Longest Whale Song

  DOUBLEDAY

  Contents

  Cover

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Also available by Jacqueline Wilson

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0

  Epub ISBN 9781409097365

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  If you would like to find out more about whales and dolphins, please visit www.wdcs.org.uk

  THE LONGEST WHALE SONG

  A DOUBLEDAY BOOK

  HARDBACK: 978 0 385 61815 1

  TRADE PAPERBACK: 978 0 857 53005 9

  Published in Great Britain by Doubleday,

  an imprint of Random House Children’s Books

  A Random House Group company

  This edition published 2010

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Text copyright © Jacqueline Wilson, 2010

  Illustrations copyright © Nick Sharratt, 2010

  The right of Jacqueline Wilson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

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  For dear June

  and Georgie and Max,

  Gabby, Emma and Joel,

  and Anna and Georgina

  Also available by Jacqueline Wilson

  Published in Corgi Pups, for beginner readers:

  THE DINOSAUR’S PACKED LUNCH

  THE MONSTER STORY-TELLER

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  BURIED ALIVE!

  CANDYFLOSS

  THE CAT MUMMY

  CLEAN BREAK

  CLIFFHANGER

  COOKIE

  THE DARE GAME

  THE DIAMOND GIRLS

  DOUBLE ACT

  DOUBLE ACT (PLAY EDITION)

  GLUBBSLYME

  HETTY FEATHER

  THE ILLUSTRATED MUM

  JACKY DAYDREAM

  THE LOTTIE PROJECT

  MIDNIGHT

  THE MUM-MINDER

  MY SECRET DIARY

  MY SISTER JODIE

  SECRETS

  STARRING TRACY BEAKER

  THE STORY OF TRACY BEAKER

  THE SUITCASE KID

  VICKY ANGEL

  THE WORRY WEBSITE

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  Chapter 1

  ‘Why don’t you come and help me with my breathing, Ella?’ says Mum.

  I stare at her. ‘You don’t need help breathing, Mum! You just do it. Like, in and out, in and out!’

  ‘No, this is special breathing, darling. For when I have the baby.’

  I wrinkle my nose. I don’t really like it when she talks about the baby. I just want to forget about it. It’s getting harder and harder, though, because Mum’s e-n-o-r-m-o-u-s. Her tummy sticks out so far she can hardly get her T-shirt over it. I can see her tummy button through the material and it makes me shudder. When I was very, very little, I thought that was how babies were born: you just pressed the button and the tummy opened, and out popped the baby.

  I wish they really were born that way. I haven’t seen a real baby being born but I’ve seen actresses pretending on the television. They shout and scream a lot and go bright red in the face.

  ‘Does having a baby really hurt a lot, Mum?’ I ask.

  ‘Mm, quite a lot,’ says Mum. ‘That’s why I do the special breathing. It helps control the pain.’ She holds out her hand to me. ‘Come and lie on my bed with me and I’ll show you.’

  I hesitate. I hate going into Mum’s bedroom now. It’s not just hers. It’s Mum-and-Jack’s, and I can’t stand Jack. But it’s Saturday afternoon, and Jack’s out at his stupid football so Mum and I can have a bit of peace together. We used to go to Flowerfields shopping centre or for a walk round Berrisford Park, but Mum’s too tired to do anything much now. Imagine wanting to spend a Saturday afternoon breathing.

  ‘Please, Ella,’ she says softly.

  I sigh and take her hand and go to her bedroom with her, because I love her so much, even though I’m still cross with her for marrying Jack.

  I used to love Mum’s bedroom back at our old flat. It always smelled beautifully of her scent and her soap and her hair stuff. It looked so pretty too. She had a red lampshade that made the whole room glow rose. She dangled her necklaces on her mirror and hung her prettiest dresses on the door and outside her wardrobe, so that it looked like there were Mums all around the room. She had deep pink velvet curtains right down to the floor. I used to like sitting beside them and stroking them, rubbing them over my nose like a comfort blanket. She had matching pink velvet cushions on her bed and a lovely rose-patterned duvet where we’d cuddle up together.

  We hardly ever cuddle up together now because of Jack. This is a horrible, boring blue bedroom and it smells of him. Mum doesn’t wear her perfume now because she says the smell makes her feel queasy. Well, Ja
ck’s lemony aftershave and the musty smell of his stupid short dressing gown hanging on the door make me feel queasy. But I lie down on the bed beside Mum, glad that I’m on her side, my head on her soft pillow. Mum’s huge tummy sticks out ahead of us. It seems to grow a little more every time I look at it. If we lay here for a couple of days, maybe it would bump right up against the ceiling.

