Read Online The Nature of Ice by Robyn Mundy - Free Book Online Page A

to be working at all.’
    Freya flushes at the reference and Chad looks contrite.
    â€˜Why don’t I talk to Malcolm?’ she says. ‘See if he can find someone else? I don’t want to waste your time—or my own. You have the option of coming down here whenever you choose. I only have one chance at this.’
    Tommo squeals, throws down his carving knife and holds up a finger plump as a frankfurter, the tip burst and bloodied. ‘Faaark!’
    Sandy sighs. ‘Call the Doc, someone. Anyone.’ He looks out at the empty dining room. ‘Never mind, I’ll do it myself.’
    Chad raises his hand. ‘I’ve got it, Sandy.’ He turns to Freya. ‘I’ll help if I’m wanted. Your call.’ And off he marches towards the phone.
    FREYA SPENDS HER AFTERNOON break in the lounge, still draped in her apron, shoes kicked off. She pulls a book from the library shelf— Mawson’s Antarctic Diaries —kicks off her shoes and spreads out across two easy chairs.
    Marcus says she owes her presence here not just to Frank Hurley but to Douglas Mawson and John King Davis, Antarctic pioneers after whom two of Australia’s continental stations were named. A portrait of a gaunt-looking Davis hangs framed in the station foyer, a young face prematurely aged by dourness. 1884–1967. Master of the Aurora 1911–14. Second in Command of the Australasian Antarctic Expedition.
    Freya yawns as she leafs through Mawson’s diary, her eyes heavy as she scans photos and hut notices: Members of the Staff will be appointed in succession to the special posts of cook, messman and nightwatchman. Duties commence at 7 a.m. and continue until the washing and cleaning are completed in the evening—
    â€˜Douglas Mawson.’ The station leader’s voice jolts her back to full consciousness. Malcolm stands in the light, casting his shadow across the open pages. ‘A fellow we can all look up to. Thankfully no curried seal or penguin fricassee on our menu, but each man took his turn helping in the kitchen, just as we do today. Wouldn’t we all give our eyeteeth to be on an expedition like that?’
    Freya offers a feeble smile. ‘I doubt he invited too many women along.’
    â€˜True,’ Malcolm slides the chairs into an orderly circle, ‘though Mawson was an egalitarian. No class distinctions on his expedition. They were all expected to put their shoulders to the wheel.’ Malcolm scoops up the magazines scattered on the coffee table. He is, Freya decides, a touch too industrious for his own good.
    â€˜Sorted out your itinerary with Mr McGonigal?’ he says.
    Freya hesitates. ‘Adam Singer mentioned that he’d love the chance to help. Perhaps he and I—’
    â€˜It’s Singer’s first time at Davis. Chad’s been coming to Antarctica since the sledging days. He knows the Vestfolds like the back of his hand. He has a great deal of knowledge to impart, once you chisel your way through that outer shell.’
    â€˜He doesn’t appear very keen,’ Freya says in desperation.
    â€˜McGonigal? All bluff and bluster. He’d set up camp out on the ice if he had his way.’
    â€˜Really?’ she says, unconvinced.
    â€˜There are some ripsnorting tales from the Heroic Era,’ he says, dismissing further comment on the topic of Chad. ‘Always been a big fan of Mawson and Davis, outstanding achievers the pair of them. They made a good team, at least in the early years. Not always an easy alliance—one man driven by a passion for science, the other responsible for the safety of his ship and crew.’ Malcolm pauses. ‘Not unlike the daily trials of a station leader.’
    He returns the magazines to the cupboard and sorts them into evenly sized stacks.
    â€˜Hours of riveting reading up there.’ He gestures to the bookshelves. ‘If you want to get down to the nitty-gritty, you can’t