The Sound of Whales (15 page)

The fisherman turned back to the window and faced the ocean but Fraser could see from his reflection in the glass that he was looking inward, hunting a memory.

‘In the old days, the old whaling days, there were occasional laddies just like your brother. Laddies who could find whales. They were a rare breed and there was a Gaelic name for them.
Gairmies
. Every whaling boat from Dundee to Newfoundland wanted a
gairmie
on board.'

Mr Wallace nodded. ‘I've heard of these boys,' he said.

Fraser asked, ‘What did they do?'

‘
Gairmies
were strange fellows. Out at sea they could find you a whale but back on land they were usually a bit peculiar. I remember my grandfather telling me about a laddie that sailed with his father. The lad gained the unfortunate name of Cursing McKendrick. He would shout obscenities at passing womenfolk and curse God in the street. But the town endured his outbursts because he could find a whale. In those days whales meant money. There was a lot more money in whales than in lobsters.'

Willie moved back into the centre of the room. ‘I suppose today Cursing McKendrick would be treated for that condition – what do you call it? The one that makes you swear though you cannae help it.'

‘Tourette's,' Fraser said.

‘Aye, that's it.'

Once again Fraser felt an obligation to defend his brother. ‘You're saying Dunny is peculiar?'

‘Not peculiar, lad, just
 . . .
' The fisherman searched for a word that wouldn't offend. ‘Just different.'

Fraser knew Willie meant peculiar. ‘Dunny doesn't speak, that's all.'

‘Aye. And is that not a bit different?'

After a moment of tense silence Mr Wallace asked, ‘You reckon Dunny's a
gairmie
?'

Fraser scoffed. ‘It isn't much of a talent, is it? There's no whaling boats sailing out of Scotland these days.'

‘No,' said Willie. ‘But he would make a better whale scientist than McCaig.'

Fraser said nothing, for he could see the truth in it. The thing
he
wanted to be, the job he wanted to do, Dunny could do a whole lot better. It was a galling thought.

‘So how do these lads find the whales?' the harbour master asked.

‘That's the very thing, you see,' said Willie. ‘Some folks thought of
gairmies
as whale finders. If you put them in a boat, they would lead you to whales. But that's not really what the word means. There's not an exact translation into English.
Gairmie
doesnae mean
finder
 . . .
' The fisherman paused. ‘It means
summoner
.'

There followed only silence, save for the blowing of the wind. From Willie's disappointed look it was clear he expected a better response.

‘Can you not see the difference?' he said. ‘With a
gairmie
on board, the boats didnae go to the whales. The whales came to them.'

Fraser sat back in the sofa and felt a weariness enclose him along with the sagging cushions. He tried to make sense of Willie McGregor's story. If such a thing as a
gairmie
existed, it meant that Dunny was no longer flawed; now he was gifted in an extraordinary way. Deep down Fraser had always known that his brother had some kind of gift; he just hadn't expected it to be this one. Perhaps his own interest in whales was just Dunny's gift being channelled through him. Perhaps when Dunny summoned the whales he summoned his older brother as well.

The harbour master said, ‘When the whales came to the
gairmies
they were being summoned to their deaths.'

‘Aye,' Willie said. ‘Slaughtered in their thousands. You can see why there's not been sight nor sound of a
gairmie
for over a century.'

Fraser got up and looked out of the large window again, towards an ocean almost as devoid of whales as it was of whale summoners. He realized what became of the
gairmies
. They must have recognized what their gift was bringing: the very destruction of the creatures they summoned.

And now Fraser understood the true nature of Dunny's gift. His brother was not always silent; there was not always an absence of communication. Dunny chose not to speak, but in some mysterious fashion, by some method that Fraser would never understand, Dunny had his own way of communing and connecting with other souls. Not people, though. Only whales.

The question now was, why had the whales returned to the Sound of Whales? Had they been summoned by Dunny? If so, to what purpose?

And Fraser saw danger in Dunny's connection with the whales. If his brother was so in tune with the comings and goings of the beach and the ocean, then Willie McGregor might reckon Dunny would know of other visitors to the island. Which, of course, he did.

