just have to accept there are things we can’t know. Why is your sister ill? Why did my father die?” She held my hand. “Sometimes we think we should be able to know everything. But we can’t. We have to allow ourselves to see what there is to see, and we have to imagine.”
We talked about the fledglings in the nest aboveus. We tried together to hear their breathing. We wondered what blackbird babies dreamed about.
“Sometimes they’ll be very scared,” said Mina. “They’ll dream about cats climbing toward them. They’ll dream about dangerous crows with ugly beaks. They’ll dream about vicious children plundering the nest. They’ll dream of death all around them. But there’ll be happy dreams as well. Dreams of life. They’ll dream of flying like their parents do. They’ll dream of finding their own tree one day, building their own nest, having their own chicks.”
I held my hand to my heart. What would I feel when they opened the baby’s fragile chest, when they cut into her tiny heart? Mina’s fingers were cold and dry and small. I felt the tiny pulse of blood in them. I felt how my own hand trembled very quickly, very gently.
“We’re still like chicks,” she said. “Happy half the time, half the time dead scared.”
I closed my eyes and tried to discover where the happy half was hiding. I felt the tears trickling through my tightly closed eyelids. I felt Whisper’s claws tugging at my jeans. I wanted to be all alone in an attic like Skellig, with just the owls and the moonlight and an oblivious heart.
“You’re so brave,” said Mina.
And then Dad’s car came, with its blaring engine and its glaring lights, and the fear just increased and increased and increased.
AN ENDLESS NIGHT. IN AND OUT of dreams. In and out of sleep. Dad snoring and snuffling in the room next door. No moon in the sky. Endless darkness. The clock at my bedside was surely stuck. All it showed were the dead hours. One o’clock. Two o’clock. Three o’clock. Endless minutes between them. No hooting of owls, no calling from Skellig or Mina. Like the whole world was stuck, all of time was stuck. Then I must have slept properly at last, and I woke to daylight with stinging eyes and sunken heart.
And then we fought, my dad and I, while we crunched burnt toast and swigged tepid tea.
“No!” I yelled. “I won’t go to school! Why should I? Not today!”
“You’ll do as you’re bloody told! You’ll do what’s best for your mum and the baby!”
“You just want me out of the way so you don’t have to think about me and don’t have to worryabout me and you can just think about the bloody baby!”
“Don’t say bloody!”
“It is bloody! It’s bloody bloody bloody! And it isn’t fair!”
Dad kicked the leg of the table and the milk bottle toppled over on the table and a jar of jam crashed to the floor.
“See?” he yelled. “See the state you get me in?”
He raised his fists like he wanted to smash something: anything, the table, me.
“Go to bloody school!” he yelled. “Get out of my bloody sight!”
Then he just reached across and grabbed me to him.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you.”
And we cried and cried.
“You could come with me,” he said. “But there’d be nothing you could do. We just have to wait and pray and believe that everything will be all right.”
Moments later, Mina came knocking at the door.
She had Whisper in her arms.
“You’ve got to come and help me,” she said.
Dad nodded.
“I’ll come for you this afternoon,” he said. “When the operation’s over. Go with Mina.”
She took me to her garden. She gripped Whisper tight. On the rooftop, the blackbird started yelling its alarm call.
“Bad boy,” she said to the cat, and she went tothe open front door, threw him in, pushed it shut behind him.
“The fledglings are out,” she said. “Stay dead still and quiet. Watch out for cats.”
We sat on the front step and didn’t
We talked about the fledglings in the nest aboveus. We tried together to hear their breathing. We wondered what blackbird babies dreamed about.
“Sometimes they’ll be very scared,” said Mina. “They’ll dream about cats climbing toward them. They’ll dream about dangerous crows with ugly beaks. They’ll dream about vicious children plundering the nest. They’ll dream of death all around them. But there’ll be happy dreams as well. Dreams of life. They’ll dream of flying like their parents do. They’ll dream of finding their own tree one day, building their own nest, having their own chicks.”
I held my hand to my heart. What would I feel when they opened the baby’s fragile chest, when they cut into her tiny heart? Mina’s fingers were cold and dry and small. I felt the tiny pulse of blood in them. I felt how my own hand trembled very quickly, very gently.
“We’re still like chicks,” she said. “Happy half the time, half the time dead scared.”
I closed my eyes and tried to discover where the happy half was hiding. I felt the tears trickling through my tightly closed eyelids. I felt Whisper’s claws tugging at my jeans. I wanted to be all alone in an attic like Skellig, with just the owls and the moonlight and an oblivious heart.
“You’re so brave,” said Mina.
And then Dad’s car came, with its blaring engine and its glaring lights, and the fear just increased and increased and increased.
AN ENDLESS NIGHT. IN AND OUT of dreams. In and out of sleep. Dad snoring and snuffling in the room next door. No moon in the sky. Endless darkness. The clock at my bedside was surely stuck. All it showed were the dead hours. One o’clock. Two o’clock. Three o’clock. Endless minutes between them. No hooting of owls, no calling from Skellig or Mina. Like the whole world was stuck, all of time was stuck. Then I must have slept properly at last, and I woke to daylight with stinging eyes and sunken heart.
And then we fought, my dad and I, while we crunched burnt toast and swigged tepid tea.
“No!” I yelled. “I won’t go to school! Why should I? Not today!”
“You’ll do as you’re bloody told! You’ll do what’s best for your mum and the baby!”
“You just want me out of the way so you don’t have to think about me and don’t have to worryabout me and you can just think about the bloody baby!”
“Don’t say bloody!”
“It is bloody! It’s bloody bloody bloody! And it isn’t fair!”
Dad kicked the leg of the table and the milk bottle toppled over on the table and a jar of jam crashed to the floor.
“See?” he yelled. “See the state you get me in?”
He raised his fists like he wanted to smash something: anything, the table, me.
“Go to bloody school!” he yelled. “Get out of my bloody sight!”
Then he just reached across and grabbed me to him.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you.”
And we cried and cried.
“You could come with me,” he said. “But there’d be nothing you could do. We just have to wait and pray and believe that everything will be all right.”
Moments later, Mina came knocking at the door.
She had Whisper in her arms.
“You’ve got to come and help me,” she said.
Dad nodded.
“I’ll come for you this afternoon,” he said. “When the operation’s over. Go with Mina.”
She took me to her garden. She gripped Whisper tight. On the rooftop, the blackbird started yelling its alarm call.
“Bad boy,” she said to the cat, and she went tothe open front door, threw him in, pushed it shut behind him.
“The fledglings are out,” she said. “Stay dead still and quiet. Watch out for cats.”
We sat on the front step and didn’t
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