The Crow Talker

by Jacob Grey

  She led him down a hallway lined with framed photographs, Benjy trotting alongside. The pictures were all of the Strickham family. There were beautiful porcelain and glass lamps giving off a soft green light. But it was the smell that Caw noticed the most. The aroma of food made his mouth water so much he was scared he might drool on the carpet.

  At the far end, a set of double-doors opened on to a huge table with candles in the middle and plates laid out. Caw could hardly believe, after watching so many times through the window, that he was finally inside. The warmth and softness seemed to draw him forward.

  Sitting at one end of the table reading a newspaper, a pair of spectacles perched at the end of his nose, was Mr Strickham.

  “Dad?” said Lydia.

  Mr Strickham turned, then started. “What the …” His mouth opened and closed and he stood up, staring at Caw. “Lydia, what’s this boy doing here?”

  With a horrible sinking feeling, Caw’s eyes swept over the table. It was set for three.

  “I invited him,” said Lydia. “To say thank you.”

  “You invited him?” said Mr Strickham.

  “I’ll go,” said Caw, turning.

  Lydia grabbed him. “No, you won’t,” she said. “Will he, Dad?”

  She glared at her father, whose eyes settled on Caw’s bare feet, before returning to his face.

  “And your name is?” he said.

  “He’s called Caw,” said Lydia. “Caw, this is my father.”

  Lydia’s dad took another second before he nodded briskly and held out a hand. He seemed to be doing his best to smile. Caw took the hand, glad that he’d given his nails a thorough scrub in the pond.

  At that moment, a woman entered the room, holding a steaming dish. She was slim, with softly curling red hair that she had pulled back into a loose bun, and she wore a pink apron over a pale dress. Caw recognised her at once. Lydia’s mother. Her eyes flashed wide in alarm when she saw him. “Who are you?” she said.

  “It seems Lydia has brought a … er, this … friend for dinner,” said Mr Strickham.

  “He’s our guest,” said Lydia. “He’s Caw. The boy who was there last night.”

  “I see,” said Mrs Strickham, narrowing her gaze. Caw began to feel uncomfortable under her intense stare.

  “We at least owe him dinner,” said Lydia. “I’ll get another plate.” She gestured to a chair. “Caw, sit there.”

  As Lydia left the room, Caw thought about turning and running away. They didn’t want him here, obviously. He should have listened to Glum and Screech. He tried to offer a smile, but he was pretty sure it came out more like a grimace. Mr Strickham nodded, as though he wasn’t sure how to respond. His wife just placed the dish gently on the table.

  “Please, take a seat,” said Lydia’s father.

  Caw did as he was told, leaving his hands at his sides as he sat down. Everything looked so clean! The walls, the floor, the tablecloth … He hardly dared move for fear of spreading dirt.

  Lydia soon returned, and everyone took their places at the table. Mrs Strickham lifted the lid off a platter to reveal a joint of meat. The smell made Caw’s mouth fill up with saliva all over again. He swallowed nervously.

  “So where do you live, Caw?” asked Mr Strickham, as he carved the meat with a huge knife.

  “Nearby.”

  “With your parents?” asked Mr Strickham.

  “No,” said Caw. “I live alone.”

  Mr Strickham’s expression suddenly turned severe. “You don’t look old enough,” he said.

  Lydia’s eyes darted to her father. Caw’s heart thumped with a rush of panic, and he racked his brains. If they found out he was only thirteen, they’d call the authorities.

  “He’s sixteen,” said Lydia.

  “Really?” said Mr Strickham. “I only ask because …”

  “I am,” lied Caw. “I’m sixteen.”

  “Stop interrogating him, Dad,” said Lydia. She laid a plate in front of Caw, heaped with meat, potatoes and vegetables, all smothered in gravy. “Dig in,” she said.

  Caw looked up and Mrs Strickham nodded. She seemed a little pale, Caw noticed. “I hope you like it,” she said.