CHAPTER 26

T
he lobster boat eased itself gently through the gap in the stone walls, into the haven of Skulavaig harbour. The wind howled and even in the harbour the boat rolled and dipped as Ben McCaig guided it against the wall. Hayley could see the relief on Ben's face now that he had sailed the
Moby Dick
safely home. Her mother stood slumped against the back wall of the wheelhouse, exhausted from the stress of watching Fraser Dunbar drown and then come back to life. Dunny stood by the wheelhouse window, a vacant look on his face but with a shape to his mouth that might have been a smile.

Hayley too was exhausted; it was only the cold that kept her awake. The adrenaline that had made her jump into the churning ocean and kept her swimming and glued her to the rail as she searched for Fraser, that chemical had slunk back into whichever gland had produced it, leaving a fatigue that hung on her shoulders heavier than the wet oilskins she wore.

‘Quite an adventure,' Ben said, turning off the engine. The pistons stopped clanging, the propeller ceased turning and the howl of the wind grew. ‘Enough for one night,' he added.

‘Enough for a lifetime,' said Sarah.

‘I'll tie up the boat,' Ben said.

He relinquished his hold on the wheel and opened the door of the wheelhouse. The gust of wind made Hayley shiver.

‘Let's get you home,' said her mom.

They followed Ben out on to the deck and Sarah helped Dunny out as well. Ben climbed the ladder on to the jetty and tied a large rope around a bollard.

Sarah asked, ‘You're not sleeping on the boat tonight, are you?'

For a moment Hayley thought her mom was offering him a bunk in the cottage but then she added, ‘The sea's too rough. You should take a room in the hotel.'

Ben gave a wry smile as if his hopes had been raised for a second and then dashed. ‘I'll be fine,' he said, ‘I'm too excited to sleep and I've my notes to write up. There's a whole scientific paper here. The boy and the whales.'

Sarah nodded, then carefully climbed up on to the sea wall, with Ben holding out a hand to help. Dunny followed and then Hayley. The stone jetty felt strange beneath her feet. It wasn't moving up and down, it didn't twist and drop, she didn't have to brace her legs to balance and hold on to something to stop her collapsing in a heap. She understood now why sailors kissed the solid shore after a long and perilous journey at sea.

‘Well, goodnight, then,' her mom said to Ben. ‘Thanks for what you did.'

‘It's Fraser and your daughter you should thank,' he said. ‘They're the ones who got wet.'

Sarah looked at Hayley and said with a smile, ‘I'll thank her just as soon as I've killed her.'

Ben laughed and said to Hayley, ‘Go get warm and dry.' He climbed back down on to the boat and added, ‘You too, Dunny.'

Sarah said, ‘I'm sure his parents will pay to replace your dingy.'

‘It might wash ashore. Besides, we saw orcas off Nin. That's compensation enough.'

‘Goodnight,' Sarah said again.

Was that wistfulness in her mother's voice, Hayley wondered. She took a last look at the small boat that had been her saviour and almost her undoing. What would the girls on the swim team make of her dip in the ocean?

As Sarah and Dunny arrived at the mission the door opened and out stepped Dunny's parents. Jessie Dunbar grabbed her youngest son and clasped him tightly. Then she held him at arm's length and Hayley heard her voice carry across the harbour.

‘You must never do that again, do you hear me?'

Dunny nodded mutely. His father placed a hand on his head and gave the deepest and most desperate of sighs.

Hayley could only marvel at the understanding and forgiveness displayed by the Dunbars. She supposed it came from a lifetime dealing with Dunny. They always seemed calm, collected, almost resigned to their boys' antics, both Dunny's
and
Fraser's. Not
her
mom; she lost it at the slightest disobedience, the smallest mischief. With just cause, Hayley supposed – a lot of rules had been broken in Texas in the past few months.

‘Home,' Duncan Dunbar said, before turning to the open door of the mission and calling, ‘Come on, Fraser.'

