Kite Spirit

by Sita Brahmachari

  There was the determined little hammering of the woodpecker again, working away at the tree.

  Kite agreed. Even without her visions of Dawn, there was no denying that this place had a charged atmosphere.

  As Garth packed his rucksack he took out a newspaper wrapping she recognized, dipped his towel in the water, wrung it out and wrapped it around Jack’s trout. ‘That should keep it cool.’

  ‘Where did you get that?’ Kite asked.

  ‘Your dad brought it over. He’s fair cut up about old Jack going, isn’t he? Gran will be too. Still, I’ll cook this up and take the bones back to the sculpture as your dad wanted.’ Garth sighed deeply. ‘I dread giving Gran the news.’

  ‘I thought they didn’t like each other, Jack and her?’

  ‘Not sure what’s gone on between them . . . exactly. All I know is Gran got it into her head that Mirror Falls wasn’t a good place for her, because the owls kept crashing into the windows.’ Garth paused for a minute. ‘Whatever it was they fell out about, it had something to do with that place. They’d been great friends before, but they never spoke again after it was built.’

  The kites let out a screech. Garth lay back on the mossy ground, crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at them. Kite lay down beside him, both now looking up at the sky where the great birds circled, their wings casting shadows on the lake below.

  ‘What are they looking for?’ asked Kite.

  ‘I suppose they’re just staking out their territory, protecting their nests.’

  ‘Is that what you’re doing with your sculpture?’

  ‘Not sure, but now you put it like that . . . !’

  ‘I wish it would rain soon.’

  Garth turned to her in surprise and laughed. ‘Most folk want it to be sunny forever, but I know what you mean. I could do with a change myself. Anyway, as soon as the reservoir starts to fill, my sheep’s going under so that’ll be the end of that one! I could do with starting something fresh anyway.’

  It was not until they were high up on the path, surrounded by bracken, that Garth explained that they were walking the ‘Corpse Road’ where once the dead had been carried over the hills to the nearest graveyard.

  ‘Why is everything about this place so full of death?’ Kite sighed.

  She could feel Garth’s piercing stare as she looked out over the sunlit fell.

  ‘Life and death all wrapped up together,’ he said. ‘Jack must have known these fells like the lines on his own face.’

  Little wisps of clouds were crossing the sky like a flotilla of ghost ships.

  As they walked Garth pointed out patches of yellow and blue flowers that clung on inside the crevices; some of them he told her had been around since the Ice Age. ‘Delicate-looking things, but tough as rock,’ he smiled, picking off a tiny blue star-shaped head and placing it in Kite’s hand. Is that how he saw her? Delicate but tough? That’s how she’d felt before Dawn . . . and maybe that’s how she would feel again one day.

  ‘Dawn’s favourite flowers are bluebells!’ Kite told him.

  ‘Who’s Dawn?’

  Of course she had never once talked of Dawn to him, and there was no reason anyone else would have either.

  ‘My best friend.’

  She didn’t know how or why it was so much easier to talk to this quietly spoken boy of sparse words than to any of her family or friends, or Miss Choulty, or Dr Sherpa. But as they walked in the sunshine, it seemed natural for her to tell him about Dawn. Maybe it was because he wasn’t connected to anyone who had ever known her. Or perhaps it was because he didn’t try to force her to talk. As she finally released the words she felt strangely numb, as if she was telling someone else’s story.

  Garth listened as she retraced her steps backwards to the Falling Day. He did not say much, except to acknowledge her words with the occasional nod or glance her way. At one point, when she felt she’d said all there was to say, he took her hand in his and they’d walked on in silence.

  ‘You talk about her like she’s still here with you,’ he said after a long pause, and the words had started to flow again. Now she told him about the Dawn owl at Mirror Falls; seeing her image in a rock pool and in Kite Carrec; Dawn’s music that seemed to flow in and out of her; and finally, her idea to bury Dawn’s reed in the sheep sculpture to lay her spirit to rest.

