Deep Water Read online

  ‘Did you call the police?’ asked Cate. She was curious now.

  ‘Mais oui,’ Michel replied. ‘Of course. We were worried sick. But once they’d seen all his things had gone, they said he’d just left – travelling or gone home. That he would be in touch when he wanted to.’

  ‘Well, then,’ Cate said, ‘he probably did go off. Didn’t you tell me Australia is full of people on the move, looking for new experiences? Perhaps he got fed up with life on the sanctuary and wanted a bit of new excitement.’

  Michel sighed. ‘But he loved it at the sanctuary . . . He did seem to have something on his mind that day, but, well, I just think it’s odd, that’s all.’

  He paused again and Cate could picture him making a visible effort to cheer up. ‘I’m sorry, Cate, I don’t mean to be gloomy and put you off. It’s brilliant out here and I’d love to show you around. What do you say?’

  Cate’s mind was whirling. She looked at her luggage and then at her watch. Surely it was too late to change her plans?

  ‘Cate Carlisle,’ Michel boomed in a fake American accent, ‘this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.’

  The huge engines on the wings of the Qantas jet roared through the early morning sunshine. Inside the massive two-storey airbus, the lights, which had been dimmed for the passengers to sleep, were switched back on and the clank and hiss of a coffee machine coming to life could be heard from the galley at the rear of the plane. Waking in her window seat, halfway down the roomy cabin, Cate removed her earplugs and pushed aside the blanket which had been covering her as she did her best to sleep through the ten hour flight from Bangkok to Sydney.

  Shortly after breakfast, Cate pulled up her window screen, peered down at the view and gasped. She had heard about how beautiful Sydney was, seen it on TV and in films, but nothing had quite prepared her for the incredible sight that met her eyes.

  The plane was flying directly over Sydney harbour, a great rocky gash that separated the two halves of the city. Below her, the blue water sparkled in the sunlight and, despite the early hour, it was already scattered with craft – sailing boats, green liveried ferries and the odd white giant of a cruise liner. Cate even thought she could see someone waterskiing.

  Numerous inlets lined the vast waterway, most of them crowned with neat-looking beaches. Those inlets that were without beaches had been utilised in other ways – Cate counted at least a dozen marinas, crammed with sailing boats and motor yachts and the odd huge villa.

  As the plane headed further in towards the city, the harbour-side was becoming more built up. Many of the bays and inlets were now edged with buildings, some close together, others separated out with huge gardens and swimming pools.

  Most exciting of all, up ahead of her, in-between the city skyscrapers, Cate could see the unmistakable outline of the world famous opera house and, next to it, the iconic Sydney Harbour Bridge stretching confidently between the north and south shores of the city.

  Her tiredness forgotten, Cate sat back in her seat and grinned to herself. This was going to be amazing, well worth the long journey, not to mention the hassle of convincing her dad and Monique to let her come to Australia to see Michel, rather than go skiing with her family.

  ‘No way, Cate,’ had been her dad’s first reaction when she had told him about Michel’s call. ‘This is our family Christmas, our special time. We do it every year and I really look forward to it.’

  That was so typical of her dad. He just wanted his family around him for Christmas. He wasn’t at all bothered by the fact that Cate would be travelling all the way to Australia by herself, or going to a strange country where she knew only about three people. No one knew better than he did how independent his daughter was, indeed how adept she was at looking after herself wherever she was in the world.

  When Cate was just eight years old, her father working abroad on yet another peace initiative, her glamorous mother had, without prior warning, vanished for a new life in America, leaving a bewildered Cate and Arthur in the temporary care of a neighbour.

  Her father had flown home immediately to his grief-stricken children and, rather than dumping them in boarding school as some of his colleagues had suggested, or taking a desk job in London, he brought them along with him as he travelled the world. Those years spent globe-trotting had been the making of Cate. She had picked up several languages and was completely comfortable jumping on and off planes. Finding her bearings in new environments felt like an exciting challenge, rather than something to be frightened by.

  Most importantly, she had learnt from that early age how to think on her feet and take care of herself in situations which may well have proved too much for people several years older than her. All these attributes had proved essential during her adventures last summer and Cate did not regret one thing about her childhood.

