Longest Whale Song Read online

  ‘Joseph isn’t like a boyfriend, silly.’

  ‘Who are you calling silly?’ says Jack, but he’s deliberately pulling a silly face. ‘Now, let me get on with my marking.’

  ‘Jack, if I go to tea with Joseph, I don’t have to go to after-school club, do I?’

  ‘No, I suppose not. They’d probably ban you anyway.’

  ‘So I don’t ever have to go again?’ I say delightedly.

  ‘No, hang on, you’ve got to go. We’ll just have to grovel to Mrs Matthews. And listen, Ella, keep away from Martha, do you hear me? No more fighting.’

  ‘It was you who told me to stand up to her.’

  ‘Yes, well, maybe that was a stupid suggestion. I’m glad it worked once, but I can’t have you kicking off like that again. The school is worried enough about you as it is. You just keep your head down and behave. Ignore Martha. If she opens that big mouth of hers and starts sounding off, pretend you’ve got little flaps over your ears so you can’t hear a word. Block her out. OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Right then. Marking time. And why don’t you see what you can salvage of your whale project? You can use my special sellotape if some of the pages are ripped.’

  I sit down, take all the pages out of my file, and do my best to smooth them out and fix them. ‘It’s just going to look total rubbish now,’ I say sorrowfully.

  ‘Well, you can always redo the worst pages.’

  ‘That blooming Martha. I’d like to rip her in half,’ I mutter.

  I think about her. I think about her stepfather.

  ‘Jack, are grown-ups allowed to hit children nowadays?’

  ‘No – though it’s very tempting at times.’ He sees me staring. ‘I’m joking.’

  ‘Do some grown-ups hit kids, though?’

  ‘Yes, of course they do. Though it’s very wrong.’

  ‘What’s a whack? Is it like a smack?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  ‘You wouldn’t ever give me a whack, would you, Jack?’

  ‘What? No, of course not.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re my stepdad,’ I mutter, sticking another torn page with sellotape.

  Now Jack’s staring at me. ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,’ he said.

  I think about giving him a hug, but that might be going a bit too far.

  ‘Shall I phone Joseph back then, and say it’s a definite yes for tomorrow?’

  ‘Yep, and I’ll have a word with his mum.’

  Samson starts wailing fretfully while Jack’s on the phone to Mrs Antscherl. I pick him up and change his nappy and then get him ready for bed, putting him in his little spouting whale sleepsuit.

  ‘There now, who’s a nice clean boy, all ready to snuggle up in your cot and go to sleep?’ I say.

  I put Samson’s mucky day clothes in the washing machine, and then I wander round with him on my hip, collecting up the rest of his grubby clothes and some of my stuff and Jack’s, and get the load started.

  ‘Hey, you’ll be qualifying for the Best Daughter of the Year awards if you keep this up,’ says Jack. ‘Here, let me take over, sweetheart. You have a little time on your whale book. Or have you got homework?’

  ‘No,’ I say quickly. Then I sigh. ‘Yes, but it’s spelling, and I h-a-t-e spelling.’

  ‘I’ll help you,’ says Jack.

  He sings silly little songs to help me remember the words: ‘Remember two As in separate, I can spell it, isn’t that great! Attention has three Ts, if you please! Deceive will deceive you unless you sing with me, I before E except after C!’ As we sing, we munch the rest of Toby’s chocolate.

  Guess what! I get ten out of ten for my spelling test the next day, the first time ever. Joseph gets ten out of ten too, but that’s only to be expected.

  ‘Well done, Ella,’ says Miss Anderson. Then she adds quietly, just for me to hear, ‘I’m surprised you had time to learn your spellings last night. I hear you had quite an eventful time at after-school club.’

  I look down.

  ‘Yes, well may you hang your head. I feel thoroughly ashamed of you and Martha. Why don’t you stop all this nonsense and make friends?’

  Miss Anderson must be quite mad. I hate Martha and Martha hates me. She’s weirdly quiet today, sulking on one side of Dory. Sally and Dory are going whisper whisper whisper, giggle giggle giggle, and it feels a bit lonely being stuck beside them – but Joseph taps me on the back and passes me a little note:

  I’m so pleased you’re coming to tea. I hope you like macaroni cheese! And salad and fruit jelly and chocolate fudge. I made the fudge and it truly tastes terrific, Joseph xx

  I write him a little note back:

  I’m looking forward to going to tea with you. It all sounds yummy! Ella xx

  I’m not usually a kissy-kissy person, but it might seem rude if I didn’t return the compliment to Joseph. I pass it to him. Toby looks a little left out, so I pass him a note:

  Thank you for the chocolate. I did enjoy it. Ella xx

  Toby writes back:

  Your welcum and I have MOORE in my school bag, Toby xx

  Toby only got one out of ten for his spelling test.

  The three of us are soon circulating notes like crazy, and it’s great fun. Toby shares some of his chocolate with us at break time, but keeps a few squares back for us to eat when we work on our Tudor food project together.

  I dash into the girls’ toilets just before the bell goes. There’s Martha sitting in a sink, moodily swinging her legs and glaring at all the little kids scuttling in and out. She glances at me and makes a very rude sign at me with her finger. I make it back at her and charge into a toilet cubicle. She’s still sitting there when I come out and wash my hands.

  ‘Watch out, stupid baby, you’re splashing me,’ she growls.

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t be sitting there, should you?’ I say. I pause. The bell goes but I don’t hurry away. ‘Martha?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did you get whacked last night?’

  She blinks at me. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I just wondered. Did it hurt a lot?’

  Martha shrugs. ‘What do you think? But I don’t care. I got my own back on that pig. I spat in his beer and he didn’t notice and drank it all. He’s such a loser. He’s not my real dad, he’s just my stepdad.’

  ‘I’ve got a stepdad.’

  ‘Is he a pig too?’

  ‘Yes, totally,’ I say, and I make snorty noises.

  Martha giggles.

  ‘Well, he’s not always a pig. In fact he can be quite nice sometimes,’ I say, a little guiltily.

  ‘Mine’s never nice, he wouldn’t know how. I hate him,’ says Martha, and she looks as if she might cry.

  My tummy’s churning. If she was Sally or even Dory I’d put my arms round her.

  ‘Still, you’ve got your mum,’ I say.

  ‘I can’t stick her either,’ Martha mumbles. ‘She’s mean to me too.’

  Now I’m truly shocked. ‘My mum’s never been mean to me ever,’ I say.

  There’s a little silence. Then, ‘Well, your mum can’t be mean, can she? If she’s just lying there like a vegetable. Like a cabbage.’

  ‘Stop it!’

  It’s as if a great white light has flashed inside my head. Martha is being horrid now simply because it makes her stop feeling so unhappy.

  ‘Like a carrot, like an onion.’

  I can’t stand her saying all this vegetable stuff. I want to slap her hard. But I also feel sorry for her.

  ‘This is crazy, Martha. Don’t let’s fight all over again. Let’s surprise everyone and make friends instead.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be friends with you if you were the last person on earth,’ says Martha – but she jumps out of her washbasin. ‘You mean, like best friends?’ she says, wrinkling her nose incredulously.

  ‘Just friend friends,’ I say.

  ‘So do you think Sally’s still your best friend?’ Martha asks.