Where Peacocks Scream

by Valerie Mendes

  Then he burst into tears and woke with a start. The dream had haunted him all day.

  “Daniel Williams!”

  Daniel gave a start. He stood beside one of the sculls in the boatyard, but he didn’t appear to be doing anything. He couldn’t even remember getting there. It was almost as if he’d been sleepwalking.

  The sports teacher roared at him again. “Daniel Williams!… You haven’t listened to a word I’ve been saying. You are being seriously useless… What on earth’s got into you today?”

  Daniel swallowed. “Sorry, sir. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.”

  “Well, de-rigging the sculls obviously isn’t one of them!”

  “It’s just that—”

  “Kindly concentrate, Williams. We’ve got twenty minutes to put all the sculls away, clean and shining. Now get on with it and stop wasting everyone’s time.”

  Daniel flushed. As he hoisted a scull onto his shoulders along with two other boys, he decided to talk to Mum again that very afternoon.

  “You must ask Jasper to leave,” he said.

  They were sitting in the kitchen over a cup of tea. Dad had limped back to bed, complaining the pain in his back was worse. Jasper had disappeared for the afternoon.

  “You spend too much time looking after him. You’re always cooking him breakfast or ironing his shirts. Tell him we need the space and ask him to go.”

  “I can’t do that, Danny. The brewery have given us strict instructions. Frank must stay for as long as he wants.”

  Daniel gulped at his tea. “I came down this morning to feed the peacocks. I couldn’t sleep and it was really early. Jasper was standing on the terrace surrounded by the birds. It was weird, like he was talking to them. As if they were in a magic circle, waiting for him to tell them what to do. Like they were listening to him.”

  “Don’t be absurd, Danny.”

  “It’s like he’s forgotten this place is our home, not his. His things are all over the living room and the bathroom, his car’s always in the car park along with his friends’ cars, their coats are always cramming up the hall, he wanders about the island when I’m not there—”

  “How can you possibly know?”

  “I bet he does go there. Everything’s different. The Riverside doesn’t feel like our own place any more. It’s as if we’ve been invaded.”

  “It’s no good arguing, Danny. We’ll have to put up and shut up. Takings are down at the moment and we really need the money.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I’m powerless. The brewery are our bosses. Unless we keep them happy we’ll be thrown out. People queue round the block to manage The Riverside. We need to prove we’ve got what it takes.” She stood up. “I’ve got work to do and so have you. Go and do your homework and stop grumbling. You’re getting on my nerves!”

  Feathers

  Daniel crashed up to his room.

  The air in it felt stifling. He threw the window open and gazed out at the allotments, taking deep breaths of the cool autumn afternoon air. A few apples hung from the scraggy branches of their trees. After the peacock invasion, the allotments had been dug over. Fresh patches of brown earth sat waiting with open mouths for the spring.

  A silver Mercedes swung along the road and turned into the car park. Daniel cursed under his breath. Jasper stepped out of the car, swiftly followed by another man and two women. The man wore a well-cut navy suit with a flamboyant crimson tie. The women wore short black dresses and high-heeled shoes. One of them had ginger curls done up with a pink bow. Daniel knew they’d be in The Riverside all evening, calling for drinks and food, treating Dad and the staff as if they were their private servants.

  He turned back to his desk, wondering how Jasper had acquired a seemingly endless succession of friends since his arrival. It was like the peacocks he’d seen him with: he was always surrounded by a circle of admirers. It didn’t matter whether they were birds or people, as long as he was the centre of attention.

  Daniel was watching television in the living room later that evening when he heard voices and laughter coming from the other side of the river. From his island! There was only one person with the nerve to assume he could trespass.

  He leaped from the sofa to the window and stared out.

  Jasper, cigar in hand, was standing on the island with his guests, pointing out the delights of the landscape. The women were laughing about their high heels getting stuck in the lawn. The one with the pink bow had taken off her shoes. Jasper looked as if he was admiring her pretty feet.

  Daniel dashed out of the room to tell Mum, to ask whether he could race across to the island to warn the group they were trespassing and to ask them to leave. But as he reached the staircase he stopped in his tracks.

  A vase of flowers always stood on the windowsill. At this time of year it was filled with dried golden grass and purple Michaelmas daisies. But a flash of deep, shiny emerald caught Daniel’s eye. He stood stock-still on the stairs and looked again.

  Someone had put a peacock feather in the centre of the vase. The brilliance of its eye caught the dying light and seemed to beckon to him as he stood there, open-mouthed with disbelief.

  In a flash, he snatched the feather from the vase and examined it carefully. It was certainly not from any of The Riverside’s peacocks, who were still growing their plumage for the spring.

  Could it be from the peacock-feather fan? Jasper had told them he’d take it away, remove it altogether from the pub, and they’d believed him. But supposing the fan was still in Jasper’s room? Could he have put more feathers in other rooms? If so, Daniel had to find them before Mum did. She’d freak out again if she even caught a glimpse of them.

  He slipped the feather into his pocket and went back into the living room to check. A splash of emerald in the hearth made him leap across the room. There, under one of the unlit apple logs, lay another feather. He dug it out, dusted it against his sweater and put that in his pocket too.

