Tales from the Tower, Volume 2 (37 page)

‘What are you doing?' he cried incredulously. ‘Are you crazy? Stop it!'

But Reine was beside herself and wouldn't give up. She fought him tenaciously, kicking and snarling furiously, but he was much stronger and she didn't have a chance. Not used to fighting females, he behaved in his usual gentlemanly way, but when Reine kept coming back for more he ended up giving her a seriously hard push, straight into a couple of rose bushes. Reine let out a loud yelp and began cursing like a navvy.

‘Skye,' she called furiously, ‘help me. I'm being torn apart by thorns.'

But I was rooted to the ground watching Joshua helping Cinders to her feet.

‘I thought you weren't coming,' I heard him say as his arms went around her. ‘I honestly thought that you might have changed your mind.'

‘Of course I was coming!' They were holding on to each other and laughing in relief under the cold bright moonlit night, just as though we didn't exist. ‘Here I am.'

‘Here you are.' He laughed and kissed her.

‘Come on!' Ella said suddenly. ‘Let's just go now.'

‘Okay. Let's get away from here!'

‘I'll grab my things.'

‘Okay.'

Arms around each other, they headed back over to the laundry. By the time they came out, Joshua carrying Cinders' bag over one arm, I had my sister out of the rose bushes at last, her legs, face and arms smeared with blood from the deep scratches. Josh and Cinders looked at us coldly as they passed, as though we were beneath contempt. They walked down towards the side way leading onto the street. At that stage I was ready to admit defeat, but when I next caught sight of my sister's face I saw that her anger had intensified mightily. Seething with fury, she motioned towards the garden fork and spade leaning against the garage only a couple of metres away.

‘Come on,' she said, her voice ragged, ‘we'll get them.'

‘Reine, I don't think . . .'

She grabbed the fork and almost threw the spade at me.

‘Come
on
.'
It was a command, really.

At that point I caught sight of the big mean bird in the cage behind her. He'd moved from his branch and was climbing up the side of the cage, making these horrible, loud distressed squawks and croaks, and I have to say that his yellow eyes in the moonlight looked bright with intelligence and malice.

‘Hey, open the cage and let it out!' She laughed maniacally. ‘Go on.'

‘What?' I asked stupidly.

‘That bird! Go on, open the cage.'

‘Why?'

‘That university guy is coming tomorrow. Be good if it's gone,' she hissed.

I went over and opened the gate, then, picking up my spade again, followed Reine. When we heard the click of Josh's car door opening and then the thump as he threw the bag in, we knew we'd better hurry.

‘What . . . will we do?' I was shaking.

‘Kill her,' she whispered. ‘Him too. Quick.'

The world seemed to close in around me at that point. One part of me knew that my sister had lost it and that I had to make a choice. Was I going to follow her into . . . 
this abyss
 – because surely that is what it was – or call a halt to the craziness? I hesitated. I couldn't imagine life without Reine. She was my sister and my best friend, and yet . . .

‘Reine,' I said, ‘I think . . .'

‘I'll take the rap,' she snapped. ‘Come on. I'll get us off. I'll plead insanity or . . . something. Come on, it will be worth it.'

‘But—'

‘Why should we sit by and watch her steal Josh just because she's pretty? He's our friend, isn't he?' I nodded and clutched the handle of the spade tighter
.

Reine was already a few metres ahead of me with her garden fork, hurrying down the driveway, but some new unease that I can't quite explain made me turn around. The strange ugly bird was out of the cage now and spreading his huge wings.

‘Reine,' I called out loudly, ‘come back!'

She must have heard the panic in my voice, because she dropped the fork and came back to where I was standing. We both watched in fascinated horror as the huge thing circled the backyard in low swoops, all the while screeching wildly.

‘Wish I had a gun,' Reine muttered.

Eventually it settled on top of the cage but the screeching intensified. After a while it began to sound like some kind of weird laughter.

