‘Oh, forget the loft, Oli!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Forget that. And London. London isn’t here. You need to live here.’
‘I know!’
‘Don’t interrupt. You don’t understand. Things are—’ She stopped again and looked at me, a strange half-smile frozen on her face. She touched my cheek. I glared at her. ‘We live here, for now, OK?’ she said. ‘London’s … far away.’
Far away? Far away? Only because she’d dragged me here. Only because of her. I stepped back. One, two. I looked at the floor.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘OK.’
* * *
In my room, the ladder was still poking out of the loft, a cold draught falling from the hole in the ceiling. I pushed it closed with a grunt and threw myself down on the bed. What a joke. We lived here now? Lived here? I threw one of my pillows across the room with another, louder grunt. This wasn’t my life. It was hers. ‘At least Dad would have come exploring with me,’ I muttered to myself.
I threw the other pillow.
* * *
That night, in my dreams, I was running through the air. I flew across the town, the moon above me, the pine trees below. Their scent rose and caught in my lungs, fresh and sweet and bitter. I saw the roofs of the houses below me and fell through dark skies with the wind screaming in my ears. I saw the red door of Uncle Rob’s house and heard the wind roar as I circled lower and lower. I was moving, changing, half awake and dreaming again. Then I was in the attic. There was a huge, half-circle window, the glass turned brown with dust. I watched the pines in the hills sway and creak. The road led off to London. There were boxes in the attic too, and old, silly things. A broken wardrobe, Christmas baubles, some books.
And then there was him.
He was standing behind me as I looked out of the window, waiting for me to turn around.
And I did.
I was awake. The pillow was falling off the bed. I could hear Mum talking in a room below, saying something over and over again. Rob spoke back and glasses clinked as they drank. Sinking deeper into the bed, I fell asleep again.
The thing – was he a bat? – was too huge to see. His wings merged into the shadows, his shape too fuzzy to make out. He grinned at me with small, sharp teeth and darkness whirled around him. He cocked his head and bowed it slightly. ‘Once upon a time,’ he said, ‘a boy dreamed, and all his wishes came true. Once upon a time, old things woke up, and magic – real magic – came back into the world.’
Wind was blowing all around us now, and the walls of the attic were falling away, crumbling and flaking like old, dry leaves. The thing laughed and its eyes shone yellow. ‘Worlds to make,’ it said, ‘and worlds to take. Fly while you can, boy. Enjoy the power of your dreams! But remember, yes? And come back. There’s so much we can do together.’
And then it was gone, swirling away with everything else into the wind and the shadows and the roaring as the world shattered into dust and noise. I opened my mouth to call out, and then I was falling too, tumbling and turning, my breath caught in my throat.
The noise from downstairs woke me up. Mum and Rob were still awake, talking late into the night. My ears were ringing with the roar of the dream. I shook my head and turned over. I felt like I was forgetting something. I thought about Dad. I closed my eyes and wished to the night for him to come soon.
* * *
The next day I walked to the shops, and that’s how I met Em. She was sitting on a red-brick wall ahead, kicking her legs up and down, tapping a stick. I kept my head down, hands in pockets, pulled my hood up against the cold, leaned forward. I wanted to pretend I wasn’t there. She watched me pass, sucking her lower lip, and I heard the stick clatter as she tossed it aside. She was wearing flip-flops that slapped on the pavement like little cracks of gunfire when she ran. ‘Hey, you come from number thirteen?’ she asked.
I turned, not sure who she was talking to. ‘Eh?’
‘Thirteen,’ she said. ‘You come from number thirteen?’
She was younger than me, I thought. Smaller, anyway. A silver dove brooch was pinned to her chest and a pair of mad pink glasses rested just under her chin, tucked into her top. She smiled, and her green eyes crinkled.
‘What d’you mean, thirteen?’
She turned her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. ‘House number. Sorry, I thought I saw you going into the Talcotts’ place…’
‘Oh, no, yeah, you did. You did. My uncle’s house,’ I said.
She stuck her hand out. Her purple nail varnish was chipping away. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Em.’
