A Head Full of Magic, page 6
“Got any peas yet, lady?” the duck suddenly asked.
No way! He could hear me! My tummy bounced excitedly.
“Sorry, I don’t.”
“In that case then, no. I’m afraid I can’t understand a word you’re saying!” And with that, the line of ducks disappeared a second time. I suppose I deserved that.
An eerie flutter echoed behind me in the trees making me feel uneasy, but I couldn’t see anything. It was just me, on my own, staring into the same egg-stenchy pond.
“Squawk! Don’t you know that you should never take something that doesn’t belong to you? Squawk!”
I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that Sir Barclay was perched on a branch right above my head.
CHAPTER NINE
Dizzy Spell
“What are you doing here?”
Sir Barclay had now flown down to perch next to me, his sharp claws wrapped tightly around the wooden bench.
“It’s a free country, isn’t it? Squawk!”
I supposed it was, but I had never been this close to Sir Barclay before—ever. For a grey, obnoxious, feather-bum, he was rather striking in the sunshine. The ruffles around his neck were soft and smart, and his jet-black beak looked like Nan had spent the whole day polishing it. I hoped she used one of her clean hankies.
“Is it true?” I asked, closing Nan’s book tight.
“Squawk! Is what true? I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
Okay, I got it. He was playing hard to get. Not wanting to reveal to me how much he did or didn’t know, and I couldn’t blame him. But it didn’t make his ludicrous game of cat and mouse any less frustrating.
“About Nan!” I said. “Can she really invisibly fly?”
I bit the inside of my lower lip until it hurt. I did want to find out what was going on and how much of it was real, but part of me was also scared that I wouldn’t like the answer.
“Squawk! No,” he said. “She most certainly does not invisibly fly.”
“Oh.”
Her book really was just full of boring old Nan lists and facts then? That shot down my silly flying theory, didn’t it? Although, it still didn’t explain how Nan’s book and the hand-carved chess piece made their way from the sky on to the school field, but perhaps there was a logical explanation I just hadn’t found yet.
My tummy relaxed. It was probably for the best that I didn’t have an invisibly flying Nan, it just made all the entries in her book even harder to understand.
“As I said, she doesn’t invisibly fly. Squawk! She invisibly blusters!”
“What do you mean?”
“Squawk! I’m afraid her technique isn’t as refined as it used to be, and then there’s her hips. Her flying reactions are not as fast anymore either. I’ve tried warning her, Fleur, but she never listens.”
I jumped off the bench. “So, she can invisibly fly? It was her on the hockey pitch today, wasn’t it?”
I had so many questions that the thought of being able to speak with Sir Barclay suddenly felt less frustrating and more beneficial.
“How on earth should I know?” he replied. “I’m not her keeper. She is as free to roam the skies as I am. Squawk!”
Something wasn’t right. Nan was obsessed with Sir Barclay. Mum even once suggested that he was Nan’s most treasured possession after Grandpa Willie died because, in a way, he helped her to feel less sad and lonely. He brightened up her days.
“She didn’t tell you what she was planning to do today?” I asked. “She didn’t tell her prized parrot that she intended to secretly fly over her granddaughter’s hockey practice?”
“Squawk! Of course, she did. She’s been on about following you to school for ages. She suspects something is, how do you say? Awry. Squawk!”
“A-what?”
“Awry,” he replied in an exasperated tone. “All not being well. Not as it should be. If you must know, she’s worried about you, but I told her not to be. Squawk! I said if you had concerns at school that you would be smart enough to talk to her or your mother.”
My heart sank. If only Sir Barclay knew that I’m not in the slightest bit smart. That I haven’t properly told anybody how mean Celeste is because they’ll probably think I’m telling tales, just like Mr Augustus did. Plus, I keep hoping it won’t last and that she’ll soon get bored.
“She didn’t listen to you then?” I asked.
