by Des Hunt
‘Pimi’s not,’ sobbed Steph. ‘She’s dead.’
Colin looked puzzled. ‘But we saw her going out to sea. She would’ve been well out before the first wave hit.’
‘She must’ve turned back,’ I said, sadly. ‘Her body’s down there.’
He moved to the edge. After staring for a while he said, ‘That’s too small to be Pimi.’
I stood up and looked again. This time I saw that the sand was littered with the sea life I had expected after the first wave. There were a number of fish, flapping as they tried to get back to the water, and one had got stuck alongside the whale’s body. Now the whale didn’t look anywhere near as big.
‘No, it’s not Pimi,’ I said softly. ‘It’s much too small.’
‘Then it’s her calf,’ wailed Steph. ‘She’s had her calf and it’s drowned.’
Colin turned back to the bay. ‘I don’t think so. It’s too big for a new calf.’
That’s when I worked out what had happened. Before saying anything I studied the part of the whale graveyard alongside our boat, and sure enough it had changed. The second wave had dug deep into the sand.
‘It is her calf,’ I said, smiling. ‘It’s her first calf. The one we buried before Christmas. It’s been washed out of the sand.’
The transformation on Steph’s face was wonderful to watch. She went from utter despair to absolute joy in just a few seconds. The fact that a stinking corpse now lay on the beach didn’t seem to worry her at all. The only thing that mattered was that it was not Pimi. It wasn’t our whale. We couldn’t know for certain that Pimi had survived, but we did know that it was not her lying on the sand below us.
Chapter 26
Steph spent two days in hospital; Scatworm double that time. Steph’s ankle wasn’t broken, only badly sprained, but Scatworm had had a heart attack—a bad one. If we hadn’t got him out of the bay, he would have died.
Both of them missed out on all the excitement around Whale Pot Bay. Along with the rescue helicopter came three others, filled with television, radio and newspaper people, all eager to record the event. Somehow it had leaked that Milton Summer had been involved in a dramatic rescue of someone caught in the tsunami. That was enough to bring out the media in force.
Another reason for getting so many reporters was because nothing much had happened anywhere else. All morning the media had been building up the event, when in the end most places experienced a wave only about the same size as they got in a storm. However, along a one-hundred kilometre stretch of the Wairarapa coast the wave had been much bigger. Whale Pot Bay was right in the middle of it and had got the biggest part of the wave. At other places, houses were flooded but no one was injured.
Thanks to Dad and Wally’s efforts, no one was injured at Hauruanui Beach either. The wave went right up the valley, almost to our place. A one-way bridge was picked up and dumped further upstream; fences were ripped out; the stream had altered its course; and a hayshed was wrecked—nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a bit of time and money.
While all of this was recorded by the media, their main target was Whale Pot Bay and the unfolding of events there. When it was realized that Milt had rescued a member of the paparazzi, they began climbing over each other to get the story.
In the end, Milt held a media conference in his theatre and it was standing room only. To make sure that they got the story right, we showed the video that Melanie had made. She’d done a good job with it, considering how difficult it must have been filming friends who you thought were going to die. Of course all the media people wanted copies, which Colin set about making while the rest of us answered questions.
Questions such as: ‘Did you think you were going to die?’
‘No, I replied, ‘there was no time to think about it.’
Milt was asked if it had crossed his mind to leave Stuart Weston lying in the boat. He simply said, ‘No.’
After half an hour, the reporters were satisfied and went down to the bay to take photographs. Neither Milt nor I joined them; we’d had enough of the place for one day. Colin escorted them to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid to the boats. He was away for next to no time before returning with a big smile on his face. Apparently the whale corpse smelled so bad that some of the reporters never got past the bottom of the track. The hardier ones went closer, only to find that it was worse than they’d first thought; some of them added to the smell by vomiting. After that, all they wanted to do was get home, which suited us fine. We were more than ready for time by ourselves.
I discovered how badly the whale smelt when Dad and I went down to clean up the next day.
As we arrived at the top of the cliff, my heart was beating faster than normal. I was scared: scared that this time I really would see Pimi’s corpse on the beach. We had no way of knowing whether she had survived or not. She couldn’t have been far out of the bay when the first wave came. I knew that diving under a wave doesn’t always protect you from its force. If the water hadn’t been deep enough for her to dive under the tsunami, she could have been smashed into the bottom and killed. If that had happened, then sooner or later her body was going to wash into the bay.
She wasn’t there that day, but her calf’s corpse still was. How it stank! Unfortunately, it was not a quick job getting it buried again, for we first had to get the tractor going. It wasn’t badly damaged, just seawater in the wrong places. Our boat was much the same, but Milt’s boat was a mess: it looked as though the second wave had crashed right on top of it, crushing everything that was above the hull. Milt had already made the decision to sell what was left and build a new one.
After we reburied the whale, we used the scoop to clean all the dead marine life off the sand. By then it was beginning to stink as much as the whale. That’s how I found Scatworm’s camera bag. Nothing was smashed, just very wet.
