Storms

by Chris Vick

  ‘See you in five.’ The phone went dead.

  He heard Sean at the door, putting on boots.

  ‘Oy, don’t go anywhere,’ he shouted. ‘Go get the laptop.’

  Sean’s head appeared round the kitchen door. ‘Please tell me you ain’t going to watch porn at the kitchen table while we’re all out?’

  ‘Funny. It’s important – get it now.’

  Sean did as he was asked. He set up the laptop in front of Jake, and sat back down.

  ‘You can go now,’ said Jake. Sean sat still, not going anywhere. Jake found his email account and opened the attachment from Goofy. Sean dragged his chair round, so he could watch too.

  It was grainy, shaky footage, taken from a boat that was riding a rocky swell.

  Jake could only see the sea at first, grey and green, then blasts of blue-grey sky and white clouds. The only sound was the whistling wind, making the phone mic crackle.

  Then … a black fin, cutting out of the water. And another. Whales.

  They were weirdly terrifying. They weren’t the black and white blobs they’d been on the beach but great beasts, strong and supple. Phoosh. Their breaths sprayed into the air.

  The footage was seasick, shaking and rolling in the waves. In the background, islands and rocks appeared and disappeared.

  Jake knew where it was. Dangerous waters. Him and Goofy had been there, spear-fishing. But that was summer, when the water was calm.

  The footage showed the whales circling something. The boat got closer. The whales didn’t move away. They just kept circling, surrounding whatever it was, as the boat got closer still.

  ‘It’s caught, look.’ A voice was shouting above the wind, and a hand was pointing.

  Jake saw nets at the surface – and under the nets, a whale. Smaller than the rest.

  ‘Little One,’ Jake gasped.

  ‘What?’ said Sean.

  ‘The whale. The young one. Shit, is she dead?’ But she breathed a spume of spray and mist. Her mouth was opening. Yawning wide and clamping down, trying in vain to bite the net.

  She was alive, all right. But pushing up, against the net.

  ‘Hold up, there’s rocks!’ a voice shouted. There came the sound of the throaty groan of an engine’s throttle.

  ‘They can’t get the boat nearer,’ said Jake.

  Yet whoever took the footage was close enough, to see … to film …

  Below, in the deep, a whale was pressing against Little One’s body underneath her. Another great black shadow swam into view. It did the same thing, on the other side. Siding up against Little One. The first whale then fell away, swam off, surfaced and breathed. Another whale appeared out of the depths, replacing the first.

  Jake and Sean watched this happen, three times. One of the whales took over from another every minute or so.

  ‘The whales are taking turns to keep Little One afloat,’ said Jake. ‘She must be so knackered … they’re keeping her alive.’ The film stopped on a blurred, frozen screen shot of the young whale’s head. Its black marble eye was staring up at the men.

  The door opened and Goofy bounced in. ‘Seen it? Right, you gotta tell Hannah.’

  ‘But the boat – didn’t they do anything?’

  ‘No. They couldn’t get near. Besides, they want to get out and catch fish before the next storm comes. It wasn’t till half an hour after that they even got a signal and sent me the clip. They know I know you and Hannah. They seen it all on the news, like.’

  Jake looked at Goofy, then at Sean. Both of them stared back at him, expectant.

  ‘We can sort this out,’ he said.

  Sean and Goofy looked at each other. ‘Sort this out?’ they said, together.

  ‘Yeah. We can get out there, with wetties and snorkels. Get in the sea and cut the net.’

  Goofy pointed at the crutch, leaning against the table. ‘You probably can’t go for a piss without help. Now you’re Bear Grylls? Don’t be soft, man. Tell Hannah and her whale-hugging mates. She’ll be grateful you told her.’

  ‘Tell her what?’

  Goofy put his hands up in disbelief. ‘What’s going on! Where the whales are!’

  ‘You got coordinates?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What then? We gonna give her directions?’

  Goofy opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again. Opened. Shut. Jake had a killer point. Those rocks and islands would all look the same to anyone who didn’t know them. There were dozens of them too, spread over a lot of sea. Jake and Goofy knew exactly where the whales were, but they’d struggle to explain how to get there, even if they spent a while poring over a chart. And Goofy knew it.