  Caw picked up a slice of meat and sank his teeth in. He almost groaned in pleasure. It was like nothing he’d ever tasted, soft in texture and almost sweet. He took another bite and the sauce dribbled over his hands. He bit into a potato and almost had to spit it out because it was so hot. He opened his mouth and sucked in breaths of cold air before chewing furiously and swallowing. Then he took a handful of something green and pushed it in as well. The flavours mingled wonderfully. Some fell out on to his plate, so he crammed it back in. He swallowed thickly again and licked the rich sauce off his fingers and his wrist.

  It was quiet at the table, he realised, and when he looked up he saw all three members of the Strickham family staring at him, open-mouthed. They were holding knives and forks. Caw blushed to the roots of his hair.

  “He’s not used to company,” said Lydia quickly.

  “Sorry,” said Caw. “This is delicious.” He picked up the knife and fork, but they felt all wrong in his hands. Mrs Strickham watched him curiously, slowly slicing her food and placing a small morsel in her mouth.

  The dinner proceeded in silence. Caw barely looked up, and though he tried to pace himself, he soon finished what was on his plate. Lydia gave him more without asking.

  “You seem hungry, Caw,” said Mr Strickham. “When was the last time you ate?”

  Caw thought back to the apples and chocolate Lydia had given him. “Earlier today,” he said.

  “You know, I might be able to find you some … support,” said Mr Strickham, laying down his knife and fork.

  Caw frowned.

  “The city can look after children who haven’t—”

  “I’m sixteen,” said Caw, a little too loudly.

  “There’s no need to be aggressive,” said Mr Strickham. “I’m only trying to help you.”

  “Leave him alone, Dad,” said Lydia.

  Mr Strickham shot her a glare. “Don’t raise your voice at me, young lady. Not after your disobedience last night.”

  “Without Caw and his crows, we’d be dead,” said Lydia. “I just think we should respect his privacy.”

  Mr Strickham seemed about to say something, then laid down his knife and fork. “You’re right, Lydia.” He smiled at Caw. “I’m sorry.”

  “Did you say crows, dear?” Mrs Strickham asked.

  “Yes,” Lydia answered. “Caw has these three tame crows that hang around him. Two of them attacked the prisoner in the alley last night.”

  “How very strange,” Mrs Strickham said. Her brow furrowed and she cleared her throat. “I’m going to the bathroom. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood up and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a crisp napkin, then left the room.

  Caw noticed a movement at the window – a fluttering of wings. It was Screech, perched outside. His heart sank. That was the last thing he needed – just when he seemed to have won them over. Caw gave a jerk of his hand, to say “Go away!”

  A sudden barking sounded from the hallway.

  “Quiet down, Benjy!” called Mr Strickham. “So Caw, have you always lived in Blackstone?”

  The barks became frantic.

  “What’s got into him?” said Lydia. She stood up and walked out of the room. Not alone again, thought Caw.

  But a second later Lydia gave a piercing scream.

  “Lydia!” shouted Mr Strickham. He was on his feet at the same time as Caw, both rushing towards the hall.

  Caw skidded to a halt, trying to work out what he was seeing. Benjy cowered at the bottom of the stairs, barking madly, as Lydia screamed and screamed.

  Lying on the carpet was a snake. Grey-scaled and about three metres long, its body was coiled, but its snub-like head lifted from the ground. Mr Strickham grabbed Caw as he tried to spring forwards. “No, stay back!” he said.

  “Get away from my dog!”
Lydia cried. “Benjy!”

  The snake darted forwards, and Benjy’s bark became a whimper as its fangs caught his leg and held on. The dog growled and snapped and rolled, until it squirmed free. With a hiss, the snake turned and slithered straight at Lydia, its gleaming jade eyes watching her every movement.

  Caw tore his arm from Mr Strickham’s grip. He seized the lamp standing in the hallway, tugged its cord free of the socket and threw it at the snake. Glass and china exploded across the floor. Caw seized another lamp and hefted it above his head. The scaly creature darted away, towards an open vent in the wall. Before anyone could stop it, it slid into the darkness.

  Caw put the lamp down. His blood was pumping hard.

  “Benjy?” murmured Lydia. She crouched beside her dog. He was lying on his side, eyes staring, panting rapidly. Two tooth marks were horribly visible on his leg, oozing blood.

