My breath had stalled in my throat. One hand clutching the lifelines, I lifted the binoculars with the other and gazed through them, not at the whale but at my mother, hardly hearing the exclamations about the creature’s size, the swell it sent before the smaller boat, forgetting briefly that I should not allow myself to be seen. Even from that distance I could make out that Liza McCullen was smiling, her eyes creased upwards. It was an expression she rarely, if ever, wore on dry land.
Aunt Kathleen walked to the end of the veranda to put a large bowl of prawns and some lemon slices on the bleached wooden table with a large basket of bread. She’s actually my great-aunt but she says that makes her feel like an antique, so most of the time I call her Auntie K. Behind her the white weatherboard of the hotel’s frontage glowed softly in the evening sun, eight fiery red peaches sliding down the windows. The wind had picked up a little, and the hotel sign whined as it swung back and forth.
‘What’s this for?’ Greg lifted his head from the bottle of beer he’d been nursing. He had finally taken off his dark glasses, and the shadows under his eyes betrayed the events of the previous evening.
‘I heard you needed your stomach lined,’ she said, thwacking a napkin in front of him.
‘He tell you four of his passengers asked for their money back when they caught sight of his hull?’ Lance laughed. ‘Sorry, Greg mate, but what a damn fool thing to do. Of all the things to write.’
‘You’re a gent, Kathleen.’ Greg, ignoring him, reached for the bread.
My aunt gave him one of her looks. ‘And I’ll be something else entirely if you write those words where young Hannah can see them again.’
‘Shark Lady’s still got teeth.’ Lance mimed a snapping motion at Greg.
Aunt Kathleen ignored him. ‘Hannah, you dig in now. I’ll bet you never had a bite to eat for lunch. I’m going to fetch the salad.’
‘She ate the biscuits,’ said Yoshi, expertly undressing a prawn.
‘Biscuits.’ Aunt Kathleen snorted.
We were gathered, as the Whale Jetty crews were most evenings, outside the hotel kitchens. There were few days when the crews wouldn’t share a beer or two before they headed home. Some of the younger members, my aunt often said, shared so many that they barely made it home at all.
As I bit into a juicy tiger prawn, I noticed that the burners were outside; few guests at the Silver Bay Hotel wanted to sit out in June, but in winter the whale-watching crews congregated here to discuss events on the water, no matter the weather. Their members changed from year to year, as people moved on to different jobs or went to uni, but Lance, Greg, Yoshi and the others had been a constant in my life for as long as I had lived there. Aunt Kathleen usually lit the burners at the start of the month and they stayed on most evenings until September.
‘Did you have many out?’ She had returned with the salad. She tossed it with brisk, expert fingers, then put some on to my plate before I could protest. ‘I’ve had no one at the museum.’
‘Moby One was pretty full. Lot of Koreans.’ Yoshi shrugged. ‘Greg nearly lost half of his over the side.’
‘They got a good sight of the whale.’ Greg reached for another piece of bread. ‘No complaints. No refunds necessary. Got any more beers, Miss M?’
‘You know where the bar is. You see it, Hannah?’
‘It was enormous. I could see its barnacles.’ For some reason I’d expected it to be smooth, but the skin had been lined, ridged, studded with fellow sea creatures, as if it were a living island.
‘It was close. I’ve told her we wouldn’t normally get that close,’ said Yoshi.
Greg narrowed his eyes. ‘If she’d been out on her mother’s boat she could have brushed its teeth.’
‘Yes, well, the least said about that . . .’ Aunt Kathleen shook her head. ‘Not a word,’ she mouthed at me. ‘That was a one-off.’
I nodded dutifully. It was the third one-off that month.
‘That Mitchell turn up? You want to watch him. I’ve heard he’s joining those Sydney-siders with the big boats.’
They all looked up.
‘Thought the National Parks and Wildlife Service had frightened them off,’ said Lance.
‘When I went to the fish market,’ Aunt Kathleen said, ‘they told me they’d seen one all the way out by the heads. Music at top volume, people dancing on the decks. Like a discothèque. Ruined the night’s fishing. But by the time the Parks and Wildlife people got out there they were long gone. Impossible to prove a thing.’
The balance in Silver Bay was delicate: too few whale-watching tourists and the business would be unsustainable; too many, and it would disturb the creatures it wanted to display.
Lance and Greg had come up against the triple-decker catamarans from round the bay, often blaring loud music, decks heaving with passengers, and were of similar opinion. ‘They’ll be the death of us all, that lot,’ Lance said. ‘Irresponsible. Money-mad. Should suit Mitchell down to the ground.’
I hadn’t realised how hungry I was. I ate six of the huge prawns in quick succession, chasing Greg’s fingers around the empty bowl. He grinned and waved a prawn head at me. I stuck out my tongue at him. I think I’m a little bit in love with Greg, not that I’d ever tell anybody.
‘Aye aye, here she is. Princess of Whales.’
‘Very funny.’ My mother dumped her keys on the table and gestured to Yoshi to move down so that she could squeeze in next to me. She dropped a kiss on to my head. ‘Good day, lovey?’ She smelt of suncream and salt air.
I shot a look at my aunt. ‘Fine.’ I bent to fondle Milly’s ears, grateful that my mother could not see the pinking in my face. My head still sang with the sight of that whale. I thought it must radiate out of me, but she was reaching for a glass and pouring herself some water.
‘What have you been doing?’ my mother asked.
‘Yeah. What have you been doing, Hannah?’ Greg winked at me.
‘She helped me with the beds this morning.’ Aunt Kathleen glared at him. ‘Heard you had a good afternoon.’
‘Not bad.’ My mother downed the water. ‘God, I’m thirsty. Did you drink enough today, Hannah? Did she drink enough, Kathleen?’ Her English accent was still pronounced, even after so many years in Australia.
‘She’s had plenty. How many did you see?’
‘She never drinks enough. Just the one. Big girl. Lobtailed half a bath of water into my bag. Look.’ She held up her cheque book, its edges frilled and warped.