Tales from the Tower, Volume 2

by Isobelle Carmody

  ‘Oh,’ I whispered, wanting to crawl away and die, ‘it’s . . . him.’

  My sister gave a sour nod.

  ‘But not her . . . yet. We’ve got to get to her first,’ she whispered. ‘You know where any rope is?’

  ‘Rope?’ I said stupidly.

  ‘We’ll need to tie her up and gag her.’

  ‘But she’s not here.’

  ‘She has to be somewhere.’ Reine was frowning deeply, both hands to her temples, trying to think. ‘She’ll be getting ready to meet him! Or . . .’

  We both looked over at the old laundry at the end of the yard. Was that a faint yellow light coming from the window? It was hard to tell for sure because the moonlight was so bright. But without another word we clambered off the bookcase and quietly let ourselves out of the room.

  I grabbed a spool of twine from the bottom drawer of the kitchen cabinet and went to the back door. I could see now that there definitely was a yellow light coming from the old laundry.

  ‘This way or he’ll see us,’ Reine whispered, grabbing my hand. We headed out the front door and then crept back down the side of the house. When we reached the backyard we waited until Josh’s back was turned, then under the cover of trees ran over to the laundry.

  We crept along between the laundry and the fence to the side window and peered in. There she was, dressed in the lovely cream dress from the night before, smiling dreamily as she stuffed a small bag with her clothes. Reine and I looked at each other. So, she was planning to run! Elope?

  She looked so unbelievably beautiful that a tiny part of me wanted to simply slide away, back to the house and into bed, because it seemed wrong somehow to disturb such loveliness.

  But not Reine.

  ‘No noise,’ Reine said under her breath, ‘we’ve got to surprise her.’

  ‘Okay.’ I was still mesmerised by the sight of her.

  ‘Come on.’ My sister nudged me sharply in the ribs. ‘Get around to the door. Once we’re in there we bring her to the floor, gag her and then tie her up.’

  ‘Right. But what then?’

  ‘What do you mean, what then?’ she snapped viciously.

  ‘Where do we put her?’

  My sister hesitated for only a moment.

  ‘We lock her in,’ she said grimly. ‘A few hours lying on the cold floor will sort her out, and when she doesn’t show up he’ll go home.’

  ‘But . . .’

  Reine gave me a hard look and I shut up.

  But it was Cinders who surprised us. I’m not sure if she sensed anything, but just as we were about to creep around to the door, she suddenly stopped what she was doing and stood very still in her lovely dress as though listening for something. Then almost in one movement she had the door open and was peering out.

  ‘Now!’ Reine said under her breath.

  Without a word, Cinders understood our intentions as soon as she saw us, and made a dash for it. Reine managed to grab one arm and hauled her back for a moment, but the girl was lithe and supple, able to slither out of my sister’s grasp like an eel. Lifting her lovely skirt, she sprinted towards the back fence. I dropped back instinctively. Josh was out there, not far away. How uncool to be seen struggling with another girl! But Reine had lost all sense. She ran after Cinders and actually managed to grab her, this time by the hair. Josh turned in time to see my sister trip Cinders and then fall on top of her, all the while trying to gag her with a scarf while she was on the ground. He yelled in surprise, rushed over and pushed my sister off.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he cried incredulously. ‘Are you crazy? Stop it!’

  But Reine was beside herself and wouldn’t give up. She fought him tenaciously, kicking and snarling furiously, but he was much stronger and she didn’t have a chance. Not used to fighting females, he behaved in his usual gentlemanly way, but when Reine kept coming back for more he ended up giving her a seriously hard push, straight into a couple of rose bushes. Reine let out a loud yelp and began cursing like a navvy.

  ‘Skye,’ she called furiously, ‘help me. I’m being torn apart by thorns.’

  But I was rooted to the ground watching Joshua helping Cinders to her feet.

  ‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ I heard him say as his arms went around her. ‘I honestly thought that you might have changed your mind.’

  ‘Of course I was coming!’ They were holding on to each other and laughing in relief under the cold bright moonlit night, just as though we didn’t exist. ‘Here I am.’

