by Chris Vick
‘Can I see?’ he said.
‘If you like. Follow me.’
She led him back to the hall, then into another hall, down curving stone steps and through a smoked-glass door into a cellar.
Three walls were covered floor to head-high with racks. Hundreds of bottles.
‘Holy shit,’ said Jake.
‘We can have some if you like. I’m not bothered, but if you want?’
‘Maybe later.’
‘Dad won’t mind us taking one, as long as it’s not one of those.’ She pointed at the top row of the rack that was furthest from the door. ‘The pricey ones.’
They all looked expensive to Jake. Everything about this place looked expensive.
*
They ate salmon pâté she’d made herself, on tiny squares of toast.
They drank the wine, with the steak and swordfish.
They talked, a lot. About surf, dolphins, the sea. His mates. Hers. The usual stuff.
But all the time Jake was working up the courage to ask about Hawaii. They’d never planned anything beyond the next day’s picnic.
He knew they needed to talk about it – she was headed off in September.
He took off his shoes and stroked her leg under the table.
‘So,’ he said. ‘You got your ticket yet? A date for going?’
‘I told you. September.’
‘You never said the date.’
‘Why? Are you planning a leaving party?’
Hannah stared at Jake, looking a little scared. He stared back.
The words leaving party had cut through their evening like a knife.
Neither of them spoke for a while. No one filled the heavy silence.
They hadn’t talked about ‘goodbye’. Or a future. Jake downed his wine and poured himself another.
‘Jake.’
‘What?’
‘This is difficult. You don’t know … look. Do you even know what I’ll be doing there?’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘Going on boats looking for whales?’
Hannah sighed. ‘Dr Rocca takes four interns a year. Hundreds apply. You spend five hours on the boat, every two weeks. The rest of the time you sit on a cliff watching for whales to dive so you can take photos of their tail flukes, to ID them. You listen to hours of whale song and make notes. You spend days at the computer filing ID shots. That’s the fun bit. When you’re not doing that, you scrub floors, you make food for Paul and his team. It’s hard. You earn nothing. You sleep in a bunkroom with the other interns. You live it and you breathe it. You don’t get time off.’
Jake couldn’t believe how serious Hannah sounded.
‘Why do it, then?’
‘You get close to the whales. You get contacts, experience. A chunk of data for your degree. Do you know how many people want to be marine biologists? No one can get the experience you need. No one.’
‘Why you telling me this?’
‘Because …’ She spoke slowly, carefully. ‘If you came … Well, like I said, there isn’t even time off, really. We’d never see each other. It wouldn’t be fair on you.’
He took his foot off her leg. So that’s what this evening was about. This summer was as far as it went. She was letting him know. Gently as she could.
‘You don’t want me to come?’ he said.
Hannah dropped her fork, wide-eyed with shock.
‘What? Jake, no! No. I didn’t mean … I’d love you to be there. More than anything.’ She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. ‘But it’s a big ask. We couldn’t even stay together. We’d hardly see each other.’ She sounded sad, talking about the reality of it. He had to admit it didn’t sound like he’d imagined. Even so …
‘Don’t matter,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I can surf. It’s Hawaii. That’s a dream come true. Better seeing each other once a week than Skyping. Better than waiting six months. They’ll have to let you see me sometimes.’ He squeezed her hand back and smiled at her, noticing the softness in her eyes. The mistiness.
‘You’d wait?’ Hannah said. ‘Six months? For me?’
‘Yeah. Course.’ He pulled his hand from hers, feeling oddly shy. He coughed, and attacked his steak. ‘I’d rather come to Hawaii, though.’
‘Where would you stay?’
‘I’d work it out.’
‘What would you do for money?’
‘I’d work that out too.’
‘It’s that simple for you, isn’t it?’
He took a chunk of fat off his plate and threw it to Beano. He took another gulp of wine.
‘Yes,’ he said.
She watched him eat, her elbows on the table, resting her chin on interlaced fingers and gazing at him, carefully.
‘Okay,’ she said.
‘Okay what?’
