Fiona and the Whale by Hannah Lynn
Event planner Fiona Reeves did not have her husband's sudden departure on her schedule. However, she’s certain that it's only a hiccup and he'll be back in no time, begging for forgiveness. Fortunately there’s a distraction of mammoth proportions swimming in the River Thames.
Absorbed by the story of Martha the sperm whale, Fiona attempts to carry on life as usual as she awaits her husband's return. However, nothing can prepare her for the dramatic turn of events that throws her life into ever greater turmoil. The road ahead has many paths and for Fiona it’s time to sink or swim.
Fiona and the Whale is a poignant and often hilarious contemporary fiction novel. If you enjoy topical tales, second chances and a little bit of romance, you'll love this new book from the Kindle Storyteller Award Winner, Hannah Lynn.
Chapter
Five
The
impetus with which Fiona had started her entire house reorganisation
had faded somewhat by the time she arrived back home that evening.
But, given that stopping would mean leaving the house in disrepair,
she plowed on, shifting cobwebbed boxes and faded containers up and
down the stairs, Marie Kondo-ing her wardrobe and clearing out
drawers so crammed full, it took a bread knife and a hair comb to
even get them open. It was in one of those particularly jam-packed
places – a drawer in the living room where Fiona would stuff all
the birthday cards they received each year with the self-made promise
of going in and clearing them out at some point – that she stumbled
across the photos from Joseph’s birthday party.
In
truth, she’d been half looking for them. Her reason behind the 9
p.m. wardrobe clear-out was in thinking that perhaps they’d been
stored away in one of the shoe boxes she’d kept at the back. And
had she not found what she was looking for in the living room
dresser, she’d planned to move onto the spare room, with her
mother’s old belongs, in case they’d got mixed up in there. But
she’d found them. The paper envelope was creased and yellowed, but
inside sat thirty-six photographs, all of Joseph’s sixth birthday.
It
helped that his birthday had coincided with Stephen’s photography
phase, although that did mean there were very few photos of Stephen
in them. In fact, there were very few photos of anyone really, except
for herself and Joseph. Or at least, parts of Joseph. He had
been so excited, she remembered, and refused to stand still for even
a minute, as such, over half the images were blurred, or of single
limbs; an arm that was still in shot when Stephen took the photo, a
leg, twisting as he ran away.
Somehow
though, they’d managed to grab him and pin him down long enough for
someone to take one of the three of them. Stephen was holding the
cake with the candles lit – a two-tiered creation covered with
fondant snakes and leaves and topped with an edible elephant and
tiger; with Joseph sat on her lap. Eyes scrunched shut, Fiona looked
mid-sneeze as she helped to blow out the single candle, while
Joseph’s hand was already reaching for the marzipan elephant. There
in the background floated the parakeet balloon, just as Fiona had
described it to Octavia. She was glad she’d been able to persuade
her into keeping the rainbow at the wedding, even if she wished she’d
thought of the idea herself.
Shuffling
the pack, Fiona placed the rest of the photographs back in the
envelope. All except the one of the three of them. That, she wiped
with her sleeve and placed on the top of the mantel piece. Tomorrow
she would go and buy a frame for it, she thought. After all, she was
on holiday.
****
Shards
of sunlight sneaked between the curtains as Fiona rolled over onto
the cold side of the bed, the sheet still perfectly flat and
unrumpled. She’d slept in their bedroom at least, that was an
improvement on the previous three nights, although, from the way she
was struggling to open her eyes, she probably could have done with
going to bed a little earlier. What time had she finished sorting
downstairs? She struggled to remember. Two? Maybe three?
Forcing
herself to sit up, she checked the time, only to blink and double
check. Ten thirty – that was practically midday. And no wonder her
head was throbbing. The last time she went that long without a coffee
must have been when she was pregnant. After double checking that no
emails or messages had come through while she slept, she slipped her
feet off the side of the bed. Then, rubbing her temples, made her way
downstairs and straight to the coffee machine.
The
television in the corner of the lounge was still on and turned to a
news channel. For some reason, today the voices grated even more than
ever, and Fiona went in to switch it off, when something caught her
attention.
‘Early
morning joggers first noticed the sperm whale this morning.’
The news reporter told her. ‘The mature female, who has been
nicknamed Martha, has been most obliging, swimming peacefully up and
down the river. She looks perfectly happy; don’t you think, Rick?’
she posed her question to her fellow news reporter.
‘I
do, Stephanie,’ news reporter Rick replied. ‘Now I’ve
read here that sperm whales are the largest of the toothed whales,
and females tend to stay in large pods for their entire life, so it
is unclear right now how she came to be separated from her family.’
‘Or
how the heck she wasn’t spotted before now.’
Fiona’
dropped down onto the sofa and stared at the screen. For such a large
creature it was difficult to see in the grey-brown water of the
Thames. A minute of live footage passed with nothing but passenger
boats and ambling tourists, waiting to catch a glimpse of Martha.
Fiona’s eyes remained fixed on the television screen. She’d been
whale watching before, off the coast of New Zealand, and it had been
a fun enough trip but nothing like the photos they showed you where
the whales breach right in front of the boats. A vague dot on the
horizon was the best they got. This was probably going to be the
same, she thought. She was just about to give up and go make her
coffee when out of the water came the head of the whale.
‘Holy
crap!’ she said.
