‘If it’s just left the nest then it would have flown back in without realising there was a problem,’ Wendy told him. ‘But instead of a platform of twigs, it’s found thin air. It’s fallen right down.’ She stared at the fireplace as if it could give her some clue. ‘Do you think…? Will it be able to claw its way back up?’
‘No.’ They’d been listening to the creature struggle for five minutes now, and the more it struggled the more hopeless its position became.
‘Can we get the damper out?’ Wendy whispered, and Luke had to bend forward to hear. ‘It seems firmly wedged.’
It was. Luke remembered the arrival of the damper. Twenty-five years ago, fed up with a kitchen full of blow-flies, his grandmother had arranged a man to fix it. It had taken the fix-it man two days to set the damper into place and secure it firmly with concrete.
Luke braved another look now, got a face full of soot for his pains and had his opinion confirmed. ‘It’ll take me hours-if not days-to get rid of the damper and I’d need special tools to do it,’ he said slowly. Heaven knew what tools, but he had to say something. ‘The bird would be dead by the time I got it out.’
‘The birdy’s going to die,’ Gabbie sobbed, and Luke grimaced.
‘It’ll never come though the damper,’ Wendy said. ‘It won’t fit.’ Every now and then a leg or a wing appeared in their line of gaze, but the two-inch-wide slit would never allow a crow to squeeze through into the room. ‘Do you think…? Could we somehow lasso it from the top and pull it up? There’s rope under the house.’
‘Yeah, right. My lassoing skills aren’t what they should be. How about yours?’
‘Luke…’ Wendy closed her eyes, despair rising. ‘I guess-’
‘You guess what?’
She guessed nothing while Gabbie was listening. ‘Honey, can you pop out to the veranda and make sure Grace is still okay?’ Wendy said, and gave the child a gentle push door-wards. Gabbie went, but at the doorway she stopped and looked back.
‘You’ll save the birdy?’ she asked, and her troubled eyes were directed straight at Luke.
What was a man to do with a look like that?
‘I’ll do my best,’ he said, but something in the way he said it must have worked, because her look settled and became one of trust.
‘Uncle Luke will get you out,’ she called to the bird, and then walked out, the door swinging closed behind her.
She left them to silence. Apart from crow noises-which meant there wasn’t any silence at all. It just felt like silence because neither of them could think of a thing they could say.
‘We’ll have to put it out of its misery.’
‘Sorry?’ Luke was staring uselessly at the fireplace, his mind heading off on one tangent after another, all of no use whatsoever. Then he realised what she’d just said. He blenched. Kill it? No! ‘For heaven’s sake…’
‘Well, think of another idea, then,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not leaving the creature to suffer for days while it slowly starves to death-and we can’t dismantle the chimney. Can we?’
That was a bit much.
‘Well, think of something. You pushed the stupid nest down.’
‘Wendy-’
‘Do something!’ It was too much for Wendy. Birds trapped in chimneys were apparently not enclosed in her folio of crises-to-stay-calm-in.
Do something. But what? What?
Maybe… Luke found himself watching the crow’s feet appearing and disappearing. As the creature struggled, its claws sank below the damper. They disappeared as it hauled itself up again, but after a while they appeared again. The crow couldn’t always hold its claws above the level of the damper, so…
So maybe…
‘Did you say we have a rope?’ he demanded.
Something in his voice got through, and Wendy’s face changed. She took a deep breath and fought for calm. ‘Yes. I saw one under the house with the ladder.’
‘If I could attach it to the claws…’
‘And pull it out?’ Once again she veered into panic. ‘It won’t fit through the damper no matter how hard you pull. You must see that. Luke, don’t be stupid. It’d be squashed as you pulled it out, and I so much don’t want it dead.’
‘Neither do I,’ he said, still frowning. Wendy’s face was white, and suddenly it wasn’t just the crow’s fate at stake here. ‘I don’t know whether I can do this, Wendy, but let me try.’
‘What?’
‘Just go and get me the rope. Please. And let me think.’
He needed gloves.
