Longest Whale Song Read online

  ‘Mm. All right, what kind of a whale is it?’

  What kind?

  ‘It’s a very big one.’

  ‘There are many different kinds of whales, Ella. Seventy-seven different kinds. There are eleven baleen whales. What are baleen plates, everyone? Come on, I’ve just told you. Joseph?’

  ‘They’re instead of teeth, Miss Anderson,’ says Joseph. ‘They’re all frayed like old hairbrushes.’

  Joseph nearly always knows the answers to everything. Some of the naughtiest boys groan and mimic his voice.

  Miss Anderson frowns. ‘Shh, now! Well done, Joseph.’

  ‘And there are sixty-six toothed whales,’ says Joseph. Sometimes he forgets and gives answers without even being asked.

  ‘So my whale’s a toothed whale,’ I say.

  ‘Ah, he’s certainly got lots of teeth,’ says Miss Anderson. ‘But as you say, he’s very big, with a massive head. That means he’s more likely to be a baleen whale. They like to scoop huge mouthfuls of food from the sea and strain it through their baleen.’

  ‘I eat spaghetti like that, Miss Anderson,’ says Toby, laughing.

  He’s the largest boy in our class. We’re not allowed to call him fat, but he is.

  ‘Now, Ella, I think you’d better settle down and copy from Sally’s notes,’ says Miss Anderson. ‘Why weren’t you taking your own notes, hm?’

  ‘I like drawing whales, Miss Anderson.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you can draw me one for homework. You can borrow a book from the book box and copy a picture, making sure all the details are accurate.’

  ‘Can I draw a whale for homework too, Miss Anderson?’ asks Joseph.

  ‘Of course you can, Joseph,’ she says, smiling at him.

  Miss Anderson tries hard not to have favourites, but we all know she’d choose Joseph if she had one.

  When the bell goes, she beckons both of us to the book box. ‘There we are. Choose a book each,’ she says.

  I flip through and pick out a little book on fish.

  ‘Whales aren’t actually fish, Ella, they’re mammals,’ says Joseph, very gently and tactfully. He holds out his own great huge whale book. ‘You can have this one if you like. It’s the best in the box.’

  ‘Thank you, Joseph. But it’s OK, I’ll take this one.’ I select a very thin book with big print.

  ‘Are you sure? That one doesn’t look as if it’s got much information,’ Joseph says earnestly.

  ‘I just need a picture to copy, don’t I?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Off you go then, little whalers,’ says Miss Anderson. She gives me a gentle pat. ‘Will you be going up to the hospital to see your mum today, Ella?’

  I nod.

  ‘Well, you give her a big hug then, won’t you?’ she says.

  ‘Miss Anderson,’ I say in a rush. ‘Miss Anderson, you know Mum’s in a coma? Well, will she ever wake up?’

  I stare at her imploringly. She stops looking like a great big teacher who knows everything. She suddenly looks much smaller, and scared.

  ‘I hope so, Ella,’ she says. ‘Lots of people recover from comas. You read about it all the time.’

  ‘But lots of other people . . . don’t recover,’ I whisper.

  Miss Anderson doesn’t answer. She looks very sad. Then I hear a sniff. It’s not me, not Miss Anderson. It’s Joseph!

  We both peer at him, astonished.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It must be so awful for you, Ella.’

  ‘It is,’ I say.

  I’m very touched that he’s really crying for Mum and me. I’ve always quite liked Joseph because he’s never rough and silly like most of the other boys and he often says interesting things. Now I decide I like him quite a lot. In fact, if he wasn’t a boy I’d want him as my second-best friend, after Sally.

  She comes running back into the classroom, with Dory and Martha following her.

  ‘Sorry, Miss Anderson, but Ella’s dad’s out in the playground and he’s getting worried because she hasn’t come out of school yet.’

  ‘My dad!’ I say, and I rush off to find him, not even saying goodbye to Miss Anderson and Joseph. Sally and Dory and Martha come running after me.

  ‘Dad!’ I shout, bursting out the door. He’s come for me! He’s going to make everything all right! He’ll stay this time – he’ll look after me just like a real dad . . . But it isn’t Dad. It’s just Jack, standing there in his stupid old jacket, nibbling his thumb and looking anxious.

  ‘He’s not my dad,’ I say, turning on Sally. ‘Why did you say he was my dad? You know he’s only my stepdad! That was so mean, Sally!’

  ‘I’m sorry. Don’t get mad at me. I meant your stepdad. I just didn’t say the step bit. And anyway, how could it be your real dad? You haven’t seen him for years and years, you know you haven’t,’ Sally says.

  ‘Well, I’m seeing him any day now, you wait and see,’ I say.

  I run up to Jack. ‘Did you phone my dad?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My dad. You said you’d get in touch – but you didn’t!’ I say.

  ‘Hey, hey, calm down. I found a number in your mum’s address book. He didn’t answer, but I left a message. Don’t look at me like that, Ella. I promise I did.’

  I don’t think I believe him.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said Sue’s very ill and it’s obviously very upsetting for you, and you need him,’ Jack says.

  ‘Oh.’

  Sally and Dory and Martha walk past, staring. Sally knows Jack because she’s been on a sleepover at our new house.

  ‘We’re so sorry about Ella’s mum,’ she says.

  ‘Thank you, Sally,’ Jack says.

  Then Sally’s mum gets out of her car and comes over, and she and Jack yatter away about Mum. Dory goes off to find her own mum, and Martha goes into the hall for after-school club. Then Joseph comes out, clutching his big whale book to his chest. He nods at me and I nod back.

  ‘What are you nodding at him for?’ Sally asks. ‘I can’t stick Joseph. He’s such a swot.’

  ‘Yes, I know he’s a swot, but I like him,’ I say.

  ‘You’re mad!’ says Sally.

  Sally’s mum hears and gives her a little shake. ‘Are you being nasty to Ella?’ she says, sounding horrified.

  ‘No, Mum!’

  ‘I should hope not. Ella, I was wondering, would you like to come to tea today, while your dad – your stepdad – is so busy? In fact, would you like to stay the night, and then we could take you to school in the morning?’

  I normally love going to tea at Sally’s house. Her mum always makes cakes for us – proper cakes from scratch, not out of a packet – and we get to help and scrape out the mixing bowl afterwards. I think raw cake-mix tastes even nicer than baked cakes. Sally has her own computer in her bedroom so we can play about on that, and she’s got all these lovely long evening frocks in her dressing-up box so we can play we’re grown-up ladies at a dance. Sometimes we play pretend games with Benjy – we’re two explorers and he’s our faithful dog, or we’re two nurses and he’s our sick patient, or we’re two teachers and he’s our very naughty pupil.

  I so want to stay at Sally’s – but then how can I visit Mum? And what about Dad – my real dad? If Jack’s being truthful – and actually I know he doesn’t usually lie about stuff like that – then Dad might ring tonight when he gets home from work. He might even drive to our house and take me back with him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Edwards, but I can’t. Not tonight,’ I say.

  ‘Oooh, Ella, please come!’ says Sally.

  ‘It’s OK Ella. You go and have tea,’ says Jack.

  I shake my head. ‘I want to see Mum,’ I mumble.

  ‘Well, perhaps you can come tomorrow then? Whenever you want to,’ says Mrs Edwards.

  ‘You’re so kind,’ says Jack. ‘Right, Ella, we’ll go to the hospital and see Mum.’

  I wave goodbye to Sally and Mrs Edwards, and go to the car wi