Singing Home the Whale

by Hager, Mandy

  He glanced at it, dread blurring his vision. Groaned. She’d called it ‘Awesome Singing Baby Orca!’ If that wasn’t being set up, what was? He hated her. Was gutted Pania didn’t understand.

  What? She must be joking. It showed a hundred and sixty-three thousand views — and looked like nearly everyone who watched it had made a comment too. He really had to get a grip; could feel bile rising.

  It was hard to take this in; accept such an altered reality. Only four ‘thumbs down’ amongst over a hundred thousand ‘likes’. Could that be right? Person after person, praising Min, Pania … and him. No negative comments he could see, except a few who thought it must’ve been jacked up, but they were shouted down by others, all talking about how clever, how precious, how amazing Min was, all whales were. He let the phone drop in his lap.

  ‘O—kay.’ Couldn’t believe it. Just like Viv said. ‘There has to be a catch.’

  ‘If there is, I haven’t found it yet.’ She sat down on the bed beside him. Picked his hand up and wove it into hers. ‘Please don’t freak out. It’s an amazing thing you’ve done.’

  He felt exhausted again. Confused. ‘Have you been hassled by the media yet?’

  ‘Mum has. She took their names and fobbed them off. I said it should be you who talks.’

  ‘Not going to happen.’

  ‘You have to, Will. Viv said this could really change the way that people think. It’s going viral. Imagine, they’ll see it in Japan and Iceland — and that other place—’

  ‘Norway.’ On automatic. ‘You think it’ll actually change their policies? Come on. It’s all about the money. Jobs. And the media are no better — they take things and they twist them round.’

  ‘Then let’s agree only if we’re interviewed together. We can look out for each other — and if they’re being jerks we’ll just walk out.’

  She was so damn practical. Sensible. ‘Maybe.’ He flopped backwards, sprawled across her bed. Reached up and brushed his fingers through the wispy tips of her hair. ‘Come here.’

  She dropped down beside him, her face against his chest as he curled around her. His heart was beating so hard she surely felt it through his shirt. He held her, pressed his nose into her hair. Closed his eyes. Wished the world would leave them be. See how the Fates … Yeah, yeah. He could run, hide away, but jerks like Bruce would go on killing for the sake of it, convince others it was okay, and those incredible creatures — who’d looked into his eyes, his soul — would be even more at risk.

  He’d have to tough it out. Pania was right. He’d be a fool to blow it now. He sighed and kissed the crown of her head. ‘Okay. Let’s do it. Screw the haters. Let’s kick some ass!’

  She lifted her head and kissed him on lips. What else mattered?

  HIS DAD STAYED ANOTHER THREE days — he couldn’t take more time off — but was there when Will and Pania were interviewed for the TV news, three newspapers, and a chat show in the States that Will had balked at before Pania talked him around. Each hour, hits multiplied; they reached a million within days. Gabby cancelled the pledge site for his fine, but set a new one up to help fund anti-whaling campaigns. Already nearly forty grand. Will hated it. The effort to maintain his cool, to not freak out, left him permanently knackered.

  Pania was such a natural on camera that he steered as many questions as possible her way. Should’ve realised she’d handle it: she’d been doing karangas and speaking on the marae all her life. Her shyness came across as humble — was humble. Her answers were always technically precise. Her eyes were so intensely blue onscreen, they were practically hypnotic. It helped to have her there; helped take the pressure off him, calmed his nerves. She was right about that too.

  Of course, all the reporters had to dredge up the old shit as well — he knew it — and he got grilled at every interview. The weird thing was, instead of ridicule, he now received sympathy, though he didn’t trust it — he knew the way tides turned in an instant. He felt such a dick each time he talked about it, but he had people coming up to him in the street and telling him their own stories of ancient humiliations and traumas, swallowed down or overcome. It was like being on Oprah; like being Oprah. An Oprah opera.

  On the day of his dad’s departure, Will took him to the airport in Dean’s car. He promised to come over in the holidays, although he knew he probably wouldn’t. He wanted to be with her. He stayed to watch the plane take off, then headed to the hospital to check on Hunter. DS Gilroy stood guard outside his room. The door was closed.

  ‘Wow, I take it Bruce is here?’ Just the thought was freaky. How the hell must Hunter feel?