‘Okay, come to Hawaii.’ She shone her sun-smile at him.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. I wanted you to. I just … needed to hear you say it.’ Hannah stood up, came round the table and plonked herself on his lap. She snuggled her bum into him. On to him. And kissed him.
‘Hawaii, yeah?’ he said.
‘Yes. Yes. Promise me.’
‘I promise.’
They kissed some more. He had one hand on her thigh, another round her waist. His hand moved up her leg, and the dress moved with it. She put her tongue between his lips for a second. He felt himself, against her, stronger by the moment. She wriggled out of his grip, and stood up. She reached for the wine bottle but it was empty. ‘Go get another,’ she said breathlessly. ‘To celebrate.’
When he stood up, his head was spinning from the wine and from the warmth of Hannah. From the promise they’d made. They were going to Hawaii.
Jake walked to the cellar, swaying, like he was surfing the air. He was ready to grab a bottle and run back quickly, before the moment dissolved.
He stood, in front of the racks, a kid in a sweet shop, not knowing which to take. He picked one at random then looked around the cellar, up and down, as if there might be a camera there too. But there wasn’t.
He still felt giddy. Drunk, and not just from wine.
He had an idea. It made his head spin even more. He picked a bottle off the rack on the far wall: one of the ‘expensive’ wines. He wiped the dust off, on his jeans, and replaced it with the one he’d just taken.
It felt bad and good at the same time. Naughty.
So what? he thought. A little payback for the grief Lancaster had caused Mum. Why not? Lancaster could afford it. He probably wouldn’t even notice.
Jake toyed with the idea putting the bottle back. A twinge of guilt making him hesitate. Then:
‘Fuck it,’ he said, laughed out loud, and ran.
Back in the kitchen, Jake opened the wine and Hannah turned up the music.
They danced. She taught him moves she’d learnt at classes when she was young. She seemed pleased with how quickly he picked them up.
They slow-danced. Snogged.
He thought about Hannah as they danced. This smart, beautiful girl. The girl he’d be with in Hawaii.
‘Why me?’ he asked, as they swayed slowly, with her head on his shoulder and her breath against his neck.
‘Why you what?’
‘You could have anyone.’
They sat down, with her on his lap again. No wriggling away now. Her arms hung round him, pulling him closer.
‘Those people Mum and Dad are with tonight … Their son, Simon, was my first proper boyfriend. It lasted a year. It should have been a week. The guys I meet in my world, they’re like Simon. Too polite, too awkward. Or they’re rugger-playing idiots whose total dream is to be a stockbroker with a Porsche,’ she whispered in his ear, her hand on his chest. ‘They don’t interest me; they’re not … real.’ She took a glug of wine from the bottle, kissed his neck. ‘I don’t want to be some banker’s wife. I don’t want to end up … I hate myself for saying this … like Mum. You see this – this place. Think it’s nice?’
‘Yeah. It’s
…’
‘It’s a prison!’ Hannah cried, suddenly angry-drunk. ‘This life. Why do you think I’m going to Hawaii? It’s not just whales. Not just that. I’m getting away.’
‘Is that me, then? Am I an escape too?’
‘No, Jake. I mean you are, but you’re more than that. I’m drunk. I don’t know what I … I’m just trying to say … You’re different. You’re strong and kind. You don’t give a shit about things that don’t matter.’ She waved her arm at the kitchen, the house. ‘You’re all about doing things, being who you are, not just getting more … Stuff. You’re free, like … I dunno. The sea.’
‘The sea?’ he laughed. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I told you. I don’t know.’ Her hand slipped inside his shirt. Their mouths locked, softly, and the talking stopped.
They stood up, still kissing, for a long time, then in one movement, he took the hem of her dress, lifted it over her head, and let it fall to the floor.
They came back together, knocking a chair over.
‘Leave it,’ she said, wrapping her arms round his neck.
They stumbled through the door and up the stairs, stopping to kiss, to feel, before staggering into Hannah’s room. To her bed.
