The Whale at Dinner

It’s very striking. Impossible to ignore, but you try. You don’t want to think about it. 

It’s a whale. In a tank. At dinner. 

You will have heard about it before you came. It’s the first thing out of anyone’s mouth the second Lord Gannon is mentioned. 

“You know he keeps a whale in a tank?”

There’s no way you can escape knowing. By the time you’ve set foot on the estate for your first soiree at Lord Gannon’s manor, you know all about the Whale. You’ll know that she’s light blue, almost white. You know he’s had for her for at least as long as anyone can remember - and if you’ve spoken to the right people you’ll know that’s actually unheard of when it comes to whales. 

They will tell you about that night, coming up to six years this September, when a team (or a gang, or a unit, or an outfit) breaks into Lord Gannon’s manor and makes it to the Banquet Hall where she’s kept before a gunfight breaks out. Attempted robbery, according to the constabulary - but they didn’t take anything. Nevermind. Case Closed. Another drink?

Of course, then turns the conversation to just how Lord Gannon gets away with it. But the how of it is obvious - I mean, conceptually. He is a Lord after all. This is the kind of stupid stuff that Lords get away with doing. Detaining large aquatic mammals and covering up violent escapades is their bread and butter when you think about it.

You’ll get your invitation and it’s the best damn invitation you’ve received. Probably handcrafted; definitely handwritten oh so elegantly. It’s not exactly special. Everyone who’s anyone in the City will get one. But it still feels good. You’ll feel like you’re really making it. Plus… you want to see the Whale, don’t you? Whales are intelligent creatures. They can even grieve. 

Lord Gannon doesn’t live in the kind of estate that’s designed to intimidate or bedazzle with its architecture. It’s a tasteful, authentic home. Huge. Of course it is: it’s got a Whale. The gardens are immaculately kept with neat little hedgerows and regiments of the finest ornamental statues. Servants are waiting for you by the front gate. Footmen standing proud in the most splendid uniforms. They’ll greet you like an old friend, all of your needs foreseen and in hand. 

Inside is just as pleasant. You can loiter in the foyer, admiring the busts and portraits of long-deceased Gannons, snacking on the gorgeous canapes. You’re looking for some clue about the Whale. That’s really why you turned up, isn’t it? You need to know why. You weren’t gonna miss this for the world. 

So you don’t stay for long. You’ll follow a smiling butler across the marble floor, down a few steps, into that long magnificent banquet hall.

And there she is. The Whale. By God she’s huge. You’ll never have seen an animal that huge before. Pale blue - almost white. White except for the raw crimson where the chains have bit into her flesh. It’s a feat of engineering to keep her in there. The tank takes up the back wall. The glass must be so strong to hold back all that water, and all that Whale. She’ll be thrashing about when you enter. She doesn’t like it with so many people. She will scream but you won’t hear her through the glass. 

Lord Gannon’s chair will be just in front of her. His Lordship will be dressed like a tailors’ dream. The kind of suit that costs more than your home. It’ll never be the same one twice, but it’ll always be the best you’ve ever seen.

Almost as wonderful as all this food! What a sumptuous feast! Over a dozen courses for you to gorge until bursting. There’s no seafood, is that a surprise? It makes your head spin just imaging how much this costs, the work required to pull it off. The staff must be stressed to death. No, actually. They seem happy, dedicated and driven. 

There must be what… two hundred people here? Maybe- no definitely more.

Doesn’t matter; Gannon will come and sit at your table. And he will learn your name. And he will talk to you like you are the only person in the room. And when he responds to you; you feel heard. You feel special. You feel warm, and it’s not from the absolutely ex-quis-ite ‘64 vintage that’s steadily replacing blood in your veins - and there’s so much more where that came from, by the way, so drink up.

You’ll laugh, drain your glass. Gannon will laugh too, in that deep and hearty sort of way that lets you know that you’re friends now. You’re friends with the Lord who keeps a Whale in a tank in the Banquet Hall.

Congratulations.

Let’s hear him talk. What’s the subject? 