Sir Barclay’s pupils darted from side to side. His feathers more ruffled. Less smart. “Squawk! Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
He twitched his pupils and dipped his neck. “Oh, very well, then! If you must know, your nan did say she was going to fly over your hockey match to see if you were alright and yes, I told her not to because of her old age and failing health, but the problem is. . .”
“What, Sir Barclay? Come on, spit it out!”
“She can’t hear me! Alright! She never has and I doubt very much that she ever will.”
He side-clawed away from me until he was perched at the very end of the bench.
“Oh,” I said, surprised. “I thought Nan must be able to talk to you too.”
Clearly, I had got things wrong. I was sure I’d overheard Nan talking to Sir Barclay, about the weather or if she should have another cup of tea, and he always replied. I guess Nan simply hadn’t understood what he’d said.
“Sadly not, Fleur. I wish that she could, but she only hears my squawks.”
Sir Barclay turned his little grey face away from me like I sometimes do if I’m about to cry and I don’t want anyone to see me.
He sighed. “Squawk! We have an understanding that’s more powerful than words. She talks and I listen. I know everything about her, what she thinks, what she’d like to do, what she wishes she had done. I know all her secrets, which she trusts me with because she knows I will never tell, because I can’t. Squawk! We have a strong bond, you see, that means we look after each other in our own way. Does any of this make sense to you?”
I nodded. It really did. More than Sir Barclay realised.
“Squawk! Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “I try to give her the odd hint so we can communicate. I’ll fetch her a pen if her old one runs out; move her glasses before she sits on them; switch the kettle on if she complains about being parched. Squawk! I help her with the little things and in return she helps me. She doesn’t know how she’s helping me, obviously, but all the nosy neighbouring she does with her telescope and jotting everything down in her book, helps me immensely, or at least I hope it will, one day.”
Suddenly, I felt a strong sense of pride in this super-stuck-up African Grey parrot who could have upped and left Nan anytime he liked. Anytime the window opened, and the fresh scent of freedom lured him out, but he didn’t. He stayed in the attic-room with Nan, and always returned to his Birdrobe to be by her side.
But I couldn’t ignore the burning question I’d had since he first mentioned Nan’s book yesterday. “What is it you’re looking for, Sir Barclay?”
“Ahh,” he exhaled, his eyes brighter and happier than I had ever seen them. “I’m searching for my one true love.”
“What? Pineapple cheese and crackers?” I joked. I couldn’t help it.
“You see! This is why I am less than thrilled to find out you can hear me, and not somebody more sensible. Squawk!”
I didn’t mean to laugh. I knew better than anyone how it felt when someone made fun of you. Celeste did it to me every day.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to be silly, please—what’s your one true love?”
He glared at me. “Not what Fleur, but who. To find a human being who can hear and understand me, means I’m one step closer to finding my one true love again. My dear Jenny Jen. The warmest, kind-hearted, most fun-loving, and beautiful African Grey lady parrot you could ever wish to meet. My wife, Fleur.”
Wowsers Trousers! Sir Barclay had a wife? I didn’t see that one coming!
“So where is Jenny Jen now?” I asked carefully.
“She’s not Jenny Jen to you! She’s Dame Genevieve Monroe Ophelia Smythe!”
I covered up my giggle straight away. Sir Barclay rolled his eyes. I knew the pompous fluffball was still hiding amongst his vulnerability somewhere, but I forgave him for it. Plus, I liked the name Dame Genevieve Monroe Ophelia Smythe. It sounded regal.
“That’s the problem. I have no idea where she is. I need someone who can understand me to help find her. I need an Animalator. Honestly, Fleur, you’ve no idea how special you are.”
No, I didn’t, and my head was starting to ache with it all.
Sir Barclay was getting more upset as he flapped and paced along the bench. “Squawk! We were flying back to England after a break in Italy last year. You see we’ve always lived separately in different houses, with different families because, we’ve found that people are more accepting of parrots if indeed, there is only one. Everyone assumes we’re noisy, but that’s not the case for us African Greys—it’s those garish Macaws who give all birds a bad name. Squawk! Anyway, Dame Genevieve loves the sunshine on her feathers, so we stayed an extra day to enjoy the landmarks of Rome. Fascinating place. Only we were in the middle of the Colosseum, when—”
I gasped. “Did she die?”