  ‘All right, well, I’ll go with them,’ Goofy said. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘You know exactly where? You need me.’

  ‘You’re wasting time. Call her.’

  ‘She’s not answering my calls.’

  ‘Send her a text.’

  ‘I reckon she’s blocked my number. And I dunno how long it’ll be before she can get hold of a RIB. Goof, we need to get a boat.’

  ‘Your leg, man!’

  Jake looked down. Blood had seeped through the bandage. He would need a new dressing soon. They’d shown him how to do it at the hospital. The doc’s words rang in his head: Time and rest will heal it.

  He didn’t have time. He couldn’t rest. And this was a chance for him to come good. A little at least.

  ‘It’s a quick dive with a knife. We gotta move quick. You got any boats in?’

  ‘Yeah, I got work lined up for weeks. All storm-damaged.’

  ‘Any seaworthy?’

  ‘There’s one still on the water. Old thing. Got a high crack where it smashed against the harbour. It floats, though.’

  ‘Good enough to go out in?’

  ‘Spear-fishing, sure. But not in these conditions.’

  ‘We have to go.’

  ‘You do know there’s another storm on the way?’

  ‘How long have we got?’

  ‘Hours. At the most.’

  Hannah

  HANNAH WOKE TO hear Beano grumbling. It was morning. Hard sunlight and fresh wind invaded the hollow.

  ‘Hannah? Hannah!’ It was Dad’s voice, some way off but getting closer.

  ‘Shut up, Beano,’ she whispered, grabbing his muzzle. She put a finger to her lips. ‘Shhh. I don’t want to see him. Not now.’

  ‘Beano!’ Dad called, and Beano whimpered. Then: ‘Hannah!’ Closer. She held her breath. ‘Beanoooo! Hannaaaah!’ The dog wriggled, wanting to get up, to go and see.

  Hannah turned to face the wall, and the darkness. Hiding.

  ‘Hannah!’ His voice croaked with desperation. How far had he walked? How many times had he called her name? Had he searched all night?

  A shadow fell over her. She looked up. His silhouette blocked the light.

  ‘Hannah. Thank God.’ He crumpled down to kneel in the dirt. ‘Thank God.’

  She had a strong urge to hit him, followed by an equally strong urge to hug him. To cry on his shoulder.

  She sat up and saw a bottle of water in the pocket of his coat. She leant over, took it, flipped the top, and drank.

  ‘We’ve been worried sick,’ he said.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  ‘We’ve looked all night. We’ve called all your friends. I even tried to get hold of Jake.’ He looked to her for a reaction, like he always did. The old routine: father asks, daughter responds. Apologises. Explains.

  Not this time.

  ‘Well?’ he said, glaring. Hannah kept her silence.

  Dad’s frown softened: ‘I know this is … difficult, and we need to talk about it. But you at least owe me an explanation as to why you ran off and spent the night away.’ He looked at her, unblinking, like he always did. Waiting.

  Me? she thought. I owe you an explanation? It was almost funny. She kept her silence, still. It was the only weapon she had.

  They looked at each other f
or a long while.

  Dad took his phone out and made a call.

  ‘I’ve found her. Yes … yes … she’s fine. A little dishevelled, but fine.’ He offered the phone to her. ‘Your mother wants to talk to you.’

  ‘Does she know?’

  ‘Can you just speak to her?’ He waved the phone in Hannah’s face.

  ‘Does she know?’

  He shook his lowered head. ‘No.’

  She grabbed the phone. ‘Hi, Mum,’ she said, then held it away from her ear, so as not to be deafened by the stream of high-pitched cries.

  She caught the odd word between choked tears and wails. ‘Worry … sweetheart … home … Why?’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum. I’m perfectly okay. Dad will explain. Later.’

  He scowled.

  ‘Dad will explain everything.’ Hannah pressed the button ending the call.

  His face was crumbling with shock.

  ‘I can’t do that, Hann. What would I say?’

  ‘You could try the truth? Or just work out some bullshit lie. You’re clearly good at it.’