  Mr Strickham slammed the vent cover back against the wall. He tightened the screws, just as his wife came rushing into the hall. “What’s going on?” she asked in a high-pitched voice. Her eyes took in the remains of the lamp, then Benjy and Lydia, and finally Caw.

  “It was a snake,” said Mr Strickham. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did it come from?”

  Mrs Strickham glared at Caw, as though it was somehow his fault, then walked to Lydia’s side. “Was he bitten?” she said.

  Lydia nodded, tears streaming down her face as she cradled her dog. “He’s hardly breathing!”

  Caw watched as the dog’s body trembled and twitched, then suddenly sagged over Lydia’s knees. The dog’s big eyes kept staring, but the light was gone from them.

  “Benjy!” whispered Lydia.

  Mrs Strickham put a hand on her daughter’s back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she said.

  “No!” said Lydia. “Call the vet!”

  Mrs Strickham pulled her daughter into an embrace as the dog lay limp across her lap. “He’s gone,” she said, hugging her daughter as she wept. “He’s gone.”

  Caw just stood there, feeling helpless.

  Mr Strickham had one hand pressed against his forehead, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened. At last he gestured towards the door, looking at Caw. “I’m sorry, but we need to be alone.”

  Caw nodded, stunned into silence. He’d seen a grass-snake or two in the park before – Glum said they were a delicacy – but never anything that size, and never anything poisonous. Not in Blackstone. He wanted to comfort Lydia too, but Mr Strickham was already ushering him out.

  “Thank you for dinner,” stammered Caw, gathering up his shoes. “If there’s anything I can—”

  The door closed behind him.

  Screech and Glum were waiting by the car. We tried to warn you, said Screech. We saw the snake go in through the drain.

  We got it, though, said Glum. Look! He twitched his beak, gesturing to the ground beside the car. The snake lay in an S-shape, lifeless, blood spreading out from its body.

  Too late for Benjy.

  Caw turned from the dead snake and stumbled down the path, leaving the crows behind, his mind still working.

  Hey, where are you going? called Glum indignantly.

  The snake had come up through the drain. Someone must have let it loose in there. Suddenly he heard footsteps, receding fast. Caw swerved into the road, heart thumping. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but as they did he saw a shape in the distance, running down the pavement away from Lydia’s house. A tall, dark figure. His heart froze.

  A young woman with black hair.

  The escaped prisoner.

  y the time the morning sun filtered through the trees, Caw was aching but wide awake. His skin tingled in the chill air.

  He’d spent the night in the branches opposite the Strickham’s house, despite Glum and Screech urging him to return to the nest. He hadn’t slept a wink. What if the woman had returned? Or Jawbone, or the creepy little man? Caw remembered Jawbone’s fearlessness in the alley. The venomous snake was gone now, its body dropped in a flowerbed in the park by Glum and Screech. But it couldn’t be a coincidence – the prisoners must have set it loose. Obviously they wanted revenge on Warden Strickham.

  The sun rose higher in the sky, and still there was sign of movement from the house.

  Well I am glad we sat here all night, said Glum, with a disgruntled warble. Not to mention all morning too. Can we go get some sleep now?

  Screech was huddled further along the branch. Let’s go back to the nest, they won’t come back now.

  “Soon,” said Caw, stretching his arms.

  You can’t stay here all day! said Screech.

  Caw didn’t want to leave. But it didn’t look as though the Strickhams were going to show themselves. Besides, maybe the crow was right – the prisoners probably wouldn’t attack in broad daylight.

  “All right,” he muttered at last. “Come on.”

  Just as he reached the top of the park wall, Lydia’s bedroom curtains swept open. She stood there in her pyjamas looking right at him. From her grey face he guessed that she hadn’t slept much either. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as though she’d been crying.

  She mouthed, “Wait there!” and closed the curtains again.

  “Change of plan,” Caw told the crows.

  A few minutes later, Lydia came out of the house, dressed in her jeans, trainers, a green top and a puffy white bodywarmer. Caw slipped down from the wall. “I’m sorry about Benjy,” he said.

