The Sound of Whales Read Free Page A

time I caught the tail of a hurricane off St Kilda?’
    Ben laughed. ‘You told me that story when you were selling me this rust bucket.’
    â€˜And did she not get you home last night in much the same kind of storm?’
    â€˜She did. And made a fine job of it.’
    â€˜Aye.’ Willie McGregor moved across the deck and stood at the rail beside Ben and Fraser. ‘Next time you might not be so lucky.’ He looked sternly at the boy. ‘I dinnae suppose your father knew you were out on the water last night?’
    Fraser shook his head. ‘Don’t tell him, please.’
    Willie turned to Ben. ‘You, lad, you should know better.’
    Ben McCaig smiled and shrugged. ‘It was fine, there was nothing to worry about.’ He nodded towards Fraser. ‘Fraze brought up his dinner, that’s all.’
    Fraser forced a smile, looked out across the harbour wall to a sea that was tranquil and sunlit. It was a completely different place from the previous night but there was still the nagging memory of a shadow in the water and a cry for help.
    Willie ran a hand across the stained wood of the wheelhouse. ‘Look,’ he said to Ben, ‘next time the sky’s a bit gloomy, dinnae go anywhere, eh? She’s strong but she’s old.’
    â€˜If there’s so much as a breeze, I will stay in harbour.’
    â€˜And you, laddie,’ he said to Fraser, ‘you stay in your bed.’
    Fraser nodded, having told himself that next time he would absolutely stay in his bed.
    â€˜One last thing,’ Willie said as he turned to go, ‘I hear there’s a whale been washed up on the beach.’ He paused then added, ‘But dinnae get excited. The beast is dead.’
    Five minutes later Fraser was walking fast along the sand, trying to keep up with the purposeful stride of Ben McCaig, the straps of Ben’s backpack cutting into his skin. He didn’t mind, this was his job: seasonal voluntary assistant researcher.
    The ocean sparkled in the morning sun, not a breath of wind to ruffle the water. The storm had cleared the sky of clouds, the pummelling waves had washed the beach clean, it felt like summer had finally arrived and everything was fresh and new. Almost everything.
    The dead whale was high on the beach, pushed there by the storm, out of reach now of the tide. It lay partly on its side, a glassy eye staring at the sky as if wondering what in heavens it was doing there. Big gulls wheeled in the air above.
    â€˜Isn’t that your brother?’ Ben asked.
    Dunny was standing by the whale, a hand stretched out, fingers gently touching its flank. His face was lifted to the sky, his pale hair shone in the sun.
    â€˜What’s he doing?’ Ben asked.
    â€˜Something weird no doubt.’
    â€˜Is he singing?’
    There was a noise coming from the boy, a hum without a tune, a series of random notes, high and low.
    â€˜I wouldn’t call that singing,’ said Fraser. As they arrived at the whale he asked, ‘What are you doing, Dunny?’
    The boy turned, his humming abruptly ending. He looked at Fraser for a moment, an intense sadness on his face, then walked away. He was barefoot and he moved so lightly along the beach that the sand barely rippled.
    Fraser returned his attention to the whale.
    It was smaller than he had imagined, its mouth slightly open, a line of jagged teeth glinting in the sun. It was also a little bit sad – the whale seemed out of place and abandoned. Ben walked slowly around the carcass.
    On top of the whale Fraser saw something else that caught the sunlight. He lifted it off and saw that it was a scallop shell. Dunny must have placed it there. In recent weeks his brother had started collecting shells and writing messages on them. Fraser had no idea why. He thought sometimes his brother faked the strangeness, that it was a bit of an act, but then again, maybe his brother was just weird. There was a