Полная версия
The Crow Talker
“Hey! Don’t point that thing at me!” she said.
“How did you find me?” Caw demanded. “No one knows about this place!”
Lydia beamed with pride. “I’m good at sniffing things out,” she said. “I’ve seen you sneaking around by our place before, watching us from the wall next to our house. So I figured you must live around here somewhere. And when I was out walking Benjy this morning, I found this by the park gate.”
Lydia dropped Caw’s shoe on the floor of the nest.
“I reckoned the park would be a perfect place to go if you didn’t want to be found. So I hopped over the gate and searched until I saw this funny thing stuck up in a tree. Not bad, huh?”
Suddenly Caw felt silly. But he was too embarrassed to lower the spoon.
“What are you doing here?” he said.
Lydia smiled. “I could ask you the same question. Don’t you have a home? Don’t you have parents?”
Caw shrugged. “I live here,” he said. “Just me.”
“Cool!” she said. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Caw glanced at Glum. Don’t even think about it, said the crow, puffing out his chest.
“No,” said Caw.
“Oh, come on!” she said. “Pretty please?”
Give her a little shove, said Screech. The young crow hopped forward menacingly, then skipped back again.
“No!” said Caw. “Leave me alone!”
The girl’s face fell. “All right, all right,” she said. “Chill out. Just give me a second to catch my breath, OK? Then I’ll go.”
As she tucked a lock of hair back into her cap, still with her head and shoulders poking into the nest, Caw’s fear evaporated. She was just a girl. What harm could she do?
Lydia blew out her cheeks. “OK. I’ll leave,” she said.
“Wait!” said Caw. He glanced at the crows then sighed. “You can come in for a bit,” he mumbled.
No! said the crows in unison. Caw lowered the spoon.
“Phew!” she said, grinning. “You could really have hurt me with that.”
Caw couldn’t help smiling, despite himself.
The girl scrambled up into the nest and settled cross-legged on the platform. She was wearing jeans and a pale hooded top, streaked with leaves and dirt. She took off her cap and shook her hair free, watching Screech and Glum with a look of puzzlement. Milky would be outside, Caw knew – he never slept in the nest.
“So these birds are your pets?” she said.
I am not a pet! said Glum.
And I’m not just any bird! protested Screech. I’m a crow.
“Sort of,” said Caw.
Sort of? said Glum and Screech together. Lydia jerked back a little. Caw realised that to her it sounded like two angry squawks.
“They live with me,” he said.
“Did you train them?”
Screech chuckled. Cha-Cha-Cha.
“So what’s it like, hiding out in this park all the time?” Lydia asked.
Caw felt a flash of annoyance. “I’m not hiding,” he said.
“OK then. So why are you always spying on me?”
Caw couldn’t hold her stare. “I wasn’t.”
“Liar,” she said, but with a smile. “I thought you were a burglar at first, but then I thought, no one’s stupid enough to rob the Warden of Blackstone Prison. Anyway, I forgive you. I’m Lydia, by the way.” She held out her hand.
Caw looked at it.
She leant forwards and took his hand, placing it in hers, then shook it up and down. “And you are?”
“I’m … Caw,” said Caw.
Lydia grinned. “What sort of a name is that?”
Caw shrugged. “It’s what I’m called.”
“If you say so.” Lydia looked around the nest. “So did you build this place?”
Caw nodded. He couldn’t help a flush of pride.
With some help! said Screech.
Lydia looked up, narrowing her eyes at the crows.
“With some help,” Caw added.
“Are you talking to the birds?”
Crows, please, said Glum.
“Well …” said Caw. He almost lied, then thought better of it. “Yes. And they’re crows.”
“OK, that’s seriously weird,” said Lydia.
Glum hissed at her.
“Sorry,” she said nervously.
“Don’t worry,” said Caw. “He’s always in a bad mood.”
Take that back! said Glum.
Lydia cocked her head. “I just wanted to come and thank you,” she said. “You ran away pretty quickly last night.”
Caw shrugged. “I just … happened to be there. It’s no big deal.”
