Storms

He stepped towards her. She didn’t move, though her legs were weak as twigs. ‘And where is he? This boy who’s flying round the world with you, who we don’t even know?’

‘I’m here,’ said Jake.

He’d got dressed. He’d made himself presentable as possible. But he was barefooted, his shoes were still under the table.

‘We met briefly, Mr Lancaster. I’m Jake,’ he said, and held out his hand.

Dad looked him up and down. Dad, with his jacket and tie and slick hair. He shook Jake’s hand, limply, but pulled the sides of his mouth down and raised his eyebrows as he did it.

He’d dismissed Jake and everything he was with one look. And Hannah hated him for it.

He picked up one of the empty bottles, took his glasses out of his shirt pocket and examined it. Reading it like a book, like there was no one else there.

‘You said I could take some wine,’ said Hannah.

‘And so you did,’ said Dad, still looking at the label. ‘Do you know how much this bottle was worth?’

‘Sorry, Dad.’

‘Sorry?’ he said, softly. ‘You’re sorry.’ Jake stepped forward.

‘Hey. We got carried away, drank too much. I was never even going to stay here.’

Her dad didn’t look at Jake, only at Hannah.

‘No. But you did, didn’t you? Hannah, you know which bottles not to take.’ He showed her the bottle, like she would recognise it.

Jake held his hand up. ‘It’s my bad. I went to get another bottle. Maybe I got one of the pricey ones by accident.’

Dad looked weirdly pleased by this news. Hannah shot Jake a WTF look.

‘I’ll pay you back,’ said Jake. ‘I promise.’

Dad looked at Jake now. Examining him.

‘That might take longer than you think,’ said Dad. ‘You work in a pub, don’t you?’

‘There’s no need for that, Pete,’ said Mum. ‘I mean, there’s no need for Jake to pay for it. Is there?’

Mum never stood up to Dad, but she was now. Even Beano looked at Dad, like he was going to bark. Her father was alone.

He raised his finger and pointed first at Mum, then at Hannah.

‘You’d better go,’ Hannah said to Jake before Dad could speak. She leant over, ducked under the table, grabbed his shoes, and herded him to the front door.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘About the bottle.’

‘I’m sorry too. About Dad.’

They kissed. A reminder of their night.

She watched him disappear into the dark.

Jake (#u144a9bc1-6c85-54b0-9e9d-e64db0dfcb9d)

THEY AVOIDED HANNAH’S house after that. And her family.

They took long walks on the cliffs. Searching. Because Hannah had heard a rumour. The sighting of orcas. Killer whales.

‘Not sure I want killer whales around, anyway.’ Jake said after they got home one day. ‘I’d freak if I saw one in the water.’

Hannah grinned. ‘Worried it’d surf better than you?’

‘Killer whales don’t surf.’

‘Yeah? I’ve seen it, Jake. I’ve filmed it.’

‘Get out!’

‘Wanna see?’

Hannah searched files on her laptop, a look of total concentration on her face. It surprised Jake when she got serious. She screwed up her eyes, sticking her tongue a little way out of the side of her mouth. It was cute. And sexy.

‘Can’t find it,’ she said. ‘I should give these files names, not just numbers. Listen to this, while I search. Sounds from a hydrophone we placed off the Scillies, last summer.’

Jake strained his ears. Bubbling, rolling currents, soft gurgles, washing white noise. Hisses and whispers.

Then:

Cik … cik … cik … Faster. Cik … cik … cik … cik … cik … cik … Ckkkkkkkkkkk …

‘Sonar,’ said Hannah.

The air filled with waves of echoes, whistles, clicks and thuds. Jake’s skin goosebumped.

‘Voices,’ he said.

‘The sounds amplify through the hulls of ships,’ said Hannah. ‘Sailors used to reckon it was mermaids. Or the cries of drowned sailors.’

‘What are they saying?’

‘Hard to know, exactly. We match sounds to observed behaviour, and work out the combinations for feeding, hunting, calling. It’s rudimentary language, which varies between communities. They have dialects, and they use sets of unique phrases for individuals.’

‘You mean … names?’

Hannah shrugged. ‘I guess so.’

‘That’s incredible.’ He slumped in his chair, open-mouthed. Hannah saw, and smiled.