*
Afterwards, they lay together. The window was open. Jake watched the star-rammed sky, and listened to the sea on the rocks. Hannah fell asleep in his arms.
Hannah
HANNAH’S EYES FLEW open.
Why?
Something wasn’t right.
The sound of the drive gate, clinking smoothly shut. The purr of Dad’s Merc. The crunch of tyres over the gravel.
‘Shit! Jake, wake up!’ She grabbed his shoulder and shook him.
‘Wassup?’
‘They’re back.’ Hannah leapt to the window.
‘Who, what …’ His voice changed from sleepy to wide-awake in a second. ‘They’re not back till tomorrow.’
‘That’s what they said.’
‘They gonna flip?’
‘They knew you’d come round. They didn’t know you’d stay. Shit.’
Hannah searched her memories, through the haze of wine and sex and sleep.
Plates and glasses on the table. Empty bottles. The chair knocked over.
Her dress on the kitchen floor.
‘Oh no. Oh God, no.’
The front door opened, then clunked shut.
Voices. Sharp and loud.
Dad: ‘I’ve known him for fifteen years. I’ve kept that bloody bank going.’
Mum: ‘You didn’t have to make a scene. Why don’t you … Oh. My. God. Pete, come here.’
Mum was in the kitchen. There was no time to do anything.
Hannah froze at the window. Jake sat in bed. Both of them naked.
She covered herself with her hands, then pulled her dressing gown off the back of the door.
‘Stay here,’ she whispered, hurrying. If there was going to be a scene, it would be better in the kitchen, before Dad made his way upstairs. She ran down, took a breath before going in.
‘Hi,’ she said.
Dad and Mum stood by the table. Mum had the dress in her hand. Dad picked the chair off the floor and put it upright. Mum placed the dress carefully on the back of the chair.
‘Thought you were back tomorrow,’ said Hannah. They turned to her. Her gaze fell to the floor.
‘What’s been going on?’ said Dad.
‘Pete,’ said Mum. ‘It’s pretty obvious what’s been going on.’ Hannah steeled herself, but kept her eyes on the floor.
‘He is my boyfriend,’ said Hannah. Quietly, politely.
‘You said he might come round for a drink,’ said Dad.
‘Pete. Come on,’ Mum said. Hannah looked up. Mum rolled her eyes, not believing Dad’s naivety. Was she okay with this? Was she on Hannah’s side?
‘This is my house. I did not give permission for …’ Dad looked at the dress on the chair.
‘He came round for dinner, we had some wine.’ Hannah felt a teasing pain in her hands, and noticed she’d clenched her fists. Her nails were digging into her palms.
‘So I see,’ said Dad.
‘He’s my boyfriend. We can …’ She couldn’t say it.
‘Not in my house,’ said Dad.
‘You’d better get used to the idea. He’s coming to Hawaii.’ She didn’t know where these brave words came from, but now that they were out there she felt reckless. She could still feel Jake’s sweat, his warmth, the wine. It was all like armour, protecting her.
‘How the hell can you make that decision?’ Dad shouted. ‘You’ve known him, what? A week, two?’
‘Longer.’
He stepped towards her. She didn’t move, though her legs were weak as twigs. ‘And where is he? This boy who’s flying round the world with you, who we don’t even know?’
‘I’m here,’ said Jake.
He’d got dressed. He’d made himself presentable as possible. But he was barefooted, his shoes were still under the table.
‘We met briefly, Mr Lancaster. I’m Jake,’ he said, and held out his hand.
Dad looked him up and down. Dad, with his jacket and tie and slick hair. He shook Jake’s hand, limply, but pulled the sides of his mouth down and raised his eyebrows as he did it.
He’d dismissed Jake and everything he was with one look. And Hannah hated him for it.
He picked up one of the empty bottles, took his glasses out of his shirt pocket and examined it. Reading it like a book, like there was no one else there.
‘You said I could take some wine,’ said Hannah.
‘And so you did,’ said Dad, still looking at the label. ‘Do you know how much this bottle was worth?’
‘Sorry, Dad.’
‘Sorry?’ he said, softly. ‘You’re sorry.’ Jake stepped forward.
