White Dolphin (7 page)

The houses are hidden behind high walls and gated driveways. Big 4x4s and shiny cars sit outside the double garages. Dust blows our way from the building site for new houses on the other side of the road.

‘Some people have all the luck,’ I say. ‘I bet
Moana
will be just a toy to them.’

‘Mr Andersen sounds OK,’ says Dad.

‘Is he the man who wants to buy her?’

Dad nods. ‘He says he’s done a lot of sailing in the past. He owns a software company now in London. He says he’s lived there fifteen years too long, that’s why he wants to move down here. And he’s got a son too, about your age.’

‘Great!’ I mutter. I thought someone would buy
Moana
and take her away. But it will be worse, somehow, seeing someone else sailing her in the bay.

‘This is the one,’ says Dad.

We stop outside a gravelled drive at the end of the lane. Dad rings the bell on an intercom set into the wall and the gates glide open automatically. A man stands in the doorway of the house in faded jeans and a T-shirt. I just stare at him. I had imagined Mr Andersen in a suit and tie.

‘Mr Wood,’ he smiles, holding out his hand to Dad.

Dad shakes his. ‘Meet my daughter, Kara.’

Mr Andersen turns to me. ‘Pleased to meet you, Kara.’

I dig my hands deep in my pockets and scrunch the gravel beneath my feet.

‘Well come on in,’ Mr Andersen says. ‘I’ll find my son. You’ll have to meet him.’

I stand with Dad in the hallway and watch Mr Andersen walk away. The room is huge. The walls are white. The floor is sun-bleached wood. On a table beside the sweeping staircase sails a model tall-ship enveloped in a dome of glass. I press my nose against it and let my breath mist on the glass. I imagine pirates sailing through thick fog towards this ship. I want to watch my tiny pirates swing from the rigging. I want them to make the captain of this ship walk the plank into the painted sea.

‘Great, isn’t it?’

I look round. I hadn’t heard Mr Andersen return.

He looks through the misted glass too. ‘It’s a replica of the
America
, the schooner that won the very first America’s Cup around the Isle of Wight in 1851.’

I straighten up and try to wipe the misted breath with my sleeve. I look around for his son, but he’s not in the hallway.

‘Come with me,’ he says, ‘I’ve found him at last. It’ll be good for him to make some friends in this town.’

Dad and I follow Mr Andersen along the corridor and through a door into a bright and sun-filled room. Huge curved windows, floor to ceiling, fill one side. All I can see is sea, the vast expanse of the Atlantic. White leather sofas face the view.

‘Kara, meet my son,’ says Mr Andersen.

I turn round. A boy is sitting at a table, his back to the windows, staring at a big computer screen. I can only see the top of his head above the leather padding of his chair. He swivels round and frowns.

I scowl.

I can’t believe it’s him.

I fold my arms across my chest and I know I can’t hide the dislike on my face.

‘We’ve already met before,’ I say.

I
t’s Felix.

The new boy from school.

The boy who was rude to Daisy.

A ceiling fan whirrs above us in the silence.

Mr Andersen looks at Felix, eyebrows raised.

‘We met at the school,’ says Felix. His voice is strangely nasal as if he’s got a bad cold, and his words are slurred.

Mr Andersen’s eyes flit between me and Felix. He rubs his hand along the bottom of his chin. ‘Why don’t you show Kara what you’ve been doing on the computer, Felix? I’ll ask Mum to bring some lemonade. Would you like that, Kara?’

I nod and stare up at the whirling fan blades.

‘Kara!’ Dad gives me one of his sideways glares.

‘Thank you, Mr Andersen.’ I pronounce each word and glare back at Dad. ‘That would be very nice.’

Mr Andersen smiles briefly. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘Well, Jim, let’s go and find somewhere quiet to talk about your lovely boat.’

I watch them walk away. I feel cheated somehow, left behind. I want to stop Mr Andersen from buying
Moana
. I turn back to Felix but he’s facing his computer again, his good hand tapping on the keys. I stand behind his chair and watch. The chair is large and padded with soft white leather like the sofas. Computer consoles are set into the armrests. I’ve seen gaming chairs like this in magazines and in the big gaming shops in Plymouth.