Jessie squeezed Sarah's arm. ‘Thank you,' she said sadly.

When Fraser appeared Jessie bundled her sons together and, with their dad following a step behind, they walked towards their house. Fraser glanced over his shoulder and gave Hayley an apologetic smile.

Hayley waved weakly in return as he disappeared up the road. She wanted to run after him, to grab him, to ask him a hundred questions, to hear his adventures, to hug him tight and tell him how glad she was he had made it. She wanted to do this but instead she stood there watching him go and wondered what had changed that made her want to hug him rather than hate him.

I am numb with cold
, she told herself.
Exhausted. I am not myself
.

Who would be after tonight?

‘Bed,' she heard her mother say. Nothing sounded finer. Even a bed that was a couch in a draughty cottage in a sodden town on a windswept island. Bed was all she needed. Sleep and warmth and a new day, without whales and storms and Scottish boys. But as she trudged up the path from the harbour she knew that in this part of the world it would be hard to avoid all three.

CHAPTER 27

F
raser awoke with an ache in every limb. It was Sunday morning and the clock by his bed told him it was just before seven. In Skulavaig the Sabbath was strictly observed and it drove him mad. He didn't have a problem with God as such, he just resented the fact that life ground to a halt, as if his little town wasn't dead enough at the best of times. Still, he had it good compared to some; he only had to attend the morning church service, he was allowed to skip the evening one, although his mother attended both and often took Dunny with her. He was also allowed to watch television, unlike some of his classmates, who had to pack away their game consoles, phones, even their footballs. In some parts of the Western Isles a kick-about on a sunny afternoon was barred on the Sabbath.

In Skulavaig the shop would be closed, so would the Fisherman's Mission, even Mr Wallace would be absent from his window for a few hours. Ships dared not flounder off the west coast of Scotland on a Sunday. Ben usually had the good grace to stay in harbour on the Sabbath, although Fraser had never seen him at church. Ben McCaig was a scientist and for him the wonders of the universe needed no creator. Fraser thought that at least the orca must have been designed by something higher.

He pulled himself up to a sitting position in his bed and tugged his curtain fully open. There had been no punishment for last night's swim; it had been a misguided attempt to help, that was all. He had simply been made to promise that next time he would fetch his father. Not that there would be a next time. Dunny's promise had been to
never ever
do anything like that again, to which he had agreed with a nod. Once more Fraser felt his brother had escaped lightly, as if not speaking somehow also affected his ability to think, reason, reflect. Fraser knew his brother could do all three just fine. Dunny's actions were rarely random.

Church was not until ten and, despite the escapades of the previous night and the fatigue he felt, he was certain his whole family would go to morning service. It was their usual Sunday routine but today they would also be giving thanks to God for his safe deliverance. Fraser knew he would give his silent thanks to a brave African stuck in a cave a long way from home. The thought made him even more determined to help Jonah get to London, away from Skulavaig and the men who hunted him.

Fraser pulled his tablet from the floor and switched it on. He did a quick internet search and discovered that a train left Inverness for London at six forty-seven every weekday morning, arriving in London just after three o'clock. He checked the price and nearly dropped his computer when he saw it was one hundred and twenty pounds. He didn't have anything like that amount of money. He had enough for the bus fare to Inverness, but that was about it.

All was not lost, however. Cash wasn't necessary to book a train ticket, just a bank card. He didn't have one, but his mum did. He was allowed to use her debit card number to download music and games; it would work just as well to book a train ticket. In a few days' time his mother would come and find him and demand to know why he had paid ScotRail one hundred and twenty pounds but that was a problem for later.

Fraser quickly typed in the necessary information and the card number. He booked a one-way ticket from Inverness to London leaving on Tuesday morning. That gave him two days to plan Jonah's escape. When the booking site asked for personal details, he realized he didn't know the African's last name. He had never asked. He typed the name Jonah Dunbar and hit the send button. Jonah was now family.

