Clownfish Page 9

  Violet beamed. “I know. Everyone says that.”

  But now there was a problem. Because we were both children, Theresa explained, we needed to be accompanied by an adult.

  “Well, you’re an adult,” Violet said bluntly. But apparently there was more to it than that. We needed our parents’ permission.

  Violet frowned. “My parents are both in Africa and Dak’s—”

  “My Mum’s ill,” I interrupted. “You can’t talk to her.”

  I didn’t know why I said that exactly. She was a lot better now, but I didn’t want her involved.

  “And his dad’s dead,” Violet added.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Theresa said. She looked a bit embarrassed.

  For a few minutes I thought I was off the hook and the interview would have to be cancelled. But Theresa spoke to Stephan and told us it was going to be OK. She was emailing over a document for him to sign and scan and send back.

  “He’ll never be able to do that without me helping him.” Violet sighed as we sat and waited on the sofa. But she was wrong, because minutes later Theresa was back smiling.

  “All sorted,” she said. She led us to the doorway she’d just come through and along a corridor. She stopped at a door with a red light shining above it.

  “That means we’re on air,” she explained. She looked at Violet. “You can sit in the control box with the producer while Dak’s being interviewed.” Then, as if she’d worked out what Violet was like, she said, “You’ll need to be very quiet.”

  Theresa took Violet in then came back for me.

  “Victoria’s going to be interviewing you,” she told me. “Hopefully there’ll be lots of people listening.” She must have seen the terrified look on my face, because she gave a half-laugh before continuing, “It’s nothing to worry about, Dak. Victoria’s very good at this. She’ll help you if you get stuck at all, but I’m sure you’re going to be fine. I’m certainly looking forward to hearing what you’ve got to say.” Her smile was so warm and encouraging that I immediately felt a little better. “Cool T-shirt by the way. Finding Nemo, right?” I nodded. “I love that film,” she said.

  We went in when there was a music break. The song was an old one I vaguely recognized – something Dad had listened to perhaps? Victoria was sitting behind a round table and she got up and came over to greet me.

  “Pleased to meet you, young man,” she said, holding out her hand. I shook it weakly. Victoria was older than Theresa, about Mum’s age, I thought. She had shoulder-length dark hair that was peppered with grey and her eyes were an amazing blue, almost violet. She led me over to the table and pointed to the chair I was to sit on. She handed me a set of headphones and helped me adjust them so that they fitted over my ears.

  “How’s that? Comfortable?’ she asked. I nodded. (Actually they felt a little too big and heavy – more for a grown-up – but I didn’t want to make a fuss.)

  Theresa pointed to a microphone on the table in front of me. “Just speak in your normal voice,” she told me. “The guys in the box’ll make any adjustments necessary.” She waved her hand towards the control box and, looking across, I saw Violet staring out at me through the glass. She raised a thumb and I smiled nervously.

  “Good luck then,” Theresa said – and she turned to go.

  “Shouldn’t you say, ‘Break a leg’?” I asked.

  “I hope it won’t come to that.” She laughed as she walked out of the room.

  When the music came to an end, there was a traffic announcement. Then Victoria nodded at me.

  It was time for the interview to begin.

  “Now, it’s my very great pleasure to introduce to you a young man who’s passionate about fish,” Victoria began, glancing at a screen in front of her. “His name is Dak Marsden and he’s just twelve years old. He’s also the coordinator of a campaign to save our local aquarium from closure – or joint coordinator, I should say, with his friend Violet McGee, who’s also twelve.” She looked up and across at me. “Welcome to the programme, Dak.”

  I nodded – then remembered this was radio!

  “Hi,” I said – my voice was strangely high and croaky in the headphones. Was that really how I sounded?

  “Now, Dak,” Victoria continued, “before we talk about the campaign, I’d be really interested to know – and I’m sure our listeners would too – how your passion for fish started and what it is that you find so fascinating about them.”