  ‘Here you are.’ He laughed and kissed her.

  ‘Come on!’ Ella said suddenly. ‘Let’s just go now.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s get away from here!’

  ‘I’ll grab my things.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Arms around each other, they headed back over to the laundry. By the time they came out, Joshua carrying Cinders’ bag over one arm, I had my sister out of the rose bushes at last, her legs, face and arms smeared with blood from the deep scratches. Josh and Cinders looked at us coldly as they passed, as though we were beneath contempt. They walked down towards the side way leading onto the street. At that stage I was ready to admit defeat, but when I next caught sight of my sister’s face I saw that her anger had intensified mightily. Seething with fury, she motioned towards the garden fork and spade leaning against the garage only a couple of metres away.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, her voice ragged, ‘we’ll get them.’

  ‘Reine, I don’t think . . .’

  She grabbed the fork and almost threw the spade at me.

  ‘Come on.’ It was a command, really.

  At that point I caught sight of the big mean bird in the cage behind her. He’d moved from his branch and was climbing up the side of the cage, making these horrible, loud distressed squawks and croaks, and I have to say that his yellow eyes in the moonlight looked bright with intelligence and malice.

  ‘Hey, open the cage and let it out!’ She laughed maniacally. ‘Go on.’

  ‘What?’ I asked stupidly.

  ‘That bird! Go on, open the cage.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That university guy is coming tomorrow. Be good if it’s gone,’ she hissed.

  I went over and opened the gate, then, picking up my spade again, followed Reine. When we heard the click of Josh’s car door opening and then the thump as he threw the bag in, we knew we’d better hurry.

  ‘What . . . will we do?’ I was shaking.

  ‘Kill her,’ she whispered. ‘Him too. Quick.’

  The world seemed to close in around me at that point. One part of me knew that my sister had lost it and that I had to make a choice. Was I going to follow her into . . . this abyss – because surely that is what it was – or call a halt to the craziness? I hesitated. I couldn’t imagine life without Reine. She was my sister and my best friend, and yet . . .

  ‘Reine,’ I said, ‘I think . . .’

  ‘I’ll take the rap,’ she snapped. ‘Come on. I’ll get us off. I’ll plead insanity or . . . something. Come on, it will be worth it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Why should we sit by and watch her steal Josh just because she’s pretty? He’s our friend, isn’t he?’ I nodded and clutched the handle of the spade tighter.

  Reine was already a few metres ahead of me with her garden fork, hurrying down the driveway, but some new unease that I can’t quite explain made me turn around. The strange ugly bird was out of the cage now and spreading his huge wings.

  ‘Reine,’ I called out loudly, ‘come back!’

  She must have heard the panic in my voice, because she dropped the fork and came back to where I was standing. We both watched in fascinated horror as the huge thing circled the backyard in low swoops, all the while screeching wildly.

  ‘Wish I had a gun,’ Reine muttered.

  Eventually it settled on top of the cage but the screeching intensified. After a while it began to sound like some kind of weird laughter.

  Josh and Cinders were forgotte
n at that point, because something happened that was so totally weird it’s hard to describe, hard to believe even now. There was a noise, unlike anything else I’d heard before. First it was a kind of low shuddering sound, like the beginnings of an earthquake, then the sky suddenly darkened, and except for patches of light from the laundry and the porch next door, the backyard was no longer visible. My sister stopped and so did I. We looked up. The moonlight was being blocked by some kind of fast-moving dark cloud. The bird’s screeching had become deeper and more threatening. That’s when I realised that the darkness wasn’t a cloud at all, but a flock of perhaps a dozen huge black birds like the one I’d let out of the cage. They were all screeching now as they circled us, around and around and around, very gradually getting lower.

  So loud!

  We’d got used to living on that busy street near a transport depot and a huge public hospital, trucks on their way out to the freeway, trains, police and ambulance sirens going day and night, not to mention the feral cats fighting in the back streets and the mad drunks stumbling home from two nearby pubs. But this noise was . . . something else.