  ‘That would be a fair place to settle,’ was all he said as they stepped across a narrow part of a stream, where a bank of tiny stones blocked the path of the water.

  ‘That’s exactly how I feel, as if I’ve been dammed up,’ Kite explained.

  ‘It’s good you’re talking now,’ Garth said as they sat down by the stream.

  Garth picked one stone off the little dam and held his hand out to Kite as if to say, your turn.

  They removed a stone each until the tiniest ripple of water began to flow between the remaining stones.

  ‘Sounds to me like it was your friend who was all dammed up inside.’ Garth stood up again and offered her his hand once more as they crossed the stream. ‘Dawn was why you’d been crying when I first met you.’

  Kite nodded. ‘Crying in my sleep. I don’t seem to have any tears for her when I’m awake.’

  ‘It looked like you’d been crying for a long time,’ Garth commented.

  ‘Is that why you were staring at me?’

  ‘Partly . . .’ He smiled, looking into Kite’s eyes.

  They walked on in silence for a while. It was as if her telling him about Dawn had sealed something between them. Later she found herself talking about her love of running and Annalisa and Circus Space and how it had always been her dream to fly on the cloud swing.

  ‘I’d like to see you do that one day,’ he said.

  Kite wondered how it was possible to feel this at ease with someone you hardly knew.

  ‘Recognize this place?’ Garth asked. He had brought her over the fell and they now stood at the bottom of the track that led up to Mirror Falls. Kite had no idea how they had found their way back.

  As Garth walked her up the track she realized that she had spent all day talking about Dawn, and he’d walked beside her and listened, not even interrupting with questions. But now she thought about it, what did she actually know about him?

  ‘Where are your mum and dad?’

  ‘I live with my mam, just up the coast. My dad went off to New Zealand,’ Garth explained.

  ‘What’s he doing there?’

  ‘Married again.’ Garth shrugged as if it didn’t bother him. ‘He’s got a new family now. It happened ages ago.’

  Kite turned to Garth and was surprised to see tears welling in his eyes. As she placed a hand on his arm, the knot inside her unravelled a little more and she felt the emotion rise up in her.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ Garth apologized as he turned back towards her, no sign of tears now. ‘I don’t know what’s got into me. I think it’s with you talking about how much you miss your friend. It made me think – at least I could see my dad, if I wanted.’

  ‘And you do want to?’ Kite asked gently.

  Garth nodded. ‘I didn’t think I was that bothered, till now.’

  Out of all the things that people had said to her, it seemed to her that Garth alone had truly understood why she felt so wretched. There could be no going back to how Dawn and she had once been, no making amends and no reunions.

  Kite Tails

  When she arrived back at Mirror Falls Seth was full of talk about Garth’s sculpture. He’d been amazed to find it nearly finished when he’d gone down to the dam.

  ‘He had all these Brummie kids working on it too, said they were from this outward-bound centre. Did he tell you he’s got a job there after the summer?’

  Kite shook her head. It seemed there was a lot about Garth that she didn’t know. Her hand still felt warm from where he had held her so caringly.

  Seth seemed to have a hundred questions as he placed a bowl of soup in front of her.

  ‘Whose clothes are those
anyway?’ he asked, suddenly noticing her oversized fleece and jogging bottoms.

  ‘They’re Garth’s. We went for a swim.’ Kite shrugged. ‘The tarn’s icy cold . . . Sorry, Seth,’ she sighed pushing away her bowl. ‘I’m not hungry and I can’t talk now. I’m tired out.’

  In the bathroom she looked at herself in the mirror. She felt different, her thoughts less tangled than they’d been in ages. She washed her hands and face with the soap that Seth had brought for himself. She had no wish to summon Dawn’s scent now; no need because she sensed that the time was coming closer when she could bury the reed and bring Dawn peace.

  Kite took the reed from the case, pouring a little water into the empty soap dish and soaking it, as she’d watched Dawn do so many times.

  ‘Is this a present?’ the woman with the thick bifocals asked her as she handed over the reed box.