‘Hey. We got carried away, drank too much. I was never even going to stay here.’
Her dad didn’t look at Jake, only at Hannah.
‘No. But you did, didn’t you? Hannah, you know which bottles not to take.’ He showed her the bottle, like she would recognise it.
Jake held his hand up. ‘It’s my bad. I went to get another bottle. Maybe I got one of the pricey ones by accident.’
Dad looked weirdly pleased by this news. Hannah shot Jake a WTF look.
‘I’ll pay you back,’ said Jake. ‘I promise.’
Dad looked at Jake now. Examining him.
‘That might take longer than you think,’ said Dad. ‘You work in a pub, don’t you?’
‘There’s no need for that, Pete,’ said Mum. ‘I mean, there’s no need for Jake to pay for it. Is there?’
Mum never stood up to Dad, but she was now. Even Beano looked at Dad, like he was going to bark. Her father was alone.
He raised his finger and pointed first at Mum, then at Hannah.
‘You’d better go,’ Hannah said to Jake before Dad could speak. She leant over, ducked under the table, grabbed his shoes, and herded him to the front door.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘About the bottle.’
‘I’m sorry too. About Dad.’
They kissed. A reminder of their night.
She watched him disappear into the dark.
Jake
THEY AVOIDED HANNAH’S house after that. And her family.
They took long walks on the cliffs. Searching. Because Hannah had heard a rumour. The sighting of orcas. Killer whales.
‘Not sure I want killer whales around, anyway.’ Jake said after they got home one day. ‘I’d freak if I saw one in the water.’
Hannah grinned. ‘Worried it’d surf better than you?’
‘Killer whales don’t surf.’
‘Yeah? I’ve seen it, Jake. I’ve filmed it.’
‘Get out!’
‘Wanna see?’
Hannah searched files on her laptop, a look of total concentration on her face. It surprised Jake when she got serious. She screwed up her eyes, sticking her tongue a little way out
of the side of her mouth. It was cute. And sexy.
‘Can’t find it,’ she said. ‘I should give these files names, not just numbers. Listen to this, while I search. Sounds from a hydrophone we placed off the Scillies, last summer.’
Jake strained his ears. Bubbling, rolling currents, soft gurgles, washing white noise. Hisses and whispers.
Then:
Cik … cik … cik … Faster. Cik … cik … cik … cik … cik … cik … Ckkkkkkkkkkk …
‘Sonar,’ said Hannah.
The air filled with waves of echoes, whistles, clicks and thuds. Jake’s skin goosebumped.
‘Voices,’ he said.
‘The sounds amplify through the hulls of ships,’ said Hannah. ‘Sailors used to reckon it was mermaids. Or the cries of drowned sailors.’
‘What are they saying?’
‘Hard to know, exactly. We match sounds to observed behaviour, and work out the combinations for feeding, hunting, calling. It’s rudimentary language, which varies between communities. They have dialects, and they use sets of unique phrases for individuals.’
‘You mean … names?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘I guess so.’
‘That’s incredible.’ He slumped in his chair, open-mouthed. Hannah saw, and smiled.
‘Want to see incredible? Watch this.’ She shifted the angle of the laptop, and moved her chair up next to his. He put his arm round her and rested his hand on the curve of her hip.
The footage was of sea and islands, taken from a boat he guessed, as the camera was swaying. The water was smooth and the day was crystal-blue, but at the edge of the island were huge breakers. As if on cue, a wave rose up on the screen. The wave held up, feathering white off the top.
A dark blur emerged inside the wave. Sleek, big and fast. An orca. It waved its tail frantically as it cruised through the blue, then erupted out of the face of the wave, flying backwards. A huge fish in its mouth.
Jake shock-laughed. He almost clapped. The cheek of the thing. The skill, the grace, the power.
She stared at him, watching his reaction.
‘I’ve never seen anything like that,’ she said. ‘But I will again, one day. I’m going to study orcas.’ Her eyes misted, seeing a dream. ‘You know what’s different about them?’
