Song of the Dolphin Boy

by Elizabeth Laird

  There wasn’t much space in the lantern room once everyone was inside. Jas let down the trapdoor and gave each of them a cushion to sit on. For a long moment, no one said anything.

  ‘I love it up here,’ Amir said at last. ‘You feel sort of free. As if you were flying. You are lucky, Jas.’

  ‘I know. It’s amazing,’ said Kyla. ‘Why don’t you decorate it a bit more? I’ve got a really sweet garland of paper flowers. They’d look gorgeous strung up from the ceiling.’

  ‘That’s so – that’s just ridiculous,’ growled Charlie. ‘This is a lighthouse, Kyla, not a stupid . . .’

  He stopped, looking guilty. He’d promised himself to be nice to everyone for evermore and never lose his temper again.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t lean against the glass like that, Amir,’ Kyla said anxiously. ‘What if it’s not very strong and you fall right through it? It’s a really long way down. You’d break all your bones and be cut all over with broken glass.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Kyla,’ Jas said sternly. ‘It’s quite safe up here. You’ve got a mind like a disaster movie.’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ began Kyla, but at that point a seagull perched on the roof overhead, and the scratching of its feet distracted everyone.

  Dougie nudged Amir to get his attention.

  ‘I wish the old lantern was still here,’ he whispered to Amir. ‘I’d like to know how it worked.’

  ‘I’ll find you a picture of one on the internet,’ said Amir kindly. ‘There’s loads of different kinds of lighthouses. I looked them up.’

  Dougie beamed at him gratefully.

  ‘I’m one of you now, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘I’m in the Lighthouse Crew.’

  Jas cleared her throat loudly, calling the meeting to order.

  ‘Well,’ she began. ‘You know why we’re here. We’ve got to decide what to do about Finn. We’ve got to – I don’t know – be nicer to him, or something.’

  ‘I know,’ said Amir, ‘but you must admit that he’s a bit, well, creepy.’

  ‘He’s got a nice face,’ said Kyla, her head on one side as she thought about Finn, ‘but the way he sort of sneaks around all the time, it’s a bit . . .’

  ‘Creepy,’ finished Amir.

  Jas frowned.

  ‘Yes, but even if he is, well, creepy, we shouldn’t be so horrible to him. We always have been.’

  ‘And yesterday we might have actually killed him,’ put in Kyla.

  ‘Not you,’ Charlie said, biting his lip. ‘It was all my fault that he fell into the sea. I was the one who chased him. Something sort of got into me. You know what I’m like when I lose my temper.’

  Nobody said anything.

  ‘Have you seen his house?’ Kyla said at last. ‘It’s awful. All broken down and dark. I’m glad I don’t have to live there. And his horrible dad. You know what they say about him?’

  No one said anything. They had all heard the rumours.

  ‘To be fair on us,’ said Amir, ‘Finn does smell a bit. His clothes are really old and dirty.’

  ‘They’re too small for him, too,’ said Dougie, whose voice was getting louder as his confidence rose.

  ‘That’s not his fault,’ objected Jas. ‘He hasn’t got anyone to look after him.’

  ‘I know I was out of order chasing him,’ said Charlie, ‘but you’ve got to admit he’s weird. There’s something about him. Something . . . different.’

  ‘But we still shouldn’t be mean to him,’ said Jas. ‘I mean, everyone’s weird, if you think about it.’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Dougie indignantly.

  ‘Yes you are,’ said Charlie. ‘You’re eight.’

  ‘Eight’s not weird!’

  ‘It is when you’re eleven,’ said Jas. ‘Anyway, look at me. My mum was African. People round here think that’s really odd.’

  ‘And I’m Pakistani,’ said Amir.

  ‘You’re right, Jas. But I’ve got a horrible temper,’ said Charlie. ‘That’s bad weird, not just weird.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m weird at all,’ said Kyla, although she kept a careful eye on Jas as she spoke.

  Everyone looked at her. Kyla bit her lip, pretending not to be anxious.

  ‘You know what?’ Jas said, laughing. ‘I don’t think you are!’

