It was the company of something far more comforting.

It was the ocean. Pushing in and out on the beach. Not just pushing but breathing.

In, out, in, out. In, out, in, out.

And as it breathed, that’s when the idea came. Maybe it was the ocean carrying it to Rio from far out at sea. Maybe it was a voice even deeper than that. Either way, the plan popped into his head as if by magic.

He might not have been able to save his mom from going into the hospital. But, it wasn’t too late to save her now.

Rio pulled out the picture of White Beak from his pocket.

Because this was part of it.

He would go whale watching and find her some whales.

He would take photos of whales.

He would video whales.

Whale after glorious whale!

And then he’d send them all to his mom. Because surely, she would look at her phone at least once? And when she did, she’d have something to make her smile again. Like the way she’d smiled on the boat trips when she was younger. She always said that she needed reminding to be happy. Well, here was the answer! Here was the answer to everything! Because if the whales could make her happy again, then perhaps . . . perhaps she could even get better and she wouldn’t have to be stuck in that hospital for too much longer.

The idea shone and glistened in his mind, and without even pausing to take another breath, Rio was sprinting back toward the place where he’d noticed a whale-watching tour kiosk earlier. As he careered down the boardwalk, his thoughts spiraled and ran and scampered. So fast he felt giddy trying to catch up.

Finally, he arrived at the kiosk, sweat dripping down the back of his neck and his breath coming out in rattles and rasps.

And then he skidded to a halt.

The kiosk was indeed the place to book whale-watching tours.

But not only had the last tour left two hours ago, the kiosk was well and truly closed. The next trip was scheduled for tomorrow, and Rio gulped when he saw the price.

It was a lot of money even for just one hour.

He had some savings, but they were in a bank account in England.

And it wasn’t as if he could ask his grandmother. No way could he tell her his plan.

He banged his fists against the kiosk in frustration. His plan was over before it had even begun. Shoulders slumped, he headed back to the museum and tried hard to ignore the lump in his throat.

It was then he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.

A figure was standing partway along the pier, and there was something very familiar about it.

The red dungarees. The wild blond hair. The way her chin jutted up.

It was the girl from the beach.

She was standing perfectly still, gazing out to sea with a pair of binoculars pressed to her eyes. Once in a while, she paused to write things down in a notebook. Rio couldn’t help but be curious, and without even thinking about it, he crept closer.