  ‘That kid’s a lot more forgiving than I’d be,’ Gilroy said. ‘We’d stopped Bruce from making contact, but Hunter insisted — and on his own.’

  ‘Yeah, he told me he planned to. You sure he’ll be okay?’

  Gilroy nodded. ‘I doubt Bruce will want to make any more fuss. Thanks to your uncle’s information we’ve passed his dealings onto the Serious Fraud Office and they’re going to investigate. They gave us the nod this morning. Our friend in there has just run out of luck.’

  ‘Will he go to jail?’

  ‘Without a doubt. Hunter’s given us a very thorough statement about the other day and past assaults. Between that and this SFO investigation, I doubt we’ll see him around for a good few years.’

  Will nodded but said nothing. Probably wasn’t a good idea to dance for joy when he was due in court again himself.

  ‘I saw you with the orca on the news,’ Gilroy said. ‘Pretty amazing connection between the two of you. I kind of get it after seeing that.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Will laughed. ‘You know you’ve blown all my preconceptions about cops. Who am I supposed to rage against now?’

  ‘Yeah, well you’ve blown all mine about hippies, or goths, or whatever you are.’

  ‘Come on. If I was a goth I’d be wearing make-up.’

  Gilroy grinned. ‘See? Just the fact you know that proves my point!’

  The door wrenched open and Bruce staggered out. He didn’t look well, his colour patchy, face a sweaty neon red. He froze when he saw Will.

  ‘You!’

  ‘Okay, Bruce. Remember your bail conditions.’ Gilroy leaned into the doorway. ‘You okay in there, son?’

  Will wormed into the room behind Gilroy.

  ‘I bet you think you’re pretty clever, eh?’ The venom in Bruce’s voice was toxic.

  ‘Not really. But just so you know, he’s told me everything. Everything.’ He looked right into Bruce’s snake eyes. Shut the door on him, and wished it had a lock. He slumped against it, eyeing Hunter. ‘How’d it go?’

  The poor bugger was white, totally wrung out. ‘It’s done.’

  ‘You trust him?’

  Hunter nodded. Pointed to his mobile phone. ‘I got it all on there. If he ever tries to screw us over, I’ll send it to the cops.’

  Will sat down beside the bed, knees a little weak. ‘Impressive. Remind me not to piss you off!’

  ‘You think I’m tough? You stole a boat and drove it through a gale in the bloody Cook Strait, you crazy townie!’

  Will shrugged. ‘Guilty as charged, Your Honour.’

  ‘Yeah, well, by tonight I think you’ll find those charges have been dropped.’

  Relief dawned slowly. Trickled in. ‘I owe you big time, man.’

  ‘Forget it. Thanks for being here.’

  ‘Did he apologise?’

  A short, bitter snort. ‘Rack off! He never apologises. But he went as white as snow when I told him I’d remembered. Had to hold onto the chair.’ Hunter wiped a bloodless hand across his brow. White as snow.

  ‘Looks like you need to rest. You want me to stay or come back tomorrow?’

  ‘Would you mind just sitting here till I drop off? I know — I’m such a pussy — but it kind of shook me up.’

  ‘No sweat, man.’ He grinned. ‘Want me to sing you a lullaby?’

  ‘Yeah, go on then.’ Hunter didn’t look like he was jo
king. He closed his eyes. ‘Can you do that one you sang the night we stayed out at Gleneden?’

  Surprise blanked Will’s mind. What on earth had he sung? He pictured himself back in the cove. Listened for the soundtrack to his thoughts. Oh yes, of course, from La Bohème. He crooned it quietly, not just for the sake of the patients in the other rooms, but his throat was still not right. ‘Che gelida manina, se la lasci riscaldar …’ Your tiny hand is frozen, let me warm it with my own … Poor Helen. What a shit of a life. A good reminder not to settle for second best. To think she could’ve had Dean. Such a waste — for both of them.

  He stopped. ‘You know, it’s like you’ve finally avenged your mum.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Hunter opened one eye. ‘Feels good. Now shut up and keep singing.’