The only sound is the tapping of the computer keys and the whirring fan blades.

‘Daisy was only trying to help, you know,’ I say. My voice sounds loud and echoes in the room.

Felix stops tapping on the keyboard. His fingers hover above the keys. ‘Well, I’m sorry if I offended her, but you can tell your sister I don’t need her help.’

‘You can tell her you’re sorry, yourself,’ I say. ‘Anyway, she’s my cousin, not my sister.’

‘Whatever,’ says Felix. He starts tapping on the keys again. ‘Look, if other people get their kicks from laughing at me, it’s their problem, not mine. It’s no big deal.’

A blank screen comes up on the computer. Felix hammers the keys and slams his hand down on the desk. ‘But what
is
a big deal is
this
.’ He runs his hand through his hair. ‘There’s no broadband here. How can you
live
like this?’

I dig my hands deep in my pockets. ‘What are you trying to do?’

Felix rolls his eyes. ‘Obvious, isn’t it? I’m trying to log on the internet to play this game. But I can’t connect. I’ll have to play offline.’

A warrior in combat gear flashes on the screen. It revolves slowly round and round, surrounded by a choice of weapons. His clothes transform through military green, to desert colours to Polar white.

‘At last,’ breathes Felix. ‘Stealth Warriors,’ he says. ‘Have you played it before?’

I shake my head.

‘Going up different levels gives you different levels of camouflage,’ he says. ‘I’m on level ten. At level ten, you can blend in with any background.’

I rub my eyes. The computer screens at school always give me blinding headaches.

‘What did you think to school?’ I ask.

‘Not much,’ he says. He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen and taps the keyboard. His warrior appears against a city scene. ‘Look, watch this,’ he says. Six enemy warriors run down a road towards him. Felix presses something on his console and his warrior starts to blend in with the background of bricks on the wall behind him. When the enemy arrive, all that remains is his shadow on the ground. ‘Cool, isn’t it?’

I shrug my shoulders. But as I watch the screen his warrior turns bright red. The biggest enemy warrior shoots him dead.

‘Professor Lexus!’ cries Felix. He flops back in his chair. ‘I should have known. My warrior turns red with anger when he sees him. I’ll have to start again now.’

I don’t want to watch Felix play his computer game. I can’t stop thinking about what Dad and Mr Andersen are talking about right now. Does he want to buy our boat? I walk over to the windows and look out at the sea. The sun pours in, and despite the fans it’s hot in here. I pull my jumper off and leave it on the floor. A fulmar glides past, angling its outstretched stubby wings to ride the wind. The sea glitters in the sunlight. It looks calm, but the base of Gull Rock is white with plumes of spray. A sailing boat is leaning in the wind. It dips up and down through waves. It’s rougher than it looks out there today.

Footsteps tap on the floor. I turn to see a woman walking over with a tray of drinks. I recognize her from the café. It’s Mrs Andersen, the woman Felix was arguing with.

‘You must be Kara,’ she says.

I nod.

‘Felix isn’t letting you play, I see,’ she says.

Either Felix hasn’t heard or is ignoring her.

Mrs Andersen smiles but says loud enough for him to hear. ‘He always has to be in the control seat.’

‘I’m not that interested in computer games anyway,’ I say.

‘Good for you,’ she says. ‘Hear that, Felix? You could take a break from it.’

Felix gets up from his chair and walks over to us. His steps are short and jerky. I notice his bare toes hit the floor before his heels. He picks up a glass of lemonade in his good hand and glares at his mother. ‘If we were back in London, I’d be out somewhere with my mates.’ He glugs back his drink and crams a biscuit from the tray into his mouth. I guess this was what they were arguing about in the café yesterday.

I pick up my drink and look back out of the window.

‘Amazing isn’t it?’ says Mrs Andersen. ‘We bought this place for the view.’

I sip my drink. It’s fresh lemonade from real lemons, not the fizzy bottled stuff.

‘We saw dolphins two nights ago,’ says Mrs Andersen, ‘right from this very window.’

I look across the wide sweep of the bay. ‘I saw them too.’