“And your crows,” said Lydia. “I suppose I should thank them too. They were very brave.” She turned to them. “Sorry – you were very brave.”
Glum ruffled his feathers. Flattery will get you nowhere, my girl, he said.
“He says it was nothing,” said Caw. Suddenly his stomach let out a rumble. He hadn’t eaten a thing since the chips from the takeaway two days ago.
Lydia’s eyes lit up. “Are you hungry?” she asked, taking off her backpack.
“A little,” Caw admitted.
She fished inside and took out a chocolate bar in a blue wrapper. “Here you go,” she said, offering it to him across the nest.
Caw took it from her like it was a precious thing, and peeled the wrapper away carefully. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten chocolate.
Careful, said Glum. It might be poisoned.
Caw rolled his eyes, then took a huge bite. His teeth sank through the thick chocolate, and it melted over his tongue. The bar was gone in seconds, sweetness coating the inside of his mouth.
“A little hungry?” said Lydia, still grinning. “Here.” She handed him an apple. Caw tried to eat it more slowly, in methodical bites. The fruit’s flesh exploded juice into his mouth, and it dribbled over his chin.
Save a bit for us! said Screech.
Caw tossed the core to the two crows, who attacked it with their beaks. He didn’t worry about saving any for Milky. The white crow rarely ate.
“The scrawny one looks hurt,” said Lydia, pointing to Screech’s crooked leg.
Who’s she calling scrawny? said Screech.
“Come here, little crow,” said Lydia soothingly. “Let me take a look.”
She’d better not be talking to me, said Screech, lifting his beak haughtily. I’m not little.
Glum gave a throaty laugh.
“He’s just a bit nervous,” said Caw.
Lydia leant towards Screech. “I could make a splint,” she said. “You’ve got plenty of junk here I could use. And I’m good with animals.”
Screech hopped away from her.
“Let her try,” said Caw. “She might be able to help.”
“I’ve got another apple,” said Lydia, taking it out of her bag and handing it to him. “Here.”
Caw ate more slowly this time, watching as Lydia fashioned a splint out of twigs and string. Screech extended his leg gingerly, and she fastened the splint into place. Milky, Caw noticed, had dropped into the nest through the small opening in the tarp at the far end. Caw didn’t think Lydia even knew he was there. But the blind crow seemed to be watching them with his sightless eyes.
“Done!” she said, with a clap of her hands. “It’s not broken, but he should keep it rested.”
Screech peered down at the splint. It’s not a half-bad job! he said.
“He says ‘thank you’,” said Caw. He almost smiled again, but caught himself. What was he doing, letting his guard down, welcoming this girl into his most secret place? What if she told her family about it? What if she told everyone? He cleared his throat.
“Look, thank you for the food, but …”
“Are those books?” she said, scrambling across the nest. In the corner, beneath Caw’s tattered sweater, was his latest stack.
“Yes,” said Caw. “But—”
Lydia took one. “They’re picture books!” she said, grinning.
Caw really wanted her to go now, but he couldn’t think of the right words.
“Why are you reading picture books?” she said. “They’re for little kids.”
Caw felt his blush deepen.
Lydia’s look turned to utter dismay. “Wait – I’m sorry. Did you ever learn to read?”
Caw lowered his gaze and managed a tiny shake of his head.
“Hey, these are library books,” said Lydia. “Did you … steal them?”
“No!” said Caw, glancing up angrily. “I borrowed them.”
“You have a library card?” said Lydia, her eyebrow arching.
“Not exactly,” said Caw. “A woman – a librarian – leaves them outside for me.”
Lydia put the book down. “I could teach you to read,” she said.
Caw didn’t know what to say. Why was she being so nice to him?
“I mean, if you want me to,” she added awkwardly. “Maybe we could go to the library together – pick something to help you learn.”
Caw was about to reply when Milky let out a thin cry. Everyone looked at the white crow.
“Whoa, I didn’t see him there,” said Lydia, shifting uncomfortably. “Why are his feathers like that?”
“They always have been,” said Caw, his eyes fixed on Milky. “Listen, thanks for the offer with the library, but—”
Milky squawked again.
