Longest Whale Song (10 page)

‘I think projects are meant to be in your
own
words,' says Jack.

‘I'm rearranging them, sort of,' I say.

‘I'd soon sort you out if you were in my class.'

‘I'm ever so glad I'm not,' I retort.

And then the doorbell goes, and I jump up so quickly I tear my grey whale almost in two and I don't care, I just have to get to the door and see . . . my dad. It is him! He's so
smart
too, wearing a proper grey suit, a beautiful blue shirt, and a pink and blue silk tie. Oh, he's got dressed up properly for
me
. It's as if a famous rock star is standing on the doorstep. He looks so strangely familiar and yet so different too, somehow taller, older, not really the way I've been picturing him at all.

‘
Dad!
' I say.

‘Hello, Ella!'

We stand there, stuck, freeze-framed with the strangeness of it all. Then he bends a little and
opens his arms. I stumble forward awkwardly, feeling the blood thumping in my head, but when I feel his hands holding me, I suddenly cling to him and start crying.

We stand there on the doorstep, rocking to and fro. After a long while Jack comes to the door and invites Dad inside.

Jack puts on the kettle and Dad looks at my whale drawings.

‘You did these all by yourself? My, but you're brilliant! Imagine you knowing all this stuff about whales!' says Dad. ‘You're such a clever girl.' He's acting as if I'm about four.

‘I just copied them,' I mumble.

‘You're a real little artist! Isn't she brilliant, Jack?' says Dad.

I take him into my bedroom and pull out all my old drawing books and flip through them quickly. He admires each one, and stares around my room.

‘This is a very pretty room, Ella. Purple and silver, eh? Very sophisticated.'

‘They're my favourite colours.'

‘I thought blue was your favourite colour.'

‘That was
ages
ago,' I say.

‘Where's your big teddy?' Dad asks, looking around.

Oh help. I can't tell Dad we gave him to a jumble sale.

‘It was so sad. He got lost,' I say quickly.

‘Lost? How could a great big bear that size get lost? He was bigger than you!'

‘Yes, I know, but – but it was when we moved here. It was horrible. We couldn't find him anywhere,' I fib. ‘He was my all-time favourite cuddly toy, Dad, honest.'

‘Well, don't worry, pet, we'll get you another,' says Dad. ‘So, do you like it here?' He nods at the door. ‘He's OK, is he, this Jack?' he whispers.

‘I don't really like him. I don't know what Mum sees in him. Oh, Dad, Mum's so poorly. She's just lying there in hospital and she can't move, she can't speak, she can't even open her eyes. Dad, she will get better, won't she?'

‘Yes, yes, of course she'll get better,' he says.

‘You promise, you absolutely promise?'

‘Of course. Don't worry so, Ella. They'll be looking after her in hospital, doing their very best for her.'

‘Can we go and see her now?' I beg.

Dad looks startled. ‘Well, I'm not sure that's appropriate. They won't want you to see your mummy if she's so poorly.'

‘Yes, they will! I go to see her every day. Oh please, Dad, please, please!'

I'm desperate for him to come. Then the three of us will be together and Dad will make Mum better – he said he would, he
promised
.

‘Well, Jack can take you later—'

‘I don't want Jack! I want
you
, Dad!'

‘Oh. Right.' His eyes get misty. ‘I'll take you then.'

‘Now? Please say now.'

‘Yes, right you are. Now. This very minute.'

I'm worried Jack will come too, but when we tell him, he says he's got all these people to see.

‘What do you want to do about lunch?' Jack says, looking at his watch.

‘Oh, I'll take Ella out for lunch,' Dad says.

‘Right. Thanks, Mike. I'll see you back here then. I'll give you a spare key so you can let yourselves in if I'm not back,' says Jack.

‘That's good of you, Jack,' says Dad.

They're being very smiley-smiley and calling each other Mike and Jack, but I can tell they don't like each other.

