big fisherman seemed to be everywhere, organising, helping, planning. As Morag led William out the door, the two men she’d leaned on most were sitting on the stone coping, soaking the last rays of the day’s sun.
What had Grady told Marcus about William? she wondered. Whatever it was, there was no judgement on Marcus’s face. He peeled his long body off the stones and gave William a smile.
‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘Is it Mutt?’ William asked hoarsely, and Marcus’s smile faded. There were islanders frantic about their loved ones, but for many, especially those who lived alone, the fate of their pets was just as important.
‘No, mate,’ he said gently. ‘We haven’t found your dog. But we’re still looking. The reason I’ve been searching for you is that we’re trying to sort out a bit of privacy for those who are in urgent need of it. Your cottage is one of the few that are undamaged. You have a water tank, a septic tank for sewerage and you have two bedrooms. We’re wondering if you could take in old Hazel Cartwright. You know Elias was killed and her home is shattered. She’s in the dormitory tent, just…just sitting. Your place is just up the hill from hers and she could still see the harbour. She can go to her daughter in Sydney if you refuse, but she’s desperate to stay for as long as she can.’
Had Grady done this? Morag flashed him an uncertain look. One look at his impassive face made her sure that he had. Of all the… This was perfect. To give William a need…
For the next few days, until antidepressants could take effect, William needed constant supervision. In a city, Morag would recommend that he become a voluntary patient in a clinic specifically designed for those at risk of self-harm. Here there could be no such supervision.
But caring for Hazel… It might work. She could even talk to Hazel about William’s needs, and they could care for each other.
Would he do it?
He was having trouble taking it in, she thought. She let her hand lie in his, aware that he was in need of support himself. To ask him to support another…
Would his black depression make him too self-absorbed?
‘Hazel plays the piano,’ William said softly. ‘I’ve heard her. Mutt and I walk past her place on the way to the beach, and there’s always music.’
‘They said she could have been a concert pianist if she’d stayed in the city,’ Morag told him. ‘But she chose a life with Elias, a life on the island.’
‘I have a piano,’ William said, and Morag cast a fleeting glance at Marcus and guessed he’d already thought this out.
‘Would you do it, mate?’ Marcus said, ignoring the fact that Morag was still holding William’s hand.
William stared at Marcus. Then he turned and stared up at the lighthouse. Finally he released Morag’s hand and gave himself a shake, as if he was shaking off a cloak. A cloak of fog and darkness and despair…
‘Of course I will,’ he said. ‘I’ll come with you now, shall I, and ask her if she’ll be my guest.’
Grady promised to call at William’s in an hour with medication and for a talk. To check on Hazel, he said, but they both knew it was more than that. Marcus and William started back to the makeshift township, and Morag and Grady were free to talk.
But for a while there was silence. Morag stared after them as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Finally she turned and asked the question that was slamming through her mind.
‘Was that you?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Was that chance-or did you play a hand?’
‘I might have,’ he acknowledged, with the hint of a rueful smile.
‘How?’
‘Marcus came here at a run,’ he told her. ‘Apparently William left a note saying what he wanted done with his possessions. It was pinned to his front door. The nextdoor neighbour was curious and took a look. She panicked and gave the note to Marcus.’
‘So Marcus knew William intended suicide. He never let on.’
‘Do you think he should have?’
‘No.’
‘We’re agreed the note blew off in the wind and no one ever saw it,’ Grady told her. ‘Marcus will square it with the neighbour.’
‘And Hazel?’
‘Once Marcus calmed down about William-there wasn’t much either of us could do with the pair of you locked in the tower-he sat down and talked to me about the worst of his concerns. Hazel was top of the list.’
Morag sighed. So many things…so many worries…‘Hazel’s a wonderful old lady,’ she told him. ‘She’s played the church organ for ever. Whenever anyone’s in trouble there’s always been Hazel. We all love her.’
‘Including William?’
‘He might. Our William might just learn to love. He might just figure out there’s different forms of loving and they don’t all have to do with sex. I’ll start him on antidepressants tonight. I guessed a while back that he was depressed but until now he hasn’t let me close.’
Enough. She sat down beside Grady on the stones and turned her face to the setting sun. Her shoulders slumped. She’d been so afraid…
‘This island’s all about loving,’ Grady said softly, and she closed her eyes.
‘It is.’
‘I’ve been talking to May.’
‘She’s another wonderful lady.’
‘This island breeds their women wonderful,’ he murmured, and she grimaced. Then she opened her eyes again. She took a deep breath and faced what was coming.
‘Yeah, right.’ She stared down at her feet, as if her rough walking shoes could provide an answer. ‘What will happen to the islanders?’
‘I’m sure the spirit of the place will go on,’ he said uneasily.
‘What-in five hundred different locations, wherever we’re dispersed?’
‘The tentative plan is to relocate the bulk of the population to Port Shelba,’ he told her. ‘There’s a big migrant centre there that’s not being used. We can take that over as temporary accommodation until permanent housing’s organised. The harbour there is under-utilised. The government would be prepared to give land grants, building grants, fishing licences-basically anything it takes to get families resettled.’
‘You must really want this island evacuated.’
‘They,’ he said heavily. ‘Not me.’
‘You work for them.’
‘I’m just an emergency services doctor, Morag.’
‘You’re a spokesperson for the government.’
‘OK,’ he said, gazing out into the fading light at the greyness of the sea and not at her. ‘You tell me what’s wrong with the plan. It sounds good to me.’
‘It’s terrible.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re islanders,’ she told him. ‘We have our own heritage. Port Shelba’s big. We’d be integrated into the broader population and our sense of community would be lost.’
‘Is that important?’
‘You’ve seen the damage depression can do,’ she told him. ‘Look what just happened here. Depression… You know, I’ve been working on this island for four years now and William’s will be the first antidepressant I’ve prescribed. And that’s only because he’s a relative newcomer and he’s held himself so aloof.’
‘You’ve been lucky.’
He didn’t have a clue, she thought bleakly. Not a clue. ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I haven’t been lucky. I’ve been part of a community, but you don’t know what that means, do you, Grady Reece? You can’t possibly see how important that is. Without the community Hubert would be dead by now. The community keeps him alive and interested and involved. And what about the Kooris? How is the government planning on resettling them?’
‘They’re not.’ This was the hard part and Grady stared out to sea some more. ‘The Kooris won’t move. We