Mrs Andersen smiles. ‘They’re such clever animals. We saw them at a water park in Florida. Do you remember, Felix? All those tricks they did?’

‘Amazing,’ says Felix. He doesn’t try to hide the sarcasm in his voice. ‘Just how exciting can it get, watching yet another dolphin jump through a hoop?’

I wonder how he thinks the dolphins must feel, jumping hoop after hoop every day in a small pool, but I don’t trust myself to speak. Instead I stare into my drink. All I want to do is find Dad and leave, but I don’t even know where he is right now.

Mrs Andersen ignores him and turns to me. ‘So have you and your dad always lived here?’

I nod. I wish she’d stop trying to be so friendly. ‘Dad’s a fisherman,’ I say. Even as I say it, I think how stupid that sounds. How will he catch fish without his boat?

‘And your mum?’ says Mrs Andersen. ‘What does she do?’

I swallow hard. It feels as though the ground has dropped away from me. I tighten my hands around my glass and stumble on my words. ‘Away,’ I say, ‘Mum’s away right now. She’s . . .’ But my voice trails off. I don’t know what to say.

Mrs Andersen swirls the ice in her lemonade round and round. It clinks against the glass. She looks as relieved as I feel when we hear Dad’s voice and see him and Mr Andersen come through the door.

Mr Andersen smiles. ‘Well, Kara, you’ve got a very clever dad. The
Moana
’s a wonderful boat. There’s real craftsmanship there.’

I had wanted to say something to stop him buying
Moana
, but I lose my moment, because I’ve never heard anyone talk about Dad like that before.

Mrs Andersen puts her head on one side. ‘Well, Matt?’

Mr Andersen grins and looks at Dad. ‘Can I tell them, Jim?’

I look at Dad, but can’t read his face. Surely he hasn’t agreed to sell
Moana
?

Felix is frowning too.

Mr Andersen smiles. ‘Jim, here, has offered to take us out tomorrow for a trial run in
Moana
.’

Felix finishes his drink and puts his glass down on the table. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Not all day,’ says Mr Andersen.

I notice him frown at Felix.

‘What’s the weather going to be like?’ asks Mrs Andersen.

Dad looks out to sea. The waves are capped with white horses, and I see the topmost branches of a tree in the next garden sway in the wind.

‘It’ll be a bit lively out there today,’ says Dad. ‘But the wind’s meant to die down tomorrow, so we should be OK.’

Mrs Andersen glances at Felix and then her husband. ‘I think it’s best if you just go, Matt. Felix doesn’t want to anyway.’

Mr Andersen shoves his hands deep in his pockets. ‘Fine,’ he says, ‘fine.’ A frown creases on his face. But I can’t help smiling deep inside. He’s the only one of them interested in
Moana
. Maybe he won’t buy her after all.

Mr Andersen leads Dad and me back into the hall. He opens the door and the cool outside air rushes through.

‘Wait a sec,’ I say. ‘I’ve left my jumper.’ I turn and run back to the room. I hope I can slip in without Felix noticing, but he’s standing by the windows looking out to sea. I cross the room to fetch my jumper. He doesn’t even turn to look at me.

‘What’s out there?’ he says.

I look beyond him to the wide blue sea.

‘There’s nothing there,’ he says. ‘Nothing until you get to America, and that’s where I’m going one day.’

I tie my jumper round my waist and start walking to the door.

‘No offence,’ says Felix, ‘but it’s a dump round here. There’s nothing to do.’

I stop and turn. ‘So go back to London,’ I say.

Felix rolls his eyes. ‘According to Dad, I need some good sea air, and according to Mum, London’s becoming far too dangerous.’

‘It can’t be that bad?’

‘Of course it isn’t,’ says Felix. ‘And I actually have a life back there.’

‘So, make them go back,’ I say.

Felix presses his head against the glass and stares through his reflection, out to the sea. ‘Believe me, I intend to.’

I spin on my heels and walk towards the door. I feel a surge of hope inside because maybe Mr Andersen won’t buy
Moana
if Felix can make them all go back to London.

I stop by the door and turn. ‘You’re right not to go sailing tomorrow. It’s far too rough. It can get pretty wild out there.’