  In the end it had been Monique who, as always, had provided the voice of reason that had convinced her dad to let Cate go to Australia. ‘She isn’t a child any more and it’s natural she wants to be with her friends.’ As always her Dutch accent was more accentuated when she was arguing. ‘We see Cate all the time and there will be many more family Christmases. She won’t get chances like this very often. Let her go and we’ll all go skiing again at half-term.’

  Cate had held her breath as her father looked from his daughter to his girlfriend. ‘OK, Cate,’ he had sighed, ‘but you have to swear to keep up with your homework schedule.’ He smiled then and enveloped her in a huge hug. ‘Boy, I’m going to miss my daughter on Christmas morning.’

  Cate had felt a sting of tears behind her eyes then. She loved to be with her family at Christmas too, but she remembered how she felt when she heard Michel’s voice, how long it had been since she’d seen him and most of all she knew she needed another adventure.

  The wheels of the giant airbus skidded onto the shimmering tarmac, and Cate, pinned back into her seat by the reverse thrust of the engines, smiled. She really couldn’t wait to see Michel again.

  A few minutes later, the plane was at a standstill by the terminal, the doors were open and Cate was shuffling impatiently down the aisle, past the pretty air hostesses smiling their goodbyes, eager to be out in the fresh air again. As she stepped through the door and onto the top of the narrow metal stairway, she was struck simultaneously by a blinding light, a sensation of heat washing over her body and an almost overpowering smell of what she thought was pine. She stopped and breathed deeply, momentarily forgetting about the people behind her in the queue. Her body, deprived of sunshine after a cold winter, suddenly felt lighter, more relaxed, more human.

  ‘It’s the eucalyptus trees you can smell, love,’ said a woman standing close behind her. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t it? It’s the smell of Australia. Now, I know I’m home.’

  Cate looked back at her and smiled. Then she pulled down her gold-rimmed Ray-Bans over her eyes, slung her faithful Mulberry rucksack over her shoulder and set off down the steps. It was only a few metres to the terminal and Cate paused outside, not yet ready to leave the sunshine behind.

  As the other passengers passed in front of her she switched on her phone and texted her dad, Arthur and Louisa to let them know she had arrived safely. That done, she reluctantly headed into the air-conditioned building to begin the long and tedious process of clearing immigration and passport control.

  In contrast to her usual experience, all was calm and peaceful inside the first class waiting area. A smiling hostess had welcomed her in, taken her bag from her and directed her into the lounge, which was liberally scattered with reclining soft leather chairs and sofas. Along one wall was a bar fitted with drinks and several coffee machines, and a few men in suits were helping themselves to a pile of appetizing-looking snacks placed at intervals along the glass top.

  Cate walked over to the bar and poured herself some sparkling water and cranberry juice and chose some prawn blinis and a gorgeous mini tarte tatin from the buffet, then sat down in one of the huge leather chairs and flicked back the
seat just for the heck of it. She would eat, Cate decided, then, once her luggage arrived, go and shower and maybe even have a sleep. She wasn’t due to catch her connecting flight up to the Friday Islands until lunchtime the next day and Noah had given her directions to the headquarters of the Australian Eco Trust where he assured her she would be given food and a bed for the night.

  ‘It’s nothing smart, Cate,’ Noah had said when he had called her just before she had boarded her flight to Bangkok. ‘We eco-warriors don’t waste money on material comforts.’

  Cate stifled a snort, remembering the top of the range BMW he drove back in France and the designer grunge wear he was so fond of sporting at weekends.

  ‘Miles, who runs the trust, is a great guy,’ Noah had continued. ‘Aussie, really cool. He was up at the sanctuary a few weeks ago – he often drops by when the fancy takes him. He’s not usually around during the day, but Matthias will definitely be there. He co-ordinates all the protests. He’s one smart dude. He’ll look after you, maybe take you out and show you a few sights before you head up north to us. Tell you what, I’ll text you his address and mobile number and I’ll call and tell him you’re on your way.’

