by Sarah Webb
“It’s not too deep,” Dad says after studying the wound on Baby’s fluke for a few seconds. “It’ll heal up quickly, although she’ll have quite a scar, like her dad. She’s going to be just fine. Hey, what’s that?” He points at a dark shape moving under the surface. And I know immediately what it is − Dolphin Mom’s body. Click is there too. He’s lifting her up and forcing her head into the air.
“What’s Click up to?” Mattie asks Dad. “I’ve never seen a dolphin do that before. Click really is amazing.”
Dad is so transfixed he doesn’t answer for a second. “Margo said she witnessed it once, but I didn’t believe her. Click’s trying to get her to breathe. Look at her blowhole. Is it my imagination or is the membrane starting to move?”
Dad’s right. The membrane is opening. She’s still alive! But does she have the energy to take a breath?
Go on, Dolphin Mom, I will her. Take a breath. Do it for Baby.
Water splutters out of her blowhole and her head twitches.
“Looks like she’s coming to,” Mattie says. “Come on, girl, you can do it. Breathe. Cal, you have to see this. Aidan, will you help him up?”
Dad helps Cal stagger to his feet. Still wrapped in his silver cocoon, Cal stands at the edge of the RIB and stares down at Dolphin Mom. “C-c-come on, g-girl,” his says, his voice ragged but getting stronger.
And then Dolphin Mom blows more water out of her blow hole, takes a breath and opens her eyes.
“Yes!” Dad says, punching the air. Then he hugs me. “She’s alive, kiddo.” His eyes are sparkling. “You did it.”
“We did it,” I point out. I’m so full of relief and happiness I could float off like a helium balloon. “Together. You, me and Cal.” I catch Cal’s gaze and he nods at me, but he doesn’t smile. So it’s like that, is it? Back to normal. I slump a little, feeling sad. After everything that’s happened today, I thought we’d be friends. Clearly not. Deflated, I try to concentrate on Dolphin Mom instead.
Her body goes from being limp and defeated to strong and powerful. She gives a few flicks of her tail, as if testing it still works, and then dives. Seconds later she leaps out of the water in a graceful arc, splashing us all as she lands. It’s as if she’s saying, “Look at me, I’m alive. I’m alive!”
The next time she jumps, Scar, Baby and Click leap with her. Scar throws in a spin, twisting his body at speed and landing so perfectly in the water he barely makes a ripple.
Then Dolphin Mom pops up again just in front of me. She gives one last whistle before diving again to join her family and Click.
“If I didn’t know better,” Alanna says to me, “I’d say that dolphin just said thank you.”
I smile at Alanna. That’s exactly what I was thinking.
While Dad and Mattie put the RIB back onto its trailer and pull it out of the water with the jeep, Cal lies across the back seats getting warm and I walk to the cafe with Alanna to fetch hot sugary tea for everyone. Alanna says it’s good for cold and shock.
“It meant a lot to you, saving those dolphins, didn’t it?” Alanna asks me as she pops some brownies into a container to go with the tea. “You have a special bond with them. Mattie says your mum was just the same.”
I shrug.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Talking about her. That feeling will pass,” Alanna says, reading my mind. “One day you’ll be able to talk about her without being sad.” Her green eyes are soft and warm.
“I talk to her in my head sometimes,” I admit. “It makes me feel closer to her. Like she’s still here.”
Alanna smiles gently. “And she is still here, looking over you and making sure you’re safe. She’ll always be with you.” Alanna places her hand on her chest. “In here. In your heart. And you’re lucky − you still have your dad to look out for you.”
“I know, but I’m not as close to Dad. It’s not like me and Mom. And he never lets me do anything any more. Since Mom’s accident, it’s like he’s scared of the whole world. But I want to feel free. I want to swim and dive and maybe study dolphins, like Mom did. I don’t want to worry all the time.”
“How’s that tea coming along?” Mattie sticks her head around the kitchen door. “I’m gasping for a cuppa.”
