, a portion of washing line sagging towards the ground. He pauses by the empty cages that had once been full of his mother’s orphaned-animal projects. The convalescing creatures had been a drawcard for the tourists, but once Hester was gone and they died out they hadn’t been replaced.
There is such a lot to do. Jackson is sometimes surprised they don’t get more complaints, but perhaps you could get away with it when your customers were an itinerant lot.
When Jackson was a boy, his father had great plans for the caravan park. They would build some luxury accommodation, then add a small jetty and take people on trips by boat. But once Hester had died, Charlie lost all motivation. He did the minimum necessary to keep the park running and the place had grown tired and shabby at the edges, as the toilet-block paint began to peel, and the flowerbeds died off and weren’t replanted. All talk of the hotel, the jetty and the boat faded away. Jackson is resigned to always taking divers from the shore.
He finds the quad bike, hooks up the trailer, loads it up with the tanks and equipment, then makes his way to the beach. The couple are already sitting on the sand waiting for him, next to Charlie’s small dinghy. They introduce themselves as Gayle and Tony, and Jackson explains that the little boat won’t be needed; it will be easier to dive from the shore. Gayle is polite and efficient, collecting the equipment and beginning to get changed. But Tony isn’t quite right, nervous and clumsy while kitting up, his skin pale. Jackson runs through their buddy checks with them, making sure their gear is connected properly and their tanks are on. He gives them a briefing on the dive plan, and then they begin to edge backward into the surf. Once the water is deep enough, they swim on their backs until they are clear of the breakers. Jackson pulls his mask on and has a quick glance down. Then he gives them the signal, and begins to let the air out of his jacket.
Diving this site always makes him think of Maya now, since he’s spent the best part of a year teaching her here. He hopes that Desi will be pleased about that. Jackson had persuaded his sister to get her PADI card on his first trip back from Ningaloo, and she had dived intermittently with him over the years. Now they could all go together. In fact, he thinks, as he reaches the seabed, it would probably do Desi good right now to spend some time on the ocean floor, putting her worries into perspective.
This particular route is a perfect beginner dive, less than ten metres deep, and only a thirty-metre swim to the edge of the reef. From there Jackson usually navigates south, passing over a few small bommies, working his way along the outer side of the reef to a section of overhangs, then returning to shore. Mostly he finds himself pointing out the usual fish species of scalyfin, bullseye and old wives, or sea squirts and sponges, maybe a wrasse, occasionally a small, shy Port Jackson shark. He is normally captivated by everything, big and small, but today he sees it all indifferently. The incredible encounters of the Galapagos dives have spoilt him, left him wanting too much.
Still, the conditions are good, with fair visibility and a gentle current. Even a novice shouldn’t have much trouble, but already Tony has released too much air from his jacket and hit the bottom hard. Now he is flapping like a floundering fish, his fins carving up the ocean floor, raising thick clouds of sand.
Jackson kicks his way across, grabs Tony’s hand, and points to remind him about the button on his buoyancy jacket, pressing it to add some air in short coughs. Jackson keeps hold of him and they begin to float upwards together, panic clear in Tony’s expression once again. Jackson holds the tube high, expels a little air, and they drift down. Tony’s knees hit the sea bed, and Jackson holds him by the shoulder until he is sure he is steady. Scuba masks make everyone appear