It
was an aerial view. The sleek grey body, just breaking the surface of
the water, causing foaming ripples to blossom out in its wake. Fiona
sat back in the sofa; her mouth wide open.
‘We
have with us today marine biologist Professor Ben Arkell.’ They
were back in the studio. The image of the Thames had shrunk to a
thumbnail at the corner of the screen. ‘Professor Arkell, what
can you tell me about sperm whales? I’m guessing that the Thames
isn’t their natural habitat?’
‘No.
It’s not.’ Professor Ben Arkell sucked in his cheeks as he
spoke. ‘Sperm whales are usually found in much, much deeper
water, although it has been the case that individuals, and sometimes
pods, have beached themselves on UK shores before. But even so, this
is highly unusual.’
The
news anchor nodded, knowledgeably.
‘And
so, could we expect to expect to see more appearing. Whole pods, as
you say? Could this just be a slight navigational error?’
A
pinched expression squeezed on Professor Arkell’s lips.
‘I
think we can agree it’s definitely not a slight navigational
error here,’ he said. ‘The question in how she would get
herself stranded and so far from the pod.’
‘Pods
are important to these types of whales, I take it?’
More
cheek sucking and nodding from Professor Arkell. ‘Sperm whale
pods can be reach up to sixty individuals, normal females and
juveniles. A female of this age would almost certainly have calves
and they’re exceptionally family orientated. It’s worrying to
think what could have happened.’
The
image zoomed once again to the whale, before panning out and showing
just how alone poor Martha was.
‘Do
you have any idea of what could have happened?’ It was the
female news reporter’s question.
‘I
have several,’ he told them. ‘But all unsubstantiated.
What we need now is to figure out how to get her back to the open
sea.’
‘And
to her family,’ Fiona whispered to herself.
Fiona
remained glued to the screen. Sixty whales, she kept thinking over
and over in her head. Sixty whales meant fifty-nine family members.
Fifty-nine people that should be by her side but weren’t. And here
she was finding it odd in a house without two. It must have been
crazy for Martha. Then again, perhaps she liked the peace a quiet.
Christmas Day with all the nieces and nephews was enough to put Fiona
off family gatherings for another year, and there were only twelve of
them all together. Maybe the Thames was Martha’s equivalent of a
spa break. She took out her laptop and began to search on the general
behavior patterns of female sperm whales.
For
the most part, it seemed like the expert on the matter was indeed
correct it what he was telling them, but it still felt ridiculous.
How could a giant sperm whale – or Physeter
macrocephalus as she now knew ‘its correct name to be –
possibly end up in London without someone having spotted it before?
It was the size of a bus.
Throughout
the morning, more and more snippets of information and images came to
her screen. Perhaps she had a son, Fiona thought, watching
Martha glide under the Vauxhall Bridge. Perhaps she’d been looking
out for him; doing what she thought was the best for him, only to be
blindsided and suddenly end up on a path all on her own. Her heart
ached. How was this right? How could someone not have put her back on
the right path before she even got this far? But there were rescuers
with her now at least. They would get her back home before long.
The
eleven o’clock headlines marked a sudden awareness of time for
Fiona. Looking down at her bare legs, she blinked at the realization
that she’d not yet managed to get showered or dressed nor, as
evidenced by the furry taste that clung to the roof of her mouth, had
she cleaned her teeth. The thought of staying that way – undressed
as opposed to unwashed – flitted through her mind. After all, she
was allowed to wallow. Isn’t that what people did when their
husbands walked out? Isn’t that what people did when their only
child flew the nest? She was faced with a double whammy, she deserved
this time. A momentary pity party began to form in her mind, only to
be snuffed out by the sight of Martha passing a group of
intrigued rowers. Placing her coffee cup down on the side she stood
upright and faced the television.
‘You’re
still going.’ She spoke to the whale, whose silhouette she could
just make out under the water. ‘If you can keep doing this, then so
can I.’
After
cleaning her teeth and indulging in an extra-long gargle of
mouthwash, Fiona showered and dressed, picking an outfit from the
back of the wardrobe. The short burgundy number was something she’d
always put off wearing on the basis it felt a bit glam for daywear.
But today, glam was what she wanted. Glam and confident. Empty nest
syndrome, that’s all it was, for Stephen too. He would see it soon
enough. Besides, however bad her day was going, it wasn’t going
anywhere near as badly as poor Martha’s. And if that whale could
keep swimming like it was all just fine, then so could she. It had
been a long time since Fiona could remember having a role model in
her life, but stood there, thinking about the incredible situation
that Martha was having to endure, she was pretty sure she’d found
one again. Or at least, a kindred spirit.
While she freely moves between genres, her novels are recognisable for their character driven stories and wonderfully vivid description.
She is currently working on a YA Vampire series and a reimaging of a classic Greek myth.
Born in 1984, Hannah grew up in the Cotswolds, UK. After graduating from university, she spent ten years as a teacher of physics, first in the UK and then around Asia. It was during this time, inspired by the imaginations of the young people she taught, she began writing short stories for children, and later adult fiction Now as a teacher, writer, wife and mother, she is currently living in the Austrian Alps.
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Whale Sized Giveaway (Open Internationally)
Prizes are
$25 Amazon Gift card
2 print copies of Fiona and the Whale
10 ebooks of Fiona
5 ebooks of The Afterlife of Water Augustus
5 ebooks, of Peas, Carrots and an Aston Martin.
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