by Alan Durant
Late that night, long after I should have been in bed asleep, the words suddenly came to me. I wrote them down excitedly and emailed them to Stephan.
The next afternoon Violet suggested we go for a walk down to the beach. I said “no” at first – I didn’t think I was ready, but somehow she managed to persuade me. Well, that was Violet for you. On the way out we changed Becks’s headgear, swapping the straw boater for Dad’s favourite baseball cap. It was bright red with a white crown at the front. Mum called it his “King of Jokers” hat.
We went to a quiet part of the beach, near the hole in the cliff where we’d perched the last time, and found a large rock with a flattened head that we could sit on together. We were silent for a while, enjoying the breezy sunshine and the glittering sea. Then Violet said, “I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me for what I did.” She flicked aside strands of hair that the breeze had blown in her eyes.
I shifted slightly on the rock and glanced across at her with one eyebrow raised. “Who says I have?”
Violet’s fierce eyes narrowed. “You’d better have.” Then she grinned. “It’s good about the aquarium, isn’t it?”
“Mmm,” I agreed.
“Thousands of people signed our petition and lots want to sponsor fish. They really care.”
“You made them care,” I said.
“We made them care,” Violet insisted. “And you’ll be pleased to know, Uncle Stephan’s going ahead with my shop idea.”
“Did he have any choice?”
Violet laughed. “No, not really.”
I watched her, smiling. “It’s good to hear you laughing,” I said. I pictured her that first day I’d met her in Stephan’s office. “You were so grumpy when you first came.”
“Me?!” she cried with mock astonishment.
“Yes, you.” And I laughed, really laughed, like I hadn’t for days and days. “I’m glad you’ve made it up with your dad.”
Violet nodded. “Me too.”
Violet’s dad had Skyped her a few times since he’d seen the TV interview and it seemed to have made a big difference. She talked about him now with real affection. It was a long way from when he’d been the “arsehole”. She actually confessed that she was looking forward to seeing him again when she went home tomorrow. She hadn’t totally forgiven him, she said, but she was willing to give him another chance.
“You’ll be able to impress him with all you’ve learnt about fish,” I suggested.
“Well, it’ll make a change from beetles,” Violet said.
The summer sunshine splashed over the rock and made the tiny silver specks in its surface twinkle. Violet looked across at me almost shyly. “I will miss you, Dak, you know.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
“And I’ll miss Uncle Stephan and the aquarium and the fish.”
I smiled. “Especially the piranhas.”
“Yes, the piranhas.” Violet paused thoughtfully. “And the clownfish.”
I nodded but I didn’t speak.
“I wish I’d met your dad,” Violet said. “He sounds amazing.”
“He was. He was the best dad ever.” I looked away out to sea, feeling suddenly tearful. Seeing a boat there, I felt Dad’s arm around me, heard him reciting the sea poem we both loved. I started to recite it myself quietly, my voice trembling a little:
“I must go down to the seas again,
to the lonely sea and sky.
And all I ask is a tall ship
and a star to steer her by.”
I explained to Violet about Dad and the poem.
“I know that poem,” Violet said. “But a different version.”
“A different version?”
Violet nodded. “My dad made it up. Do you want to hear it?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Violet coughed and composed herself.
“I must go down to the seas again,
To the lonely sea and sky.
And all I ask is a bag of chips
And a steak and kidney pie.”
She’d recited the poem with complete seriousness, but now she beamed, her bright green eyes sparkling with amusement and I couldn’t help laughing again.
“Dad would’ve loved that,” I said with a sudden rush of happiness. I could see the delight in his face, as if he were right there with us…
I put my hand in my pocket, remembering something. “I wrote a poem last night … for my dad. I pulled out a folded piece of paper. “It’s only short.”
“Let’s hear it,” Violet urged, squirming to get herself comfortable on the rock.
I smoothed out the paper and, after taking a breath to steady myself, read:
“Watch him waddle, flipper fins flapping,
Bubbles of laughter rising wherever he goes:
The clown prince of fish, my hero.”
Violet sighed. “It’s lovely, Dak. Really lovely. It makes you smile but it’s also sort of…” She searched for the right word.
“Dignified?” I suggested.
Violet nodded. “Yes, I suppose. It’s perfect.”
“Stephan says he’s going to get Toby to write it up on the wall in reception, in memory of Dad.” I smiled. “So my name will be up there along with D.H. Lawrence and Robert Lowell…”
“Plus it’ll actually make sense – unlike those other ones.” Violet grinned revealing her two vampire-like fangs.
I shook my head. That was Violet for you, she always had to have the last word. But, this time, there was more.
“You know I’m going tomorrow,” she said.
I nodded. It wasn’t something I wanted to be reminded about.
“Well, I wanted to ask you a favour, Dak.”
