Wendy didn’t argue. She scooted off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom while Marissa flipped through the phone book on the night-table between the beds. The clinic was located in a nearby suburb called Herston. Checking the map provided by the hotel, she noted that Herston was just north of Brisbane. She grabbed a scratch pad bearing the hotel’s name to write down the address.

Marissa was about to replace the phone book when she thought about Tristan Williams. Opening the directory to the Ws, she ran her finger down the column.

Just then, the door to the bathroom opened. Steam billowed out. “Your turn,” Wendy called. She had one towel wrapped around her head, another around her body. “I can’t believe how good it felt, especially washing my hair.”

“Our pathologist friend’s not in the phone book,” Marissa said.

Wendy smiled. “That would have been too easy.”

Marissa put the phone book away, then stepped into the bathroom for her shower.

When the phone rang, Marissa had trouble rousing herself. Groggily she groped for the receiver. A cheerful voice at the other end of the line told her it was noon. Marissa hardly knew what to make of it. It wasn’t until she saw Wendy soundly sleeping in the bed next to her that she recalled where she was.

Lying back down again, Marissa almost fell back to sleep. But remembering her own advice, she forced herself to get up. For the moment she was so exhausted that she was nauseated, yet she knew she had to adapt to the time difference.

Wendy hadn’t budged. Getting unsteadily to her feet, Marissa gently shook her friend’s shoulder.

“Wendy!” Marissa called softly. Then louder: “Wendy, time to wake up.”

“Already?” Wendy asked groggily. She pushed herself up to a sitting position. Then she groaned. “Oh, my word! I feel awful.”

Marissa nodded. “I know it’s hard; I’m still exhausted. It feels like midnight but it’s only noon. We’d better get used to it.”

Wendy threw herself back on the bed. “Tell the tour director I died,” she said.

An hour later, Marissa and Wendy descended in the elevator to the lobby, feeling much improved. A second shower and room service “tucker,” as the bellboy had called the food, had revived them more than they’d expected.

Once they were in the lobby, Wendy went to a nearby travel agency to make inquiries about the Great Barrier Reef while Marissa waited in line to speak with the concierge concerning Brisbane sightseeing. The two rendezvoused half an hour later.

“I got it all figured out,” Wendy reported. “Take a look at this.” She smoothed out a map of the entire Queensland coastline including all the offshore islands.

“Holy Toledo,” Marissa exclaimed. “How long is this reef? It looks like it goes all the way to New Guinea.”