Crows’ claws were ripping instruments of destruction. To catch them he needed to protect his hands.
While Wendy searched for rope, he went on a fast tour of the house. The blankets he found were thin and would shred. The quilts were thicker, but they were handmade and gorgeous. They’d rip and he wouldn’t sacrifice them.
What then? The carpets? No. They were far too thick and unwieldy.
Surely his grandmother had had gardening gloves. Somewhere…
She hadn’t. Sigh. Wendy’s face stayed with him, white and fearful. Hell! He didn’t feel like hero material, but if he was all that was available…
There was only one thing to be done, and he didn’t like it one bit. If he’d known, then the Italian designer would have had kittens, but it seemed he had no choice. To sacrifice all for one bird…
So when Wendy returned to the kitchen he was kneeling before the stove, ready and waiting. She stopped and stared at the sight that met her in stunned amazement. Luke had tied knots in the cuffs of his jacket, and he had his hands in the leather sleeves, testing how much flexibility he had in his fingers.
His gorgeous leather jacket… She handed him the rope in stunned silence.
‘Luke, your jacket…’
‘It’s nothing.’ It wasn’t nothing at all-he loved it-but the thought of Gabbie’s face was haunting. And Wendy’s. Maybe especially Wendy’s. If he could get the damned bird out of the chimney without killing it, then maybe it’d be worth the sacrifice.
‘Luke…’
‘Let’s just see if it works.’ He gave her a reassuring grin and then tried his first plan of attack. With his hands safely encased in leather, he reached forward and caught a claw as it plunged forward. The crow gave a terrified squawk, but the leather protected his hands and he held the claw for long enough to know that he could do so again.
Great! There was no point in holding it for longer-yet-and he didn’t. Released, the crow clattered its way a few inches up the chimney and then fell to the damper again, defeated.
But Luke wasn’t. Far from it. Silently he lifted Wendy’s rope and tested it by twisting it around his fingers. It was old and soft, and not too thick. Great! With luck, this could just work. Then, without saying a word, he headed outside. Wendy was left to follow.
Which she did, her face a picture of confusion.
‘Just watch,’ he told her. ‘This might not work, but it’s our best shot.’
So Gabbie and Wendy stood hand in hand, uncomprehending, while Luke climbed again onto the roof. Once more he hauled his ladder up after him. He tied one end of the rope to the ancient television aerial, and then he climbed to the chimney top with the other rope end in his hand.
And now there were maybe thirty crows whirling over his head, all squawking their distress at the top of their lungs. This was all he needed. It was so hard to keep his balance…
‘If one more of you goes down this chimney then I’ll find me a gun,’ Luke said direfully, shaking a futile fist in the crows’ direction. ‘I’m giving you guys the benefit of the doubt and assuming the chap below is the family idiot. So learn a lesson from him.’ He glared at them all-they were barely eighteen inches above him!-and then he lowered the end of the rope carefully down the chimney.
Below, Wendy still watched while Gabbie clung to her side and stared as well. The knowledge that they were there drove him on.
The rope descended. That was the first part of the task achieved. Wi
th the top of the rope still tied to the aerial, he climbed back down again to where Wendy and Gabbie were waiting.
‘Do you mind telling me what you’re doing?’ Wendy’s face was a bewildered picture and he almost grinned. It wasn’t bad to have her on the unsettled side for once. For him to have the initiative. He squared his shoulders and headed for the veranda.
‘Just hush and see if it works.’ He gave Gabbie another reassuring grin, and ruffled her hair. ‘So far so good. Our baby crow might rejoin its mother yet.’
‘Luke…’
‘Hush.’
Without any more explanation, he led them back to the kitchen. What a relief. Lying on the stove was the frayed end of the rope he’d just lowered. So far, so good-and his women’s admiration didn’t feel too bad either.
Then, with his hands in his leather sleeves to protect himself from the wildly slashing claws, and after one deep breath and a silent prayer-please let this work-he seized a claw.