“A favour?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
She pursed her lips, frowned. “I want you to come with me now to the aquarium.”
I gasped. It was the last thing I’d expected. I felt a surge of panic. “I – I can’t.”
“Please, Dak. It would mean a lot to me. To go there together, one last time, before I leave.”
I took a deep breath and shook my head.
“You wouldn’t have to stay long. I’d just like to get a picture of us together – in the office. You don’t have to go down into the aquarium.”
That made me feel a little calmer. The office would be all right, wouldn’t it? I could just go in, take a picture and leave. There was no need to panic.
“OK then,” I agreed. “But only for a minute.” She smiled. “Well, maybe two minutes.”
I’d walked from the beach to the aquarium lots of times over the past weeks. But I’d never felt as shaky as I did now. As we went down the steps to the front doors, my pulse was going crazy. I had to stop for a moment.
“It’s OK, Dak. Really,” Violet said. She put her hand on my arm. “The aquarium’s shut. We’ll just go to the office, that’s all.”
She tapped on the glass but there was no one in the foyer. She reached up and pushed a button.
“What’s that?” I said.
“A bell that rings in the office. Hopefully Stephan’ll be there.”
I hadn’t even known there was a bell. But it must have rung all right because a moment or two later, the office door opened and a smiling Stephan appeared. He walked quickly across to let us in.
“Dak, how wonderful to see you!” he said warmly. “I wasn’t sure Violet would manage to persuade you.”
I glanced at Violet questioningly.
She looked a little guilty.“It wasn’t just for me that I wanted you to come, Dak. Stephan’s got something to show you.”
I frowned. “Really?”
“Yes, Dak,” Stephan said. “I want you to look up there.” He pointed halfway up one of the walls. I looked and my heart leapt. Written in Toby’s neat black script, the paint still wet, was my poem about the clownfish. And underneath it was my name: Dak Marsden. I stared, speechless.
“Well, what do you think?” Stephan asked.
<
br /> “It’s cool, isn’t it?” said Violet. “No, it’s more than cool. It’s fabuloso!”
I nodded, smiled. “It is. It really is. Thank you, Stephan.”
“It’s a pleasure,” he replied. “I think it’s my new favourite.”
I smiled even more at that. Maybe all those times that Dad had urged him to “cheer up” had finally had an effect.
“Now we can go into the office and take that picture,” Violet said cheerily.
I followed her through reception to the office door. But she didn’t open it. She stood aside and waved her hand at me.
“You first,” she said.
I shrugged. “OK.”
I opened the door and barely had time to take in the office’s new arrangement with the furniture pushed back against the walls, when a shout of “Surprise!” filled the room and suddenly I was surrounded by people. The first person I saw was Mum. She came over and hugged me. “I’m so proud of you, love.”
Johnny came over too and shook my hand. “You done really good, mate,” he said.
I just gaped, bewildered. I had no idea what was going on. I looked around at Stephan and Violet. She was grinning.
“The aquarium’s saved!” she whooped.
“And it’s all down to you, Dak,” Stephan added.
Between them Stephan and Violet explained that after our TV appearance, a man had offered to donate the money needed for the repairs. Apparently he had been hugely impressed by our “dedication”, but it was my mention of Dad that had been the crucial factor. He’d been moved to tears, the man said, and had decided he had to do something to help.
“The repairs are already under way,” Stephan said. He stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “So your campaign was successful. Thanks to you and Violet, Dak, the aquarium is staying open.”
“Thanks to Dak’s dad too,” Violet added. She glanced at me a little uncertainly, as if anxious that she’d said the wrong thing, but I gave her a reassuring smile. She was right. It was Dad who’d inspired me to fight for the aquarium.
The room was busy now with people getting bottles out of boxes and filling bowls with crisps. It looked like we were going to have a party.
“Who are all these people?” I asked.
“They’re our campaign supporters,” Violet replied. “Lots of them have offered to sponsor a fish.”
“That was a great idea of yours,” said Stephan.
I didn’t respond because I suddenly caught sight of two people I knew. I almost didn’t recognise them because I never would have expected them to be here. When they saw me looking at them they walked quickly over.
“Hi, Dak!” Ruby said. She giggled and threw her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you.”
“And you.” I held her close and hung on to her with my eyes shut because I didn’t want anyone to see my tears. When I opened them again, Violet was there. I wiped my eyes.
“This is my school friend Ruby,” I said. “And this is Tom. He’s my friend too … mostly.”
Tom grinned. “Hi, Dak. We’ve missed you … a bit.”
“And this is Violet,” I said. “She’s…” Violet’s tree-frog eyes were wary, as if she was wondering what I was going to say. “She’s—” I smiled— “Violet.” Then she smiled too – not a big smile, but enough that I knew she was OK. She wasn’t going to be unfriendly, like when she’d met me.
