The Birds, They're Back

by Wendy Reakes

  All that happened within seconds, quicker than it took him to describe it.

  As his mother writhed beneath the crow, it took all of Bill’s strength to grab it and pull it off her. Bill could have sworn the bird had it in his mind to come after him too, but wisely, and swiftly, it flew off into the sky.

  “Mother,” Bill shouted. She had turned on her side, covering her face with her hands. Bill turned her onto her back and pulled away her arms. Bill had only ever seen his mother cry once, that was when Denis had passed, but now she was crying tears of red. She kept her eyes closed struggling to cover up her eyes with her hands. Once again, as he sat at her side, he pulled them away. “Let me see, mother,” he commanded.

  She shook her head. “I can’t open my eye, son. I think it got pecked out.”

  He managed to lift her lids carefully while she pulled at his wrists. Her eyes were still there. Thank God, thought Bill.

  Strategically, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Dolly always insisted he had a clean one each day. ‘You never know,' she always said, ‘when a lady in distress might need it.'

  Still folded in four, he placed it over Gladys’ eye. “Hold it there, while I get you up,” he said.

  He pulled her to her feet and swung her whole body up into his arms. Light as a feather she was, not like those birds.

  When he drove up to the house, Dolly was waiting at the door. She ran out when she saw Glady’s in the passenger seat with a bloodied handkerchief on her face. “What happened?’ she yelled.

  “I’ll get her inside first, love,” he said. He didn’t want to say too much in front of Gladys, lest she got herself all worked up again.

  He laid her down on the sofa in the small sitting room. “Light a fire, Dolly. She’s had a shock.” He covered her with a blanket and brushed the grey hair away from her face.

  When Dolly came in with her small medical kit, Bill picked up the phone and dialled the doctor. Engaged. He replaced the receiver. “I should take her down there, Dolly.”

  “Yes, I think that would be wise. She’ll need a tetanus shot I bet.”

  Then Gladys piped up. “Don’t go fussing, Bill Hock. Nothing wrong with me that a nice cup of tea won’t fix.”

  She sat up as Dolly sat at her side on the sofa. She took the handkerchief from her face and had a good look at her eye. “I don’t think the eye is damaged,” she said. “The blood is coming from a cut at the side. Her eye is just bloodshot.” As Gladys complained about the fact she still hadn’t had a cup of tea, Dolly said, “We can get it cleaned and then you can take her down, Bill.”

  “Aye. All right, love.”

  The day had turned into a dramatic one. What with everything else going on, now Bill had his mother to worry about. He found himself wishing they’d put off those visitors. He looked at the clock. Twelve. They’d be well on their way by now. No chance of catching them at that late hour.

  He went outside and saw the children playing near the barn.

  Across the south field, he saw movement in the trees.

  He focused his eyes.

  The birds were back.

  Gladys was calmer after two cups of tea sipped from Dolly's best china. She always had hers from a cup and saucer. No modern clumsy mugs for her, she always said. And she liked a Rich Tea biscuit at the side of the cup. She said the tea went down better with a biscuit.

  Dolly was swilling out the cups to place them upside down on the draining board. “I haven’t been able to get a hold of Nancy or Arthur.”

  “You want me to go over?”

  "No, it's alright. You've got enough to do. I can pop along." She put a jar inside a cardboard box on the table. Provisions for the holiday cottage. "I'd forgotten all about the city folk."

  “They’ll be here soon.”

  “Can you take the box up then, Bill? You know I like them to have it when they arrive. I’ve got those fresh towels too.”

  "Aye, all right."

  Then they heard a car drive up.

  The city folk had arrived.

  "They're early," Dolly said, looking as if she could do without people coming down for a holiday.

  “Aye,” Bill said. “I’ll take mother down later then. I’ll see to the visitors first.”

  "All right, love."

  Bill went outside.

  The car was a white sport with a soft top. It looked out of place on their old farm. Still, he assured himself that city folk liked a bit of rustic, so they wouldn’t think too badly of them.