  Kite glanced up at Dawn, who was examining reeds on the other side of the shop.

  ‘Yes, a birthday present for my friend over there,’ Kite whispered.

  ‘In that case . . . !’ The woman winked, her twinkling eyes magnified behind her glasses, and placed the little box snugly in a velvet navy-blue drawstring pouch. ‘She’ll treasure this forever.’

  Back in her room, Kite tucked the little case back inside the folds of her pillow, then gazed at the long tails of her birthday kite, floating across the room as if beckoning to her, the tiny triangles of colour wafting this way and that. She walked over to the open window and listened. There was the roar of the waterfall that had become such a constant she hardly heard it any more, but there was another sound too. She closed her eyes and listened as the wind began to swirl around her head. She crept over to the staircase and took two steps down. There was the Dawn owl imprinted on the window as clearly as ever, but through the glass the valley below seemed to be stirring. The trees bent on the breeze, stretching from side to side like dancers warming up.

  Seth sensed her behind him as he lay on the sofa.

  ‘Looks like the weather’s finally changing,’ he murmured.

  She stared out at the darkening sky and watched the high clouds race across streaks of midnight blue. Strange how the sea and the sky can look so alike sometimes, thought Kite, as the moon appeared again from behind a dark cloud.

  The kite tails wafted across her face, the bright colours seeping into her like paint as they tickled her skin. She opened her eyes and began to read her birthday messages. A sudden gust of wind pulled the whole kite off the wall and now it was dancing around the room in front of her, as if taunting her with its acrobatic skill. Kite jumped off the bed and went to grab hold of it, but it dodged her grasp and zigzagged down the driftwood staircase. Then it surged upward. Kite’s hair lifted from her head and trailed behind her as if it too was a kite tail. She grabbed hold of the ends and tugged with all her might but the kite seemed to double in power. She looked down at her feet and felt the distance grow between the ground and her body; she looked up to see her kite glide out of the roof. Her breath flew with it as she was lifted higher and higher into the sky, bobbing gently on streams of air . . .

  Kite kept her eyes closed, unwilling to be wrenched from her dream despite the force of the wind buffeting the house. Just for a second on waking she had felt the same sense of joy she’d experienced the day she’d first watched Annalisa fly, the same soaring feeling that came over her every time she’d been on the trapeze since.

  On opening her eyes she half expected her kite to have flown away, but there it was, still tethered to the wall, although the tail had wafted across the room and wrapped itself around her bed like bunting.

  As Kite padded down the driftwood staircase she noticed that the window was speckled with tiny droplets of water. One of the Dawn owl wings was beginning to fade. She’d imagined that a huge torrential rain would come in the night and clean the print away in one go, but she saw now how it would fade in time, gently, bit by bit.

  Seth spent the morning composing. Kite recognized one song from a tune that Jack had sung, but he was also working on something new. It was always a painful stop-start process listening to him compose. Usually the melody came easily to him but the words were always more difficult.

  ‘We walked among the gravestones in the sunniest of ways

  Now the sky’s troubled by a hundred coloured greys

  It all must come to an end one day and when it does the very least you should say

  Is the road has been long and winding

  Yes! The road should be long and winding.’

  Kite heard a break in Seth’s voice as he sang the last words. ‘The road should be long and winding.’

  When he’d finished he came to find her. She had set the table for them both and made a black coffee for Seth and a plate full of pancakes. She’d realized as she let the butter sizzle in the pan that this unfamiliar feeling rumbling inside her was hunger.

  ‘Something smells good.’ Seth sniffed the air as he came to join her in the kitchen. He kissed her on the head and sat down. ‘So come on then, spill the beans. What’s he like, this Garth?’

  ‘He doesn’t say much,’ Kite answered.

  ‘Neither do you, lately,’ Seth said with a sigh, reaching over the table and ruffling her hair.

  Kite gently pushed him away.

  ‘What! I can’t mess up your hair now!’

  ‘He’s invited me for lunch.’ Kite sprinkled sugar on her pancake. Seth watched her intently as she ate. She wished he wouldn’t be so set on trying to read her mood.

