White Dolphin (14 page)

Miss Penluna leans forward and grasps both my hands in hers. I notice her eyes are pale, pale blue, just like the jackdaw.

‘You will hear her if you listen,’ she says. ‘You must listen to the dolphins.’

B
y the time I reach the chip shop, I can see Daisy through the window handing money to the man behind the counter. I lean on the railings, catch my breath and look down into the dark green harbour water. It’s almost low tide. Mooring ropes lie long and draped with weed. I was stupid to build my hopes up and think I would find some answers. I don’t even know how to save the white dolphin. Aunt Bev is right. Miss Penluna is mad. She’s as mad as they come. Mum never believed in talking dolphins, not with human voices anyway.

Daisy hands me the bag, hot with packets of fish and chips. ‘What did the Bird Lady say?’

‘Later,’ I say. ‘Come on, let’s get home.’

‘Don’t look now,’ says Daisy. She nudges me in the ribs.

I look beyond her to see Felix and his dad walking towards us on the pavement. They’re both wearing wetsuits and life jackets. Their legs are caked in mud.

Felix and his dad stop beside us. I wrinkle my nose. Their wetsuits smell of rotten seaweed.

‘We got caught out by the tide,’ smiles Mr Andersen. ‘I guess we’ve got a lot to learn.’

Daisy pulls my arm, trying to hide behind me. I elbow her away and turn to Felix. ‘Did you see the mother dolphin?’

Felix shakes his head. ‘We went past Gull Rock and further up the coast, but we didn’t see any sign of her.’

I twist the necklace through my fingers. The mother dolphin could be anywhere by now. ‘She must be somewhere out there.’

‘We saw grey seals,’ says Felix, ‘and a basking shark, a huge one . . .’

‘She wouldn’t leave her calf,’ I say. I twist the silk thread of the necklace round and round and round. Daisy grabs my arm again. She yanks it back and the silk breaks, scattering shells across the ground. ‘DAISY!’ I yell. I scrabble on the floor to save the shells, but some bounce over the harbour edge. I look down to see the cowrie shell plop into the water, spreading green ripples in circle patterns of light.

I spin round to look for the memory stick but that’s gone too. I didn’t even see it drop into the water. I look inside the bag with the fish and chips to see if it fell in there.

Daisy holds out three periwinkles and a top shell in her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Kara.’ Her eyes are welling with tears.

I scoop them from her hand. They’re all that’s left.

‘Is this yours?’ Felix is crouching down, his hands in the gutter. ‘I thought this dropped too.’

He straightens up and holds out the blue dolphin memory stick in his hand.

‘Thanks,’ I say. I curl my fingers around it and slide it in my pocket.

He frowns at me. ‘I thought you weren’t into computers.’

‘I’m not.’ I hold it tightly in my hand. ‘It’s Mum’s.’

‘What’s on it?’

I shrug my shoulders. ‘I think it’s empty.’ I don’t want to tell him that I tried looking on the school computer, but I couldn’t read the log-in signs. I showed Carl once too, but he said it was password locked.

‘I could take a look,’ says Felix. ‘If there’s something on there, I’ll find it.’

I run my finger along the curved dolphin shape in my pocket. I’ve always wondered if there was anything on there, some photos of Mum, a diary? I’ve always wanted to know. ‘Maybe,’ I say.

‘I’ll look after it,’ he says, ‘promise.’

I press the memory stick deeper into my pocket. ‘It’s all I have.’

‘Up to you,’ Felix says. ‘But let me know if you change your mind.’

I watch him follow his dad along the seafront. I know I won’t find out any other way.

‘Wait,’ I call after him.

He turns back to me.

I hold the memory stick out to him. ‘I want you to,’ I say. ‘I want you to look.’

Felix nods and I place it in his outstretched hand.

Maybe that’s exactly what it is.

Memories.

Someone’s memories, waiting to be unlocked.

We’re late home with the fish and chips. Aunt Bev is in her dressing gown stretched out on the sofa, watching a talent show on TV. Her stomach’s so big now, that I wonder that she doesn’t burst.

Daisy pulls plates out from the cupboard. ‘I’m sorry about your necklace.’

I scatter forks across the table. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘What did she say?’ says Daisy. ‘What did the Bird Lady say?’

I thump the ketchup in the middle of the table. ‘She said the dolphins were the angels of the sea.’

Daisy stops, plate in hand. ‘Real angels?’

‘Don’t be silly, Daisy,’ I snap. I rip open the grease-spotted paper of the fish and chip packets. ‘They’re just dolphins. Animals, like us.’

Dad sits down at the table and yawns. Dark rings sit under his eyes. He’s doing as many hours as he can at the pub. I hardly see him these days at all. He picks up a fat chip and takes a bite.

Aunt Bev and Daisy sit down too.

‘Tom’s home tomorrow,’ Aunt Bev says. ‘Let’s hope they’ve had a good catch this time.’

I see Daisy’s eyes light up. ‘He said he’d take me to see a film.’

I shake salt onto my chips. I don’t want to see what tomorrow brings. I turn to Dad. ‘Can we go sailing before school?’

Dad shakes his head. ‘I’m on three shifts.’

‘But we have to look for the mother dolphin,’ I say. ‘We have to find her. Her calf will be put down if we don’t.’

Dad wipes his mouth with a tissue. ‘Look, Kara, Carl’s been out there looking today and so have Mr Andersen and Felix.’

‘But we know the bay better than any of them. We’ll find her.’

Dad puts the tissue down and pushes his plate away. ‘I haven’t got time tomorrow.’

I stab a chip with my fork. ‘You’ve never got time any more.’