  ‘Aspetti, signorina, le dirò con due parole chi son, e che faccio, come vivo. Vuole?’ Wait, mademoiselle, I will tell you in two words, who I am, what I do, and how I live. May I? Who’d have thought, the first time he saw this great lump, that he’d one day sit beside his bed and sing Puccini to him at his request? Life sure delivered up some strange surprises.

  TWO NIGHTS LATER, WILL PICKED up Pania and they walked down to the wharf together. The Cat hadn’t come back yet, though Dean had been to check it out; he said it was fine, just a few dents and scratches. Will and Pania sat down in a gap between the boats and rolled up their jeans, dredging their feet through the high tide. It was a still night. Perfect. He’d learnt a lot about the weather since he’d moved down here; had never really noticed before how southerlies rolled through with such clockwork precision — three days of total crap and then a clump of perfect days. Pity he’d timed his mission for the worst of the crap ones.

  ‘So, Gilroy rang today and said that all the charges had been dropped.’

  ‘Oh my god! What happened?’

  ‘I guess I must have charmed them with my winning ways.’

  She slapped at him. ‘Yeah, right. How really?’

  Will tapped the side of his nose. ‘Top secret. Let’s just say Hunter made Bruce an offer he couldn’t refuse.’

  ‘Hunter did? Wow, good on him.’ She leaned into his shoulder. ‘Viv rang to say she’s jacked up another interview. Some “save the ocean” website.’

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about Helen,’ he said, trying to deflect where this was going. ‘If she hadn’t been pressured into marrying Bruce, she’d probably still be alive — and probably be with Dean.’

  Pania frowned. ‘I don’t get the connection. Is this ’cause you don’t like the fact Viv’s with him?’

  ‘It’s not that. I think Viv’s great for him. It’s just the pressure of the interviews …’

  She leaned down and sifted water through her fingers. ‘What, you’ve had enough of trying to save the whales?’

  He laughed. ‘Course I haven’t. But I want my life back. It’s all too hard.’

  ‘But look at all the money pouring in. It’s not just us any more — lots of people are doing what they can.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I’m not saying pull the plug altogether — I’d just like to be left alone for a bit. Sort my head out. Plan what the hell to do next.’ He picked her hand up and licked the sea off her index finger. ‘Tasty!’

  She shook her head. Murmured, ‘Idiot!’

  The tide was on the turn, sucking the ribs of the wharf. Somewhere behind them two cats fought, wails cutting through the settling darkness. Will sighed. ‘God, I miss the little bugger. Every night I hear him singing in my head.’ He hated that he’d never get to hear Min in the flesh again. Look into those eyes.

  ‘You remember when Min first came? And Nanny said Kingi’s spirit had come back?’

  He nodded. Couldn’t speak. The thought of Min had brought a lump into his throat.

  ‘When I was with him that night you stayed with Hunter, I felt like Kingi was there. I know that sounds stupid, but it was comforting.’ She sniffed and he realised she was crying.

  ‘It’s not stupid.’ He scrabbled for her hand. ‘Sometimes when I was out here I felt like there was a great circle of ghosts around me — most human, but some not. There’s something about him. He taps you into a whole different dimension.’

  She knuckled the tears out of her eyes. Hiccupped. ‘After that night, I hated knowing I’d never see him again. It pressed all my buttons, I guess; didn’t even know I had any until that night. That’s why I keep saying yes to interviews, hoping someone might offer to take us out to be with him again. I keep thinking, what if Nanny’s right and Min is somehow connected to Kingi?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  She sighed. ‘I dunno. But it haunts me, Will. Even though Kingi was hardly ever home, I feel like a big chunk of my family’s missing now. Mum and Dad are still so sad. I have these dreams where he’s walking towards that village and I’m yelling at him to stop but he can’t hear me. I wake up feeling like it’s my fault he died.’

  ‘Oh, Pans, you know it’s not.’

  ‘Course I do, logically, but it doesn’t stop it hurting.’

  He lifted her hand to his lips. Felt all his defences fall away. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  ‘I thought you’d think I’m nuts. Dad says most Pākehā wouldn’t know an ancestor’s spirit if it jumped up and bit them.’

  He snorted. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I didn’t say you were like that. It’s just a hard thing to admit, okay? I’m the sensible scientific one, remember?’

  ‘Yeah? Well, I’m the flaky arty one, remember, so you should’ve known I’d understand.’