  Bill tipped his cap as the driver wound down the window. He turned off the engine and stepped out. The lady in the passenger seat stayed in the car.

  “Mr Hock?” said Harry Fear. They shook hands. “Have you had any trouble with birds?”

  End of part one

  Part Two

  Chapter 9

  Ellen closed the till and went upstairs to the flat above the restaurant. She’d just tidy herself up before they opened for lunch. It was a nice day. They shouldn’t have to use the outside heaters if the sun kept up. She’d already opened the doors leading to the terrace, just to get some air in the place, but she may have to close them when the diners started coming in. It may not be warm enough for that.

  She wondered if Harry had arrived in Cornwall yet. She looked at the clock. Twelve.

  She’d texted him earlier. Did you get those candles? She’d chuckled to herself as she typed. He still hadn’t replied.

  She put the key into the lock and let herself into the flat. She didn’t like going up there since Harry had met Melanie. Ellen’s emotions were still too raw, and evidence of Melanie was all over the place: photos, clothes, a pair of slippers left next to the bed…

  Ellen had only been up there once before over the last six months. That was to deliver Harry some mail when he was sick with the flu. She’d let herself in and bumped into Melanie in the little kitchen. It was the very first time they’d met and the whole event had felt very uncomfortable. Ellen had thrown down the mail on Harry’s bed and left as quickly as she’d arrived. Humiliating didn’t even cover it.

  She went into the bathroom. The whole room was cluttered with Melanie’s products, but Ellen noticed her toothbrush was missing from the glass at the side of the sink. That was a poignant moment for Ellen. She hated Harry, but she loved him too. How messed up was that?

  She ran a brush through her hair and tied it back into a messy bun before putting on a bit of lipstick. She was wearing a black skirt and a white blouse with a pale blue cashmere cardigan over the top. Her shoes were almost flat. She couldn’t run around the wooden floors in high heels. It would kill her calves.

  When she was happy that she was presentable, Ellen went back downstairs.

  The first customers were entering the restaurant. She greeted them as if they were old friends. She and Harry prided themselves on their service. ‘Friendly and efficient,’ they called it. ‘Not over the top!’ Sometimes, Ellen wished she was still worked at the restaurant. She wouldn’t tell Harry that though. He’d only take advantage of the fact.

  She’d met Harry whilst walking along the side of the River Avon. She’d had her dog with her. She was dead now. As Ellen took a rest on a bench at the side of the walkway, Harry, out walking himself, had leaned down and petted her dog. “What breed is she?”

  “Cavachon,” she’d said. “Cross between a Cavalier and a Bichon Frise,”

  “She’s cute.”

  “Yes, she’s a darling. No trouble whatsoever.” That had been a lie, of course. She had ripped up many of Ellen’s shoes over the course of her short life on earth.

  So, that's how they'd got together after Harry asked her to have lunch with him at a little restaurant next to the river. The Boathouse. “I’m going to buy this place one day,” he’d said. The rest was history.

  One of the waitresses took the first table’s order while another party of four came in through the door. Here we go, thought Ellen as the restaurant began to fill up.

  By two
o’clock they were so busy, the chefs in the kitchen were under a lot of pressure.

  Outside on the terrace, people wrapped blankets around themselves to keep warm. The sun was still up but the temperature had dropped, so the blankets were a relief for the ones who wanted to enjoy the view. The barge on the left side was open for drinkers, but they didn’t serve food on there, not unless the customers wanted to take it over themselves. Some did.

  From the terrace, Ellen saw one of her waitresses go along the gangplank to collect some glasses.

  It was there, right then, that the whole day came crashing down when the birds attacked.

  Chapter 10

  Driving across country, after they'd left the motorway at Exeter, Harry and Melanie saw some strange behaviour from a bunch of birds crowding the branches of the trees along the roadside. Other flocks flew overhead in massive numbers and they noticed a few overturned cars at the side of the road. while dead birds laid scattered here and there. "Look at the birds," Melanie said, pointing upwards through the windscreen.