The next challenge was getting him to Inverness. There was a bus twice a day that went from Kyle of Lochalsh to Inverness. Jonah could get that bus tomorrow and doss down overnight in Inverness somewhere. The problem was getting off the island. Catching the ferry would be foolish; there were men looking for him, someone on the island, maybe even Willie McGregor. There were also police officers in Skulavaig investigating Solomon's death, and they would find it strange to dis cover another out-of-place black man on this small island. No, there was only one safe way to the mainland and that was on Ben McCaig's boat.

All he had to do was persuade Ben to help.

Fraser dressed and sneaked quietly from the house. It was seven forty-five and the rest of his family were still sleeping. He walked down the road to the harbour, his feet sliding on tarmac still slick from the previous night's storm. The sun was veiled behind morning mist but the early light was warm and held the promise of a lovely day. The
Moby Dick
lay becalmed in the harbour, there was not a breath of wind to ripple the water. He needed to talk to Ben but that could wait until later. It wasn't yet eight o'clock – too early for the scientist, even at his best. With a hangover, only a few hours' sleep and the fact that it was Sunday, Ben wouldn't stir until midday.

Fraser would go and see Jonah first and explain his plan. He had put some cheese and cold meat in a bag with some bread for Jonah's breakfast. He passed Ben's boat, which showed no signs of life, crossed the jetty and jumped down on to the sand. Some police tape was still stretched across a section of the beach but the tide had come in and gone out and washed away any evidence of a crime scene. The body had been removed and Fraser still had Ben's knife under his bed. When Jonah was safely on the train to London, he would present it to the nearest available policeman and await the wrath that would surely descend upon his head. But he couldn't think about that now.

Fraser looked along the beach towards the cliffs with the caves. The morning mist hung over the sand and seeped out across the water, so only a small strip of ocean could be seen; then it was just hazy brightness. Much further up the beach he spotted movement, a figure way ahead. Only for a few seconds and then it was lost in the mist. There was a distinctive gait to the man – it
was
a man – and Fraser recognized his build. He wondered again why Willie McGregor would be wandering the beach. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about the fisherman.

Fraser quickened his pace, hoping to outflank Willie and get to the cave first. It was time to get the African on his way. His plan was only half formed and relied on the good grace of Ben McCaig, but it was the only plan he had and it needed to be set in motion now. He was hurrying up the beach when out of the mist another figure emerged, sitting on the sand, just above the gently breaking surf.

Dunny!

His brother had again sneaked from the house unheard. Fraser moved towards him and asked gruffly, ‘What are you doing here?' as if Dunny was going to answer for once.

Dunny turned slowly. His face wore the look that said, I know things you don't and even if I could speak of them, I wouldn't. Then he went back to gazing at the mist-shrouded ocean.
If only he would say something
, Fraser thought for the millionth time, or maybe he
was
talking, but just to the whales. A
gairmie
, that was the word: a boy who summoned whales. Fraser searched for a pod of whales that might be chewing the fat with Dunny, having a chinwag, a natter, some chitchat, a
right good blether
. The sea was flat and empty but there could have been whales further out, hidden by the mist.

‘After last night's madness you shouldn't be back out here. Does mum know you've left the house again?'

Dunny faintly shook his head and Fraser sighed in deep exasperation.

‘I can't keep rescuing you when you get into trouble.'

His brother gave him a look that said,
You rescued no one
.

Fraser stared out across the water but couldn't see what his brother could see, couldn't hear what his brother could hear.

‘Are there whales out there?'

Dunny didn't answer.

‘I mean right there, right now? Are you
 . . . 
are you talking to them?'

He felt stupid for asking, hated himself for pandering to the idea.

‘Get yourself home, Dunny.' His brother didn't move. ‘Get back to the house.' He grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him roughly to his feet. Dunny yanked himself free and frowned at Fraser.

Fraser pointed back down the beach. ‘Home. Now!'

Dunny had always been compliant, had always done what Fraser told him to do. For a moment Fraser thought this was about to be the great rebellion, the sibling uprising which often came after years of torment and demands. Instead Dunny reached into his pocket and pulled out a limpet shell. He held it out to Fraser.