  He smarted at this. Pained by the words, as if she’d slapped him.

  ‘Look, Hannah. We’ll work it out, somehow. The important thing is, you’re okay.’

  ‘I’m not okay. I’ve never been less okay.’

  ‘I mean … you’re safe. We’ve spent all night searching. We’ve been worried.’

  ‘You could have called the police. But you wouldn’t do that, would you?’ Her every word felt like a dart, dipped in poison and thrown hard.

  He slumped against the wall. ‘I know you hate me right now. I just wish you’d called, if only for your mother’s sake. You owe me that at least.’

  ‘I don’t owe you anything,’ she said. ‘I don’t even know who you are.’

  ‘Perhaps … we should go for coffee. So we can talk.’

  Hannah put her arm round Beano and squeezed him to her. ‘No. I’m happy to talk right here.’

  She was too. Comfortable on the dry earth, in the old mine. Crusty and unwashed as she was.

  Dad sighed. ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘That doesn’t matter, Dad. You’re not turning this round. I know, okay? It doesn’t matter how. You need to answer the questions. One at least. Why, Dad?’

  He sighed and shook his head, burying his gaze in the ground.

  ‘Rich and I got in deep with the marina. Things started going wrong. Promised investments not turning up, costs spiralling, delays. The usual stuff. We’ve been there with projects, a hundred times. But this was different. It was bigger. Much bigger. We were headed south, Hannah. I … was on my way to being bankrupt. It was all going to end … All of it …’ His voice tapered into nothing. His head sagged lower.

  ‘You’ve never said that before, have you? Not to anyone.’

  ‘No.’

  She wondered if he’d even admitted it to himself before now. She tried to feel pity. Wanted to feel it.

  ‘So you thought you’d make it right by dealing drugs?’ It sounded strange, saying it out loud. It seemed impossible. Ridiculous.

  He sighed, as if a weight was falling off him, a great rucksack full of rocks dropping to the ground. But he still didn’t look at her – maybe he couldn’t – while he gathered the strength to talk.

  ‘We’d have had to take you out of college, sell everything, and we’d still be in debt. We’d have lost the house. The cottages. The marina. The boats. We’d have had to move into a rented cottage.’

  ‘Right. Unthinkable.’

  ‘Quite … Oh, you were being sarcastic.’ He coughed. ‘I couldn’t have got a decent job. Ever again. We’d have been ruined. I couldn’t do that to you.’

  ‘Oh, right. You did this for me. Christ, Dad.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I told you. It doesn’t matter. So, you did this to avoid going bust? Like there were no other options. We’ll get there, that’s what you always say. You always do, so not this time?’

  He put his hands up as if surrendering. ‘All right. It was an easy way out. I admit it. At least that’s how it seemed. But a one-off, I swear. They just wanted to use the boat, and I had to put in some investment. My last throw of the dice. It’s nearly done now. We don’t ever have to talk about it again. I am so sorry. I promise you, I will never, ever, ever do anything like this again. I know I’ve let you down. Please.’

  He looked up at her with glistening eyes. He was pleading, looking for forgiveness. Dad, who could never be weak, was begging.

  She couldn’t forgive him. But she did begin to feel a kind of pity.

  Beano’s ears pricked up. He’d heard something, probably a bird or a rabbit. He got up and raced outside.

  It was worse somehow, without Beano there. More awkward.

  Hannah stood up and walked outside into the day. Dad followed. He put his hands in his pockets and walked a few feet away, to the top of the cliff. Right to the top.

  ‘I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m so sorry.’

  And she had the thought, the crazy thought …

  ‘No! Dad!’ And ran to him.

  He turned, shocked. ‘What, Hannah?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ Her heart hammered through her whole body. ‘Nothing, I just thought, for one second.’

  He looked down at the sea, and realised. ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘No. Things aren’t quite that bad.’

  Hannah reached out and hugged him. A voice inside her told her not to be so stupid, not to have pity. But this was Dad, and for one second she had thought the worst.

  She held him tight, as if the world was spinning and he was a rock. She couldn’t hate him. Nor could she stop loving him, even if she wanted to.