“Sounds like he wants you to come with me,” Lydia said with a grin. She pushed out her bottom lip. “But then, I don’t speak bird.”
Glum hissed.
“That one’s tetchy, isn’t he?” said Lydia.
Caw was watching Milky. Why was the white crow making such a fuss?
Milky blinked. Did he really want Caw to go with this strange girl? It had been Milky’s words about the spider that had convinced Caw to follow Lydia’s father the night before. And if he hadn’t, he never would have seen the tattoo. The one that matched the ring in his dream.
“Come on,” Lydia urged. “What harm can a trip to the library do?”
Of course! If anyone could help him understand what the spider symbol meant, it was the librarian. She had so many books.
“So what do you say?” said Lydia.
Bad idea, said Glum.
I think she’s all right, said Screech, holding up his leg.
Caw looked at both of them, then at Lydia. He’d never had a friend before. And she’d gone to a lot of trouble to find him. Plus Milky had spoken for the first time in all the eight years Caw had known him. Perhaps it was a sign.
“Before you say no, it’s my way of saying thanks for saving us,” said Lydia.
Caw watched her face closely, as if her features might betray her thoughts. Was he actually ready to trust another human being after avoiding them for so long?
Perhaps not yet. But if he kept his guard up, and the crows were with him …
“OK,” he said. “Just this once.”
This time, though, with Lydia at his side, he almost felt normal. Of course he kept an eye on the sky, to check that Screech and Glum were still with them. Milky had remained behind at the nest.
Blackstone was vast, its streets organised on a grid. Caw couldn’t read the names on the signs, but he counted the blocks. That way, he always knew where to find the road that led up to the park. As they walked deeper into the city, buildings loomed up on either side, so tall the sky was just a strip of grey above. The people who lived at the top must feel like they were in a nest too, he thought.
Monorail lines threaded over the streets on viaducts or plunged into tunnels that burrowed underground. The stations were scattered through the city, disgorging passengers from the bowels of the earth. Caw had never ventured beneath the streets. The thought of being trapped down there chilled him to the bone.
“My dad’s so stressed out,” Lydia was saying. “He says his job might be on the line. Those prisoners were in maximum security, but they managed to break through the floor of one of the bathroom stalls.”
Caw let Lydia talk the whole way. She was good at talking. He learnt she was an only child, that her dog, Benjy, was scared of cats, and that her favourite subject at school was Maths. He was listening, but everywhere he went, his eyes scanned for an escape route, preferably upwards – drainpipes, fire escapes, window ledges with enough room to wrap his fingers around them. He wondered when he would find the right moment to tell Lydia that he’d never actually been inside the library before.
They were approaching it now, a huge old-fashioned building with a grass forecourt, broken up by paths and strange metal sculptures. The first time he’d gone there was just over a year ago, at twilight. A storm had swept across Blackstone, and he’d taken shelter from the rain under the grand fluted columns that stood at the front of the library. He hadn’t even known what was inside, but the lights from a window had tempted him to look closer. As he’d pressed his nose against the glass and seen those high shelves lined with thousands of books, he’d been mesmerised. They reminded him of being a child back in his bedroom on the nights when his mother would pick a picture book from the shelf and read to him until he fell asleep.
The middle-aged woman had taken him by surprise, appearing at the main doors, and asking if he wanted to come inside. She was shorter than him by a head, with black skin, and tightly curled black hair turning grey in places. It was the first time a human had spoken to him in months, and if the rain hadn’t been falling so hard, he would have run away. As it was, he froze on the spot. The woman had smiled, and told him she was called Miss Wallace, and that she was the Head Librarian. She asked him if he liked books. Caw said nothing, but the woman must have seen a look of longing on his face.
“Wait here,” she’d said.
And against all his instincts and the advice of the crows, he had.
When the lady had emerged again, she was clutching a pile of colourful books, and a steaming cardboard cup. “You look cold,” she’d said.
Caw took a cautious sip. Hot chocolate. He closed his eyes, savouring the taste. It was rich and creamy, filling him up the way rainwater never did. She let him choose the books he liked the most – the ones with the fewest words. Maybe she guessed he couldn’t read, but she didn’t say so.
