Flyaway (10 page)

CHAPTER 18

A
ll the way to school, I try to convince Mum to let me stay with her.

‘I just want to be with Dad,' I say. ‘We're not learning anything at school now anyway. Just gearing up to Christmas.'

And it's true, we're not doing much and I do want to be with Dad. But it's more than that. The thought of going back to school now, after this weekend, without Saskia and with everything that's happened, just seems unbearable. Mum relents in the end.

‘OK, I'll ask school if you can miss a day.' She catches my grin by looking in the rear-view mirror. ‘But don't think you can make it a habit.'

‘I don't know why I can't miss school too,' Jack grumbles.

‘Exams, that's why.' Mum pulls into the teacher's car park
and keeps the car running. ‘I won't be long.' She jogs into the office.

I glance around at the rest of the car park and hope that none of my teachers arrive while I'm here. Jack walks slowly to the school gates and Crowy comes out to meet him. I swallow quickly and almost wish I'd walked in with Jack. I watch as Crowy chucks his arm around Jack's shoulder and leans in to whisper something to him. I imagine what it might feel like to have his breath on my ear. Then he starts laughing. I stare at his hair, which is way past the regulation collar length, and remember the way he grinned at me yesterday. He doesn't look across for me this time.

Mum comes out of the office with her thumbs raised. ‘Piece of cake,' she says as she gets into the car. She turns around to me before she drives off. ‘The lady said you can have as much time off as you need.'

I clamber over the gear stick to get into the front seat. I stick my feet up onto the dashboard and watch the city shoot past. Even though I know it's going to be hard to visit Dad, it still feels like I'm escaping. Without Saskia there, school's worse than ever. As Mum drives faster, my eyes follow the edges of the clouds. I imagine I'm a bird flying up there, keeping pace with the car. I'm looking for the whoopers really, trying to catch a glimpse of them so I can tell Dad.

CHAPTER 19

D
ad looks a little better than yesterday. Somehow his skin is less grey. But he still looks so weak, as if he's a hundred years older than he was. I stand behind Mum. I don't know how loudly I should talk to Dad, maybe I shouldn't talk at all. It feels like if I was to shout at him he'd fade away completely. But I want to tell him about how I played football yesterday. Dad used to be an amazing football player, even better than Jack. I jiggle my legs as I remember how I raced down the wing and ran the ball into goal. Then I imagine that Crowy's there, watching me, and I'm lining up another goal, bringing my leg back to shoot, aiming and . . .

‘Ow!'

I blink. Mum's rubbing her shin. I've kicked her leg by mistake.

‘What'd you do that for?' she asks, glaring at me.

I look across at Dad, who's staring at me too.

‘I scored a goal yesterday,' I blurt out. ‘When Jack let me play.'

Dad looks so pleased then that his eyes almost seem to become brighter for a moment. I'm glad I've told him. But Mum folds her arms across her chest.

‘Did you have to score it again on my leg?' she mutters.

I lean down and rub her shin. ‘Sorry, got carried away.'

But Mum doesn't really mind. She pushes me to the head of Dad's bed so that I can talk to him more. I notice the way Dad's starting to smile. He's more with it today. He can finish sentences. Perhaps he is getting better after all. Perhaps they'll just do these tests then let him out in a day or two. I lean up closer to him, ready to tell him the news that I know will make him smile.

‘You were right when you said there was a lake behind the hospital,' I say. ‘And there's a swan on it too, maybe a whooper.'

Dad's eyes light up properly then, just as I'd imagined. ‘Why didn't you say?'

‘Only saw it yesterday.'

‘Is the rest of the flock there?'

I shake my head. ‘Just one.'

I walk over to the window. It's near Dad's bed, but it's probably too high up for him to see out of it properly. I look out for him instead. I only see the car park and the ring road and beyond that, fields.

‘Your window's facing the wrong way,' I tell him. ‘You need
to go to one on the other side to see the swan.'

I glance at Mum but she's shaking her head. ‘No chance, babe. Dad's got to stay here.'

‘Can't we even take him in a wheelchair? Just for a look.'

‘Nope. He's too ill.'

I come back to Dad. His smile has fallen a little now.

‘You'll have to look for me,' he says in his thin, raspy voice. ‘Keep a watch for the others, too.'

I glance across at Mum, but she just rolls her eyes as if to say ‘you know what he's like'. She reaches forward to grab Dad's hand.

‘If it will keep your spirits up,' she murmurs, obviously just trying to please him.

I swear Dad's cheeks are pinker now that he's interested in something.

And then, suddenly, I know what I'm going to do. I know exactly what I can do to keep Dad's spirits up. I'll watch the swan like he says.

‘I'll meet you in the cafe in an hour,' I tell Mum.

CHAPTER 20

I
stick to the edge, following the fence around the car park. I can't find a proper entrance, but there is a shed that seems to sag at the corners, and there is a slit in the fence in front of it. It runs vertically from where my shoulder is to the base. I lean against the splintery wood of the shed and pull back the wire, testing it. It bends back easily, as if it has been bent like this before. I curl it towards me like a wave, opening up the slit. Then I kick at it, pushing it back further. I ignore the sign:
Keep out. Authorised persons only
. Take a breath. Then bend my body through.