  ‘Look, what if we say no to more interviews for now then,’ Pania said. ‘I don’t care. I’ve got to concentrate on my internal assessments anyway. But if a really interesting — important — offer comes up, let’s talk it over, eh? We don’t want to regret that either. How’s that?’

  He nodded, incredibly relieved. ‘Damn, you make life hard for me.’

  She frowned. ‘In what way?’

  ‘I’m trying to be more sensible like you, not always jumping in the deep end, and you’re so adorable you’re forcing me to fall head over heels!’

  She laughed. ‘Oh right, that’s my fault is it?’ He could tell she was pleased. Thank god.

  ‘Yep. And there’s only one thing for it, Pania Huriwai, you’ll have to agree to be my girlfriend. You know, hang out? Step out with me? Date? Fill my dance card? Go steady? Go walkies? Go—’

  ‘Shut up!’ She leaned closer, puckering up, but instead of a kiss slurped from his chin to the stud between his eyes; a great big doggy lick. ‘Yes, I’ll go walkies, you total bloody idiot!’

  Will reared back, laughing. He wiped his face, then wagged his finger at her. ‘Uh oh! Nanny M’s ears will be burning.’

  ‘I guess I’ll have to bribe you then.’ She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to her. Kissed him. Left him breathless when she pushed him back. ‘Listen, I’m still going down to Canterbury. It’s been my dream for years.’

  ‘Of course. Though I do hear there’s this thing called the phone — and, even better, Skype! Great new-fangled inventions! And you know what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder? I look forward to getting fond with you!’ He waggled his eyebrow hardware; was glad to have it back. ‘Anyway, I’m gonna be busy too. If I do okay, I’ll go and study overseas when I’m finished here. You know, I kind of like the idea of telling people I date a brainbox.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  He could feel her tense up. ‘What? Did I say something—’

  ‘Nope. It’s just— I’m a, you know … I’ve kind of been too busy to—’

  ‘What?’ Was she talking about sex? Hoped so. It meant she had to be considering it!

  ‘If you’re expecting me to—’

  ‘Would it help if I admitted I’m a tragic “you-know” too?’ Oh shit. ‘Not that I’m saying you’re tragic, just—’ He didn’t bother finishing, she was laughing again now.

  ‘I thought all boys w
ere obsessed by sex? Nanny warns me every summer when the tourists come.’

  ‘Obsessed, yes. Successful? Nah.’ He took her hand again; kissed each finger. ‘Sounds like what we both need is a bit of private practice.’

  ‘Sleazeball!’

  ‘Schweetheart.’

  ‘What would you be singing if Min was here?’

  Where did that come from? ‘I dunno. Maybe a little Gilbert and Sullivan. He really seemed to like that.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sing some.’

  ‘Why?’

  The corner of her mouth twitched. ‘Because I asked.’

  ‘You sure? It’s kind of weird if you’re not used to it.’

  ‘So are you!’ She lay back, hair splayed across the timbers of the walkway. ‘Go on. Please.’

  On the spot, the first song off the rack wasn’t even for a male voice. Classic Mikado, though; lots of yearning. Why not? He stood up, looming above her as he drew in breath. ‘The sun, whose rays are all ablaze with everliving glory, does not deny his majesty — he scorns to tell a story!’ She was smiling up at him, a strange concentrating smile. ‘He won’t exclaim, “I blush for shame, So kindly be indulgent.” But, fierce and bold, in fiery gold, he glories all effulgent …’

  As he sang, she first sat up, and then stood. It took him a moment to hear what she was doing. Winding around his song with haunting wordless harmonies — the same kind of harmonies Min would use. She had the tone down almost perfectly. It was so beautiful he had to swallow hard.

  ‘… There’s not a trace upon her face of diffidence or shyness: She borrows light, that, through the night, mankind may all acclaim her! And, truth to tell, she lights up well, so I, for one, don’t blame her! Ah, pray make no mistake, we are not shy; We’re very wide awake, the moon and I.’

  Seasons had shifted, the sun starting to scorch the ice, and I was tugged towards my Song Boy in our summer seas. Yet, when we went, passing places we were pulled to by The Pulse, I felt my fear follow me, my mother’s murder still so fresh. But now my family fussed around me; helped fend off those youthful fears.