Josh and Cinders were forgotten at that point, because something happened that was so totally weird it's hard to describe, hard to believe even now. There was a noise, unlike anything else I'd heard before. First it was a kind of low shuddering sound, like the beginnings of an earthquake, then the sky suddenly darkened, and except for patches of light from the laundry and the porch next door, the backyard was no longer visible. My sister stopped and so did I. We looked up. The moonlight was being blocked by some kind of fast-moving dark cloud. The bird's screeching had become deeper and more threatening. That's when I realised that the darkness wasn't a cloud at all, but a flock of perhaps a dozen huge black birds like the one I'd let out of the cage. They were all screeching now as they circled us, around and around and around, very gradually getting lower.

So loud!

We'd got used to living on that busy street near a transport depot and a huge public hospital, trucks on their way out to the freeway, trains, police and ambulance sirens going day and night, not to mention the feral cats fighting in the back streets and the mad drunks stumbling home from two nearby pubs. But this noise was . . . something else.

We stood quite still. The wind picked up and the huge gum tree began to creak and sway. Reine let the garden fork fall to the ground, covered her ears and ran for the light and cover of the old laundry. I did the same.

Hunched down together in the corner of the shed, I felt as if the terrible noise would go on forever, but it was probably at its loudest for only a couple of minutes. Gradually it began to ebb away until at last there was silence and the wind died down with it. What a relief. Our hands dropped from our ears; we opened the door and peered out. Ella and Josh had gone.

The back porch light suddenly came on.

‘Girls?' It was our mother, out on the porch in her dressing-gown. ‘What are you doing out there?'

‘Nothing,' Reine called sullenly. ‘Go back to bed, Mum.'

‘But did you hear that noise?'

‘Yes. Just go back to bed, okay.'

But Mum was nothing if not curious. She wanted to see what we were doing, so she stepped out onto the lawn, then looked up and saw the birds circling. One by one they landed on the roof of the laundry.

‘Oh, what ghastly birds,' she said in a low voice.

‘Yes.'

Like fools the three of us stood there watching as each huge bird circled lower and lower, and eventually joined the original bird. I counted fifteen of them, just sitting, each of them as big as a normal-sized dog, their yellow eyes staring down at us. So repulsive and yet . . . fascinating.

‘Where did they come from?'

‘We don't know.'

‘Why did you open the cage?' I snapped at Reine.

‘
You
opened it,' she snapped back.

‘You told me to.'

‘Enough of this!' Mum said loudly. She picked up the fork and advanced on the birds.

‘Get away with you!' she yelled. ‘Go on, you monsters. Clear out!'

‘Mum . . .' I remembered Ella's warning and suddenly felt afraid. ‘Don't do that!' But it was too late.

Without a hint of warning, the biggest bird suddenly flew straight at her face. Totally shocked, she stumbled backwards and fell, screaming for help, trying with all her might to free herself, but its sharp claws had sunk into the flesh of her face and neck. Then a second bird joined the first, then another and another. Within a matter of seconds our mother was lying on the grass in her dressing-gown and slippers trying to fight off six huge vicious birds. Of course Reine and I tried desperately to kick them away and, when we found we couldn't, we ran for the shovel and the fork, all the time screaming for Jack to come out to help us. But he never came. I don't know if he heard us or not. Mum writhed, screamed and cried, but that only seemed to encourage them.

Sobbing with shock and terror, Reine and I fought them as best we could until . . . I can hardly bring myself to recall what happened next.

The sky darkened once again. More birds were arriving. The terrible whooshing sound of wings gave way to raucous ear-piercing screeches. Reine and I had to leave Mum and try to escape ourselves. But we didn't stand a chance.

{
12
}

I have eaten nothing, nor have I read anything nor even listened to the telly since they told me last night that today would be the day. Morning tea arrived and then lunch and the old woman across from me was sick again. What do I care? I begin to think that he will never come and that I will have to stay in this hospital bed for the rest of my life.

Then at last there is a flurry up the other end of the ward. I can feel the frisson. He has arrived with an entourage of nurses, I guess, because I can hear the murmur of a lot of voices.
So . . . this is it.