  They were flying between the trees as if they were playing some sort of game. “Strange,” said Harry as he kept driving, doing a good sensible speed along the narrow lanes. “I’ve never seen so many birds at one time. Maybe it’s the mating season.”

  Melanie chuckled. “The girl birds in one tree and the boy birds in the other.”

  He laughed. “Just like you and me baby,” he said reaching over and rubbing her leg. “And we’ve got the whole weekend to be in one tree, together.”

  “Aw,” she said as she rubbed the back of his hand.

  Yes, so far, the weekend felt good, Harry thought as he kept on driving towards their destination.

  When they arrived at the farm, Harry watched Bill Hock come out of his house towards the car. He’d already established his host was a big guy, a young farmer type, sporting a faded flat cap on his head.

  “Mr Hock,” Harry said reaching out his hand. “Have you had any trouble with birds?”

  “That’s a good question,” Bill answered. “Why? Have you seen anything going on up north?”

  Harry shook his head. “Just heard a few reports on the news.”

  “Aye. Seems like they’re out of sorts. Like a madness has seized them. Strange behaviour for our Cornish birds.”

  “Strange, how?” Harry regarded Bill’s house. All the windows were boarded up and Harry thought that was strange.

  “Erratic. It might have something to do with the black winter.”

  “Black winter?”

  “No snow coming,” he said.

  Harry smiled and nodded. He took the comment as the wise perspective of a Cornish farming guy using the elements of the seasons and the behaviour of their feathered friends to predict the coming winter; snow or no snow.

  “Or it could be because of the east wind,” he added.

  Now, Harry didn’t know what it was all about. Was it the black winter or the east wind? Or was it the mating season? Harry was at odds about the whole thing. Still, the only thing he cared about right then was getting Melanie into the cottage and straight into bed.

  "Come to think of it," Harry said leaning again the hood of the car with his arms crossed. "I took my daughter into a pet shop yesterday and the birds started going crazy. Then my other daughter Gemma got hit by a bird outside the college. That was weird."

  The big guy tutted and ahh-ed. “I'll drive into the village later,” Bill Hock said. “Find out what the locals know.”

  He pointed to the car. Melanie was getting impatient, looking through the windscreen, making eyes at him. “You can follow me up to the cottage.” Bill tipped his hat before he walked over to his own truck, a 4x4. A monster. Harry admired it. It was the sort of car he would drive if he lived in the country.

  He saw two young children rushing out of the house before jumping into the back of the truck. Then Mrs Hock came out and waved at them. She was young, about thirty-five and good-looking too. Harry considered Bill Hock to be a very lucky man indeed.

  Through the car window, Harry waved back as they waited for Bill to start his truck. They watched as his wife handed him a box with a black bag resting on the top.

  Then Mr Hock drove off slowly as Harry, driving Melanie’s car, followed.

  Bill waited as the children piled in the back of the truck. Dolly came out carrying the box of provisions for the cottage with a black bag resting on top. He guessed it was probably the towels. She had her coat on. “Where are you off, then?”

  "I still can't get an answer from Nancy and Arthur, so I was going to walk over. I wanted to ask them if they were still having trouble with their chickens…I'm wondering if it's the feed…" her voice drifted off as she pondered that. "Perhaps I'll wait for you to get back so that you can take mother to the doctors."

  “Aye. Don’t leave her on her own.”

  “Of course, I won’t, Bill,” she said. “You won’t be long, will you?”

  “No. I’ll just settle them in and then I’ll be back.”

  Dolly handed the box through the window. “Only half a dozen eggs,” she said. “I feel a bit mean, but will you explain to them that we’ve had problems with the chickens laying?” She whispered that part.

  “They won’t care. They’re city folk.”

  “They still eat eggs, don’t they?”