  We stood quite still. The wind picked up and the huge gum tree began to creak and sway. Reine let the garden fork fall to the ground, covered her ears and ran for the light and cover of the old laundry. I did the same.

  Hunched down together in the corner of the shed, I felt as if the terrible noise would go on forever, but it was probably at its loudest for only a couple of minutes. Gradually it began to ebb away until at last there was silence and the wind died down with it. What a relief. Our hands dropped from our ears; we opened the door and peered out. Ella and Josh had gone.

  The back porch light suddenly came on.

  ‘Girls?’ It was our mother, out on the porch in her dressing-gown. ‘What are you doing out there?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Reine called sullenly. ‘Go back to bed, Mum.’

  ‘But did you hear that noise?’

  ‘Yes. Just go back to bed, okay.’

  But Mum was nothing if not curious. She wanted to see what we were doing, so she stepped out onto the lawn, then looked up and saw the birds circling. One by one they landed on the roof of the laundry.

  ‘Oh, what ghastly birds,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Yes.’

  Like fools the three of us stood there watching as each huge bird circled lower and lower, and eventually joined the original bird. I counted fifteen of them, just sitting, each of them as big as a normal-sized dog, their yellow eyes staring down at us. So repulsive and yet . . . fascinating.

  ‘Where did they come from?’

  ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘Why did you open the cage?’ I snapped at Reine.

  ‘You opened it,’ she snapped back.

  ‘You told me to.’

  ‘Enough of this!’ Mum said loudly. She picked up the fork and advanced on the birds.

  ‘Get away with you!’ she yelled. ‘Go on, you monsters. Clear out!’

  ‘Mum . . .’ I remembered Ella’s warning and suddenly felt afraid. ‘Don’t do that!’ But it was too late.

  Without a hint of warning, the biggest bird suddenly flew straight at her face. Totally shocked, she stumbled backwards and fell, screaming for help, trying with all her might to free herself, but its sharp claws had sunk into the flesh of her face and neck. Then a second bird joined the first, then another and another. Within a matter of seconds our mother was lying on the grass in her dressing-gown and slippers trying to fight off six huge vicious birds. Of course Reine and I tried desperately to kick them away and, when we found we couldn’t, we ran for the shovel and the fork, all the time screaming for Jack to come out to help us. But he never came. I don’t know if he heard us or not. Mum writhed, screamed and cried, but that only seemed to encourage them.

  Sobbing with shock and terror, Reine and I fought them as best we could until . . . I can hardly bring myself to recall what happened next.

  The sky darkened once again. More birds were arriving. The terrible whooshing sound of wings gave way to raucous ear-piercing screeches. Reine and I had to leave Mum and try to escape ourselves. But we didn’t stand a chance.

  {12}

  I have eaten nothing, nor have I read anything nor even listened to the telly since they told me last night that today would be the day. Morning tea arrived and then lunch and the old woman across from me was sick again. What do I care? I begin to think that he will never come and that I will have to stay in this hospital bed for the rest of my life.

  Then at last there is a flurry up the other end of the ward. I can feel the frisson. He has arrived with an entourage of nurses, I guess, because I can hear the murmur of a lot of voices. So . . . this is it.

  At last they reach my bed and all of a sudden some weird part of me wants them to go away again, even though I’ve been waiting for so long. Dread. I suppose I am filled with dread. Maybe it is better to live in hope than know that I’ll never see again.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ the doctor asks gently, then without waiting for a reply he speaks to a nurse about bringing some piece of equipment closer.

  ‘So, my dear?’ He begins gently to inspect the bandages and whatever is underneath. ‘Yes . . . yes, I think we can safely take them off today.’ He puts one hand on my shoulder. ‘Now we will find out the result of our work.’

  I nod numbly, quite unable to speak.

  It takes some time for him to get the bandages off. Finally, when his fingers stop, I can feel my face naked and exposed, and a deep silence has fallen all around me. Everyone in that room is waiting, along with me. For once the woman opposite me has her television switched off and all the peeping machines, the grunts and sighs, cheery comments, footsteps and mobiles have magically ceased. I can’t smell anything, or feel anything . . .