“Be there in a second.” Alanna puts her hand over mine and says in a low voice, “He’s trying to protect you, Rory. He loves you more than anything. I think he’s hurting just as much as you are. And he worries about you − which makes him overly cautious. Talk to him about your mum and about how you’re feeling. Give him a chance.”
As soon as we get back to Harbour Cottage, Mattie runs a hot bath for Cal, who is looking less like a ghost but still shivering. Dad disappears into his room to change.
After taking a shower – and, boy, did I need one – I go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Mattie’s sitting at the kitchen table, cradling a mug in her hands. She smiles up at me. “I’ve just made some hot chocolate.” She nods at a saucepan on the stove. “Would you like some? I have marshmallows.”
“Sure, sounds good,” I say with a smile.
She pours me a mug and hands it over. “Sit down and join me. There’s something I’d like to tell you.” Mattie looks sad.
“Is Cal going to be all right?” I ask, suddenly anxious. Maybe he has hypothermia or something.
“He’ll be fine. He’s a strong lad. Don’t be worrying about him. But that is what I wanted to talk to you about – you and Cal. Well, more specifically about family.” She runs her finger along the rim of her mug. “I wish I’d kept in better touch with your mum after she moved to New York, but it wasn’t as easy as it is now and we were busy being teenagers. The day your mum contacted me was one of the happiest days of my life, and I don’t say that lightly. We emailed each other for a while and then she rang me. It was like the years just melted away and we were two teenagers again, laughing and being silly.”
Mattie shifts in her chair. “When she said she was planning to visit Ireland with you and your dad, I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to see her. We made so many plans. We’d go swimming every morning on Horseshoe Strand, go kayaking at night and see the phosphorescence around Seafire Bay, go dolphin- and whale-watching … all kinds of things.” Mattie presses her lips together, clearly upset. “And then your poor dad had to ring me and break the news about her … you know. I was devastated.” She takes a deep breath, her eyes welling up. “I couldn’t believe I’d never get to see her again. And I was so angry with myself too. I lost all those years with her. Years we could have spent together.”
She leans forwards, her voice urgent. “Rory, don’t let the same thing happen to you and Cal. My boy is as stubborn as they come, I know that. But he’s a good lad, and you two could be great friends if you’d only let him in.”
“But he hates me,” I say.
Mattie takes one of my hands. Her skin is warm. “He doesn’t hate you, I promise. Just try talking to him. Please? For me and for your mum. Just before she died, she said something to me − I’ll never forget it. She said, ‘You know, Mattie, we’re better than friends − we’re family. And family is for ever.’ Family meant everything to her, along with her beloved dolphins.”
Now I start to cry. “But I know he hates me and he has every right to. I said some really awful things and I’ve ruined his summer.”
“I don’t hate you.” I turn round to find Cal standing in the open doorway.
Mattie hands me a tissue and I mop up my tears. “You must think I’m such a dork, crying like a baby,” I say, embarrassed.
“No,” he says. “I think you’re really brave. You cut your hands to shreds on that fishing net, but you kept going. You were amazing. You saved those dolphins! You worked out what Click was trying to tell you and you saved them. If it wasn’t for you, they’d be dead.”
“You helped too, Cal. We did it together.”
“It really is extraordinary,” Mattie says. “You communicated with a dolphin, Rory. A dolphin in a million. You know w
hat this means? Your parents’ research is bang on track. And maybe Click will be able to prove it. You have to get your dad to work with Click.”
I smile at her. “I know, right? Will you help me persuade him, Mattie?”
“If he needs persuading then, yes, I will,” Mattie says. “I promise. Us Finn women have to stick together.”
“Thanks, Mattie,” I say, grateful for her support.
“I can talk to him too, if you like,” Cal says. “Mum’s right − your dad should definitely study Click.”
“Thanks. Cal, can I ask you something? Just before we were diving you said, ‘Let’s get wet.’ Why?”
He shrugs. “It’s something Mum always says before she gets in the water.”
“Same with my mom. She used to, I mean.” I give him a tentative smile.
