Storms Read online

  Jake walked straight out of the garage and into the air.

  He felt queasy. Genuinely sick. Dizzy. Like if he’d stayed in there a second longer he would have puked. He sucked sea-clean air into his lungs.

  He took his phone out and turned it back on, ready to send a text to Hannah. To go and see her, quick as he could; to tell her all about this badly weird day. And to break the news about Hawaii.

  It felt heavy. But it felt right too.

  There was a message:

  Come round later, early evening. I’ve got something to show you.

  Hannah

  ‘IT’S JAKE, FOR you,’ said Dad.

  She was still on the phone.

  Jake skulked, hands in pockets. He looked like Beano when he’d been naughty. He looked tired.

  Hannah finished the call: ‘Okay, yes. If you can email the details … Great. Of course, yes. We’ll find the money. I’ll get back to you later. Bye.’ She put the phone down. ‘Where’ve you been?’ she said to Jake.

  ‘Your last text said to come round this evening,’ he said, with a shrug.

  ‘You could have called.’

  ‘Did. Left a message.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah. I have been on the phone and email a bit.’

  ‘I needed time to think, any case. I’ve been trying to sort Hawaii.’

  ‘And have you?’ said Dad.

  ‘Dad.’ She glared at him till he disappeared. It was times like this – when he was questioning Jake and everything about him – that she wanted to say: You almost made his family homeless. But she never did.

  ‘Sorry, babe. I’ll explain,’ said Jake. ‘A lot’s happened. It’s been a weird day.’ Jake smiled and opened his arms. She stepped forward, buried her head in the warmth of his neck, and waited for his arms to close round her.

  ‘It’s been a strange day for me too,’ she said.

  ‘Do you fancy a takeaway? We need to talk about … stuff.’ He held her away, and looked into her eyes. He had a strange expression, neither happy nor sad. Searching. Loving.

  ‘Are … you all right?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ He forced a smile, rubbed the tops of her arms.

  ‘Okay. We’ll talk. Later. But I’ve got something to show you.’ She tore herself away from him and started pulling on her wellies and coat.

  ‘What we need to talk about. It’s important.’ Jake was serious. Not being like Jake.

  ‘It can wait, Jake. Trust me. Come on.’ She grabbed her camera off a peg and slung it round her neck. Jake frowned with confusion.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he said.

  ‘The tide brought something in. Something amazing.’

  ‘What? Which beach?’

  ‘Whitesands.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What did you find?’

  ‘Jake, stop being strange. You’ll see. Something amazing.’

  *

  The rain had stopped. The wind had died. But the sea raged on, a grey and white mess of crashing waves. The sky was darkening by the minute. But among the clouds patches of sky let through columns of dusky light. It was a sky to make Hannah stop and stare. A sky to photograph, normally. But now she could only think of whales.

  When they got to the sand, she made him close his eyes. She led him by the hand.

  Jake stumbled. ‘Hannah, this is crazy. I want to talk to you about Hawaii. About a lot of things.’

  ‘Hawaii’s not important right now.’

  ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘No. Don’t you dare open your eyes till I say.’

  ‘What you going to show me? Look, we need to talk.’

  ‘Come on.’

  In the half-light of a fading sky, she saw the whales. The sea had come a long way in, but not far enough.

  Hannah wondered how the whales felt. Stuck in this alien world. With the sea – their home – so close.

  The crowds had gone. There were just two girls now, tending to the live whales, pouring buckets of water over their backs.

  When they got close, Hannah put a hand over Jake’s eyes. She led him right up to the fence, before she took it away.

  ‘You can open them now.’

  Jake

  AS HE WAS being dragged over the sand, Jake had planned how he’d tell Hannah about the drugs. How he’d almost been stupid. How he didn’t have the money. How he’d given Mum what he did have. How even that wasn’t enough. That he loved her, but he wasn’t getting on that plane.

  Perhaps she would understand. He’d tell her. Soon as he got the chance.

  He waited, standing, listening to the sea, with her hands over his eyes.

  ‘Right, you can open them now,’ she said.

  Words stuck in his throat. He stood there, stunned.