  Kyla looked sideways, examining her reflection in the glass wall beside her. Then she turned back, satisfied, before a horrible idea hit her.

  ‘But if I’m the only one who’s not weird, doesn’t that make me, well, weird?’ she said.

  ‘Never mind about you!’ Charlie burst out impatiently. ‘I know what I’ve got to do. I’ve got to go and find Finn and say sorry.’

  ‘It’s not just you, Charlie,’ said Amir. ‘I felt awful when he fell into the sea. It made me realize how mean we’ve been, not letting him do stuff with us, ignoring him all the time . . .’

  ‘I’ve just thought of something terrible,’ said Kyla. ‘We don’t actually know for certain that he got out of the sea, do we? Amir might have missed him when he went down to look. None of us actually saw him. He might have, I don’t know, rolled further into the harbour, under one of those big boats. He might have got all tangled up in the propeller. He might have been chopped into bits.’

  The others looked at her, their mouths open with shock. For once, Kyla’s fears seemed horribly possible.

  ‘We didn’t think of that, did we,’ whispered Jas. ‘We should have told a grown-up. Raised the alarm or something.’

  At that moment, a muffled thump came up through the floor.

  ‘What’s that?’ yelped Dougie.

  ‘It’s the outside door,’ said Jas. ‘Someone’s shut it.’

  ‘They’ve locked us in!’ said Kyla. ‘We can’t get out! We’ll be here all night!’

  ‘Shh!’ said Jas. ‘Listen.’

  They all listened. There were footsteps on the stairs, climbing fast, higher and higher, nearer and nearer to the lantern room.

  ‘It’s Finn’s ghost!’ shrieked Kyla. ‘He’s come to haunt us! We’ll never get out of here alive!’

  Chapter Six

  It was late when Finn woke that morning. He lay staring up at the familiar pattern of peeling paint on the ceiling above his bed wondering why he was feeling so different. Then the memory of everything that had happened the day before flooded back into his mind.

  It can’t have been true! he thought. I must have dreamed it all! Me, swimming? Far out at sea – making friends with a dolphin? I must be going crazy!

  He leaped out of bed, dragged on his clothes, and jumped two at a time down the narrow stairs into the sitting room below. Where was his father? The chair by the window, where he usually sat for most of the day, was empty, and outside Finn could hear the sound of chopping.

  He wrenched open the cottage door and ran outside.

  Mr McFee, an axe in his hand, was hacking away at a dead tree, which had fallen over in last winter’s gale and had been left to lie at the end of the jungle that had once been a garden. He looked up when he heard the door open.

  ‘So you’ve woken up at last!’ he called out. ‘I thought you’d sleep all day. Get yourself some breakfast and—’

  ‘Did it really happen, Dad?’ Finn interrupted. ‘Did I dream it all? Am I really . . . ?’

  ‘Oh aye,’ replied his father ‘It happened all right. You’re a magical boy, and I’m trying to get my head round it too.’

  ‘And can I go down there, into the sea, Dad? You said I could. You said—’

  ‘I can’t stop you, can I?’ his father answered. ‘But get some food inside you first, Finn. You’ll be needing all the energy you can get.’

  Half an hour later, Finn had bolted his breakfast and was making his way carefully down the steep path that led from the cliff top to the narrow beach below. He looked round wonderingly. He’d lived right on top of this little cove all his life, but that morning it looked to him as strange and wonderful as a foreign country.

  The tiny bay was a perf
ect, private place. The strip of golden sand, hemmed in on both sides by steep rocks, was quite hidden. Only a boat passing close along the shore could see into it, and judging by the overgrown state of the footpath that scored a deep scar up the face of the cliff, few people ever bothered to clamber down to it.

  But when Finn crossed the beach and was standing at last at the edge of the water, he felt a kick of nerves in his stomach, and his heart started to beat uncomfortably fast.

  What if I imagined everything after all? he thought. Or even if I didn’t, maybe the magic only works once!