I take a few steps. It doesn't look the same down here as it did through Harry's window. There are plastic bags halfsubmerged in the mud around my feet, crushed beer cans and hundreds of cigarette butts. I step across a faded washing powder box. I almost turn back. It's obvious I'm not supposed
to be here. I don't know what those ‘authorised persons' would do if they found me. I'm not the first person to have done this, though. I can tell that by the way the ground has been trampled into a path that leads to a patch of trees.

The memory of Dad's face keeps me going. He looked different when I mentioned the swan, excited almost. And Mum said that anything that lifted Dad's spirits was good for him. I try to convince myself that I'm doing the right thing.

I step across the manky brown carpet of dead leaves. At the patch of trees, I find another sign, propped up against a trunk.
Hospital Patrons Only. Please Keep to the Track
. The path feels firmer now, as if it used to be a proper trackway.

I walk on, going deeper into the trees. It gets darker the further in I go. Everything's so silent. There are no machines whirring on and off, no trolleys trundling past, no patients crying out. I can only hear the wind whispering leaves and bits of rubbish about. It smells better than in the hospital, too, like damp leaves and mud. I wish I could bottle it and take it back for Dad.

I step over another crushed beer can and look ahead to where it's getting lighter. There's a gap beyond the trees. If Dad were here with me he'd walk confidently, blabbing on about how alive it makes a person feel to be out in nature. He'd be stopping to look at beetles in the leaf litter, and touching the trees. He wouldn't be scared at all. There's a real ache in my chest as I think about it. I want Dad here with me. It's not fair that he isn't. But I've got my phone in my pocket. I'll just go up to the lake, take a photo of the swan, have a good
look around for any others and then leave. I won't hang about.

I hear a crack to my left. The bushes shake. A dark patch of brambles moves violently from side to side. I freeze. Then the movement stops. I stare at the leaves, waiting. A drop of frosty water lands on my head and then slides down my cheek. Something small and black shoots out of the bushes. I trip backwards over a tree root and almost fall. But it's only a bird. A stupid coot with a smug white face. I'm such a bag of nerves.

I get to the lake. The swan is still there. She's not far away, floating on her own. I look across the water and at the land around the edges. There aren't any others. She's smaller and more grey than most, but she's definitely a whooper. Her beak is long and yellow, like all whoopers', but has traces of pink. I don't think she's even a year old. It's weird, but there's something almost familiar about her. I'm sure she's the same bird we saw at the reserve that day, looping above us. I'm sure I've found her. That's already enough to tell Dad.

I go to the edge of the water, towards her. She doesn't move but she seems to be watching me, her small black eyes fixed on mine. She's a beautiful swan, with clean feathers and a long, straight neck. I take my phone out of my pocket and take a photo. She doesn't bob her head away. She doesn't look scared of me at all.

I crouch down and keep watching. Near my feet are some of her chest feathers, a babyish dark grey colour. They are soft and damp, a little like fur. I take the two longest ones and run my forefinger and thumb over them, making them smooth
and perfect. I put them in my pocket with my phone. I'll take them for Dad.

When I look up again, she's there. I mean
right
there, infront-of-my-face there. Less than a metre away. I don't know how she's swum up to me so quickly, or how I didn't notice. Her eyes are still locked on my face. Birds aren't supposed to have expressions, but this swan seems to. She seems really curious; it's almost human the way she's looking at me. It's like she's asked me a question and now she's waiting for my response. I glance away and then back at her, just to check I'm not imagining it. But she's still looking at me like that.

I start shuffling backwards up the bank. I move slowly and steadily so she doesn't get alarmed. Even though I'm not scared of swans, I know they're pretty powerful. I mean, everyone's heard stories about swans breaking people's arms with their wings. Granddad told me once that a swan is capable of drowning a dog.

‘Why are you so brave?' I murmur to her.

She tilts her head as if she's listening. She comes closer. Her feet squelch in the mud as she steps onto the bank. I could reach out and touch her. She stretches her wings out and for a moment she's absolutely massive, towering above me. Her wings block the light. I scrabble to stand. She beats her wings, and a stench of stale water hits my nostrils. Already her beak is stretching towards me and her wings are against my shins.

‘Shoo!' I say. ‘‘I don't have any food.‘

I turn quickly and jog away from her. I'm not frightened
exactly, but there's something odd about this bird. Wild swans should be timid, scared of humans. This one's different.

I think I'll stop after a few strides, but I don't. I increase my pace. She won't follow me across land, I know, but it feels good to run. It reminds me of playing football with Jack, and of all the training runs we did in the athletics team last summer. I glance back to see the swan returning to the water. She's fine now, no longer angry or whatever it was that made her come up to me like that. I watch her swim away. Maybe she's lonely.

I run instead of thinking too hard. I want it to be like Jack's football game, when I ran and forgot all the bad stuff. My breathing starts to get heavier, and I feel my shoulders drop as I ease into the pace. Then I hear short, sharp smacks on the water, and I turn my head.

It's the swan. She's beating her wings, running on the surface of the lake. At first I think she's following me. Then I realise. She's trying to take off. Trying to get the speed she needs from running across the water. I keep moving. I think she's going to lift off at any moment and I wait for her to soar low over my head. But she doesn't. She keeps running across the surface. I see the muscles straining in her neck. As she starts to catch up with me, I feel the sweep of wind coming from her feathers. It's almost as though she's racing me.