  The surgeon moves first. I feel him step away from the bed, then he murmurs something to a nurse and I remain in darkness as he begins to wipe some cooling lotion over my eyelids.

  He is still messing around with the lotion when the first small ray of light appears. I hold my breath and say nothing until it starts to build, more and more light. Then I seem to be blinded with light. It rushes at me like a rising flood. So much light and then . . . colour! A blurred blue shape and then something brown, moving. It is so unbelievably wonderful that I cry out without even being aware of doing so. Oh, there are no words for this, no way to describe these first wonderful moments as the world comes into focus again.

  ‘So, my dear?’ he says. I see he is an old grey-haired man in his sixties with a craggy, lopsided, beautiful face. He is smiling, smiling! And so am I. He takes both my hands in his and I hold on tightly, hanging on to him for dear life. Eventually I see all those others standing around him, all these smiling faces, blurring now through my tears.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ I whisper, ‘thank you!’

  ‘Oh my dear,’ the surgeon says, ‘my dear girl. I am so happy for you!’ There are murmurs all around and I see that they all are so happy for me and I know that I don’t deserve it.

  I stare at all the smiling faces, at the cheap print of flowers on the wall, at the phones, and the pair of pink slippers, and at the poor old woman in the bed opposite, so sick, but sitting up now and smiling at me. I stare at the tall buildings outside the windows, at the pale-blue sky and the drifting clouds, and after so many weeks of being in the dark it all seems so outrageously wonderful that I think I might have died and gone to heaven! So . . . I begin to cry.

  ‘No more tears now,’ the old doctor says and gently pats my shoulder. ‘Time for laughter now.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say and continue to cry. He hands me the box of tissues and I take a few and blow my nose. I don’t want to keep crying, I want to keep on looking at everything. I want to get up and walk around, go to the toilet without bumping into things, switch on the telly, use my mobile phone. But I can’t seem to stop the flow of tears. I cry and I cry.

  ‘What is it, my dear?’ he asks, now th
at the others have gone and I’m still sobbing. The old lady opposite has switched on her television and people are coming and going as before, so it is just him and me and he has been sitting with me for some time now patting my shoulder kindly.

  ‘Are you feeling sad about your poor mother and sister?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘If only we’d been able to help them,’ he murmurs.

  ‘Yes.’ I nod and reach for more tissues. ‘If only.’

  But in truth what happened to Reine and Mum isn’t real to me yet. They are gone. I know that much. The grief, when it comes, will probably bring me undone, but until then I am floating above that particular reality.

  ‘I think I’m just . . . happy,’ I manage to whisper.

  ‘Ah,’ he chuckles, ‘the best kind of tears.’

  I clutch his hand again.

  ‘You have given me so much.’

  ‘I have done my job,’ he says quietly, ‘that is all.’

  ‘No . . . much . . . much more . . . than that.’ He smiles and pats my shoulder again and then leaves at last with promises to see me the next day.

  Gradually I calm down, and when I do I notice a page cut from a newspaper on my side table. I pick it up, remembering now that one of the nurses had heard the story and left it for me to read if my sight was ever restored.

  The caption reads: Love Survives Ugly Bird Attack.

  It is about them, of course – the beautiful Ella with Joshua’s arm around her, both of them looking so very happy. It is mostly about how they were brought together by the ‘terrible’ incident with the birds. When I reach the bit about my mum and sister being killed I put the paper down. There is only so much one person can take in a single day.

  But before long I pick up the paper again. I still can’t bring myself to read the rest of the article, but I can’t stop looking at the photo. I stare and stare at those smiling faces, mesmerised. How lovely and open and free they both look. I am suddenly so grateful that Reine and I were not able to carry out our terrible plan to kill them. Alive, they are alive, and so am I. So another miracle is taking place, but this time inside me. It is as though a great heavy chunk of something stinking and putrid is simply sliding away from me and dissolving into the ground.