Bright Air - Barry Maitland [8]
From what I could gather from the press accounts, as well as some notes Anna had included from the inquest she’d attended, the accident had happened on the final day of the expedition. Damien had been sick that morning and stayed behind, while Marcus Fenn and the three other climbers were taken by a local fisherman, Bob Kelso, on his small boat to the foot of the southern cliffs below Mount Gower, where they had been studying a colony of masked boobies and other seabirds. The climbers were put ashore and began to scale the cliffs, while Marcus returned with Bob Kelso to the main settlement of Lord Howe, at the north end of the island, where the scientists were renting a cottage. At about two o’clock that afternoon Marcus received a radio message from Curtis, saying there had been an accident. He later described how the climbers had been working on a rocky shelf a hundred metres up the cliff, where the birds were nesting. The shelf appeared stable and safe, and they had worked on recording details of the colony with their body harnesses unattached to the climbing ropes, because of the risk of snagging and disturbing the nests. After lunch Luce moved off on her own to check some nests further across the cliff face. She had rounded a stone outcrop, out of sight of the other two, when they heard a cry, followed by the sound of falling scree. Hurrying over to the place, they discovered that a section of the shelf appeared to have collapsed, sending Luce down into the ocean below. There was no sign of her in the water or on the rocks.
A slight noise disturbed me, and I sat abruptly upright, conscious that I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there.
‘Josh? Are you all right?’
I blinked, and saw Mary register the empty glass at my elbow, the half-empty bottle beside it, and the folder on my knee.
‘What is the matter, dear? Are you upset?’
‘Oh … no. It’s all right.’ I took a deep breath and closed the folder.
She looked closely at me, then slowly sat down in the armchair on the other side of the fireplace. ‘What’s happened?’
Mary’s sister, my mother, died when I was ten, and I think there is perhaps some residual confusion in my mind between the two of them. From photographs it’s apparent that they did look very alike, although not twins—Mary was the elder by fourteen months—and I transferred some of my feelings for my mother onto my aunt. More death-denial, I suppose. At any rate, this transference was not entirely one-sided, and on occasions such as this Mary was quite capable of assuming a maternal role.
‘Come on, tell me.’
So I sighed and told her about Anna’s visit, and about Curtis and Owen’s deaths.
‘Those two climbers in New Zealand? Oh, Josh, I read about them, but I didn’t make the connection. I met them, didn’t I? They came here once.’
I nodded.
‘Oh, you poor thing. No wonder you’re upset. That’s shocking, especially after …’ Her eyes dropped to the folder on my knee, and a small interrogative furrow formed on her brow.
‘It’s sort of more complicated than that,’ I said, and told her the rest, about Anna’s story of Owen’s confession and her file on Luce’s accident.
I handed it to her and she turned the pages, pondering on it in silence, then said, ‘You knew them, Josh, but it’s very hard to believe.’
‘Exactly. I knew them all well, really well, and I just can’t believe it. I told her so. Owen was badly hurt—he must have been incredibly confused.’
‘But …’ she gazed at me, sympathetic but probing, ‘Anna thinks there’s something in it?’
‘Maybe. Yes.’
‘What does she propose to do?’
‘She doesn’t really know. She asked me to read that file, and think about it, and then talk it over.’
‘I always liked Anna. The quiet plain one, but very loyal, I always felt, to Luce especially. Sensible, I imagine?’
‘She had her moments, but yes, today I’d say … sensible.’ What I was thinking was that Anna had seemed almost weighed down now by being sensible, the old flights of fancy firmly in check.
‘Yes. I remember wanting to slip a bottle of shampoo into her bag that day they came