The Survivors(108)

‘You don’t know this spot?’ Bronte glanced sideways with a small smile. ‘I hope it was more memorable for your girlfriend.’

The room seemed suddenly both huge and small, and Sean felt the bed listing like a boat. He closed his eyes for a count of two and when he opened them again the movement, at least, had stopped.

‘Which girl is that, then?’ he said, shocked by how normal his voice sounded. His tongue felt heavy and dry.

‘Wow, you really don’t remember?’ Bronte laughed. She didn’t sound unhappy, though. ‘Abigail or something? Anyway, it was like “Sean and whoever”, and I thought there was a date as well –’ Sean held his breath as Bronte clicked forward. Nothing but rock and lichen. She sat back. ‘Yeah, it was pretty dark. Looks like I didn’t catch that.’

‘Do you know what the date was?’ His words sounded thick to his own ears.

‘No. I think it was quite old, though. Maybe ten years or so?’ She shrugged. ‘I’ll bring a better flash next time.’

Sean was looking at the screen but all he could see was Gabby Birch. Gabby, as he left her waiting safely in the middle of the junction while he went ahead to check the route. The key dangling from the torch in her hand as she soaked up her surroundings, exploring this territory that was – for her, at least – uncharted. Gabby, happy to wait for him, feeling grateful to be there. Gabby, surrounded by tunnels of clean fresh rock, with a key in her palm and an idea forming. Gabby, finding a spot and carving her name, the way she’d been told others had done before her. Carving Sean’s name. Perhaps to mark the day they explored the cave together. Perhaps as a thank you. Perhaps because in that moment she’d believed, in some small way, they were almost friends.

It was all Sean could do not to bury his face in his hands. Instead, he sat completely still and didn’t let himself move. ‘You’re going to that spot again?’

‘Yeah, definitely.’ Bronte was nodding. ‘It’s really eerie. I’ll get an exhibition out of it, for sure.’

‘You reckon you’ll be able to find it, though?’

‘Yeah, I will. Not off the top of my head, but once I’m in there.’

She looked on through the shots. Sean sat next to her, his eyes unseeing. Finally, he spoke.

‘You probably shouldn’t go back down there. You could get fined.’

She smiled. ‘I’ll risk it. I’m trying to get into this art school in New York. It’s so competitive; they only take a few people a year. I need something really good for my exhibition topic.’

‘And this is it?’ Sean looked at her art desk with the boxes of pencils. His voice sounded odd to him but she didn’t seem to notice. ‘I thought you were mainly into drawing?’

‘I am, but this is for my advanced photo module next term. We all get some temporary space in the state gallery, plus there’s a bunch of national competitions I’ll probably enter.’ She tapped the keyboard. ‘This interior life of the caves stuff will work. It’s the kind of thing that gets attention.’

In the darkened window, Sean could see himself reflected on the bed, his shape distorted in the glass. He could hear the sea outside.

‘Please don’t go back down there, Bronte.’

‘Why?’ She turned to him, her face close to his. She was – he could hardly bear it – touched by his concern.

‘It’s dangerous.’

‘I’ll be careful.’ She smiled at him. ‘Anyway, you obviously got in and out alive.’

The ocean was calm, but when Sean spoke again he could barely hear himself over the sound of the waves.

‘That’s true.’

He looked back to the window. He couldn’t believe it when he felt himself put his feet on the floor. The bed creaked as he stood up. Sit down. The thought was hard to hear over the noise of the ocean. Please sit down. Sean remained standing. He went over to the window. Placed his torch back down on the desk, next to a little wire sculpture of a crayfish.

‘The moon’s great tonight.’ His voice wasn’t his own. His mouth was forming words that came from a place so deep inside him that he hadn’t known it existed. ‘The light was making these really beautiful patterns over the water. Did you notice?’

He couldn’t bring himself to turn around, but he saw Bronte’s reflection watching him.

‘Really?’ she said. ‘No. I didn’t see.’

‘You can’t really tell from in here.’ Sean stared out at the waves for what felt like a very long time, but he knew wasn’t. Because he really didn’t need that long to decide. Some part of him had already decided, the instant he saw the photo. ‘Do you want to go out to the beach? I’ll show you.’

Bronte looked up from the bed. He turned and could see the doona creased from where he’d been sitting next to her. She was still there, her fingertips resting lightly against the bed where he’d just been. Waiting, maybe. When he didn’t move, she shrugged and smiled.

‘Sure. Let’s go and see.’

Was that a tiny hint of disappointment in her voice? Sean still couldn’t hear properly; the sea was loud enough now to drown her out. She stood up, right in front of him, and he moved past her and walked to the door before he could stop himself.