  All sorts of ideas had gone through his head. She’d found drugs too. She was going to show him a pregnancy test, a wreck, a container full of trainers.

  Not this. Not orcas.

  He looked at the smallest one. Its eye regarded them, and he heard the phoosh as it exhaled.

  It cried. A weak, haunting sound.

  ‘Holy shit,’ he said. ‘Whales. Bloody whales. What … how?’

  ‘We’re going to rescue them, Jake. I’m going to rescue them. Will you help me?’

  Jake was so shocked; so downright gobsmacked he couldn’t compute what she was saying. He just stared at Hannah, then at the whale and back at Hannah, trying to take it all in.

  A girl came to the fence and held up a hand. Before she could say anything, Hannah started:

  ‘We’re organising the rescue equipment. We need to assess the living whales.’ Hannah waved her camera at the girl. ‘Has Steve not told you? It’s important. I have to report back this evening.’ She sounded confident. Jake had never heard Hannah so determined.

  The girl looked at them cautiously before pulling the plastic netting down and letting them climb over.

  Hannah led Jake straight to Little One. She knelt down, eye to eye with the whale, patting its skin.

  ‘Hi, Little One,’ she said. The young whale cried out, then whistled and clicked. Its eye rolled, examining Hannah’s face.

  ‘It’s like it’s talking to you,’ said Jake, and knelt beside Hannah. The whale looked at him too. He felt its naked stare burn into him. It whistled and clicked again.

  ‘It is talking. She is talking.’ Hannah stroked the whale’s skin. ‘Say hello to Little One.’

  He knelt in the sand, beside Hannah. She took his hand and placed it on the patch above the orca’s eye. How different this was from seeing an orca on a computer screen! This creature, shifting gently on the sand, its breath rising and falling, its rubbery, rough skin under his palm, was looking at him. It let out a long, gentle ‘scraaawwwk’.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. Hannah put an arm round him, leant on him. Both of them had a hand on the whale. Jake felt a warm current running through him.

  ‘Jesus,’ he said, surprised by this feeling. The depth of it, the strength. ‘How do we rescue them?’ he said.

  ‘There’s equipment can be flown over from America. Tomorrow maybe. The day after. But we need money.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Fifteen thousand.’

  ‘Fifteen! … Jesus. Your dad?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘He can’t. Not that much. I’ve already asked. He’s up to his limits with the marina project. Cash flow. I’ve got some, supposed to be for Hawaii, but it’s a fraction of what we need.’

  The thought of selling the drugs crept back into Jake’s mind. He pushed it away. Forced it out.

  Hannah continued, speaking low so as not to spook Little One, but sounding excited too. ‘An appeal in the paper maybe. A rich whale-lover. There has to be a way.’

  Yeah, he thought. Some way. Somebody who had that kind of money.

  ‘What happens if we … don’t get the equipment?’ he said.

  ‘I can’t say it,’ Hannah whispered. She swallowed hard, breathed deep. He noticed that her hand, on the whale’
s black skin, was trembling.

  The way she looked at the whale. Strong with determination one minute, weak with hope the next. Vulnerable. It was how she looked at him after sex; the way she’d looked when he’d first said: I love you.

  ‘Will you help me, Jake? Will you help Little One?’ Those sea-pool eyes were working on him. Gentle and wanting.

  Little One called out again. Its head rose, and twisted slightly, as much as the poor thing could manage. It looked at him. It blew a breath from its blowhole.

  Jake looked at the sky. It was getting dark. The wind was picking up again.

  ‘Fuck it,’ he mouthed, to the sky. To no one.

  He had a sudden vision, of himself, waving Hannah off at the airport.

  ‘Sorry about the dead whale,’ he’d say. ‘Sorry about Hawaii. Sorry about Mum being homeless too. But hey, can’t be helped.’

  ‘Fuck it,’ he said, again to no one. ‘Yeah. I will help,’ he said to Hannah. The words fell out of him. ‘Of course, babe. Of course I will.’

  Hannah threw herself at Jake. She nuzzled her head into his neck.

  ‘I’ll get the money,’ he said.