That night I examined the camera in detail to see if anything could be recovered. The memory card looked all right from the outside, so I put it into the slot on our computer to see if it still worked. It did! The photos were perfect. And what a collection of photos they were. Apart from the last few, they all involved Vermin. It was clear that Scatworm had been tracking him for several days and nights. He had Vermin breaking into a hardware shop, and then climbing out with a whole lot of tools, including an angle grinder; some shots of him stealing the boat from a boat yard; a drive-away theft of petrol from a service station; plus many more. It was a photographic record of a mini crime-wave.
Then there were the photos from the day of the tsunami. They captured all the events that had happened in Whale Pot Bay prior to the arrival of the first wave. They were good shots, but one in particular stood out from the others. It had been taken with a telephoto lens as Milt was carrying Steph up the beach. While it accurately recorded the fear and panic of the moment, it was the background that made the photo so dramatic: the wave was rising high behind them, seemingly going to crash on them at any moment. I studied it for some time, knowing that it was worth a lot of money. Even if the man in the photo had been just anybody, it was worth selling. But with the man being Milton Summer, the thing was worth a fortune.
The next day we went to Wellington to pick up Steph and Vicky. While they were completing the discharge forms, I went to the coronary ward to see Scatworm, not to wish him well, but to get some payback for all the things he’d done.
The Scatworm I found lying in that hospital bed was a much different person to the one who’d caused me so many problems. He was no longer the over-confident journalist who would do anything to get a story. Now he looked as insignificant as any other patient—unsure of the present, and frightened of the future.
‘Hello, Jake,’ he said in a toneless voice, as I sat by his bed. ‘Have you come to gloat?’
‘I found your camera,’ I said, brusquely.
‘Ha!’ he snorted. ‘That won’t be any good now. Not after being in seawater. You might as well keep it.’
‘The memory card still
works.’
His face brightened a little. ‘Does it? That’s amazing. ’
‘It’s got some good photos on it.’
He thought for a moment. ‘What about that one where Summer’s carrying the girl? How did that come out?’
‘It’s stunning.’ I said.
He nodded. ‘Yeah, I thought it would be. You know, if I hadn’t stopped to change to that particular lens, I probably would have got out of the bay before the wave hit. But I just couldn’t resist it.’
I put my hand in my pocket, pulled out the memory card and held it up for him to see. ‘Do you want it?’ This was the moment—the time when I got my own back on him. There were no photos on the card—they were all on our computer at home. I’d imagined him snatching the card, all excited about the millions he could make from the photo. Then later, when he got home, he’d find it was blank. That would be my revenge.
But it didn’t happen that way. He stared at the card for ages, before shaking his head slowly and looking away. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said, quietly. ‘You keep it. I’m finished with all that stuff. Sooner or later it will kill me.’
‘You don’t want that photo?’ This wasn’t turning out at all the way I’d planned.
‘No.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘You keep it as a memento of our little adventure. I think you deserve it. Make a print for Milton and give it to him with my thanks.’
I put it back in my pocket, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
‘What about all those photos of Scott Grey?’ I asked. ‘Wouldn’t you want to sell those?’
He gave a snort. ‘Yes, before this happened I would’ve. They were going to be part of a piece I was doing on him. Right from the beginning I could see he was losing it. The article was going to be called “The madness of a P user”.’
‘You could’ve stopped him.’
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but I doubt it. By that stage he was well out of control.’
‘What about the police? You could’ve told them.’
‘Yeah, maybe. What does it matter now? He’s dead. Even without the tsunami, he was always going to end up that way.’
‘They haven’t found a body yet.’
Scatworm was quiet for a time, staring at the ceiling. Then he turned back to me and said, ‘He’ll never be found, Jake. The world doesn’t have to worry about him any more.’ He paused for a moment of thought. ‘Remember that horrible comment he made about that whale of yours keeping the sharks well fed? In the end she didn’t, but I suspect he has.’ He gave a humourless chuckle. ‘Maybe that’s the way it was always destined to be.’
Chapter 27
Three weeks later, Dad and Vicky got married. It was two days before I was due to go to school.
We’d spent every day of those three weeks working on the dig. The tsunami had swept away the mound to reveal the sand that had been buried in 1837, and beneath it the supports of the whalers’ hut that had once stood there. It was chock-full of objects used by the whalers. Melanie was ecstatic—she was already planning to write a book about it.
Each morning, when we arrived at the bay, I would sense Steph stiffen in the seat beside me. I knew what was going through her mind: she was worried that when we looked into the bay we would see Pimi’s body on the sand. After a week of worry, we accepted that she must be all right, and then we began to hope that sometime she might come and see us when we were out surfing.
She didn’t, and in a way that was good, for the only times she’d come into the bay in the past were when she was in trouble. Her absence was a sure sign that she was in good health and getting plenty of food. Even though Steph wasn’t going to get the perfect happy ending, the ending that we had was a whole lot better than it could have been.
Time passed, and other things stopped us worrying about Pimi: Steph started school at Hauruanui, and I had to get organized for my late start at Dad’s old school.