  Then, with an increasing sense of panic, he checked the bathroom and kitchen. They seemed to be feather-free. Where else could the wretched man have put one? The dining room would have to wait until morning: Mum would make a fuss if she saw him there during pub hours.

  He dashed back to the living room to check at the window. Jasper and his guests were sitting together on the island, on the old stone seat. A waiter must have brought them a bottle of champagne and four glasses. Jasper undid the bottle and laughed as the cork shot out of his hand across the lawn.

  The drinkers would be there for some time. Daniel seized his chance. He leaped up the stairs and pushed against Jasper’s door. It was locked. Swiftly, he rummaged in his desk for the key, unlocked the door and slipped into the room.

  He was struck by how tidy and established it felt, as if Jasper had always lived there. He could barely remember how it had looked when it had been his own space.

  A briefcase lay on the table beneath the window. It was locked. He opened several drawers in the small chest, but only well-ironed underwear and shirts stared up at him. In a panic, he opened the wardrobe and rummaged around in it.

  Something heavy and lumpy made the pocket of a leather jacket swing back into his face. He slipped his hand inside. Something cool and rounded met his grasp. He pulled it out. It was the carved ivory handle of the peacock-feather fan. Jasper had removed all the feathers.

  Daniel’s heart thumped with rage. What on earth was the man up to? He’d seen how upset Mum and Dad had been. He’d agreed to remove the fan from The Riverside. Now it seemed as though he’d known exactly what he’d been doing all along: deliberately bringing them bad luck. As if that hadn’t been lousy enough, now he was making things worse by planting the feathers in separate locations, as if to reinforce the menace of the evil eye.

  Daniel shoved the ivory handle back into its pocket, a
nd slammed the wardrobe shut. He slipped out of the room, locking the door, trying to remember how many feathers the fan had originally held, to imagine where else Jasper might have planted them.

  He took the two feathers out of his pocket and stared down at them, stroking them with his fingertips, feeling their smoothness flutter beneath his touch. Then he pushed them between the pages of his maths textbook, slammed the book tight and shoved it into his bag.

  He’d get rid of the feathers at school tomorrow: throw them into the dustbin in the playground. Make sure they were as far away from The Riverside as he could get. And tomorrow morning, before school, he’d check the island: take a really good look for that dreaded flash of emerald…

  He woke at the crack of dawn. Something had disturbed him. Voices: hushed, whispering. A silly giggling. He sat bolt upright and listened.

  He heard Jasper say, “The coast is clear, darling. Quick, before the boy wakes up.”

  Footsteps padded down the stairs.

  Daniel flung back his duvet and rushed to the window. He watched Jasper and the red-haired woman slink into the Mercedes. It purred out of the car park and disappeared.

  He opened his door and peered out. On the landing lay a crumpled pink bow.

  He pulled on his clothes and tiptoed downstairs.

  Outside, the early-morning air felt fresh and crisp. Seagulls swooped towards him, gathering to fight for space on the bridge as he ran swiftly across it, his feet slipping on the damp wooden slats.

  Four champagne glasses, a cork and an empty bottle lay on the wet grass beside the seat. They might have had the decency to take them back to the pub! Who did they think had the time to clear up after them?

  He stopped and looked around. Percy and Frederick strutted past him, their plumage damp and heavy from the night. But he couldn’t see any other signs of feathers. He glanced across at the camouflaged air-raid shelter. Nobody ever went inside it but him and Joshua – and on rare occasions Chloe when he offered her Coca Cola and iced buns.

  But supposing Jasper was determined to goad him into a furious reaction? Would he have dared put one of the feathers in there?

  Daniel raced up to the shelter, pushing the overhanging branches aside. The steps leading down to it were covered in moss. He crept down them, comforted by the smell of green weed and the sudden silence as the concrete dugout closed above his head.

  In the semi-gloom he checked the two old chairs, the ancient sacking, the upturned packing-case, the posters they’d nailed to the walls, the packs of playing cards in the corner, the stone jug and two chipped cups.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. As far as he could tell, the shelter remained feather-free and undisturbed. There was no sign that Jasper had been there. But the shadow of dread lingered.

  He climbed up the steps, replaced the overhanging branch and turned to walk across the lawn, the dewy grass brushing against his ankles. He pushed into the wood, into its centre, towards the beech tree and Cora’s grave.

  He saw them immediately and gasped. Someone had planted three emerald-eyed feathers, upright, brazen, directly in the middle of the mound.

  Daniel cried out and darted towards them. He wrenched the feathers out of the ground, flattening the earth with his foot, stamping on it in his rage. He raced to the other side of the island, towards the reedy bank. Crouching, he threw the feathers into the water, stabbing the surface with their quills. Sick with fury, he watched the emerald eyes drift slowly below the surface until they were sucked away by the tide.

  Playing Detective

  “Wow!” Joshua said. “They’re too cute to throw away.”

  They stood in the playground later that morning as Daniel dug his maths textbook out of his bag. The emerald feathers shone between his fingers.