  She kissed his neck.

  ‘How, sweet boy? You can’t even get the money for a plane ticket.’

  ‘I can get it.’

  ‘Where from? Did pirate treasure wash up in the storm? Is there fifteen thousand pounds in a sea-chest somewhere?’ She burrowed in further, between his neck and his shoulder, and held him tight.

  ‘I’m serious,’ he said. ‘I can get it.’

  Hannah unburrowed herself. She looked at him. Hoping. Maybe even believing.

  ‘I’m serious,’ he said, again.

  PART THREE

  BETWEEN THE STORMS

  www.Eye-Sea-Surfcheck.com

  Forecast

  Winds: medium southerlies 12–15mph

  Conditions: calm

  Waves: 5ft at 6–7 seconds wave period. Fun.

  This is a gap, folks, just a little rest before things get serious again.

  There’s plenty of small surf on the north coast. Bigger on the south, but winds might mess it up a bit.

  Surf the tail end of the storm. There’s a fair bit to be had today, but tomorrow it’ll go small. Storm was local, so not much swell generated.

  If you like it easy: enjoy it while it lasts.

  Longer term: there’s a storm forming off Iceland and the US eastern seaboard that’s gonna rewrite the rule book. Serious. Heavy.

  UK landfall within days.

  Jake

  THE PUB CAR park was a quarter full. The cars were old and cheap. The motors of bar staff and morning boozers.

  The Range Rover was old too. And dirty. But it still stuck out.

  Jake looked around, and up. The car park was behind the pub, with high walls on either side. There were no windows. No security cameras.

  Two people were sitting in the front of the Range Rover. Tasha got out, leaving the passenger door open. She walked up to Jake.

  ‘He likes the sample. I’ll wait in the pub,’ she said, and walked off, leaving him stranded on the tarmac. He stood there, not moving, his heart thumping. Half of him wanted to scarper. The other half told him not to be a pussy. To get this done.

  Jake tried to swallow, but he couldn’t. His mouth was dry. He took a deep breath, and walked to the car door. The man in the driver’s seat was in his forties. A bit chubby, but strong-looking. Solid. He had short grey hair and wore a leather jacket.

  The man looked at him, and raised his eyebrows as if to say: ‘Well?’

  Jake got in and shut the door. He thought he should offer his hand to shake. Or say something. But what? What do you say to start a drug deal?

  ‘Where we going?’ he blurted, pulling his seatbelt across his lap. His hand trembled as he plugged it in.

  ‘We’re not going anywhere,’ the man said, in a soft London accent. He pushed the button on Jake’s seatbelt. It zipped limply back across Jake’s chest.

  ‘Oh. Right.’ Now what? A voice inside Jake’s head told him to shut up, to not say anything. To not give away what a total kook he was.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ asked the man.

  ‘Sell.’

  ‘I know that. How much?’

  Jake didn’t know if the man meant the price or the quantity.

  ‘How much do you want?’ he replied. The man looked confused. He checked the wing mirror, then the rear-view mirror. He looked out of the window. Then at Jake.

  ‘Tasha tells me you’re a bit new to this. So, how about this? You meet me here later today, and we do the business. You give me your number. I’ll let you know what time. You bring an ounce. I’ll give you twenty quid a gram. You come with the girl, but you and me do the business. Okay?’

  Jake’s mind raced, calculating. That was hundreds of pounds, not thousands.

  ‘Er, we … I want to sell more than that. A lot more,’ he said, trying to sound confident. Again, the man looked at him like he couldn’t figure him out.

  ‘Do you trust me?’ said the man.

  Jake was thrown. He felt his face turning red. ‘What?’

  The man tapped the steering wheel. He sighed, impatiently.

  ‘I said: Do you trust me?’

  ‘Um. Yes?’

  ‘Well, I don’t trust you.’ The man’s voice was hard all of a sudden. Not friendly.

  ‘Oh,’ said Jake. This was going south. His hand moved to the door handle. He’d been mad to think he could pull off a drug deal. Time to go. He opened the door.