  ‘I know this is awful, Hannah. I know. But at least the marina’s back on track. And we can pay your debt. You can go to Hawaii.’

  She let go of him, stood back.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I mean … It’s over. Everything’s going to be all right now. I know how stupid I’ve been. But it will never happen again. Never.’ He was almost spelling out the words, wanting her to get the message loud and clear.

  She felt her gut churning as if she might be sick. She took a step back, reeling. ‘Dad? Don’t you get it? You think I want your cocaine money? You think we can just pretend this never happened and move on?’ She waited, searching his face for some sign, some flicker of regret, of penance. ‘You have to get out of this, you have to wash your hands of all of it.’

  ‘It’s too late for that, Hannah. I can’t go back on it now. It’s almost done. These people, I’ve been … working with, they wouldn’t let me,’ he blustered. His hands flailed, imploring her.

  ‘Don’t you get it? I’d rather live in these ruins than live a life paid for with that money.’

  ‘But you owe that Rocca chap. If I go bankrupt, you’d be in debt. Not just me!’

  Hannah stamped a foot, folded her arms and shouted.

  ‘If I have to do nothing but wash up in a pub for twenty years to pay Dr Rocca off, that’s what I’ll do! If we lose the house, we lose it. None of that matters, Dad. Not really. Don’t you get that? We can start again.’

  ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You can start again.’

  The truth of it smacked into her. That was what it came down to. She was young. She had her whole life ahead. But not Dad.

  ‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘You’re worse than Jake.’

  ‘Why, what’s he done?’

  ‘This isn’t okay, Dad. This isn’t you saying sorry for what you did, and me forgiving you. This is about you undoing this mess. You can do anything you want, you always have. You have to undo this. And Jake? Ha!’ Another dart. The biggest one yet. ‘He’s the one that found your cocaine, okay? He confessed everything to me and I ended it between us, because he wouldn’t tell me who was involved, that it was your drugs he’d found and stolen. He ended it between us because he’d rather lose me than hurt me. Do you get that? Are you capable of even unde
rstanding that?’

  ‘How much does he know?’

  She shrugged, feeling braver now. ‘Everything, as far as I know. Where it was, how much, who’s got it now. That fact that it was your boat, your drugs. Everything!’

  ‘Has he gone to the police?’

  She wasn’t hollow now. She was filled with iron. ‘Not yet. But he will. I was the only thing stopping him. He will now. Or I will, if you don’t end this.’

  Dad walked backwards, staring at her. His phone rang. He answered, still keeping a careful, fearful eye on her, then strode quickly away, talking and listening. When he put the phone away, he came back.

  ‘Who was that?’ said Hannah. ‘Was it Mum?’

  ‘He can’t go to the police, Hannah. Neither can you. You do understand that?’

  ‘Who were you on the phone to?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘Was it them? The people you’re involved with? What were you saying?’

  ‘They’re going to talk to Jake. And I’m talking to you. No one is going to the police.’

  ‘Oh my God, Jake!’

  Dad put his hands up, then waved down, trying to calm her. ‘They’re just going to talk to him. He’ll be fine, as long as he doesn’t do anything stupid. They’re just talking. That’s all. Everything will be fine, but you don’t go to the police.’

  Was Dad threatening her? Using the threat of those people hurting Jake?

  ‘They shot him in the leg, Dad. Did you even know that?’

  ‘Just talking.’ He was getting louder. Not shouting, but showing his teeth.

  ‘The more you say just talking, the less I believe it, Dad. You’re trying to be in control. Like always. But you’re not. Are you?’

  He looked at and through her, but didn’t answer. Hannah knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t hear those words. He couldn’t acknowledge not being in control.

  He backed away from her and turned, half running. Leaving her alone.

  ‘Jake,’ she said. ‘Oh God, Jake. What have I done?’

  Hannah

  HANNAH RAN. HER breath and heart beat loudly in her head. Adrenalin pushed her over rocks and down paths.

  It had felt good, facing up to Dad. Letting him know the truth. But what had she done with that truth? What damage had she caused?