  It was the perfect first question. As Violet had said that morning, fish was the one thing I loved talking about. It all started three years ago, I said, when Dad took me to the aquarium. I explained that he loved fish too and we often went together. I told her about that first magical visit, how I’d been hooked from the moment I’d looked in a tank and seen the rays flapping. “They were amazing,” I said. I told her how Dad called them “rays of sunshine” and I talked about some of my other favourite fish: the lionfish, the longhorn cowfish, the beautiful jellyfish and, of course, my absolute favourite, the fabulous clownfish.

  “And do you still go with your dad?” Victoria asked.

  The question totally threw me. I gawped at her, panic rising. My mind was suddenly a chest of empty drawers.

  “N-no, he’s…” I stuttered. I was going to say, “He’s there,” but I stopped myself just in time. “He’s … not here anymore.” I could feel my face burning and my heart was beating like crazy.

  Victoria must have realized something was wrong because she quickly changed the subject and moved on to ask me about the campaign: How did it come about? What did I hope it would achieve? Was there anything that listeners could do to help? I managed to pull myself together and give the answers I’d practised with Violet earlier. I even mentioned the seahorses. Victoria really liked my sponsorship idea and said it should be a “priority cause” for her listeners. She urged them to get in touch right away.

  By the end of the interview there had already been several calls, emails and texts promising support, Victoria told me. “It seems like there are a lot more people out there who care about fish than you might think,” she said, before wishing me and my campaign all the best. Then it was time for more music and Theresa reappeared to take me back to reception, where Violet was waiting.

  Her usually pale cheeks were flushed. “Good job!” she exclaimed. “We’re going to raise lots of money from this.” Her eyes sparked with excitement. “I told you you’d be fine, didn’t I?” She grinned and shook her head. “Well, I was wrong. You were fabuloso!”

  The ride back to the aquarium was a lot more fun than the ride there. I felt good, really good. I’d never have dreamed I’d be able to talk like that to a total stranger – and on a live radio show! I’d spoken clearly and with, well, dignity. Dad would have been really pleased, I thought. Dad would be really pleased when I told him about it later.

  As it happened, Violet was thinking about Dad too. “Why didn’t you just say he was dead?” she demanded. “I mean it’s the truth, isn’t it, and I think it would have got us even more support.”

  I frowned. “That’s why I didn’t say it. I don’t want people’s pity, Violet. I don’t need it.” I don’t need it because my dad’s not dead, I might have continued, but I didn’t. That was my secret – and mine alone. No one else would understand. It was my duty to keep that secret – and Dad – safe.

  Stephan was waiting for us in the foyer and gave us a round of applause. “Outstanding!” he congratulated us. He’d had the radio on in the office, he said, and when the interview had come on he’d played it over the public address system so that everyone in the aquarium could hear. “You went down a storm. Take a look at this.” He held up the petition sheet which was full from top to bottom with names and signatures. “I’ve had to start a new sheet,” he said happily. “And I’ve had two newspapers on the phone wanting to do interviews. One of them is going to turn it into a proper full-page feature.”

  “That’s great, Uncle Stephan!” Violet yipped.

&n
bsp; “And it’s all down to you, Dak,” Stephan said.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s down to us. None of this would have been possible without Violet.” I grinned at her and she grinned back. We were eco-warriors, campaigners – and best friends.

  “I’m glad someone appreciates that,” she said.

  Doctor Doyle was in the sitting room with Mum, drinking tea when I arrived home. I knew at once from the look on their faces that I was in trouble.

  “Dak,” Mum said. It wasn’t a greeting and she didn’t smile.

  “You’d better sit down, young man,” said Doctor Doyle. Her face was stony.

  “I had a phone call a little while ago from your headteacher,” Mum said coolly. “He’d been contacted by a reporter wanting to know more about you. It seems you were interviewed on the radio this afternoon. Mr Hoskins was a little bewildered because he understood that you and I had gone away to the country. That’s what I told him apparently. He also said he’d had a letter from Doctor Doyle informing him that you weren’t well enough to go back to school.” I felt my face burn. I dropped my head but I could sense the doctor’s glare as sure as a searchlight.