At last they reach my bed and all of a sudden some weird part of me wants them to go away again, even though I've been waiting for so long.
Dread
. I suppose I am filled with dread. Maybe it is better to live in hope than know that I'll never see again.

‘How are you feeling?' the doctor asks gently, then without waiting for a reply he speaks to a nurse about bringing some piece of equipment closer.

‘So, my dear?' He begins gently to inspect the bandages and whatever is underneath. ‘Yes . . . yes, I think we can safely take them off today.' He puts one hand on my shoulder. ‘Now we will find out the result of our work.'

I nod numbly, quite unable to speak.

It takes some time for him to get the bandages off. Finally, when his fingers stop, I can feel my face naked and exposed, and a deep silence has fallen all around me. Everyone in that room is waiting, along with me. For once the woman opposite me has her television switched off and all the peeping machines, the grunts and sighs, cheery comments, footsteps and mobiles have magically ceased. I can't smell anything, or feel anything . . . 

The surgeon moves first. I feel him step away from the bed, then he murmurs something to a nurse and I remain in darkness as he begins to wipe some cooling lotion over my eyelids.

He is still messing around with the lotion when the first small ray of light appears. I hold my breath and say nothing until it starts to build, more and more light. Then I seem to be blinded with light. It rushes at me like a rising flood. So much light and then . . . 
colour
!
A blurred blue shape and then something brown, moving. It is so unbelievably wonderful that I cry out without even being aware of doing so. Oh, there are no words for this, no way to describe these first wonderful moments as the world comes into focus again.

‘So, my dear?' he says. I see he is an old grey-haired man in his sixties with a craggy, lopsided, beautiful face. He is smiling, smiling! And so am I. He takes both my hands in his and I hold on tightly, hanging on to him for dear life. Eventually I see all those others standing around him, all these smiling faces, blurring now through my tears.

‘Thank you so much,' I whisper, ‘thank you!'

‘Oh my dear,' the surgeon says, ‘my dear girl. I am so happy for you!' There are murmurs all around and I see that they all are so happy for me and I know that I don't deserve it.

I stare at all the smiling faces, at the cheap print of flowers on the wall, at the phones, and the pair of pink slippers, and at the poor old woman in the bed opposite, so sick, but sitting up now and smiling at me. I stare at the tall buildings outside the windows, at the pale-blue sky and the drifting clouds, and after so many weeks of being in the dark it all seems so
outrageously
wonderful that I think I might have died and gone to heaven! So . . . I begin to cry.

‘No more tears now,' the old doctor says and gently pats my shoulder. ‘Time for laughter now.'

‘Yes,' I say and continue to cry. He hands me the box of tissues and I take a few and blow my nose. I don't want to keep crying, I want to keep on looking at everything. I want to get up and walk around, go to the toilet without bumping into things, switch on the telly, use my mobile phone. But I can't seem to stop the flow of tears. I cry and I cry.

‘What is it, my dear?' he asks, now that the others have gone and I'm still sobbing. The old lady opposite has switched on her television and people are coming and going as before, so it is just him and me and he has been sitting with me for some time now patting my shoulder kindly.

‘Are you feeling sad about your poor mother and sister?'

I shake my head.

‘If only we'd been able to help them,' he murmurs.

‘Yes.' I nod and reach for more tissues. ‘If only.'

But in truth what happened to Reine and Mum isn't real to me yet. They are gone. I know that much. The grief, when it comes, will probably bring me undone, but until then I am floating above that particular reality.

‘I think I'm just . . . happy,' I manage to whisper.

‘Ah,' he chuckles, ‘the best kind of tears.'

I clutch his hand again.

‘You have given me so much.'

‘I have done my job,' he says quietly, ‘that is all.'

‘No . . . much . . . much more . . . than that.' He smiles and pats my shoulder again and then leaves at last with promises to see me the next day.

Gradually I calm down, and when I do I notice a page cut from a newspaper on my side table. I pick it up, remembering now that one of the nurses had heard the story and left it for me to read if my sight was ever restored.