  ‘You go then! I said I’d help out with the funeral arrangements today.’

  Seth set off mid-morning. ‘What time’s Garth coming to fetch you?’ He asked as he left.

  ‘In about an hour,’ Kite answered.

  Seth nodded and lingered in the doorway. ‘Tell him to walk you back here by five o’clock.’

  Kite nodded. She would have liked to take her hand and smooth away the worry wrinkles on his forehead. ‘I told Garth about Dawn and I think it’s helped,’ she found herself saying instead.

  Seth paused and for a moment she thought she saw a hurt look cross his face. Then his mouth twisted into a smile of relief. ‘That’s good, my love.’

  Kite watched him walk away from her towards the car.

  ‘Seth!’ she called out to him, and heard how sharp and urgent her voice had suddenly become.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I like the new song.’

  ‘I wrote it for Dawn,’ he said, then gently closed the door behind him.

  Clearing

  What was the matter with her? She had hardly thought about her appearance since she’d got here. From what she already knew about Garth, he wasn’t the sort of person who would care what she wore anyway. She looked around the room at the rejected clothes strewn everywhere. Her leggings were too clingy, her denim shorts too brief, even though he’d seen her wearing practically nothing the day before. She couldn’t wear her skirt because they would probably go walking. In the end she’d gone for a combination of layered-up long- and short-sleeved T-shirts and an old baggy jumper of Seth’s that she’d cut over the shoulder. She pulled on her skinny jeans and laced up her navy DMs. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She had definitely lost weight and muscle; even under all these layers she looked and felt smaller than she had before.

  Kite sat at the kitchen table and waited. When she heard Bardsey bark on the path below she had to resist the temptation to run over to the glass stepping stones to greet them. Now here were Garth and Bardsey standing behind the glass entrance. Kite thought Garth looked different, more like he had on the day she’d bumped into him outside the Carrec Arms. He was wearing a thick navy blue jumper, a padded jacket and jeans.

  As Kite released the door Bardsey pushed past her and ran through to the living room. By the time Garth and Kite had caught up with him he was comfortably lounging on the sofa admiring the view.

  ‘You cheeky lad.’ Garth laughed, patting his head and lookin
g up at the window.

  ‘So this is the owl print.’

  Kite nodded as Garth walked over and studied the fading markings of the wingspan.

  ‘It’s a work of nature. I wish I could paint something as beautiful as that.’ Garth was staring at Kite now.

  ‘Do you paint too then?’ she asked.

  ‘I try. I did the landscape on this blind here.’ Garth pointed up to where it was folded into the glass cavity.

  ‘That was you?’

  Garth nodded. ‘Come on, Bardsey. Let’s be off. Gran’s waiting for us.’

  ‘The wind’s really getting up now.’ Garth surveyed the sky. ‘Come on. I’ll take you on my favourite woodland path.’

  As they walked together through the woods, the trees swaying above their heads, branches bending low, she wished that he would hold her hand again. The wind splayed her hair all over her face and she had to part it like a veil to see where she was going. A red squirrel darted up a tree to their right, its bushy tail appearing and disappearing as it helter-skeltered around and around.

  ‘I’ve never seen a red squirrel before!’

  ‘Really? There’s loads around here.’

  As they walked deeper into the wood Kite couldn’t help remembering how in nursery Dawn had hated all those Grimms’ fairy tales of children getting lost in the woods, while she had loved them. Even when they were very small Dawn had been afraid of so many things that had never bothered Kite. But Kite had come to realize as they’d grown older that what Dawn had feared more than anything else was failure. She had played so beautifully in so many concerts. Why had it hit her so hard when once, just once, things didn’t go according to plan? It wouldn’t have mattered to Dawn what Esme said – that a reed failed every player at some point in their career; Dawn would not have heard that. And why did it have to happen so close to exams too, when Dawn was already winding herself up into an A* frenzy?

  Garth grabbed a stick and started slashing back branches as the woodland became denser.