“Just bring them back the same time next week,” she’d said. “Leave them by the fire-escape steps at the back of the building if you’d rather not come in.”
Caw had nodded and tried to say “Thank you,” but he was so nervous he’d ended up mouthing it instead.
The following week he’d returned the books, and found another pile waiting for him with another cup of hot chocolate. It was the same the next week, and the one after that. Occasionally Miss Wallace would come out and say hello. Only once had she suggested she could ring someone – “to help him” – but Caw had shaken his head so violently that she hadn’t repeated the offer.
“What happened to your parents, Caw?”
Lydia’s question snapped him back to the present.
“I don’t mean to pry,” she added. “It’s just that most kids without parents go to an orphanage.”
“I don’t know,” said Caw cautiously. “I don’t remember.”
He couldn’t tell her about his dreams. She’d only laugh.
“But …” She trailed off. Maybe she could sense that he didn’t want to talk about it.
They stopped to cross the road.
Glum squawked, swooping down and landing on the traffic light. She’s nosey, this one, he said.
The library rose ahead. It looked a lot older than most of the buildings in Blackstone. Lydia strode towards the huge double doors, but Caw paused. Now he was here, he wasn’t so confident. Could he really just march right through the entrance?
“What are you waiting for?” said Lydia.
We’ll stay outside, said Glum, settling on the steps. Be careful.
Caw knew he looked foolish, so he steeled himself and climbed the steps. A few pigeons scattered out of the way, and Caw suddenly remembered the homeless man from two nights ago, outside the takeaway.
He was probably mad, like Screech had said, thought Caw.
At the top of the steps, Caw felt an odd prickle on the back of his neck. He had the curious sensation he was being watched, but when he turned no one was there. Just the windswept grass of the forecourt and a couple of empty benches. He followed Lydia through the door.
It was warm inside, and sweat immediately broke out over his forehead. The silence made him suddenly aware of the sound of his own breathing, and his eyes swept across the cavernous room. On the far side, rows of towering shelves held thousands of books, and around the top of the room ran a balcony with more shelves. In front were several desks, where people sat reading and writing quietly. On the left, near the entrance, was a curved table with a computer and lots of stacks of paper, and behind it was the librarian. She was leaning over a notepad with her glasses perched low on her nose, and as she looked up and saw Caw, her face broke into a wide smile.
“Well, hello you!” she said. Her eyes fell on Lydia and her eyebrows shot up. “And you’ve brought a friend, I see.”
Caw nodded.
“I’m Lydia Strickham,” said Lydia. “Pleased to meet you.”
“You can call me Miss Wallace,” the librarian said. “Now, what can I do for you two?”
Caw placed his books on the desk. “I … Can you …” he mumbled, blushing furiously. He felt like running right back through the door and into the cool air outside. “I need to find a book,” he said finally.
Miss Wallace clapped her hands together in pleasure. “Well, it’s about time!” she said. “I never knew if you liked the ones I was picking out for you or not. Now, what is it you’re looking for?”
Caw glanced around the huge room. “I want to know about spiders,” he said. “Unusual ones,” he added as an afterthought.
He could sense Lydia frowning, but for once she didn’t say anything.
Miss Wallace just smiled. “Follow me,” she said.
Caw trailed after her between the stacks, trying not to catch the eye of any of the other readers. He was sure they were looking at him, in his dirty black coat and ragged shoes. The librarian glanced at the shelves, slowed, then paused halfway down. “You’ll find natural history here,” she said, gesturing to a section of the shelf. “Let’s see.” She peered closer, then pulled out a book. “This one is an encyclopaedia of spider species,” she said, handing it to Caw. “There are a few other books on arthropods too. Spiders are a kind of arthropod, you see? I’ll be at the desk if you need anything else.”
Caw sat on the floor, glad to be out of sight, and Lydia flopped down beside him. “I thought we were coming so I could teach you to read,” she muttered. “But you’re thinking about the prisoner, aren’t you? The big guy in the alley with the creepy tattoo.”