  “Aye, I suppose,” he said glancing inside the box. “Just the milk, bread and a bit of cheddar then?”

  “And a jar of my piccalilli.”

  Bill put it on the passenger seat. The kids were in the back getting bored.

  “You know, Bill. I’ve been thinking,” Dolly said. “What will the villagers say if it's just us having problems with birds? They might think we've got rats or something.”

  “Why would they think that?”

  “Well, if we did have rats, then it could be the droppings attracting the birds.”

  Bill shook his head. “I don't think that's right.”

  “Well, I hope not, I've been telling you for months to get that barn cleared out.”

  “Don’t say that to mother. She won’t like you saying there might be rats about.”

  “Of course, I won’t. Oh, Bill, my nerves are shot away. They really are.”

  “Aye, I know, but don’t fret. We’ve probably seen the last of those birds.” He wanted to get going since one of the children was kicking the back of his seat. “I won’t be long, then,” he said.

  As they drove away, in his wing mirror, he saw Dolly waving to the visitors as they followed on behind.

  Up ahead dark clouds were forming. Rain coming, Bill thought.

  Four minutes later they pulled up at the cottage. The children jumped out and ran for the beach. Bill had no cause to worry until he remembered what had happened yesterday when he’d gone down to bury the birds. He called after them. “Stay where I can see you.”

  They waved back, so he knew they’d heard.

  He opened the door to the cottage, carrying the box of provisions under one arm. He kept the door open since there was little light inside.

  “Why is it so dark?” the woman asked. She was a smart city type wearing an expensive looking jacket. Bill wished Dolly had some clothes like that, but she always said she preferred her scruffs to any fancy garments. Besides, she did have one dress which she kept in the wardrobe for best. She’d worn it a few times over the years and each time she looked lovelier, in Bill’s eyes.

  "I closed the shutters earlier on," he said reaching over and testing the windows were shut tight. "Might be best if you keep them closed what with everything that's going on."

  “What do you mean?” she asked. She was standing in the doorway watching Harry bring in the bags.

  “The birds.”

  She frowned as if he'd said something strange. Well he had, hadn't he? Bill thought to himself.

  Harry came in and looked about, he nodded and smiled, looking as if he approved of the place. This is my girlfriend Melanie,” he said.
/>   Girlfriend? Bill thought they were Mr and Mrs Fear. Now, he realised why the children Harry had mentioned weren’t there with them. Bill and Dolly never went anywhere without their two. They’d feel lost without them, besides, once a family, always a family, in his opinion.

  “Call me Bill.” He shook the lady’s hand even though she looked like she didn’t want to. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. He put the box on the table. “Only six eggs, I’m afraid. Our chickens haven’t been laying.”

  “You’ve got your own chickens?” said Melanie.

  “Aye,” Bill thought that was a strange thing to say.

  They looked around while Bill went out to the truck to start bringing in wood. He stacked it next to the fire. “This should be enough to keep you going,” he said. “I can always bring you more.” He pointed to the outside. “Some guests like to make a campfire out the front, so you can do that if you want.”

  Bill smiled at the lady while she opened and closed the cupboards in the tiny kitchen. “Where’s the dishwasher?” she asked.

  Bill pouted. "Not got one of those, but there's washing-up liquid and a bowl under the sink."

  He'd tell Dolly about that one. She'd laugh at the thought of having a dishwasher. ‘What's wrong with a pair of rubber gloves?' she'd say.

  He went into the hall and turned down the heating and put it back on timer. At its side were instructions on how to set it. He stored the towels in the bathroom and brought out two tea towels for the kitchen. He put the empty black bag in the cupboard under the sink. “I’ll leave you to it then. If you need anything, just come down to the house.”

  Then Bill heard the children screaming.

  Out of the cottage he went as fast as his legs would take him towards the cliff top and the sea. He stopped when he saw, Lucy and Toby running and laughing with the waves washing up on the shore.