  He looked doubtfully down into the water. The little waves, soft and shining under the bright morning light, rolled and lapped innocently on the sand, seeming to invite him in. Finn took a deep breath, kicked off his shoes, and took a first tentative step into the water. He stopped, waiting for the change, waiting for that powerful, joyous feeling to surge back and welcome him into the sea.

  Nothing happened. The water felt cold, and his arms and legs sprouted goose bumps. He almost wanted to run out of the water and race back up to the safety of the cottage, but then, turning to look back, he caught sight of a figure standing at the edge of the cliff above, watching him. It was his father.

  He’ll think I was making everything up. He’ll think I was just telling a story, he told himself. He’ll think I’m a coward.

  He breathed in deeply, took a few more steps, then flopped forward, letting his feet leave the safety of the sand beneath the water.

  And there it was! That warmth and certainty again! The water seemed to welcome him, as it had done before. He swam slowly forward, letting his ears tune into the sounds of the ocean, and feasting his eyes on the shifting patterns of light that the rising sun was striking through the water. He came up for air at last, and rolled on to his back. He could see his father, still there, standing at the top of the cliff.

  Finn raised his hand and waved and watched his father turn away, then, his confidence soaring, he dived again and shot out to sea, away from the shrill squawks of the nesting seabirds and the beat of the waves breaking against the rocks that fringed the beach. He couldn’t wait to get into the quietness of the deep water, where he might pick up the whistles of the dolphins, his brothers and sisters, his friends.

  He didn’t know how long it was before he heard them, but there at last was the beautiful, piercing sound – the best kind of music that Finn had ever heard.

  But what was that? The whistling sound was confused, and now that he was coming closer he could tell that there wasn’t one tune in the dolphin music, but many of them. They sounded frantic, too; excited but frightened at the same time. Finn had been swimming fast, but now he slowed, feeling suddenly shy. He hadn’t expected to meet a whole group of dolphins. He had only wanted to find his friend. What if the others didn’t like him? What if they were angry and unfriendly, like Charlie was on land? They might turn on him.

  It was too late to go back. A long grey shape was already streaking towards him, whistling in a familiar way. Finn knew who it was at once. It was his friend! And now he was being nudged and encouraged forward towards the group that he could see ahead, a boiling mass of grey bodies, cavorting and twisting in the water. A few minutes later, he had reached them, and then he was right among them, treading water in the middle of the pod. To his relief, none of them seemed to notice him. They were too busy and excited, though one touched him gently with her nose as if in welcome before plunging away towards the others. He tried to count them. Were there five? Six? Seven? They were moving about so fast, it was impossible to tell.

  Perhaps they’re my family! he thought, with a sudden flash of excitement. They might be my cousins, or my aunties and uncles!

  The thought gave him confidence and he began to move from one dolphin to another, touching them to introduce himself. He could feel their welcome and their friendliness. But he could see that they were distracted too. They kept shooting up to the surface of the sea, where bright things were bobbing about on the surface of the water.

  Something floated just above Finn’s head. It was round and a dazzling orange colour.

  A jellyfish! thought Finn. I hope it doesn’t sting. No – it’s a balloon!

  A string was hanging down from the balloon, with a soggy scrap of paper tied to the end.

  It’s the balloons from Dougie’s party, thought Finn. They’ve blown right out to sea.

  A dolphin was nudging him aside, trying to grab the balloon. It bobbed away from her first attempt. The dolphin flipped over on to her back and grasped the balloon in her mouth.

  She thinks it’s a jellyfish too! She’s eaten it!

  For a moment he thought it was funny, and then he saw that the balloon’s string was caught in the dolphin’s teeth. She was twisting herself round to get rid of it, but only succeeded in tangling it over one of her flippers.

  She began to whistle in distress. The more she tried to free herself, the tighter the string bit into her. It was cutting her flipper where it joined her body. Finn swam up to her. He seemed to know instinctively how to soothe her, nudging and stroking her. He tried to slip the string off her flipper, but the dolphin wouldn’t keep still. She kept straining against him while the string knotted itself round her tighter and tighter. Working furiously, Finn managed to release her at last, but she swam straight back towards the next balloon, a big yellow one, and began to plunge up through the water to catch it. All around Finn, the other dolphins were snatching at the balloons too, trying to eat them and getting tangled in the strings.