The other claw slashed wildly downward-without the leather he’d be cut to bits-but now Luke was in resolution mode. This was a case of now or never, and it had to be now. Working like lightning, he tied the first claw with the rope and held on to it. He waited until the other claw came sweeping down again to slash-not more than two seconds-and somehow caught it and tied it together with the other leg.
Now he had two claws tied together with rope. Crossing his fingers, he released the trussed crow to thrash about in its chimney prison.
‘I need to go back on the roof again,’ he told his open-mouthed audience. ‘And cross your fingers for me.’
‘I’m even crossing my eyeballs,’ Wendy said, stunned to her socks. ‘You too, Gabbie. Cross everything.’
The little girl was too boggled to say a word.
Finally, up on the roof again, the whole process started to come together. Standing on his ladder against the chimney, carefully, inch by inch Luke manoeuvred the rope upward.
For the first few seconds he thought the crow would never come-it went wild as its feet were hauled slowly upward. But then, unbelievably, it seemed to relax a little. Its wings flapped but not with its previous power. Maybe it was starting to exhaust itself. Or maybe…maybe it sensed this was its only chance.
It rose and rose, and the whole world seemed to hold its breath. Luke pulled and pulled. He was standing alone, but strangely he didn’t feel alone. Wendy was with him every inch of the way, and so was Gabbie. Even Grace…
Two feet from the top came the tricky part. Sensing freedom, the crow surged upward, lunging joyously into daylight. But still it was tied, and it was all Luke could do to regain his hold on the ladder. Somehow, and he could never afterwards figure out how, he managed to climb down to the roof with the crow flapping like a crazy, living kite in his hands.
There, with his arms still in his leather coat, and propped against the chimney to balance himself, he reeled the bird in toward him. With a faster action than he believed possible, and maybe a bit of luck as well, he got the claws untied. The crow flapped backwards and fell awkwardly onto the roof.
Was it hurt?
Not too badly, Luke thought incredulously as he watched it. Not so you’d notice. With a final squawk of indignant freedom, the bird rose skyward. It soared, was welcomed into the circle of waiting birds-and together they surged away, croaking harsh cries of jubilation as they went.
Luke was left sitting on the roof, an empty rope and a ruined leather jacket in his hands. He had the biggest grin on his face!
And his audience had seen everything.
‘You’ve done it! Oh, come down, come down…’ Down below, Wendy was laughing and crying all at the same time. She’d picked up Gabbie and the two of them were doing a crazy dance of triumph on the grass. ‘Come on down, Luke Grey. You wonderful, wonderful man!’
He got down as fast as he could. Wendy and Gabbie were holding the ladder and, as he hit ground, he was enfolded in triumphant arms.
‘Oh, Luke, that was so good.’ Wendy was crying openly now, but laughing through her tears, and Gabbie couldn’t stop smiling. Wendy was holding the little girl in her arms but suddenly he was in there too, the little girl sandwiched between them.
He’d hardly grown accustomed to the fact that he was being hugged-hugged, for heaven’s sake!-when Wendy let him go, thrusting the little girl forward so he was holding Gabbie in his arms. But she’d only left to retrieve Grace from her blanket-and to envelop the baby in their sandwich squeeze as well. She was practically war-whooping.
‘Luke, that was the most marvellous…the most marvellous…’
It was too much. Through kids and laughter and tears she somehow reached forward and kissed him.
And in that kiss, something changed for ever.
To stand on the front lawn of a place he’d once loved, with his arms full of kids, with the squawking birds above them, and holding a woman who was weeping with joy…
Kissing a beautiful woman…
She started it, he would tell himself later, trying to figure out how it had happened. She kissed him, leaning forward so her lips touched his. But it suddenly wasn’t Wendy doing the kissing. His arms were full of a tangle of children, but he had long arms and he could enfold them all.
Gabbie and Baby Grace were somehow in the middle but his mouth was on Wendy’s, her lips were full and warm and loving-and she felt like no other woman he’d kissed in his life before. He felt his insides stir and shift, and his life somehow refocused, right at that point. Things became clear that had been clouded, and things that had been important suddenly took a step back.
Something huge was changing here. Why?
