Hugo's Hum

Hugo could not sleep, so he hummed.

He did not know the tune. It was not a tune. It was just three notes, one low, one in the middle, one a bit higher, and then back to the start.

Hmm. Hmm. Hmmm.

Hmm. Hmm. Hmmm.

It was a good hum. It went in his chest and his nose at the same time. Bumble, his bee, sat on his shoulder and seemed to like it, because bees know about humming.

Hmm. Hmm. Hmmm.

Then, from the corner, something hummed back.

Hugo stopped. He listened. It was the radiator. It had been quiet all evening, but now, as the house cooled down, it was ticking and humming to itself, one low note, over and over, like it was trying to join in but only knew the first bit.

Hmm, went the radiator.

Hmm. Hmm. Hmmm, went Hugo, to show it the rest.

Hmm, went the radiator, happily, not learning.

From the landing came another one. The fridge, downstairs, which Hugo could only just hear through the floor. The fridge hummed in the middle. It had always hummed in the middle; Hugo had just never noticed it was the same note as his.

Hmm, went the radiator.

Hmmm, went the fridge.

Hmm. Hmm. Hmmm, went Hugo, and Bumble buzzed very softly on the top one, which was the note he was best at.

Outside the window, the wind found a gap under the roof and hummed through it, high and thin. The washing machine, finishing downstairs, gave three slow turns that went round like a song. Even Dad, in the next room, snoring, was doing it: a hum in, a hum out, low, the lowest note of all.

The whole house was humming.

Hugo lay on his back and listened to it. He did not need to hum himself any more. The house was doing it for him, every part of it on its own note, and all the notes fitted, the way the pieces of a puzzle fit when you stop pushing.

Hmm, went the radiator, and ticked, and went quiet.

Hmmm, went the fridge, and clicked, and stopped.

The wind moved on to a different roof. The washing machine finished its last turn and said nothing more. One by one, the house ran out of hums, until there was only Dad, in and out, in and out, and the smallest hum of all, which was Hugo, humming without meaning to, the way a glass hums after you touch it.

Hmm.

Hmm.

Bumble was asleep on his shoulder. Bees fall asleep very suddenly, mid-note.

Hmmm...

And the last note, the high one, went up into the dark of the room and stayed there, and when Hugo reached for it with his ears to bring it back down, he found that he had gone up with it, and that it was very comfortable up there, and that there was no need to come back down until morning.