  “I think you’ve got some explaining to do, young man,” she said sharply.

  “Did you write that note pretending to be Doctor Doyle?” Mum asked.

  I nodded. I glanced up at Mum then at the doctor. “I took the headed paper from your briefcase last time you came.”

  “Why would you do that?” Doctor Doyle’s voice was as hard as the look on her face.

  “I thought they’d make me go back to school. And I didn’t want to go. I couldn’t go. I wanted to stay with Mum, and —” I took a deep breath— “I thought that if they had a doctor’s note then they’d leave me alone.” I looked at Mum pleadingly.

  “Oh, Dak,” Mum sighed and she came over and put her arms around me.

  Doctor Doyle wasn’t so easily won over. She gave me a stern lecture about how what I’d done was a serious criminal offence, and I could be in big, big trouble if she were to report it. Did I understand that? I nodded. Would I promise that I’d never do anything like that again? I nodded again.

  This seemed to satisfy her because she said she wouldn’t take the matter any further. She didn’t look happy though. I said I was sorry, and in a way I was – I was sorry that Mum had got drawn in and been upset – but I just couldn’t feel guilty. None of what had happened would have been possible if I hadn’t written that letter and Violet hadn’t made that phone call to Mr Hoskins and I’d had to go back to school. What was it Dad had said? “Life is about getting your priorities right”. Well, it felt like I’d done just that.

  When the doctor had gone Mum began her interrogation. She wanted to know where Mr Hoskins got the idea that we were going on a holiday to the country.

  “A friend of yours pretended to be me?” she said incredulously, when I told her about the phone call.

  I nodded.

  “Who?”

  I squirmed. I didn’t want to betray Violet – but I’d had enough of telling lies.

  “It was Violet,” I confessed, telling myself that Mum would never meet Violet, so it didn’t matter.

  “That girl!” Mum exclaimed. “She sounds like quite a character.”

  “She is,” I agreed and I couldn’t help smiling.

  “So, is there anything else I should know? Anything else that I’m supposed to have told people?”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s it. I’m really sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just didn’t want to go back to school and I didn’t think Mr Hoskins would understand. I wanted to talk to you about it but…”

  Mum shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, again they were full of tears. “I know, love. I haven’t been … on top of things. I can see what a strain you’ve been under. But things’ll be better now, I promise.” She put her arms around me and drew my head in against her chest.

  I breathed in her familiar sweet vanilla scent and it was like oxygen to my heart. I’d happily have stayed that way all evening, but Mum wanted me to tell her about the radio interview. So, at first hesitantly, then more fluently, I told her the story of my day.

  “I wish I’d heard it,” Mum sighed when I’d finished. “My son’s a media star and I didn’t get to hear his moment of glory.”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t that great, Mum. I was talking about the aquarium mainly.” I remembered what I’d said about Dad and I was glad that she hadn’t heard it.

  Mum took my head in her hands and kissed my forehead. “I’m sure you were brilliant. You are brilliant and I’m very proud of you.” She let go of my head and grasped my hands in hers, her dark eyes gazing into mine. “And you know, don’t you, Dak, that Dad would be very proud of you too.” And when she said that, my day – which had already been amazing – was perfect.

  The next day things went crazy. The phone in the aquarium office barely stopped ringing with people asking about the campaign or offering to sponsor a fish or wanting to talk to me. Violet set up interviews with a local newspaper and a magazine, one at the aquarium and one at home. Another paper wanted to send a photographer. Theresa from the radio station phoned to say that the feedback from my interview with Victoria had been incredible – they’d never had anything like it. The station wanted me – and Violet – to return in a week or so to report on how the campaign was going.

  Violet was loving it. She was at the heart of everything – organizing, directing, playing the role of the campaign leader. She was so confident, so totally in control.

  “They ought to interview you,” I said. “You’re much better at all this than I am.”