  ‘Wait,’ the man said. His shoulders dropped. He rolled his eyes. Then, speaking more softly: ‘Close the door.’ Jake did as he was told. ‘Look, son. Point I’m making is this. I don’t know you, do I? You don’t know me. Not from Adam. So it’s best to go steady. If we’re both happy later on, we’ll do it again. With a bigger amount. If that goes all right we talk about something serious. It takes time to organise cash, you know. How about that?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Look, I know you haven’t done this much. Mind if I ask if you’ve done this at all?’

  ‘Not much. Really. Look … What you said sounds fine,’ said Jake. It was fine. For now. How long would all that take? How much money would he make? Would it be enough? Quickly enough?

  He gave the man the number of the pay-as-you-go Tasha had given him.

  The man did another check of his mirrors. He looked at Jake, and gave him a quick smile and a nod.

  It took Jake long seconds to suss that the meeting was over. He got out of the car and walked to the back door of the pub.

  Tasha was sitting at a corner table. She’d got him a pint. He picked it up and necked a third of it, then sat down, collapsing against the wall. The whole thing had lasted no more than a few minutes. He hadn’t been arrested, beaten up or ripped off, like Goofy said might happen. He was relieved.

  ‘Well, how – did – it – go?’ Tasha teased the words out. She sat close. In her tight black jeans and leather jacket, with her thick make-up and arms jangling with bracelets, she was half cat, half Cleopatra. ‘I said, how did it go?’

  ‘Okay.’ And it had. Though it struck him now, how the man had decided everything. The price, how much he’d buy. Where and when. Jake didn’t even have the guy’s number, or know his name. ‘We’re going to do an ounce, then see. Get to know each other a bit. And he wants you there. The first time, in any case.’

  ‘Great. Happy to help.’

  Was she? She seemed too cool with it. A bit too pleased.

  ‘Ah,’ said Jake. ‘Right. You want paying as well as what I’m giving Ned.’ His heart sank. He knew he’d have to share the money. He’d promised Ned twenty per cent. But now Tasha was getting more involved. Maybe he’d be better off negotiating with her.

  ‘I’ve said twenty per cent. For Ned … and you.’

  She didn’t blink.

  ‘Is that okay?’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t want money, Jake.’ The way she sa
id it, it sounded dirty, secretive. What, then?

  He realised, nodding.

  ‘Right. You want some free coke.’ Well, that was all right, he had plenty of that. Too much of that, and no money.

  Tasha put up her glass for him to clink. He did, then downed the rest of the pint. Suddenly he had a thirst like he’d been surfing all day and it was Friday night.

  There was more drama to come. This morning was nothing. But at least he’d made a start.

  A bead of sweat snaked down his back, cold and unwelcome.

  Think of the waves, he told himself. Think of Hannah. Think of Hawaii. Blue skies and bluer waves. Think of the whale.

  Soon they’d be on their way. Those dreams would be real, and skanky pubs part of a nightmare he could forget.

  Hannah

  ‘CAN YOU SLOW down? I feel sick.’

  Dad liked to drive the Mercedes fast. Normally it was fine. It was fun. Now it made her queasy.

  ‘It’s because you’ve got your head in that thing,’ Dad said, taking a hand off the wheel and pointing at her phone. ‘You know you can’t read and travel at the same time.’

  ‘I don’t have a choice, Dad. I’m waiting for an update.’

  She was. Any update.

  How were the whales doing?

  Was there news from the US? (Which was crazy, because it was eleven in the morning in the UK and six on the eastern seaboard.)

  Would they fly the equipment on a promise or part payment, or only on full payment?

  How was Jake doing, getting that money? She’d find out today.

  And why the hell hadn’t she known she needed six months on her passport after her US exit date? And that she had to go to the post office to get her application fast-tracked?

  She was seasick with these thoughts, crashing against the inside of her head like waves. She felt battered. Weak with hope for Little One. Still shocked by the sight of the giant corpses of Little One’s family, lying in the sand. Tight-hearted with worry that the rescue equipment wouldn’t arrive soon enough.

  Seasick or not, there was no stopping this journey. Not for a while. She had to see it through.