Politics? Lord Gannon is an expert and a diplomat. You could decry the very notion of nobility as antiquated parasitism and he would just listen, nod respectfully, and engage. Politely. You might even change your mind. 

Art? He knows all about your favourite artist. Whether that’s portraits, landscapes, impressionist, romantic - whatever. He’ll even offer you a tour of his private collection. 

History? He’ll invite you, all of you, to one of the many museums he sponsors, after hours. Any exhibition you want to see. 

Religion? Gannon can quote your holy text from the heart. Not in the condescending sort of way that a non-believer might, but as an aid to philosophy. A way to explore the human condition. 

Business? Boy, I hope you like making money. 

Whales? Doesn’t happen.

Isn’t he handsome? Even if you’re not that way inclined, you cannot deny that he’s a good looking man. Aged even better than that ‘64. A lesson in growing old with grace. Perhaps you’d then speculate, aloud or just to yourself, that a man who looks that good must have all sorts of lovers, mistresses, bastard children.

But you would be wrong. Oh so wrong. 

The Lady Gannon is almost as charming as he is. They met very very young and Lord Gannon has never had eyes for another since. Do they snap at each other? Avoid each other? Give you that feeling that maybe they’re resigned to this marriage until one of them dies?

Oh no. No no no. Devoted. Utterly devoted. Inseparable still. Mad for each other. They’re not shy about it either. When one of them is speaking, the other will be staring, hanging off their every word with a wide grin. Some Whales can make facial expressions too. 

Together they’ve a family of five children. Three sons, two daughters. You might meet one, or all of them. I hope you do. 

What’s dinner without entertainment? They’ll be a band. You’ll love them. The Whale won’t. She’ll start thrashing again. I think it’s the vibrations. You might catch a few people staring, but not for long. They’ll be dancing. Both Gannons will be on the floor, or rather gliding over it. If you’re very lucky then they might even dance with you. You will have to sit down afterwards though; no one else will compare. 

It’s typically at this point that Lord Gannon makes an announcement. A charitable donation. A new philanthropic campaign. A drive for real positive change in the world. Gannon’s generosity seems boundless. Did you attend school in the North of the Country in the past twenty-five years? Chances are Gannon sponsored it. The orphanages and poor houses in the lower districts? Gannon was there when the first stone was laid. Treats them like he would his own family. Did you rescue your pet through an animal charity? Gannon keeps it open. He’ll ask if you can chip in, but you know it’s completely all right if you can’t.

After that, the party will spread out like spilled wine. You’ll be instructed to treat this place like your own home - you should be so lucky! No one will approach Her. No one will look at Her for too long. Maybe you’ll be different? Maybe not. 

You probably went out into the garden. 

I don’t blame you. Around the back of the estate, you can sit and watch the fireworks. Drink some more. Get lost in conversation with today’s leading minds. Be merry. Watch the moon rise.

Did you go out into the garden? 

No? 

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather- All right.

You didn’t go into the garden. You stayed in the hall.

Before long it’s empty. All except for Her, floating, thrashing. And Him, watching Her. And you.

Does he always do this? Did he only stay in here because you did? Is he hoping you’ll ask? Your footsteps are going to be so loud rebounding through all that empty space. You’ll be afraid. Tremulous as you make your way across the hall. 

No one stops you. In fact, when you stand alongside him, staring at Her, he will smile at you. He remembers your name, but you don’t need him to prove it. 

He’ll offer you a cigar. 

I never smoked before I met Lord Gannon.

As you reach toward it, he’ll withdraw just an inch. And then he will tell you:

“Don’t ask.” 

Those beautiful dark eyes staring right through you. 

It’s not just a cigar; it’s a bargain. 

I’ve been coming to Lord Gannon’s parties for nearly five years now. I have sat at his table. I have profited from his connections. 

I’ve drunk the finest wines.

I’ve eaten foods I didn’t even know existed.

I’ve met the firmest friends. The most passionate lovers. The most steadfast comrades.

It’s been nearly five years since I have wanted for anything. 

And the Whale?

I don’t know.

I never asked.

Did you?