Dad glares at me. ‘That’s not fair, Kara. I have to earn some money.’

‘But we have to find her, Dad.’

Dad gets up and chucks the chip paper in the bin. ‘It’s the ocean, for God’s sake, Kara. She could be anywhere. How would we know where to look?’

I push my plate away. ‘You’ve given up, like everyone else.’

Aunt Bev rests her hand on my arm. ‘Listen to your father, Kara.’

I push my chair back and ignore Aunt Bev. ‘You’ve given up,’ I yell at Dad, ‘like you’ve given up on Mum.’ I storm up to the room I share with Daisy. I lie down on the camp bed fully clothed and pull the covers over my head. Dad comes in the room and whispers my name, but I pretend to be asleep. I hear the bang of the front door as he leaves the house and the blare of the TV in the room below.

When Daisy comes into the bedroom I wait for her to put the light out and settle down in bed. When I hear her steady breathing, I fold the covers back and look up through the window at the darkening sky.

‘Kara?’

I hold my breath. I thought she was asleep.

‘I know you’re awake,’ she whispers.

I let my breath out slowly and turn on my side.

‘Where is she?’ Daisy asks. ‘Where do you think she is?’

I feel silent tears fall down my face and soak into my pillow. ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I just don’t know.’

T
he sun is bright, bright white.

The sea is turquoise blue.

I sit on the shoreline scooping sand to make a moat around my castle. It’s the perfect castle. Three tall turrets and a drawbridge made from driftwood. I’ve decorated it with shells and seaweed. A cowrie shell reflects the sunlight from the turret nearest the sea. I fold my arms around my knees and gaze at it. Nothing can knock my castle down. But I don’t hear the wave. It swirls into the moat and floods the castle walls. The turret nearest the sea is the first to fall. It slumps into the waves and disappears. The cowrie shell rolls along the hard wet sand, towards the sea. I try to scoop it up, but it slips through my fingers and tumbles into foaming surf.

‘Come on in, Kara.’

Mum is standing in the water, smiling. The wind blows back her hair. I can even see the freckles on her face, and the sunlight in her grey-green eyes. She’s wearing the T-shirt and cut off jeans she always wears. A wave furls around her legs and rushes up the sand towards me.

Mum shades her eyes against the sun. ‘Come
on
, Kara,’ she smiles. ‘I’m waiting for you.’

It’s bright, bright white, that sun.

The waves are sliding on the shore, in and out, in and out.

But I want to find that cowrie shell. I search through seaweed heaped upon the sand, but all I find are beer can rings and plastic bottle tops.

I look back out to sea.

But Mum has gone.

The moon is shining through the window, bright, bright white.

Daisy is breathing softly in her bed, in and out, in and out.

But I just stare at the bright white moon.

I saw Mum’s face. I heard her voice.

I’m waiting for you.

It felt so real.

I reach under my camp bed for my swimming bag. Daisy snuffles in her sleep and turns on her side. The hands of her fairy clock point way past midnight. I grab my thick fleece, tiptoe down the stairs and slip out into the night.

I have to find the dolphin.

I have to find a way to talk to Mum.

The night is still. I stand at the water’s edge, scrunching my toes into the soft damp sand. There are no waves. The high tide is slack, about to turn. The sea lies slick and black, like oil. I pull on my mask and fins and step into the water. I slide my feet forward until I stand waist deep. The cold water presses against my skin but I feel strangely far away, as if my body isn’t mine at all.

I dive under, wrapped in darkness. I feel I can dive further and deeper tonight, as if I am part of the ocean, as if it’s part of me. I run my hands along the rippled sand beneath me and listen to the deep still silence. I hold my breath. The seconds stretch like hours. My heartbeat slows. My mind drifts, clear and light. Bright stars swirl through the water. Something is swimming with me, by my side. A dolphin. Her body glows bright white, shining in the darkness. A trail of spinning stars spiral from her fins and tail flukes.

She looks not of this world.

An underwater angel, almost.

I take a breath and she surfaces beside me.

‘Pfwhooosh!’

I see the smooth dark curve of the dolphin’s back and the deep notch in her dorsal fin, silhouetted in the moonlight. I knew the white dolphin’s mother would return. I knew she would come back here to the bay. She dives under again, leaving a tumbling trail of phosphorescent swirls of light. I dive too, and watch the bright stars trail from my fingertips. A million tiny plankton, lighting up an underwater sky.

We surface again and she swims around me. I hear her clicks and whistles and feel her sonar pulse right through me, reading me. Her small dark eyes twinkle in the moonlight. I can hardly breathe. She is close, so close. I reach my hand out and she lets me touch the smooth warm skin of her face.

She dives again and circles. I know she is looking for her calf here in the shallow water. If she follows me along the shoreline to the Blue Pool I can lead her there.

I keep close to the line of dark rocks that runs out towards the headland, leaving the orange lights of town behind. The ebbing tide swirls around my legs and I can feel its pull towards the open sea. I shouldn’t be out here. Dad would kill me if he knew. I can almost hear his voice . . .
what d’you think you’re doing, Kara . . . hypothermia . . . no life jacket . . . on your own too!
I shut him out and swim on, grasping on the barnacled rocks that graze my skin.

The sound of a car alarm and the rumble of a distant lorry carry out across the sea, reaching far into the night. But they belong to another world almost, not mine.

Everything seems further at night. I think I’ve passed the Blue Pool when I see a light up ahead and two dome tents reflected in the moonlight.

Even at high tide, the water below the tidal pool is shallow and strewn with rocks. But now the tide is on the ebb, I can see the concrete rim of the pool above the water. I don’t know if the mother dolphin can swim close enough to see her calf.