It was a special party, having all my favourite people there – well, all except Dad of course. At one point Stephan raised his glass and toasted him. Mum smiled at that. It was great seeing her back to her old self again, chatting and laughing. She was the one who’d invited Tom and Ruby and I was so pleased she had. It was like the glass barrier that had been there since Dad died had finally come down and my old life could join up with my new one – the world of the aquarium, of Violet and Stephan and Johnny. Of course I still missed Dad – I really missed him – but my life had somehow become whole again.
There was something I needed to do, though.
“I’m going into the aquarium,” I said to Violet.
She frowned. “You don’t have to, Dak.”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll come with you,” she said.
We slipped away quietly, leaving the party, and went through the tunnel into the aquarium. It was gloomy, because the lights were off, but just bright enough for us to see. I hadn’t told Violet where exactly I was headed, but she seemed to know. It was obvious, I suppose.
The tank was very still when we arrived. There was no sign of the chromis or the damselfish, but we weren’t here for them. The purple dottyback made a brief appearance before swishing behind some coral, but, of course, we hadn’t come to see him either. We peered into the murky tank, waiting…
And, finally, the clownfish emerged, its white Alice band fluorescent in the gloom. It wiggled its way forward to the front of the tank, its little mouth blowing bubbles, until it was facing us – and we could stare into its black, fish eyes. But it didn’t stop. It carried on swimming around the tank.
“Watch him waddle, flipper fins flapping,” Violet said quietly. “The clown prince of fish, my hero.” I turned and she gave me a quick smile. “It’s definitely my favourite fish now.”
“You like it more than the piranhas?”
She nodded. “I still like the piranhas, though.”
I smiled. Then I thought of something. “There’s this bit at the end of Finding Nemo when Marlin’s watching Nemo swim off with his friends on an adventure. Do you remember?”
Violet pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Sort of.”
“He’s scared of losing Nemo, of what might happen to him. But he knows he has to let him go. It’s hard, really hard, but he has to let him go. ‘Bye, son,’ he says. But it’s a happy moment. It’s the end of the film. Nemo’s going to come back.” I paused, took a deep breath. “Dad’s not coming back. I’ve got to let him go.”
Violet put her hand on my arm like she had earlier outside the aquarium. Her bright eyes stared into mine as if encouraging me.
I looked up from the tank towards the ceiling and shut my eyes. “Bye, Dad,” I whispered.
We stood quietly for a moment or two, then we went back upstairs together to join the party.
This book has truly been a labour of love. I don’t recall now where the idea for the story came from (though I’ve always loved tropical fish and am a frequent visitor to the London and Brighton Aquariums), but I do remember reading the first chapters to my oldest daughter when she was in her final year at primary school. In the eighteen years it has taken me to finally complete this book, she has finished primary school, gone through the whole of secondary school, a gap year and university, taken an MA, started as an intern at an e-book publisher, worked her way up to become Publisher, begun a PhD – and launched her own publishing company.
And I managed this book! (Well, I did write quite a few others in the meantime…) I always liked the story and intended to write it, but somehow it got sidelined as other stories successfully jostled for my attention. Every now and then I would think about it and have new ideas about the direction the plot should take. But it was years before I returned to writing it – and there was much work to be done.
I am hugely indebted to my editor Caroline Royds for taking this book on with all its flaws, and working with such skill and generosity to help me enhance and transform it – a big thank you also to Becky Watson. I’m delighted that its publisher is Walker Books, where I worked for many happy years and who have published me so well over two decades. I’m indebted too to the support of my family, Jinny, Amy, Kit and Josie, to my parents, to my friends (near and far), fellow authors and illustrators and to my patient agent, Hilary Delamere, who must have wondered if this book would ever be written, never mind published!
Clownfish is my 100th book – fortunately they haven’t all taken so long to write! It’s dedicated to my dad, Chris Durant, who died at the end of 2016; which seemed particularly poignant a
s I was, at that time, in the middle of a major redraft of this story about a son’s grief for the loss of his father.
So, for a number of reasons, this is a very significant book for me. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
First published in Great Britain 2018 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
Text © 2018 Alan Durant
Cover art and illustrations by Helen Crawford-White
Excerpts from “Sea Fever” by John Masefield reprinted by permission of The Society of Authors as the Literary Representative of the Estate of John Masefield.
Excerpts from “For the Union Dead” from COLLECTED POEMS by Robert Lowell. Copyright © 2003 by Harriet Lowell and Sheridan Lowell. Reprinted by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Every reasonable effort has been made to trace ownership of and/or secure permission for the use of copyrighted material. If notified of any omission, the author and publisher will gladly make the necessay correction on future reprints.
The right of Alan Durant to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