“No! She did not! Squawk! At least I hope she didn’t. We got separated in a freak rainstorm that started in Italy and followed us all the way home to England. Now, I don’t know where she is.” Sir Barclay’s little face dropped.
“Is she still there?” I whispered, not wanting to cause him more sadness.
“That’s my greatest fear, Fleur. I left without her!”
I’d never had the urge to hug a bird until now. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. We’ll find her together. I’ll help any way I can.”
“Squawk! Do you really mean that? You’d do that for me?”
Actually, no, was my honest answer. I wasn’t doing this for him. I still didn’t trust him, not fully. He was still sitting on at least eight of my missing chess pieces, I was sure of it, but I’d do it for Nan because I know how much she loves him.
“Of course, I’ll help,” I replied. “Come on, let’s head home now. We can tell Nan about it together.”
I started packing Nan’s book and the hand-carved rook into my rucksack.
“Squawk! We can’t do that! You mustn’t. Please don’t tell her about Dame Genevieve, Fleur, or that you can hear me. It’ll change everything between us.”
“Change things how?” I frowned. Surely Nan would be only too happy to help Sir Barclay find his wife? And I could always translate their conversations for them.
“How would you feel if all your private thoughts suddenly became public? Squawk! Or everything you said when you were alone was being secretly recorded?”
“Well, I suppose I’d feel a bit angry, betrayed maybe.”
“Squawk! Exactly! And that’s why I want to keep this from your nan. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want her thinking that I’ve used our friendship for my own gain, because I haven’t, Fleur. We’ve both helped each other out. Squawk!”
His small frame was motionless. No swooping, no twitching, no flapping. No nothing.
“Can’t we keep this between the two of us, for the time being at least? Please Fleur.”
I didn’t like keeping something this big from Nan. I mean, I knew she’d been hiding bigger things from me, but she must have had her reasons. In the same way that I’d held on to Celeste bullying me because it was embarrassing to admit that I was being bullied. Mr Augustus thought I was telling tales, so why would anyone else believe me? Besides, I’d not wanted to worry Mum or Nan with it all because of everything that happened with Dad and Grandpa Willie. They were both still coming to terms with not having them around anymore and they didn’t need anything else to worry about.
I tickled the mole on my cheek, and Sir Barclay inched closer to me, which unnerved me even more. He was the one who’d first made me realise I could hear animals, so maybe if I helped him, he’d help me understand it all. The magic, the Animalation and more importantly, Nan’s book.
“Okay, Sir Barclay.”
“Squawk! Thank you, Fleur.”
We sat together on the bench looking out across the murky pond, strangely enjoying the peace and quiet after an exhausting day.
“Fleur! Fleur! Is that you?”
I leapt up and knocked my open bag onto the floor.
Mum was dashing across Farrow Park clutching her handbag and wearing her ‘I work in an antique shop outfit’, which today included a pair of beige, cropped chinos, blue, spotted T-shirt, and an odd-looking necklace made from shells and pasta tubes.
“Hurry up, love, we need to go.”
“Over here, Mum.” I waved. “Are you okay? What’s the matter?”
Mum ran around the pond and put her hand on my arm.
“We need to go, love, it’s your nan. She’s had a dizzy spell.”
CHAPTER TEN
Believe Me
The smell of bleach and plastic hit the back of my throat harder than Mum’s grip around my body. She was hugging me so tightly that I was worried she might break a bone. We were huddled in a poky, mint-green hospital room with Nan hooked up to a million wires and machines. We didn’t know what was going on, or if Nan would be okay, and the thought of her not being okay made me sick with fear.
Mum eventually loosened her arms and blew her nose loudly. The two nurses checking on Nan, jumped, and turned around as though they half expected to see a herd of elephants stomping through the ward.