Caw nodded, opening the book. “I recognised it,” he said.
“From where?”
“From a dream I had,” said Caw. “A dream about my parents.”
Lydia cocked her head. “I thought you didn’t remember anything about your parents.”
Caw sighed. He hardly knew what to tell her. He hardly knew what he really knew. “I can’t explain,” he said. “It feels like a memory. I’ve dreamt it so many times. Except the last time was different. There was this man … an evil man … he wore a ring with a picture of that spider on it.”
Lydia frowned, looking puzzled. “The same spider?”
“Exactly the same,” said Caw. “Will you help me look?”
They sat side by side, flicking through the images of spiders. None of them looked like the one they’d seen, with its looping body, its long, narrow legs, and the M design on its back.
After half an hour, Lydia stood up and stretched. “It’s not there,” she said. “Let’s ask Miss Wallace if she can help.”
“Find what you’re looking for?” asked the librarian cheerily, as they walked up to her desk.
Caw shook his head.
“We’re looking for a particular spider,” said Lydia, “But none of the books show it.”
“Hmm,” said Miss Wallace. “Could you draw it?”
“I think so,” said Lydia. Miss Wallace handed her a sheet of paper and a pencil. “The body was kind of like an S-shape,” Lydia muttered as she drew. She captured the shape almost perfectly. Just seeing it again made Caw shudder.
“Don’t forget the M in the middle,” he said. He took the pencil and made the adjustments.
Miss Wallace squinted at it through her glasses. “Are you sure this is a real spider?” she asked. “It looks more like a symbol or a logo.”
“I just want to know where it comes from,” Caw said. “It’s important.”
“Well, we get all sorts of experts and academics in the library,” said Miss Wallace. “Let me make a few calls. Could you come back tomorrow?”
Caw nodded. “Thank you,” he said.
“It’s no problem,” she said. “Would you like to take some more books out while you’re here?”
“Yes, please,” said Lydia, before Caw had a chance to reply.
When they left the library, Lydia’s bag was full of new books, and most of them had a lot more words than Caw was used to. Caw didn’t care though. He was still thinking about the spider. If he couldn’t find it among all those books, what hope did he have of discovering the truth about his dream?
They found Screech and Glum perched on the steps outside, watching a man sitting on a bench across the street eat a hamburger.
This guy’s not dropped a single crumb, said Screech, bitterly.
Find anything interesting? said Glum.
Caw shook his head. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t be depressed,” said Lydia. “Miss Wallace might come up with something.”
Caw kicked a stone down the pavement. “Maybe. Thanks for helping, anyway.”
“Hey,” said Lydia, “do you think the spider could have something to do with a gang? It could be their symbol, like Miss Wallace said. Were your parents in any sort of trouble?”
Best to forget about it, said Glum, landing ahead of them. Get back to normal.
“I don’t think so,” said Caw. “I don’t know.” There was a lot he didn’t know about them.
They reached the edge of the park at about midday.
“Listen,” said Lydia. “I have to go now. But why don’t you come to our house for dinner tonight?”
No way! said Screech.
Bad, bad idea, Glum added.
“Erm …” said Caw.
This has gone far enough, Glum cut in. First this girl sneaks into our nest, then she drags you halfway across the city, and now this!
“Come on!” said Lydia. “It’s the least we can do after you saved us from those prisoners. Think of it – a hot meal! You look like you could do with one.”
We don’t need her, said Screech, flapping. Caw noticed the splint on Screech’s leg. The crow hadn’t complained once about the injury since Lydia had put it on.
“Let me think about it,” said Caw.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “All right, think about it. Then come at seven o’clock.” She gave him a wave and hurried off towards her house, pausing to call back. “Oh, and you might want to take a bath.”
“I don’t have a …”
But she was already gone.
Caw climbed the park gates, breaking a spider web that glistened between two bars. The silk strands clung to his fingers. On his own again, he felt a little strange. He was used to being alone so if anything, he should feel relieved. But somehow he couldn’t get himself to be glad that Lydia was gone. He brushed away the webbing.