He smiles back. “Look, can we start again, Rory?” he asks. “I’m sorry if I’ve been mean to you. Friends?”
Mattie was right when she said that family is important, and it would have meant such a lot to Mom to know that me and Cal were close, so I nod and say, “Friends. And family too, which is even better. Right, Mattie?”
“Oh, Rory.” Mattie’s eyes well up again, setting me off.
“What are you two crying about?” Cal looks at us, baffled. “Girls! You’re all insane. You know that, don’t you?”
Mattie and I splutter with laughter through our tears.
That night, although I’m still physically exhausted from the dive, I can’t sleep. Mattie dressed and bandaged up my hands earlier, but they still throb when I try to move them or to wiggle my fingers. She said I was lucky – I could have severed a nerve or something − but they will take time to heal.
I lie there, mulling over what happened today and thinking about Click, Dolphin Mom and Baby, and then my own mom. I know she’d be proud of me for saving those dolphins’ lives. She’d be proud of Cal, too. I wish she’d gotten to meet him and to spend time with us all on the island − her dolphin-loving Irish and American family.
I lie still for a few more minutes, before sitting up in bed and switching on my light. Then I open the drawer on my bedside table and take out Mom’s dolphin journal. I begin to write.
Friday 10 July
Dear Mom,
I saved two dolphins today – but you know that, don’t you? You were there with me, watching over me, making sure I was safe.
Alanna says you’ll always be with me – that you’ll live for ever in my heart, and I know it’s the truth. I hope I’m in yours too.
Mom, you were right all along. Dolphins do name things and talk to each other. They can do it with us too, if we listen and watch hard enough. Click whistled “Danger” at me today and linked it with the baby dolphin’s name – “Popcorn”. He “talked” to me.
I wish you were here. You could tell all those stuffy people who didn’t believe you that they were wrong. Dolphins are super smart and deserve our respect.
Are there dolphins where you are now, Mom? I hope so.
I miss you so much. And Mattie misses you, and Dad misses you. It makes me sad to think that there are so many things you’ll never get to do. Mattie told me about all the cool stuff you two had planned for the summer. I’m sure you and Dad had your own plans. And we had plans too, didn’t we? For our Mom and Rory trips in the future. Loads of travel plans, and not all dolphin linked either – visiting Paris together. Going up the Eiffel Tower, seeing the Mona Lisa. New York, Rome, Iceland … but none of that is ever going to happen now.
But I was thinking, maybe I could do some of those things with Dad instead. And you’d be there too, because you’d be watching me. I can stand on the top of the Eiffel Tower with Pops and send you my love and you’ll feel me, thinking about you and loving you.
Always,
Aurora XXX
P.S. One day I’m going to work with dolphins, just like you. Watch this space…
I feel groggy the following morning. I didn’t fall asleep until after midnight. My arms and shoulders are stiff from all the paddling and diving and my hands are stinging under the dressings. I take a shower, letting the warm water fall onto my skin and massage my muscles.
I pull on some sweatpants and a top and then I pull back the curtains at the French doors to see what sort of day it is outside. It’s a bright, sunny one. There are a couple of fluffy clouds scudding past, but it’s pretty clear. I give a start when I see a man staring out to sea with a pair of binoculars − but it’s only Dad.
I open the doors and step outside, the flagstones of the patio cold under my bare feet.
“Sorry, kiddo, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask him.
“Seeing if I can spot the dolphin pod,” he says, “and thinking about your mom. Sorry, I know you find it hard to talk about her.” He pats the seat beside him. “Care to join your old pops?”
I shrug. “Okey-dokey, kiddo,” I say.
He gives a gentle laugh.
I sit down. Then I put my feet on the wooden seat, fold my legs in front of me and hug them against my chest with my arms. I rest my chin on my knees.
We sit there in silence for a few minutes, gazing out at the sea.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dad says.
“Yes,” I murmur. From here you can see glossy green fields, the golden yellow curve of Horseshoe Strand and all the way across to Seafire Bay, where the sun is dancing on the tips of the waves.