“Sorry!” Mum whispered as she carefully wiped the tears from her eyes without smudging her mascara. “It’s just dreadful. I can’t take it in. One minute, I’m saying goodbye to her as she’s tucking into a bowl of porridge, and the next she’s in here, struggling to breathe.”
“Try not to worry, Mrs Bottom,” the plumper of the two nurses said. “Her heartrate has settled and we’re running some further tests to see what’s the matter with your mother-in-law.”
“Big Bottom!” Mum replied.
“I beg your pardon?” the nurse said curtly, as she smoothed the creases of her uniform over her waist.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean your big bottom! I don’t think you’ve got a big bottom at all, it’s a lovely bottom—as far as bottoms go. What I meant was, that’s what my husband and I used to call Nell. Big Bottom. Well, before he left us because she’s the older Bottom in our family. It’s a little joke we shared between us.”
Why did Mum always have to make such a fuss about bottoms? As if having Bottom as our surname wasn’t bad enough, she always had a knack of making things even more embarrassing than they needed to be.
“Hmmm.” The nurse didn’t look convinced. “The doctor will be in to have a word shortly so make yourselves comfortable. There’s a water machine in the corner and a coffee shop down the corridor.” She wrote something on Nan’s clipboard, rubbed her hands with pink gel, and walked out.
“Right, yes, of course. A comfortable Bottom is a happy Bottom. Isn’t that right, Fleur?”
I nodded because rolling my eyes felt too hurtful under the circumstances. The nurse had barely left the room when Mum started to sniffle all over again.
“It’s okay, Mum,” I said. “Try not to worry.”
Nan had to be fine. She just had to be. I didn’t know what we would do without her.
“Phftphftphft!” Mum blew her nose again. “Sorry, love, it’s just the shock. I’m all over the place. I think I need a strong cup of coffee to sort me out. Do you want to come with me to the shop? Choose a juice or something?”
“I’m good, you go. I’ll stay here,” I said. “In case Nan wakes up.”
She would wake up—wouldn’t she? She had to. How could I deal with all this stuff without her?
I pulled the chair closer to Nan’s bed. She looked older without her glasses on, less sparkly. It was a wonder anyone could sleep with the different machines beeping and humming around her ears. Her little chest moved slowly up and down like a bird. Thank goodness she was still with us.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I looked at the machines to figure out where the noise was coming from, but it wasn’t them.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The doorway was clear; nobody was outside or waiting to come in.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I looked across the room and saw a concerned, feathered face staring back at me from outside the window. Sir Barclay!
“Oof!” I muttered, as I heaved the window open a crack. There was no way Sir Barclay could squeeze his way in. His head was far too big for a start. “Sorry, Sir Barclay, this is as far as I can open it.”
“Squawk! That’s cheap architecture for you. Typical! Always cutting corners.” Sir Barclay dipped his head up and down to see Nan through the streaky glass. “How is she? Squawk! Do they know when she’ll wake up?”
“No, not yet. But I’m sure it’ll be soon.”
“Squawk! Your nan is one of the toughest humans I know. She’s just not always one of the smartest. Honestly, flying around at her age in the midday heat, making mischief on a hockey pitch. Squawk! She won’t have drunk enough water.”
My heart ached because Sir Barclay was right, and I knew it was all my fault. If only I’d had the guts to tell Nan or Mum about Celeste, then maybe Nan wouldn’t have flown over the school to check on me. She’d be back at home, safe in her green armchair, wearing her un-matching green and purple slippers, ready to beat me at chess.
“Fleur, is that you?” Nan’s voice was softer than normal as she struggled to get her words out from underneath the transparent oxygen mask covering her face and helping her to breathe.
“Nan! It’s me! Are you okay?” I raced across from Sir Barclay and stood next to her bed, clasping her frail hand in mine.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, baby, but you must listen to me.”
“Squawk! She’s awake!” Sir Barclay erupted. “Squawk! She’s awake! Don’t just sit there, Fleur! Squawk! Tell someone!”