  For a moment Lydia’s face crumpled, but she blinked the tears back. “It’s not your fault,” she said softly. “I just don’t understand. Where did that snake come from?”

  “I saw someone last night,” said Caw. He didn’t want to scare Lydia, but he couldn’t keep it from her either. “Straight after I left. I think it was one of the prisoners – a woman, running away from your house.”

  “Here?” said Lydia. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I … I didn’t want to intrude,” said Caw. “Your dad had just told me to leave.”

  Lydia’s lips pressed together. “You think she had something to do with the snake?” she said.

  “Maybe,” said Caw. “I’ve never seen a snake like that in Blackstone before.”

  “I have, but only in the zoo,” said Lydia. “Mum thought it might have escaped.” Lydia looked back up at the house. “I’m scared. Dad’s had threats before, but nothing like this.”

  Caw wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how. So instead he changed the subject. “We should go to the library,” he said. “Maybe Miss Wallace found out something about that spider.”

  “Good thinking,” said Lydia. “It might even help Dad track down the prisoners.”

  Hold up, said Screech, from the wall above. You’re not seriously going to hang around with her are you? She’s dangerous! Her and her dad.

  Lydia looked up at the crow’s sound.

  “Oh, I didn’t see them there,” she said. “Hello, crows!”

  Screech is right, said Glum, peering down at Lydia with disapproval. I vote we go back to the nest and lie low until this has all blown over.

  Caw felt a surge of anger, but kept his voice steady. “I’m going,” he said. “That’s the end of it.”

  Lydia cast a glance at the crows. “They don’t like me, do they?” she said.

  “It’s not that,” said Caw. “They’re just worried about me.”

  I’m serious, said Glum. Nothing good can come of this spider business. Why can’t you forget it?

  Caw rounded on the bird. “Look, Glum, do you know something you’re not telling me? Because if you do, spit it out.”

  Glum turned his head away. All I know is that Milky spoke, said the crow. And that never happens. He may have lost his marbles, but I didn’t like what he said.

  Lydia was looking confused. “Glum?” she said. “Is that his name?”

  Caw took a deep breath. “I think that prisoner had something to do with my parents,” he said calmly t
o the crows. “You can’t expect me to sit in a tree my whole life and just forget about them.” For once, the crows were silent.

  Glum twitched his beak. Do what you think you have to, he said.

  Caw had grown used to Glum’s moods over the years. The old crow could be stubborn, but this was different. He seemed almost hurt.

  Well, too bad. Caw didn’t need looking after.

  “Come on,” he said to Lydia. “Let’s go.”

  They’d walked halfway along the side of the park when Caw realised the crows hadn’t followed. He looked back and saw Glum and Screech both perched where he’d left them, watching.

  Then it hit him. They’re jealous of Lydia. They’re annoyed that I’m not relying on them for once.

  “Is everything OK?” asked Lydia.

  “It’s fine,” said Caw, his voice cold. He turned away from his crows and kept walking. It was time he stood up to them and did things on his own terms.

  From the park there were several routes into the city. Caw tended to clamber across the rooftops, following the back alleys or the railway tracks, but today they took the main street lined with warehouses and auto-repair shops. For a while, he was silent, stewing over his argument with the crows, wondering if he should have said anything differently. But as they reached the edges of the city, where the tall apartment buildings and shops began to appear, Lydia broke the silence.

  “You know, when you said you spoke to crows, I didn’t really get it,” she said. “But you actually speak with them, don’t you? You really understand what they’re saying.”

  “Yes,” said Caw. “Ever since they …” Ever since a murder of crows took him away from his parents, he’d been about to say, but he didn’t know how she’d react to that.

  “You can tell me,” Lydia said. She placed a hand on his arm, and he managed not to flinch away.

  “I’ve never told anyone.”

  “Try me,” she replied. “Please. I need something to take my mind off Benjy.”

  Caw glanced at her to check she wasn’t smiling. She looked back, her face open and honest. He stopped walking and took a deep breath. Was he really ready to share this now? “They’ve always looked after me,” he said slowly. “I can’t remember much before the crows.”