  How can I stop them? Finn thought desperately.

  He began to swim about frantically, grabbing the strings of as many balloons as he could see, but the dolphins were splashing around so busily, nudging and shoving as they tried to eat the balloons, that he couldn’t get hold of more than a couple.

  I’ve got to save them! he told himself. But I can’t do it on my own. I need help!

  He lifted his head high out of the water and looked around. There, in the distance, was land. He could see the harbour, with the boats bobbing about on the swell, the cluster of houses behind it, and the lighthouse higher up. Further along, where the cliffs rose from the town, was the little cove below his home.

  Dad! I’ll go and fetch Dad! he thought. No – he won’t know what to do. He hasn’t got a boat or anything.

  He was treading water in an agony of indecision when the answer suddenly came to him. Before he had even thought it through, he took off and began to power through the water towards the harbour and the beach that lay beyond it. He would fetch Jas’s dad. Professor Jamieson was a marine biologist. He knew everything about the sea and the animals in it. He would know what to do.

  In an incredibly short time, he was standing on the beach. He shook the wet hair out of his eyes and ran across the sand in his bare feet as fast he could, wishing with all his heart that the power he felt in the water worked on land too. But he was just awkward, clumsy Finn again.

  He scrambled over the sand dunes at the head of the beach and set off up the steep, narrow road that led to the lighthouse. He was nearly there when a movement in the lantern room, high above, caught his eye.

  Jas is up there! he thought. And that looks like Amir. And Charlie and . . . they’re all there together.

  Before the familiar sense of loneliness could sap his confidence, he was at the lighthouse door. He had lifted his hand to ring the doorbell when he saw a note that was stuck to the door with a drawing pin:

  Back at 11. Please leave the delivery by the back door.

  D. Jamieson.

  ‘No!’ he shouted out loud. ‘You’ve got to be at home! You have to help! You must!’

  The thought of the dolphins tangling themselves in string, risking maiming and drowning to eat those horrible balloons, made him throw all caution aside.

  ‘I’ll have to go up there and tell Jas,’ he said. ‘Maybe she’ll know what to do.’

  And before he could give himself time to dread seeing them
all, especially Charlie, who might still be in a murderous rage, he pushed open the door, letting it bang shut behind him, and began to climb the steep wrought-iron stairs to the lantern room, ignoring the clang of the metal treads under his pounding feet.

  He reached the top at last, thrust the trapdoor up, and burst into the tiny glass room with the force of a cork shooting out of a champagne bottle.

  ‘Help! You’ve got to come and help!’ he said.

  He stopped, surprised at himself. He’d never spoken like that to the others before. He’d never dared. By the looks on their faces, he could see that he’d astonished them too. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t begin to explain to them the strange power that had transformed him in the sea. He only knew that somehow he had to persuade them to help him free the dolphins.

  They were all staring at him, mouths hanging open.

  Finn frowned. It almost looked as if they were afraid of him. What was wrong with them all? Did he look different from the old Finn? Did he actually look scary? Would they hate him even more?

  Jas was the first to recover.

  ‘Finn!’ she whispered. ‘Is it really you? We thought . . .’

  ‘We thought you might be dead,’ groaned Charlie. ‘We thought I’d killed you.’

  ‘Are you dead?’ asked Dougie. ‘Are you a ghost?’

  The image of the dolphin tied up in string came rushing back to Finn, and a bolt of urgent impatience shot through him.

  ‘Of course I’m not dead,’ he said indignantly. Then he hesitated. His mind seemed to be working at top speed, and he’d suddenly realized how to go on. ‘I’m not dead,’ he went on more calmly, ‘but it’s no thanks to you. My head missed one of those wee launches by inches. If it had knocked me out . . .’

  ‘I did try to find you, Finn,’ said Amir anxiously. ‘I jumped into the water and looked everywhere. You’d . . . disappeared. We knew you couldn’t have drowned, because the water was so shallow. We thought you’d gone round to the beach.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not a ghost?’ asked Dougie, sounding almost disappointed.