Jack's hesitating. ‘Obviously we've got all sorts of things to discuss. All sorts of stuff to consider. But – but you won't do anything rash, will you? I mean, I know you're Ella's dad, but I'm her stepdad and – well, we both want what's best for her, don't we? I mean, you wouldn't just
take off with her without discussing everything first?'

Jack drones on and on in his teacher's voice. Dad's not listening either. He squeezes my hand.

‘Yeah, yeah, I take your point, Jack. Right, come on then, Ella.'

‘Get your jacket, love,' says Jack, following us to the door. ‘And you're walking funny in those patent shoes. Why don't you change into your school shoes? I'm sure they're much comfier.'

I don't want to wear my old jacket – one of the buttons has come off and the sleeves have gone all bobbly. It looks awful with my black and white dress. I have to take it because it's cold outside, but I'm
not
wearing my scuffed brown school shoes – they'd look
awful
. The black patent shoes are a little bit small for me now, but they look lovely. Dad's so smart. I want him to think I'm smart too.

Jack's picking up my shoes from where I kicked them off in the hall yesterday, but I take no notice.

‘Bye, Jack,' I say, and rush out of the front door.

I LOOK AROUND
for Dad's car. Parked right behind Jack's ancient Ford Focus there's a shiny red Jag. My mouth opens. I look at Dad. He clicks his keys and it gives a little clunk as it unlocks.

‘Oh, Dad, how
cool
!' I say.

Dad bows and opens the door. ‘Care for a little spin, my lady?'

‘You bet!'

‘Right you are. Where do you want to go? We could go out into the countryside, if you like. I know, there's a special farm where you can stroke all the baby animals – would you like that?'

‘I'd absolutely love it!'

‘And we can have a spot of lunch in this gastro-pub—'

‘Mum and Jack had their wedding reception in one of those pubs,' I say.

‘Oh, very stylish,' says Dad, grinning. He starts the car.

‘Do you know the way?'

‘To this farm? Yes, I checked before I left home.'

‘No, to the
hospital
! We're going there first, aren't we?'

‘Well, yes. If you want. Though if your mum's unconscious—'

‘Oh, Dad, she might be alittle bit better today. And when we
both
talk to her, she'll be so surprised she might just open her eyes!
Do
you know the way?'

‘I think so,' says Dad, sighing.

He drives through the town, going the long way round, past my school. I peer out hopefully, willing
Sally and Dory, and especially Martha, to glance out of our classroom window to see me driving past in such style. We even pass the end of our old road.

‘Oh look, Lanford Road. I
wish
we still lived there,' I say.

I wait, hoping that Dad will say he wishes he still lived there too. He doesn't say a word. When we get to the hospital car park, he starts fussing.

‘I'm sure visiting hours are in the afternoon.'

‘Dr Wilmot says we can visit Mum any time, if we're family.'

‘But I'm not family. Not any more.'

‘Yes, you are! You're my dad. Of course you're family.'

Dad parks the car and we go into the main hospital entrance. He peers around, looking bewildered. ‘Perhaps we'd better go to the reception desk.'

‘No, I know the way.'

I take Dad's hand. It's surprisingly sweaty.

‘It's all right, Dad,' I say. ‘I know some people get all freaked out in hospitals. Aunty Liz
hated
coming.'

‘Oh, Liz! I'd forgotten all about her,' says Dad. ‘I don't think she liked me very much.'

‘Well, I don't like
her
much,' I say.

I lead Dad down all the corridors. My own hand's starting to get sweaty now. My tummy's
churning. I start whispering, ‘Oh, Mum, oh, Mum, oh, Mum.'

‘What's that you're saying?' Dad asks.

‘Nothing.'

I say it silently instead. And then we're in the right ward, and there's Mum's bed, and Dr Wilmot is bending over her, listening to her chest with a stethoscope.

She smiles when she sees me. She's still smiling when she looks at Dad – and then blinks in surprise. ‘Hello, Ella. And . . .?'