  Cate was jolted back to the present by a commotion at the entrance lobby of the lounge. She turned to see a large stack of leather luggage appearing on a trolley pushed by a very sweaty and harassed-looking porter, and oblivious to the quiet hush of the lounge, someone was talking in an Essex accent so loud that Cate could hear every word she was saying.

  ‘Look, babe.’ The voice rose even higher. ‘What’s going on? Are you telling me that the band still haven’t arrived? I’ve been waiting for over an hour now. Can’t you do something? Ring the pilot of their plane or something and find out when it’s going to land.’

  Cate stood up and peered over the teetering luggage. The tall woman was standing with her back to her, her platinum-blond hair almost luminescent against the low lighting. She was wearing a strapless sundress, which clung to her hourglass shape in the distinctively bold colours of a Versace design, and toweringly high gold roman sandals which accentuated her endlessly long legs.

  It had been over three months since Cate had last seen her in the South of France but, even though back then her hair had been a shocking red, there was no mistaking her.

  ‘Nancy!’ Cate called out almost in disbelief. ‘Nancy, what on earth are you doing here?’

  The woman turned round, lifted up her giant sunglasses to reveal huge green eyes, and stared at Cate for a few seconds. Then she let out a shriek so loud that several dozing businessmen sat bolt upright in amazement.

  ‘Cate? Babe!’ she screamed, charging past the luggage and sending the top two cases plummeting down onto the thick pile carpet in the process. ‘My God! It is you, babe. What on earth are you doing here?’

  CHAPTER 2

  Before she knew it, Cate had been enveloped in a huge hug followed by two lipsticked kisses planted firmly on each cheek. Nancy Kyle was clearly very pleased to see her.

  ‘I’m on my way to see Michel,’ Cate began. ‘He’s up north, working at a turtle sanctuary.’

  ‘Is he, babe? Good for him.’ Nancy plonked her long frame down into the seat next to Cate and helped herself to one of Cate’s snacks. ‘I hate being on my own in these places,’ said the supermodel cheerfully. ‘Full of sad business types. Never anyone fun.’ She brightened up. ‘But still, babe, you’re here and my lovely new boyfriend will be too, any minute now.’

  ‘Is that Lucas Black?’ Cate asked. ‘From that indie band – Black Noir?’ As well as their texts, she had kept up with Nancy’s colourful love life via the weekly celebrity magazines and her curiosity had been further piqued by the fact that Black Noir was rapidly becoming one of Cate’s all-time favourite bands. She had every song on her iPod and was already planning to go and see them on their upcoming UK tour.

  ‘You betcha.’ Nancy pulled out a mirror and began expertly reapplying bright red lipstick to her wide, generous lips. ‘He’s a babe, babe. He’s The One. Definitely The One. We’re all going up to a fab island where Lucas is playing a birthday gig for some Arab billionaire sheikh dude. Lucas and the band were offered squillions to play. They’ve been recording in Bangkok and I was seeing some perfume people in LA so we all decided that we would meet in Sydney and fly up north together.’

  As always when listening to Nancy talk about her exotic lifestyle, Cate’s head began to whirl. ‘Naomi C has been there and she was telling me all about it,’ Nancy continued. ‘This island is super-fab – it’s got private spas, infinity pools, butlers, the works. Naomi said it made Richard Branson’s Necker Island look like a First Choice all-inclusive.’

  ‘What’s the name of it?’ asked Cate. ‘I’m headed up that way too. I’m going to Snapper Bay, on the mainland just opposite the Friday Islands.’

  ‘Really?’ said Nancy. ‘That sounds familiar, but you know me, geography isn’t my strong point. Hey, babe!’ she called to a hostess who was walking through the lounge. ‘Bring us a map of Australia, there’s a good girl. Quick as you can.’

  Cate and Nancy poured over the leather-bound atlas that was fetched. ‘Here’s Snapper Bay,’ said Cate, pointing to a stretch of sand at the end of a wooded peninsula, ‘and there are the Friday Islands. They’re really close.’

  According to the map, the Friday Islands lay scattered in roughly parallel lines about four or five kilometres off the coastline. There were easily fifty or more, some tiny little specks in the vast ocean, others, Cate estimated, at least twenty or thirty kilometres in length.

