Shallow Breath by Sara Foster Page B

unknown they are unlikely to be pleasant. But when Jackson sees the silhouette of this one, she is already beginning to glide away from them in the gloom. He swims quickly, finning hard to catch up, and draws level with her streamlined body, its unique markings charting unknown galaxies within constellations of vivid white spots and stripes. A squadron of pilot fish cruise in the slipstream beneath the shark, and the ever-present remoras are lined up under its chin, sucking on hard, hitching a ride while feeding on parasites. Jackson is in the perfect position to take an identification photo, but he has no camera. A scientist swims past him with a camera held out in front, and Jackson quickly moves away. He finds himself close to the whale shark’s head, sees her tiny eye swivel. She knows they are there but doesn’t divert from her course.
    To Jackson’s disappointment, this one is already tagged, with a satellite transmitter designed to detach and pop up to the surface when it has finished retrieving data. Jackson hangs back a little as another researcher, armed with a spear to collect a skin biopsy, swims close to the shark and releases the instrument, which shoots into the polka-dot skin near its dorsal fin. It is designed to be a gentle nick, just enough to draw cells for vital research work, and the shark gives no indication of feeling anything, and keeps on gliding, pectoral fins as rigid as aeroplane wings, her tail waving with the grace of a dancer and the power of a submarine. She is gradually disappearing into the distant blue fog.
    As soon as she is gone, the scientists return to the boat. The whole thing is over so quickly, and they have been so shallow,that the divers don’t need safety stops. Jackson unbuckles his fins, hands them over and pulls himself up onto the splash deck. People get busy checking cameras and equipment, and Ian comes across to him.
    ‘How was it?’
    ‘Awesome.’
    They all sit on the rear deck as the engine roars and the boat picks up speed, until they have caught up with the whale shark again. They repeat the same process until they are satisfied, then the search begins for another shark they can sample.
    By mid-afternoon they have called it a day. Three individual whale sharks have been found, and Jackson has witnessed two of them being tagged. The morning has been a resounding success. While the boat picks up speed, returning to Darwin Island to find a sheltered spot for the night, Jackson goes to his tiny room and falls asleep for a few hours, not waking until they ring the bell for dinner. Upstairs, he finds more platters of rice, meat, fish and fruit, and everyone eats heartily. The talk is loud and heavily scientific. There are five international researchers on the boat, two of whom are based part of the year in the Galapagos, and two local guides. One of the local men, Sebastian, gets out a picture showing three happy children with dark hair and dark skin, their arms around each other. ‘My loves,’ he says, kissing the photo. ‘Do you have any children?’ he asks Jackson.
    ‘No,’ he laughs. ‘I’m a free man.’
    Sebastian shakes his head. ‘You should have some soon. They are the greatest thing. Do you have a woman?’
    Jackson hesitates, and the man slaps his arm. ‘You do! Well, have some babies with her. Don’t wait too long!’ he says, spearing another forkful of food.
    Jackson doesn’t know how to respond to that. He and Kate are light years away from those kinds of conversations. So hecollects another plateful of food, and, as he begins to eat again, he finds himself unexpectedly thinking of Carla.
    He barely thought of her any more. They had gone out together in high school and, for a little while, even though they had been so young, he had sometimes imagined that kind of future with her – not right away, obviously, but he could at least envisage it. And then she went on holiday with a group of friends to Bali, and everything changed. After an evening