  ‘You’re so big, Mum,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t you think I’ve noticed!’ says Mum, rubbing her tummy. ‘Still, not long now. So let’s practise. When the baby starts coming, I have to do slow, steady breathing. Let’s do that first.’ She breathes slowly in and out, and I copy her, both of us blowing through our lips as if we’re cooling giant bowls of soup.

  ‘It’s easy-peasy, isn’t it?’ says Mum. She chuckles. ‘I think the baby’s practising too – feel.’

  I reach out gingerly and lay my hand very lightly on top of Mum’s tummy. I can feel fluttering underneath, as if the baby is blowing bubbles inside. It’s so weird to think it’s swimming away in there all the time.

  ‘Can it hear us?’ I whisper.

  ‘I think so,’ says Mum. ‘Why don’t you have a little chat?’

  I prop myself up on one elbow and put my mouth close to Mum’s tummy. ‘Hello, baby. I’m Ella, your big sister. Well, not your proper sister. Your half-sister.’

  ‘Which half do you want to be, top or bottom?’ says Mum. ‘You’ll be a whole sister, you noodle. The baby’s very, very lucky to have the best girl in all the world for a sister.’

  If Mum thinks I’m the best girl in all the world, why does she want another child? Why does she want a husband, especially one like Jack? She always said she didn’t miss my dad at all – she didn’t care that he left us when I was a baby myself. She said she was glad we were just the two of us together. But now there are three, and very, very soon there are going to be four. What if she goes on having babies, filling the house with little miniature Jacks, all of them loud and laughing and making rude noises?

  ‘I do hope the baby’s a girl,’ I say. ‘Why didn’t you ask if it was a boy or a girl when you went to the hospital for that scan thing?’

  ‘I don’t want to know. It’ll spoil the surprise,’ says Mum, rubbing her tummy. ‘I don’t mind which I have, and you won’t either, not when it’s born. Now, when the pain gets stronger, you do a different sort of breathing – lots of little pants, like this . . .’ She makes funny quick puffing sounds, so I do too.

  ‘Does panting like this really stop it hurting?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s supposed to help. Perhaps it just acts as a distraction. Oh well, I’ll have Jack there to distract me too.’

  ‘Why can’t I come?’

  ‘Oh, darling, you don’t want to be around.’

  ‘Yes I do!’

  ‘I don’t think the hospital would let you.’

  ‘I wish you didn’t have to go to the hospital, Mum.’

  ‘I won’t be there long, I promise. Jack will drive me there when the baby starts coming, while you stay with Liz. She’ll bring you to see me the next day – and then it’ll be time for me to come home, right?’

  ‘Mm. I still can’t see why Jack gets to stay with you at the hospital and I can’t.’

  ‘They don’t let children hang around when babies are being born, you know that.’

  ‘The babies themselves are children. The baby will be hanging around.’ For ever, I add mournfully, inside my head.

  Mum gently pinches my nose. ‘Don’t be difficult, Ella,’ she says.

  I suck my lips in tight so that my mouth disappears. She’s only started calling me difficult this past year, since she went to Garton Road and met Jack. He’s the one who’s made everything difficult.

  Mum’s friend Liz says it was a whirlwind romance. I think that’s rubbish. It’s stupid and disgusting for grown-up, quite old people like Mum and Jack to start fooling around like teenagers. Especially as they’re teachers. Not at my school, thank goodness. I would have totally died of embarrassment if Mum and Jack taught at Greenfield Primary. I can just imagine all the rumours and gossip and giggling at Garton Road when Mum and Jack started going out together. What if anyone saw them holding hands along the corridor or kissing in a classroom?

  Mum says they always acted perfectly professionally and were very discreet. They certainly weren’t discreet when Jack started coming round to our flat every wretched weekend. I hated the way they snuggled up together on the sofa. One time I walked into the room and they were kissing in this awful slurpy way.

  They must have done more than kissing at some stage, because suddenly Mum started being sick before we went to school in the morning and I got really worried that she had some awful illness. I couldn’t believe it when she said she was going to have a baby.

  Then everything really started changing. Mum and Jack decided we all had to live together. I wasn’t asked, I was just told. Our flat wasn’t big enough for three and a bit people, and neither was Jack’s, so they sold their flats and bought this house together.