  She began reading off the names of the larger islands. ‘Victoria Island, Albert Island, Edward Island, Elizabeth Island,’ Cate recited. ‘Gee, they like their royals out here. Plymouth Island, Portsmouth Island, Purbeck Island —’

  ‘That’s it!’ Nancy reached down into her large Hermès bag and waved her travel itinerary in the air triumphantly. ‘Purbeck Island, that’s where we’re going. We’re flying up by private jet tomorrow to some weird-sounding airport – Passande, is it? I so can’t wait to get there, kick back, relax, have a massage, watch the sun go down over a cocktail or two . . .’

  Cate stared at the map and then at Nancy. ‘Purbeck Island is one of the closest islands to shore and look, Snapper Bay is only about twenty kilometres from you over the water. You’re there and I’m here. We’re practically neighbours!’

  ‘A-maze-ing!’ Even Nancy was impressed by the coincidence. ‘Hey, Cate, why don’t you come out and visit me? You know, take a few days off from saving the whales and have some real luxury.’ Nancy was on a roll now. ‘And why don’t you fly up with us on the plane tomorrow? Meet the guys in the band, have a bit of fun? In fact, if you wanted, you could even stay at our hotel tonight – I’ve got a massive suite with a fab pool, right on the waterfront by the opera house. Go on, it’ll be cool – a great chance to catch up.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Between you and me, Lucas, well, he likes to hang with his band, drink beer, read books. I get a bit, well, you know . . .’

  ‘Lonely?’ Cate asked. Poor Nancy, she thought, she had a complete talent for picking the wrong type of guy for her.

  ‘I guess. Bored too,’ said Nancy glumly. Then she brightened up. ‘Cate, you’re one of my oldest friends now and it would be fab to hang out for a bit this holiday.’

  ‘Thanks, Nancy, that’s really generous of you,’ said Cate, trying not to smile at the thought of someone she had known for only a few months calling her one of her oldest friends. In truth, she was genuinely touched by Nancy’s generosity and was very tempted indeed. A night in a fabulous hotel versus kipping on a spare sofa in a grungy eco-den? It was, as Arthur would say, a no-brainer. But on the other hand, Cate had promised to meet up with Noah’s mate Matthias, and he would be expecting her.

  The sight of a porter pushing a trolley into the lobby told Cate that her luggage had finally arrived and she made up her mind.

  ‘Nancy, I’ve already got a flight up with Quantas but I ca
n’t resist your private jet.’ Cate grinned happily. ‘And you try and stop me from visiting you on Purbeck Island. But I’ve promised to go and meet some friends of Michel’s tonight. I don’t want to be rude and bump them at the last minute. I’ll call you later and get the flight times.’

  ‘OK,’ said Nancy. ‘You’ve got my number. Oh and give my love to your dishy dad when you speak to him and your cute brother, Arthur. My boy Oak always talks about Arthur. Thinks he’s some kind of god, the way he can do all that computer stuff. By the way, the nanny’s bringing the kids over after the gig.’

  ‘Well, I’ll definitely come and see you if your lovely children are there too,’ said Cate, giving her a quick hug goodbye. ‘Make sure you tell them you saw me and that I was asking after them. Now, I’m off to take a shower, otherwise I’m not going to be welcome anywhere.’

  The mention of Arthur’s name reminded Cate of his glum face as she broke the news that, for the first time ever, she and he wouldn’t be spending Christmas together. Like the sweetie he was he hadn’t tried to talk her out of it but, as usual, he couldn’t resist giving her some advice. ‘Take care out there. I’ve got some online mates in Australia and they all talk about how you have to be careful away from the cities. Snakes and spiders and getting lost in the bush and all . . .’ As they’d said goodbye, Arthur had handed her a tiny bright red rectangle. ‘A super-sensitive dongle that can use even a distant signal. Think you might need it,’ was all he said.

  ‘Thanks, Arthur.’ Cate hadn’t known whether to laugh or to cry at her brother’s kindness. ‘I’m gonna miss you so much.’

  ‘Me too.’ Arthur stared hard at Cate through his glasses, as if trying to imprint her face on his memory. ‘You being in France all summer was bad enough but that was only a short plane ride away. Australia – that’s just so far.’