Daughter of the Deep(47)

The smell of the lasagne makes my mouth water. Cheese and tomato sauce bubble between golden sheets of pasta.

I turn to Luca. ‘I don’t want to insult Jupiter’s cooking, but this doesn’t have any beef, does it? You know, Hindu.’

Luca chuckles good-naturedly. ‘No beef. In the early days of the Nautilus, Nemo and his crew hunted sea animals for meat, but, as he got older, Nemo became what we would call a vegan. He realized that was better for the ocean. He cultivated his own hybrid crops in subaquatic gardens down in …’ A momentary shadow passes over his face, as if he realizes he’s said something he shouldn’t. ‘In the water nearby. Many of those crops went wild. They’re still flourishing today. Everything on your plate is from those gardens.’

On his other side, Ester sniffs a piece of her garlic bread. ‘Even this?’

‘Well, not the garlic itself,’ Luca concedes. ‘I keep my own above-ground garden on the atoll for herbs and spices that are difficult to simulate. But everything else, yes. White seaweed flour, sodium bicarbonate and acid for the yeast –’

‘What about butter and cheese?’ I ask.

‘Specially processed macroalgae and carrageen-moss extract.’

‘Yum?’ Nelinha says from across the table.

Ophelia nudges her arm. ‘Give it a try.’

Nelinha nibbles the bread. Her eyes widen. ‘Actually, yum! It’s a little burnt, but –’

‘Okay, enough of that!’ Luca says.

Ophelia grins, which makes her look less steely, more … I don’t know, silvery. ‘Anything Jupiter sees on The Great British Bake Off, or any of his other cooking shows, we can simulate with sea-plant products. The orangutan keeps us on our toes.’

I try the lasagne. It tastes even better than it smells. ‘You could feed the world with those crops.’

Ophelia raises an index finger in warning. ‘Or we could feed the bottom line of multinational corporations who would want to exploit the food sources – or more likely strangle them – to keep their monopolies.’

Suddenly my dinner tastes a bit more like macroalgae.

Top sits patiently at Ester’s feet. He doesn’t beg – he’s too clever for that. He just looks cute and sad, staring into the distance as if thinking, Alas, my poor stomach! Whenever someone slips him a scrap, which happens frequently, he looks surprised. For me? Well, if you insist.

He is part emotional-support animal, part con artist.

Meanwhile, Jupiter circulates among the Dolphins, chatting with them in sign language. He describes the culinary wonders they are enjoying. Some of his cooking lingo is hard to follow. I have never learned the sign-language terms for sauté or carrageen moss. Still, the Dolphins know how to say delicious and thank you. That seems to please him.

Gem sops up the last of his lasagne with his garlic bread. ‘So, Dr Barsanti –’

‘Luca, please.’

Gem shifts uncomfortably. He likes formalities. ‘Er, did you and Dr –’

‘My surname is Artemesia,’ says Ophelia, ‘but call me Ophelia.’

Gem manages to process this without bursting a blood vessel. ‘Uh, Ophelia and Luca … you said you both went to Harding-Pencroft?’

Luca nods. ‘Like my father, and his father, and his father before him! In my senior year, I was Cephalopod captain.’

A few of the Cephalopods mumble ‘Yesss!’ and pump their fists in house pride.

‘That same year,’ says Ophelia, ‘I was Orca captain. I also completed Shark coursework top of the class.’

I look at her with new-found awe. Graduating from two houses is not unheard of, but it is extremely difficult. It nearly doubles your workload. To be house captain and complete coursework summa cum laude for another house … Unbelievable.

On top of that, Sharks and Orcas are generally considered diametric opposites. Sharks are frontline fighters, tacticians, weapons specialists, commanders. Orcas are medics, community builders, archivists and support personnel. I can’t even wrap my mind around how someone could be good at both.

Gem’s forgotten bread hovers over his plate, dripping subaquatic simulated marinara sauce. ‘So … wow. Dr – I mean, Ophelia – you had Tarun Dakkar as your Shark captain?’

‘Indeed I did. And Sita was my best friend. I taught her everything she knew about terrorizing our younger classmates.’

‘You also terrorized me,’ Luca says with a grin. ‘The way you stole my heart!’

‘And I’ve been putting up with you ever since.’ Ophelia keeps a straight face, but she gives her husband a quick wink.

Luca laughs. ‘That much is true. By the way, Ana, your mother was a brilliant Dolphin captain. She would be very proud of you.’

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard someone talk about knowing my parents. But it’s strange to think of Luca and Ophelia and my parents as teenagers – swaggering around Harding-Pencroft together during their senior year like they owned the place, just like Dev does today … Or like he did before the attack …

I try to murmur Thank you. It comes out more like ‘Unk.’

I set down my fork, hoping nobody notices my trembling fingers.

Of course Nelinha does. ‘SO, LUCA …’ She draws his attention with a volume level worthy of Ester. ‘How many generations was your family at HP?’