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that, because it s the strength of the cage itself that keeps the diver
safe. You don t need to worry about a shark fiddling a complex
snib, and you don t want a panicked diver having to. You just keep
it simple: an L-shaped bracket and a magnet.
That s all straightforward if the cage is properly assembled and
all six sides are locked into place in the right order. It s a simple
tongue-and-groove operation. Easy. Like whacking up a bookshelf
from f.ing Ikea.
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Some of the publicity after the event said that Glenn Mellon came
to a grisly and shocking end, mauled by a great white shark that
rammed its way into the cage. I happen to know that s not the case.
Glenn went down in the cage with the camera fixed to his helmet,
we threw some chum into the water to get the whites fired up, and
it was all over in less than thirty seconds. One of the adult females
went directly at Glenn in the cage, and the force of the cage gate
opening crushed Glenn against the bars on the opposite side. He
was knocked out cold, and my information is that the cause of
death was chest and head injuries suffered from the cage, not the
shark. Of course the sharks made a meal of him once the cage was
breached and he was minced against the walls. But in case any of
Glenn s family and friends out there are still labouring under the
misinformation of this typical media beat-up, let me say it loud
and clear. He never faced the agonising death of being ripped apart
by an angry chummed-up bunch of great whites. He died swiftly,
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BRIAN WESTLAKE
without any pain, quick as a hammer blow to the head. The sharks
just finished him off.
We got it all on film, but, like the disc of Mick s death, this one
also went to the police. After Phil Barrows had made his own copy.
Unlike Mick, Glenn Mellon suffered no pain.
Because of my poor attitude towards Glenn the rubbishings to
his face and behind his back, the reprimand I d copped from Phil
in front of the crew everyone went easy on me after the incident.
Also, I was the one who d misassembled the shark cage. All the
crew figured I must be feeling like absolute dog s., the lowest of
the low, so I could tell they were soft-pedalling.
Phil put me on a first-class seat home and organised a limo to
pick me up from the airport. He told me to take stress leave for as
long as I wanted. When I said goodbye at Hobart airport, he gave
me a hug. He had a lot on his plate. A second dead presenter inside
a month and a half, the media to hose down, the police to deal with,
Glenn s family to be told, along with all the usual crew and budget
hassles. Poor old Phil. I d have felt sorry for him, except that when
he pulled out of our embrace his true feelings were written all over
his face. He couldn t give a s. about Glenn or me or the tragedy
that had struck his mind was whirring like a see-through Swatch.
He was thinking, How am I going to deal with Pioneer and where are
we gunna find a new presenter to finish the series? I guess you ve got to
admire the man s professionalism.
I, on the other hand, had to get home. Sheena had heard all
about Glenn. Phil had phoned her. She d put the kids to bed by
the time I got back, even though I d have liked to see them, just
give them a hug and not let go. Roddy was four and Rosie three.
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The ENDANGERED L I ST
The lights of my life, that pair. How could I get through this with-
out them?
And Sheena, of course. She was as tender with me as Phil and
the crew had been. Like Phil, she had an ulterior motive. A bit dif-
ferent from Phil s, but.
She got me to take a shower I hadn t washed since Glenn had
copped it, which, hard for me to believe, had been the same day,
fourteen hours ago and waited for me in the family room. We
lived in a two-bedroom, open-plan demountable in the grounds of
the Kangazoo, where we d been for eight years, behind the Laming-
tons place, which was somewhat more substantial. A few of the
other zoo staff also lived in demountables. One big happy family.
As Sheena will tell anyone in range, I m not the world s best
dad. I m a good-time Charlie, a soft touch. After my shower, I
couldn t help popping into their room and waking them up. Rosie,
warm as a fresh bread roll, stretched her arms out for a cuddle and
lisped Kiss? without opening her eyes. Like her mum, Rosie has a
love affair with sleep. I laid her back down and reached to the top
bunk, hauling Rodney upright. He rubbed his eyes and looked at
me sternly. Daddy, you were late, he said. It always stumps me,
how unsurprised they are to see me. Somehow I half-expect them
to forget me if I m away more than a day.
But I ll be up early with you tomorrow, I said.
Rod asked for a drink of water. When I came back in from the
bathroom, he was coughing in a high-low, two-tone wheeze. The
water calmed him down. Jeez, I thought, Sheena ll have my guts for
garters if she knows I ve woken them up.
Don t tell Mummy I came in, okay?
Rod took a last gulp and handed the cup back.
I love you, Daddy.
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BRIAN WESTLAKE
I was a little dry-throated myself as I went into the family room
picking out my ears with the end of my towel. Sheena had filled
the room with candles, a ritual she usually saved for more romantic
occasions. Usually? Years ago. I still remembered, but. She was
sitting on the floor with her legs tucked under her. Like me, she
was wearing a bathrobe. In a way it did feel romantic, but Sheena
was heavily solemn and sweet. She was performing a little tea
ceremony to finish off the night.
You don t have to sneak around, she said.
Eh?
I heard you go in. Frosty, you can t . . .
I cut in. Rod just said he loved me.
Frosty, it took me so long to settle them down, if they re awake
again it s your job to . . .
Can t remember him ever saying that, I interrupted her again.
Can t imagine where he got it from.
Sheena s mouth twitched. We don t talk like that in this house.
Other kids, must ve been. Or TV.
You never know where they pick these things up.
As she poured the tea, I stood in front of her and looked out the
main window through the stand of casuarinas dividing us from Mick s
place. The Lamingtons house was dark, as it had been most nights
since his death, except for the bedroom windows. They went to their
separate rooms early. I could imagine them all in there. Julie sitting
on her bed with the remote in her hand, watching the umpteenth
repeat of some Kiss DVD. Mick had been a television star for a long
time, and probably Julie thought watching him on TV was actually
bringing him back to life, or the sort of life he d led, in some magical
way. She could pretend he was off on a shoot. Like a child, Julie had to
believe that he d gone away but would be coming back. In Ranger s
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