‘I don't have time for this, Dunny.'

Dunny pushed the shell into Fraser's hand. Fraser took a quick look at it. On the surface was written,
Watch
.

‘Watch what?'

Dunny shook his head. Did he mean, watch out? Fraser shoved the shell into his pocket.

‘Get yourself home.'

Dunny moved away and Fraser started running along the beach towards the cave. He had to overtake Willie. When Fraser reached the rocks he slowed his pace to a fast walk. The morning mist was thicker here, a proper haar trapped in place by the high bluff. From the top of the beach you could hear the breaking waves but not see them. The base of the cliff was pockmarked with small caves and big clefts. Willie could have wandered past or could be hidden away, watching and waiting. Fraser reached the cave. He looked around him but there was nothing to see in the haar and he hoped he too was hidden from prying eyes. He scrambled up the fallen rocks to the cave entrance and stood at the opening, peering into the dark.

Jonah was very careful, there was nothing that would give him away: no footprints in the sand, no discarded fish bones. There was only the blackened ring of stones with the remains of a fire, but every cave had one of those.

A voice from the back said, ‘Good morning, Fraser.'

‘Sssshhhh!' said Fraser in reply.

Jonah emerged from the shadows. He gave a bright smile but his eyes were tired. ‘What is wrong?' he asked quietly.

‘That islander we saw the other night, he's back on the beach.'

‘Is he looking for me?'

‘I don't know.' Fraser paused, thinking it through. ‘Willie McGregor has a fine-looking boat. Perhaps he was meant to bring you ashore.' Fraser peered carefully around the cave entrance and scanned the beach but the mist had settled over the sand and nothing could be seen. ‘It's time to get away from here.'

The African sighed. ‘As I said, I have nowhere to go
 . . .
' He gave a wry smile. ‘And no way of getting there.'

‘You have.' From his pocket Fraser pulled out a twenty-pound note and a slip of paper and handed them to Jonah. ‘This is how you can get out of this cave and out of Skulavaig.'

‘What is this?'

‘It's your bus fare to Inverness and your train ticket to London.'

The African man shook his head, looked embarrassed. ‘I cannot accept this, Fraser. It is too much.'

‘You saved my life. And you deserve this chance. Let me help. Please.'

Jonah considered for a moment, turning over the ticket and the note in his hands. ‘I will repay you. Someday I will return to this island and repay you.'

‘Don't worry about that. We have to get you
off
the island before you can return to it. I brought some food for you too. I have to go to church and then I'll find Ben.'

‘You are a good friend, Fraser Dunbar.'

Jonah tightly grasped Fraser's hand with both of his, seemed to want to say more but choked.

‘It isn't wise to stay here,' Fraser said. ‘Not if Willie McGregor is roaming around. He's bound to check the caves.' He thought for a moment then said, ‘Come on.'

He slithered down the rocks outside the cave and waited on the beach for Jonah to join him. The African followed, carrying the bag of food and his bottle of water. Fraser put his finger to his lips. The breaking waves could be heard but not seen, only a thin strip of sand was visible in the mist and the top of the cliff face disappeared in the haze.

‘Where are we going?' Jonah whispered.

‘To the castle.'

The man laughed. ‘From a cave to a castle.'

‘I wouldn't get your hopes up, it isn't much of a palace.'

Fraser carefully led the way back along the bottom of the cliff, staying tight to the rock, ready to dive for cover should Willie McGregor emerge from the fog. They reached the steep path up the cliff and began to climb. About halfway to the top they stepped out of the mist into clear air bright with sunshine. Fraser told Jonah to wait while he scurried to the top and searched for signs of life. It was empty save for some flapping gulls that seemed unable to decide whether to land or stay airborne. Fraser went back down for Jonah and together they moved along the clifftop towards the castle.

‘I have been up here once,' Jonah said. ‘But I saw your castle and thought someone might be living there.'

‘Not for a hundred years.'

As they walked Jonah pulled some shells out of his pocket. ‘I found these on the sand below the cave.'