by Jacob Grey
“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.”
aw always felt on edge when he went out in the daytime. At night, when he scoured the city for food and supplies, the darkness protected him from prying eyes. It allowed him to move freely through the streets and along rooftops. But down on the ground, under the glare of sunshine, he felt exposed. Cars gridlocked the streets and hundreds of people filled the pavements and shops. He told himself the people weren’t looking at him, but it never helped.
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 wi
th 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.
Thank goodness we shook her off, said Glum. Let’s get back to the nest and have a nice nap, shall we?
As Caw reached the bottom of his tree, his eyes caught a movement, something scurrying away into a bush.
Was that a rat? said Screech.
“I think it was a mouse,” said Caw.
Same difference, said Glum. They’re all dinner.
Caw pulled his T-shirt collar up to his nose and sniffed. “What did she mean, ‘take a bath’?”
You’re not going to go, are you? said Glum, already settling on a low branch.
“No,” said Caw, as he started to climb. “Well, maybe.”
lum perched up ahead on the wing-mirror of Mr Strickham’s car. It’s not too late to turn back, he said.
Caw steeled himself and kept walking. In the distance, the bells of Blackstone Cathedral were ringing out seven o’clock. The sun still peeked above the trees, throwing Caw’s long shadow ahead of him, but already the foxes had started prowl
ing. Caw saw one darting through the bushes as he approached the Strickham’s house.
We could go and raid the bins, said Screech. Rich pickings!
“I want to do this,” he told them.
You don’t look like it, said Glum. You’re all pale.
Caw tried to ignore them. It didn’t matter whether he wanted to come or not – he felt like he owed it to Lydia. She might be a bit pushy, but she’d come to the library with him and she’d mended Screech’s leg.
As he reached the doorstep he saw his reflection distorted in the huge polished knocker. He gave his armpit a quick sniff. He’d washed as well as he could in pond-water, and flattened his hair with an old comb, but he still felt like a fraud. At least he’d managed to find a new pair of shoes. Someone had thrown them into a skip. They were a size too small, and one had a hole in the toe, so Caw had cut the end off the other one to make them match. From his suitcase he’d selected a black T-shirt, only slightly torn at the collar. It had a paint stain on the back, but as long as he didn’t take off his long black coat, no one would know.
He lifted the knocker, heart beating fast. Then froze.
What was he thinking?
“I can’t do this,” he muttered. He let the knocker down gently and backed away.
He’s seen sense! said Screech, tapping his talons on the top of Mr Strickham’s car. So what’s it going to be? Indian food? Chinese?
The door opened suddenly, making Caw’s heart leap, and there stood Lydia, wearing some sort of green woollen dress. She looked smart. Much smarter than Caw. “I knew you’d come!” she said.
Before he could say anything, she grabbed his arm and tugged him into the house, leaving the squawking crows outside. Immediately Lydia’s dog, Benjy, began sniffing around his ankles. Benjy was white with brown patches, and had bulgy eyes and floppy ears. Caw found himself at the bottom of a wide staircase, standing on a thick pale carpet. He saw in horror that his shoes had already left a black smudge of dirt on it. “I’m sorry!” he said. “I’ll take them off.”
As he slipped his feet out, a memory of the dream came back, and the carpet at his parents’ house – bare skin sinking into luxurious softness – until he noticed Lydia looking down at his shoes and fighting a smile. “Come on!” she said. “Dinner’s almost ready.”