He didn’t know. All he understood was that-well, she tasted of soot, she smelt of baby powder and milk formula, and she felt like…
She felt like heaven!
His hold grew tighter. He didn’t understand what was happening to him-to them both!-but he wasn’t letting go for a minute. Wendy…
His need was growing more urgent by the minute, but it couldn’t last. Not like this.
‘Hey, I’m squashed.’ From somewhere below kiss level, Gabbie didn’t sound in the least distressed-she sounded as if she was giggling-but it was enough to haul him somehow to his senses. It allowed him space to back away and look down into Wendy’s emotion-filled face-and see the confusion he was feeling mirrored there threefold.
‘The birdy’s safe,’ Gabbie squeaked, in a squashed but awed and delighted voice. ‘We saved the birdy.’
‘Yes, Gabbie, we did just that.’ He was still watching Wendy, but with a wrench, it seemed, she’d hauled her attention to the children. She gave him one, single, startled glance and took Gabbie from him, handing him Grace. She then backed and stooped to set Gabbie on her feet. She turned her attention deliberately to the little girl, leaving him still holding Grace-but he was watching Wendy’s colour turn blush-pink under her tan.
And he still didn’t understand what was happening. All he knew was that something was-and it was something big. Huge!
‘It flew away with its mummy and daddy,’ Gabbie said proudly.
‘It did.’ Luke was finding it hard to make his voice work. What was going on here? He’d kissed other women-lots-and it had never felt like this.
‘And its brothers and sisters were waiting for it.’ Gabbie was practically glowing with pride. ‘We saved its life.’
‘And you held the ladder,’ Luke told her, somehow recovering. Or recovering a little. ‘I never could have managed if you hadn’t held the ladder.’
‘Really?’ The little girl was close to bursting with pleasure.
‘Really.’
‘Well…’ Gabbie sighed, then tucked her chin down into her chest with a look that Luke was starting to recognise. This was a child who internalised her pleasure-she wasn’t brave enough to share in case it was snatched from her. Then she seemed to gain courage. She looked up at Luke, and she giggled.
‘You look…silly,’ she said.
‘Gabbie!’
Wendy’s word was the start of a reproof but then Wendy dared herself to look at Luke, and somehow the tension dissipated and she couldn’t help from grinning. ‘Though, actually…’
What were they on about? ‘Actually, what?’ Luke asked direfully, expecting the worst. And he got it.
‘You look like a derelict chimneysweep after four weeks’ work with no baths in between,’ she said bluntly. ‘Plus… Oh, Luke, there’s a scratch on your cheek that’s been bleeding, and your poor leather jacket… It’s ripped to pieces.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he managed. He was so far off balance now he was practically falling over.
‘It’s something, Luke Grey,’ she said softly, tilting her chin and meeting his look head on. ‘It was absolutely something. It was the best something I’ve seen in a long, long while. Don’t you think so, our Gabbie?’
And Gabbie’s small, shy smile told them she agreed entirely.
‘You do need a wash, though,’ Wendy told him. ‘Maybe we all do-before the electricians and glaziers and the likes arrive. Gabbie, what do you think about a swim?’
‘A swim?’ The child’s face filled with doubt.
‘A swim. Let’s take a bar of soap-or maybe six bars of soap-down to the sea. We can put Grace in her carry-cot while we take Uncle Luke into the surf and we’ll wash his soot off him until he looks respectable. Would you like to do that, Gabbie, love?’
‘Yes,’ said Gabbie definitely-and then, somehow, there was nothing left for Luke to do but follow.
Wherever they led…
CHAPTER FIVE
THE swim had been glorious, but it hadn’t stopped Luke from being confused. In fact, by the end of his time in the water he was feeling so confused he wasn’t sure whether he’d gone to sleep and woken in some other life.
He hadn’t swum in the sea for twenty years. And now… It hadn’t been a swim like he usually swam-steady laps of his local gymnasium pool designed to tone his body and make up for the days he sat at his computer, or in interminable meetings.
This had been something else. Something totally out of his ken.
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