“Any sign of the dolphins?” I ask him.
“No. But I haven’t been here long.” He turns and looks at me. “I was talking to Mattie and Cal over breakfast. They want us to extend our trip so I can study Click. They think he might be able to help with my research. After what happened yesterday, when he communicated with you like that and then showed us where to find the baby dolphin, I think they may be right. I’m not teaching again until September, so the university won’t mind if I’m not in Stony Brook for a while. How would you feel about staying until the end of the summer? I know you’re eager to get home and to see your friends and Magda, and if you don’t want to—”
I cut him off. “Seriously? Yes, I absolutely want to! Does this mean you’re going back to Mom’s research?”
“Yes, I think so. Rory, I’ve found the last six months without your mom almost unbearable. I had to distance myself from the work we did together – it just reminded me of her too much. Every time I saw her handwriting or watched the videos of her dives or heard her voice…” He tails off. “I couldn’t deal with it. That’s why I agreed to work on the echolocation project for a while, not because I don’t believe in your mom’s work or don’t want to finish it. Do you understand? I just found it so darn hard. It’s getting a little easier now, and being here with Mattie and being able to talk to her about Margo is helping.”
I can’t talk because there’s a lump in my throat. I nod instead. All my anger and frustration at him is melting away. Poor Dad, I’ve been pretty tough on him. I take a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I say quietly. “I just thought you didn’t want to do the research, not that you couldn’t. Alanna said I shouldn’t be so hard on you. I’ve been talking to her a bit too, about Mom and the accident and everything.”
“I’m so happy you’ve found a friend here,” Dad says. “Someone special to talk to. I know I’ve been too caught up in my own thoughts to be much use. It can’t have been easy for you, especially with me worrying all the time.”
“I know you’re trying to protect me because of what happened to Mom, but you can’t protect me from the whole world,” I say. “You’ve got to let me live.”
“I know that I have to stop wrapping you in cotton wool, Rory, honest I do. It’s just so difficult. Since your mum died, I’ve been feeling more and more anxious. Margo was the fun one − she was fearless. It was my job to keep her safe and support all her mad schemes. While she went off diving, I stayed in the lab and built up the database. We were a good team. But in the end
I couldn’t keep her safe. I was right beside her, but I couldn’t save her. I loved her so much, but it didn’t make any difference − she still died.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Dad. And it wasn’t my fault for not being there to carry the groceries. I realize that now.”
“Oh, Rory, is that what you’ve been thinking? No!”
“It’s OK. I know it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Alanna said if we have to blame something, we should blame the stupid ice, not ourselves.” I take a deep breath. There’s something I have to tell him and it’s not going to be easy. “I was really angry with Mom for leaving me. I know it’s terrible and I don’t feel like that now, but I did.”
Dad sighs. “I hear you, Rory. I was angry too, not with your mom, but with the world for allowing something so awful to happen to our family. But I guess I’m starting to accept things now. Margo’s not coming back and we have to learn to live without her.”
“I know,” I say. “But it’s so hard. For Mattie too. I was talking to her last night. She and Mom had all these things they wanted to do together, like midnight kayaking. Did she tell you about them?”
“Yes. We’ve talked a lot over the last few days. Your mom always had a ton of plans. There were so many things she wanted to do, places she wanted to see. Remember all your mom and Rory trips? Made me feel pretty left out, to be honest.”
I unfold my legs and then bump him with my shoulder, something I haven’t done for a long time. “Sorry,” I say.
“It’s OK,” he says. “Your mom loved those days. They meant a lot to her. She wanted the world for you, kiddo. I’m sure, wherever she is, she still does.” He blows out his breath and stares out to sea again. “Sorry, I’m talking about her again. I’ll stop now.”
“No,” I say. “Don’t stop. I want to be able to talk about her, remember her. I miss her.”
“Me too, kiddo. Me too. But life goes on, I guess, and she’d want us both to be happy. We have to give it a shot, to try and be a family together, just the two of us. Maybe we can put the last six months behind us and start again? What do you think?”