The decision to go to boarding school was an easy one in the end. The photography course was a big attraction, but that was not my main reason for going. After Dad and Vicky announced their engagement, I thought a lot about my role in our new family. While Vicky and I got on pretty well, there were still things that continued to annoy me. If I didn’t go to school, we would be in close contact day after day, week after week, month after month. Sooner or later something would explode. I knew that that would upset everyone, especially Dad, and I loved him too much to want that to happen. So, I decided to go. I think they both considered it the best wedding present of the lot.
The wedding was held in Milt’s lounge. There were a few locals, along with the team that had worked in the bay all summer. Steph was the bridesmaid, and I was the best man.
It was a very relaxed affair, with the marriage part quickly over. Then Wally felt he had to give a speech, which went on much longer than needed—by then everyone just wanted to get stuck into the food.
After the meal, Milt sang ‘Laughter in the air’. There was no backing band, just him and the keyboard, yet he seemed to put his whole being into it. I felt it was the most powerful song I’d ever heard. While I’d always known the chorus, I’d never previously really listened to the verses; that day I did, and for the first time I recognized how much hope it would give to somebody who was suffering.
But then I heard this song that they were playing.
A sound so sweet it took away my pain.
Diminishing the grief,
And restoring the belief
That in this world some laughter might remain.
Steph was sitting beside me, in tears. I touched her arm, hoping to console her. Yet, when she turned to me, she surprised me by giving me a huge grin. She was happy beyond belief, and at that moment I began to understand why. When she’d first heard this song, she’d been lying in a hospital bed, unsure of whether she wanted to live or die. And now Milt was singing it just for her. This was her happy ending—she was getting one after all.
Then came the last verse, and as I listened to the words I felt stronger emotions than I’d ever had before. It seemed as if Milt had written it just for us.
And now that song has given me a future,
With someone who I hope will always care.
The love’s a different kind,
Yet I’m sure that I will find
That once again there’s laughter in the air.
Yes, the love would be a different kind, but it would be there, and so too would be the laughter—I’d make sure of that.
When the song finished, I was so choked-up that I had to move over to the window so that people wouldn’t see. I wiped my eyes and stared sightlessly into Whale Pot Bay. Gradually, I recovered and things in the bay came into focus. It had changed a lot since I’d first looked out of this window, when I’d been giving Milt surfing lessons. Such a lot had happened since, and yet only a few months had passed—it seemed so much longer.
The main change was where the whales were buried. It was no longer fenced off. After a discussion with the Department of Conservation, it had been decided that it was no longer needed. I considered that an important change: if we didn’t have a whale graveyard, then perhaps we wouldn’t get any more dead whales. Maybe Milt would have his way, and the calf would be the last whale buried in Whale Pot Bay.
I was still lost in thought when Steph came alongside and said, ‘Hi, big brother. What’s up?’
‘Nothing much,’ I began, ‘I was just thinking about—’
I didn’t get the chance to finish. She’d grabbed my arm with one hand and was pointing out to sea with the other. Her mouth was working, but nothing would come out.
I looked in the direction she was pointing. ‘Oh, my God!’ I yelled. ‘It’s Pimi!’
She gripped my arm harder and waved her pointing finger even more frantically. Her whole body was shaking.
I looked again. Alongside Pimi was another whale. A much smaller one, who was staying very close to Pimi as she moved effortlessly along the swelling wav
es.
Steph finally found her voice. ‘She’s had her baby,’ she whispered. ‘She’s had her baby and brought him back to show me.’
‘C’mon,’ I said, ‘we’ve got to get out there.’
I don’t think she heard, because she was already on her way to the elevator. Fortunately, the new machine was much faster than the old one, and we were soon running across the sand to the tents where our surfing gear was stored.
It took ages to change out of our fancy wedding clothes. I emerged first and shouted, ‘Hurry up, Steph! She might go away.’
‘I am hurrying,’ she replied. ‘It’s these darn clothes. There’re so many layers to them.’
‘I’ll get out there, then.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she growled. ‘We go out together. I won’t be a moment.’
A short while later, she appeared in her wetsuit with the surfboard under her arm. ‘OK, now we can go.’
The tide was full and the surf was up, which meant we had to struggle through sizeable waves to get out there. All the time I was worried that Pimi might get impatient and take off. However, Steph didn’t seem to be worried: perhaps she was already in contact with the whale.
As we passed through the breakline, Pimi came forward to nudge us apart so she could be between us. Steph leant forward and gave her a kiss. I just patted her, over and over again—I was so thrilled to be with her. Then she started clicking furiously. It was the first time we’d heard her clicking since the original stranding. Once again she had a calf to talk with.
Cautiously, he came alongside. Steph’s expression transformed to one of total joy as she stroked the youngster. You would almost think he was her own baby, and in a way I suppose he was; without Steph’s efforts, Pimi would not have survived long enough to have him.
After a couple of pats on the calf, I moved away so that Steph could say the things I knew she would want to say. It was a private thing between her and the whale, not something that I needed to hear.