  I don’t like it one bit. It’s miles away from my old home and my best friend, Sally. We used to live just round the corner from each other and could play any time we wanted. Now we have to wait for our mums to arrange things and drive us. It takes ages for Mum to drive me to school and we get caught up in the traffic. I’ve been late four times this term and I got really told off, and it’s not my fault. I have to wait an awfully long time for Mum to finish at her school and come and pick me up in the afternoon. I did start going to after-school club, but it felt weird not having Sally with me. There’s this girl, Martha, who bosses everyone around and is very mean to you if you don’t do exactly what she says. Thank goodness Mum said I didn’t have to go to after-school club any more after that first week.

  Jack says I should swap schools altogether and go to Garton Road. I never ever want to go there, thank you. Mum says she understands, and I don’t have to. I only do what Mum tells me. I don’t listen to Jack, because he’s not my dad.

  I suppose he is my stepdad now, because Mum and Jack got married. I always fancied being a bridesmaid. Sally’s been a bridesmaid three times. She got to wear a pink silk dress with rosebuds, a deep blue dress with matching deep blue satin dance shoes, and an apricot dress with a pearl trim and a little string of real pearls around her neck. And she was a flower girl when she was very little, in a white dress with a coral satin sash. I didn’t want Mum to get married, especially not to Jack, but I hoped at least I’d get to be a bridesmaid at last. But they didn’t have a proper wedding at all.

  ‘I don’t think I’d fit into a white meringue gown,’ Mum said, because she was already getting big with the baby.

  She wore a pale grey dress with a red ribbon trim, and bright red shoes. Jack laughed and called her his scarlet woman. He just wore the suit he keeps for parents’ evenings, and he got a stain on his new blue tie at the meal in the pub afterwards. They didn’t have a bridesmaid as it was just a register-office wedding.

  Mum said I could have a new dress all the same. We went all round Flowerfields shopping centre looking for one. We couldn’t find any that were right. They were either much too little-girly, all frilly and flouncy, or much too cool and slinky. I quite wanted one of the cool, slinky dresses, but Mum said she wasn’t having me looking like I was going out clubbing. So I ended up with this black and white polka-dot dress with a bow at the back, and black patent strappy shoes. I’d always longed for a black dress because I thought it would look so grown up – but I wasn’t sure about black with white spots.

  ‘Oh, look, it’s a lovely little Dalmatian!’ said Jack.

  I nearly kicked him with my new black patent shoes. He gave me a present after the wedding: three little silver bangles. I loved the way they looked, so sleek and shiny. I loved the way they felt, sliding up and down my arm. I loved the way they sounded, clink clink clink. I haven’t actually worn them since the wedding day. I don’t want to, because Jack gave them to me.

>   It was a very little wedding. Mum’s parents died before I was born so I don’t have a granny or a grandad. I suppose I’ve got my dad’s parents, but we don’t ever see them. I haven’t seen my dad for ages. He always sends me Christmas presents, though they’re usually a bit young for me. He doesn’t always remember my birthday.

  Jack’s parents came to the wedding. His mum was wearing a very tight shiny dress and talked all the time. His dad was in a wheelchair and didn’t talk at all. I didn’t like either of them much and I don’t think they liked me.

  ‘That little miss hasn’t got much to say for herself, has she?’ said Jack’s mum. ‘Looks a bit sulky, if you ask me.’

  ‘Our Ella’s a little star, and bright as a button,’ said Jack.

  I didn’t want him to stick up for me. And I’m not his Ella. I’m just Mum’s.

  She invited her best friend, Liz, to the wedding, and some of the teachers from Garton Road. Jack had a couple of silly mates, but there were only thirteen of us at the wedding.

  ‘Oh dear, unlucky thirteen,’ said Jack’s mum.

  ‘Hang on, there’s fourteen of us counting the baby,’ said Mum, patting her tummy.

  They went away for a honeymoon weekend to London.

  ‘That’s not fair, Mum,’ I said. ‘I want to go to London too. You’ve been promising for ages we could go to the Aquarium and the Natural History Museum and on the London Eye.’

  ‘Yes, I know, darling, but we’re not going to those places. This is just a tiny little honeymoon. We’re going to stay overnight in a hotel and maybe go out for a meal, that’s all. I promise we’ll go to all your special places another time, in the holidays.’

  They might not have gone to the Aquarium or the Natural History Museum, but they did go on the London Eye – I saw their photos. It was so mean of them to go without me. I wanted to go up on the giant wheel and see out all over London and pretend I was flying. Sally’s been on the London Eye and she says it’s brilliant.

  I had to stay at Liz’s flat. She’s OK, but she doesn’t really know much about children. She made us spag bol and pancakes for tea, which was double-yummy, and then she opened this big box of chocolates and said I could eat as many as I wanted. So I did, and then I felt really, really sick in the night.