‘This is my dad, Dr Wilmot, my real dad.'

‘Mike Lakeland,' says Dad, shaking her hand. ‘I'm Ella's father. Sue and I used to be married.'

‘But not any more? You're not still Sue's next of kin?'

‘Oh no, no. That'll be her new chap, Jack. No, I'm just here because Ella wanted to see her mum.'

‘Of course,' says Dr Wilmot. She takes hold of one of Mum's hands and strokes it lightly. ‘You've got two visitors to see you, Sue.'

Mum doesn't stir. Dr Wilmot walks away, waving goodbye to me.

‘Mum, Mum, it's
Dad
. He's come specially to see you,' I say, leaning down and rubbing my cheek against Mum's. I look up at Dad. ‘Come and talk to her, Dad!'

Dad's looking so strange, standing stiffly, as if his smart suit is made of cardboard.

‘Dad?'

He clears his throat. ‘Hello, Sue,' he says, as if he's meeting a stranger. ‘How are you doing?'

Mum breathes in and out, not taking any notice at all.

‘Mum,' I say, giving her shoulder a little shake. ‘Open your eyes, Mum. It's Dad.'

‘Don't, Ella! You'll hurt her,' says Dad.

‘I wouldn't hurt Mum!' I say. ‘Oh, Dad, please, come and talk close up to her ear – and then try giving her a kiss.'

‘A
kiss
?' says Dad.

‘Like in the fairy stories,' I say, blushing because I know it sounds silly. But I don't care if I sound like a stupid baby, I have to try. Dad might just make Mum better – he
said
he would.

‘Mum, Mum!'

‘Ella, leave your mum alone. She can't hear you.'

‘Yes, she
can
. Dr Wilmot says–all the nurses say too – patients in comas
can
hear you, and one day they'll wake up. Couldn't you just
try
kissing her, Dad?'

Dad steps forward, bends awkwardly and kisses the air above Mum's cheek. ‘There.'

Mum doesn't stir.

‘You didn't kiss her properly. You didn't even touch her.'

‘Ella. You're being silly. Let's leave your poor mum in peace.'

Dad starts walking away.

‘But we've only just got here!'

He carries on walking.

‘Oh, Mum, I'm sorry,' I whisper into her ear. ‘I'll see if I can make him come back. I love you so. You look lovely here, just like Sleeping Beauty.' I comb her hair with my fingers. I can smell soap and some sort of mouthwash: the nurses clean her gently every day. She doesn't look or smell scary at all, so why why why couldn't Dad kiss her properly?

I run after him. His face is very red.

‘Dad?'

He's struggling. ‘She was always so
lively
, full of fun, tossing her hair around—'

‘We can go back and talk to her. Perhaps you can talk about the old days when we all lived together. I think she'd like that.'

‘Ella, there's no point,' Dad says sharply.

‘She will wake up soon, I know she will. You said she'll get better.'

‘Yes, but I didn't realize. Come on.'

I stop suddenly, remembering. ‘Do you want to see my little brother?'

‘What? Oh, the baby!'

‘I know the way to the nursery. Come and have a look.'

I take him along the corridors until we get to the nursery. Anew nurse looks at us enquiringly.

‘No visitors just now, not in here,' she says.

‘Oh please, can't I just show my dad my little brother, Samson Winters?'

‘Baby Winters? The one whose mother's . . .? Oh. Well, just a peep.'

‘It's all right, nurse, we'll leave the babies sleeping,' Dad says quickly.

‘Well, we can see through the window. That's Samson there, in the corner. Oh, I think he's crying! He's missing Mum. We have to go to him.'

‘He'll just be hungry. All babies cry, Ella.'

‘Did I cry?'

‘Lots.'

‘Did I look like Samson when I was little?'

‘All babies look the same. Small and wrinkly.'

‘Did you ever feed me, Dad?'

‘Yes, of course. Once or twice.'

‘Jack feeds Samson sometimes. I can too, if I want.'