Free Silver Bay by Jojo Moyes

sucking up to my daughter isn’t going to change that.’ We fell silent, as the words settled around us. By God, she’d known that would sting.
    ‘Sucking up?’ I could hardly bear to repeat the words. ‘Sucking up? What bloody kind of man do you take me for?’
    ‘Just go away, Greg—’
    ‘I’m really sorry to interrupt but—’
    ‘Mum?’
    Hannah was standing beside the English bloke, her birthday smile wiped clean off her face. She looked from me to her mum and back again. ‘Why are you shouting at Greg?’ She spoke quietly and carefully, her eyes wide, as if we’d frightened her.
    Liza took a deep breath.
    ‘I’ll – ah – if someone could point me towards Reception?’ Mike looked as if he wanted to be there even less than I did.
    Suddenly Liza noticed our extra guest. She turned towards him, face still flushed with anger. ‘Reception? You want to speak to Kathleen, over there. Lady in the blue shirt.’
    He tried to smile, muttered something about an English accent and, after a brief pause, disappeared.
    Hannah was still standing next to me. Her sad little voice, when it came, made me want to give that mother of hers a slap. ‘I suppose this means I’m not allowed to keep the boat?’
    When Liza turned to me, the full force of every bad thought she had ever had hit me square on. It wasn’t a pretty feeling.
    ‘We’ll talk about it, lovey,’ she said.
    ‘Liza,’ I tried to keep my voice nice, for the kid’s sake, ‘I never meant to—’
    ‘I’m not interested,’ she cut in. ‘Hannah. Tell your friends it’s time for the cake.’ When Hannah didn’t move, she waved an arm. ‘Go on. And I’ll see if we can light some candles. It’s not going to be easy in this breeze.’
    I put my hand on Hannah’s shoulder. ‘Your boat will be waiting for you in the lock-up whenever you’re ready,’ I said, hearing the defiance in my voice. And then I walked stiffly away, muttering words I’m not proud of under my breath.
    Yoshi met me at the truck. ‘Don’t go, Greg,’ she said. ‘You know how worked up she gets about stuff. Don’t ruin Hannah’s day.’ She was still holding a party bag – she’d sprinted down from the kitchen to stop me.
    It wasn’t me ruining it, I wanted to say. It wasn’t me determined to stop my little girl doing the one thing she wanted most in all the world. It wasn’t me who acted like the kid’s childhood was normal but never talked about any family other than Kathleen. It wasn’t me who, three or four times a year, would be all over her like a rash and the next day act as if I was something she’d picked up on the back of her shoe. I know when I’m guilty, and I also know that sometimes it simply isn’t my fault.
    ‘Tell her I’ve got a boat to take out,’ I said, more sourly than I’d intended. I felt bad afterwards. It had nothing to do with Yoshi, after all.
    But I wasn’t going out on the water. I was going to head for the nearest bar and drink until someone was good enough to tell me we’d made it into the next day.

Five
     
    Kathleen
     
    It’s hard to believe now, given the size of our land, but whaling was once one of Australia’s primary industries. From way back in the nineteenth century whaling ships would come from Britain, unload a few convicts on us, then load up with some of our whales and sell them back to us at our ports. Some exchange, as Nino said. The Aussies got wise in the end and caught their own. After all, you could use a whale for just about anything – the oil for lamp fuel, candles and soap, the baleen for corsets, furniture, umbrellas and whips. I guess there was a lot more call for whips in those days. Back then the whalers mainly hunted the southern right whale – they called it ‘right’ because it was so darn easy to catch. That poor beast was about the slowest thing in the southern hemisphere and, once dead, it would float, so that they could tow it into shore. I reckon it could only have made it easier