  “No, it’s you they want to talk to, Dak,” she insisted. “You’re the one with the story.”

  “You’ve got just as much story as I have. Your dad’s a famous entomologist.”

  “He’s not famous. Well known in his field perhaps.”

  “Well-known entomologist, then.” I shrugged. “He’s not a binman.”

  “No, I know. But he’s not—” She stopped suddenly, grimacing.

  “He’s not dead,” I finished. Then I frowned. “Is that why they all want to talk to me?”

  “No, no. They’re talking to you because you’re passionate about fish and saving the aquarium, but, well, you know how journalists are…”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “People are interested in stuff like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how you and your dad used to go to the aquarium together and then he died. And now you want to save the aquarium. I suppose they think you’re doing this for him, because you loved him…” Violet’s bright eyes pleaded with me. “Well, aren’t you, a bit?”

  “I suppose so,” I agreed.

  You’ve no idea just how much this is for my dad, I thought. My dad’s a fish – that’s the real story. But I wasn’t going to share it with any newspaper.

  I helped Johnny feed the rays later. I’d got the hang of the pincers now and the feeding was perfectly timed to Johnny’s slick chat.

  “Ya did good yesterday on the radio,” he said afterwards.

  “Thanks.” I smiled.

  “And ya remembered the seahorses.”

  “I listened to the expert,” I said and Johnny nodded, the crab tattoo on his neck pulsing as if it was alive.

  I wanted to talk to Dad about the radio interview. I thought maybe it was time to tell him what had been happening with the aquarium. It felt like we hadn’t talked properly for a while. I also wanted to tell him that Mum was so much better. She’d agreed with Mr Hoskins that I could stay off school as there were only a few days left until the end of term.

  The head wasn’t at all pleased when he’d heard what I’d done but Mum managed to win him round. Lucky for me he really liked the aquarium – the school regularly took groups there. One of the conditions of me being allowed off school was that I had to write up the campaign, like a project, and present it to him
at the start of the next school year. Which was fine by me.

  There was a new fish in Dad’s tank and it was stunning: bluey purple. It reminded me of Victoria’s eyes. I looked to see if Stephan had listed it yet. “Pseudochromis fridani, orchid dottyback,” I read, as the fish flashed by in all its brilliant glory.

  “I see you’ve got a new friend,” I said when Dad appeared.

  Dad’s tiny mouth pouted. “Flash Gordon, you mean. He’s no friend of mine. He’s only been in here two minutes and thinks he’s the star of the show.”

  “He is beautiful, Dad.”

  “Gaudy, that’s what he is. Gaudy. No class. No dignity.”

  I laughed. “You sound like you’re jealous.”

  “Me, jealous? Of him? He’s only a pseudochromis, for goodness’ sake. Not even a proper chromis – a pseudo-chromis!” He waggled his tiny fins, as if in mock applause.

  I started to tell Dad about the problem with the aquarium and our campaign to save it, but he kept getting distracted by the new fish. I didn’t even get as far as telling him about my radio interview. I tried to get his attention, I really wanted to talk to him, but it was no use. He wouldn’t look at me and after a while, he turned and wiggled after the dottyback. It seemed like he just wasn’t in the mood for listening, so, in the end, I gave up and went back upstairs to see how Violet was getting on.

  “Dak, guess what!” she exclaimed when I walked into the office. Her eyes were wild with excitement.

  “What?”

  “They want us to go on TV!”

  I was stunned. “TV?”

  “Yes, TV! They’re sending over a reporter and a cameraman. We’re going to be on the news!” She started to dance about the room. I stood there grinning. Then I joined in dancing too.

  The TV crew arrived in the middle of the afternoon. There was a camerawoman and a soundman and a male reporter, about Theresa’s age, who was going to ask the questions, and a man called Ricky, who seemed to be in charge. Stephan suggested that they could film in the reception area (pointing proudly to the quotes on the walls) or, if they needed somewhere quieter, they could use the office? But Ricky wanted to film in the heart of the aquarium itself, he said.