  “They’re beautiful,” Daniel said, “but only on peacocks, not in fans. And definitely not lurking indoors.”

  “Do you really believe they bring bad luck?”

  “I’ve never thought about it before all this stuff happened.” Daniel plunged his arm into the dustbin, making sure the feathers were firmly wedged at the bottom beneath a clutch of cans. “But in the last fortnight we’ve had a gas leak in the kitchen, a guy drowned in our bit of the river, Jimmy got hit by tiles, my dad was hurt in a car crash, and—” he rubbed a hand over his forehead, “The Riverside feels like it’s spooked.”

  “Do you mean haunted?”

  “It’s like Jasper’s ghost is all around us whether he’s actually in the pub or not… I freaked out when I saw those feathers on Cora’s grave.”

  “How did he know where to plant them?”

  Daniel flushed. “I was sleepwalking there the first night he stayed with us—”

  “Holy cow!” Joshua’s face turned pink. “That’s seriously weird!”

  “Luckily, Chloe found me. I’d draped myself over Cora’s grave. After Chloe woke me up, I heard Jasper lurking in the undergrowth. He must have remembered where I was, overheard Chloe and me talking.”

  “And you’re sure he’s the same man? The one who was stalking you on the meadow?”

  “The only thing I’m sure about is that he’s got it in for me.”

  “And the white cap?”

  “I’ve not seen him wear it since he started living with us.”

  They joined the queue filing into school for morning lessons.

  “Why don’t you search his room again?” Joshua said. “Then if you find the cap, you’ll have proof.”

  “And where will that get me?”

  “Dunno, but it’s worth a try. And you never know what else you might find.”

  “OK.” Daniel flung an arm round Joshua’s shoulder. “Why don’t you play detective with me? Two pairs of eyes have got to be better than one.”

  “Good thinking, Sherlock.” Joshua grinned. “You can bring your pipe and magnifying glass. And wear your deerstalker hat.”

  Three afternoons went by before their plan succeeded.

  Jasper had decided to hold a series of business meetings after lunch in The Riverside at a table by the window. Daniel and Joshua hung around, not daring to risk being discovered in his room. But on the fourth afternoon, when Daniel asked, “And where’s Uncle Frank today?” Mum told him he’d be out until suppertime. Daniel and Joshua scuttled upstairs and unlocked Jasper’s door.

  “Try the suitcases under the bed,” Daniel whispered. “The white cap might be in one of them. I’m going to search every corner of the room.”

  Joshua knelt down and heaved out one of the suitcases. He unzipped the top and threw it open, dipping his hands among the layers of neatly folded clothes.

  “Nothing but boring stuff. Mostly shirts and pyjamas… two pairs of jeans… and there’s a jacket at the bottom—”

  Daniel spun round. “Pull it out.”

  “There’s something inside one of the pockets.” Joshua shook the jacket free of the other clothes. A white cap, its brim stained with grass, fell to the floor.

  Daniel leaped across the room, picked it up and examined it. “This has got to be the same cap. It proves Jasper’s the same man.”

  Joshua sat back on his heels. “So what now?”

  “I’m going to show it to Phil.”

  “Do you think Jasper will miss it?”

  “Not if you put the jacket back. It was obviously something he wore in the summer when he skulked around Port Meadow.”

  “He’s one hell of a strange guy.” Joshua tidied the clothes, zipped up the case and shoved it back under the bed. “And for your next trick?”

  Daniel slumped into the rocking-chair, clutching the cap. “Not sure. There’s something about the room that feels different, but I don’t know what it is.”

  “Look at every single object in it. Tell me if it’s something you’ve seen before or whe
ther it’s new.”

  “Bed, wardrobe, bedside table, chair, table under the window,” Daniel chanted despondently. “I’ve seen everything before.” He ran his eyes over the walls. “Wait a minute.” He stood up. “That painting over the bed… That’s new.” He moved closer to inspect it. “It’s an antique… It could be valuable.”

  Joshua looked at it over Daniel’s shoulder. “Take it down,” he said. “Bring it over to the window.”

  Daniel heaved the painting off the wall and hauled it onto the table, peering at it under the light. “It’s a painting of The Riverside before it was a pub, before there were tables on the terrace… Must be at least a hundred years old.”

  “What are those?” Joshua jabbed a finger at the weir.

  “Fishing nets. Someone once told me they used to catch eels with them.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I wonder where Jasper found this. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be interested enough in this place to have bought an old painting of it.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” Joshua crouched on the end of the bed. “He was interested enough in you to stalk you all summer. He’s so interested in The Riverside and your family that he’s come to live with you. Makes perfect sense to me.”

  Daniel tipped up the painting and held it against his chest, ready to replace it on the wall. “Yes, but why—”

  Joshua stared across at him. “Wait a sec. There’s something taped to the back.”

  Daniel peered over the side. “It’s an envelope.”

  “Someone’s calling you.” Joshua moved to the door to listen. “It’s your mum. Tea’s ready.”

  “Oh, cripes.” Daniel lay the painting on its face. Swiftly, he sliced the envelope away. “Tell her we’ll be right down.” He threw the envelope onto the bed and replaced the painting on the wall.