‘Oli.’
‘You here with your parents?’
‘My mum.’
She sucked in her mouth and nodded slowly. ‘Newbie, huh? ’Mazing. Hey, you want to see a dead crow?’
‘A … what?’
‘A crow. Caw, caw!’ She tucked her bent elbows into her body and batted them up and down.
I stared at her, not sure what to do. ‘Where do you live?’ I asked.
‘Here. There. Why not? We’re neighbours. That’s mine,’ she said, pointing to a house further down the street. ‘I know Mr Talcott. My dad was best man at his wedding to … is it Becky?’
‘Bekah,’ I said, ‘my aunt. Yeah.’
I looked down. I could feel her eyes on me.
‘A dead crow?’
‘Yeah, come on, he’s just in my garden.’
We walked back past Uncle Rob’s place together. I could see Mum’s shadow in the kitchen window but my eyes kept moving up, all the way, to the loft. I had the feeling that I was forgetting something.
‘It’s really sad,’ said Em. ‘Maybe a cat got it. Crows are huge! Wait till you see. I took some feathers I found on the grass.’
‘Um,’ I said. ‘Right.’ The loft window was black and empty. My stomach felt strange.
I looked back at Em, drew my mind away. ‘Sorry. Feathers? Is it magpies who have the black ones that are really blue and green?’
‘Sure,’ said Em. ‘Why not? But they’re half white, too. This is a crow.’
She led me into her garden, a mess of bushes and crumbling apple trees. ‘Isn’t it cool?’ she said. ‘There was an orchard here, and when they built the houses, they all got apple trees left over. One by one the other houses all cut them down, or made patios or decks or whatever. The people in this house didn’t, and neither will we. These trees are so old!’
They did look old; the bark was dry and knobbly and they twisted and turned like bent old men laughing in the cold. ‘Can you eat them?’ I asked. I didn’t know what else to say.
‘Yeah, we make pies!’ she beamed. She skipped along the grass and bent down near a bush. ‘The crow’s down here,’ she said.
I walked over and looked. It was big, she was right, but it was broken and battered, lying on the soil. Its beak looked like plastic, its wings hard and brittle. Nothing soft at all. She was watching me, waiting to see what I thought.
‘It’s gross,’ I said.
‘I know, right? But it’s sad.’
I looked at the crow’s sharp claws. It looked like a joke, but I stared. I thought something was moving deep in the darks of its eyes. A fleck of light, or a spark. I leaned in again, kneeling on the grass this time. I could swear something was shining in the sockets. I felt hot and strange. My mouth tingled. Em’s smile froze at the corners of her mouth.
‘You all right?’ she said. ‘You look kind of pale.’
I flicked my head, trying to dislodge something, trying to remember a dream or a song from long ago. Then, like a flash it came: Eren.
I whispered it to myself. ‘Eren…’
Em looked at me. ‘Huh?’
I stood up. ‘Eren,’ I said.
‘Uh, no, Em,’ she giggled, ‘for Emma.’
‘What? No … it’s … Sorry.’
She looked at me oddly. ‘You OK? Your eyes are kind of … bright.’
‘What?’ I said again. I shut them tight. Two pinpricks of starlight burned i
n the darkness. I opened them again. ‘Is there something in there?’
She laughed. ‘You’re kind of odd, you know.’
‘Um. Look, maybe I should head off,’ I said, moving back to the road. Em walked after me.
‘Sorry, I didn’t think … it is kind of sad, isn’t it? That it’s dead, that it’s the end.’
‘It’s not that,’ I said. Would she think I was scared of a bird? ‘No, it’s fine. Just some dust in my eyes. Look, I’m fine.’
She opened her mouth to say something, but another voice called from inside the house. ‘Ah, my mum,’ she said. ‘Come and say hello.’
I hesitated. ‘Maybe I should go and tell Uncle Rob where I am.’
‘I said they’re friends. I’ll get my dad to phone him.’
She ran off into the house, leaving me with the trees and the wind and the crow.
I looked up, staring at the sky. ‘Eren,’ I said through my teeth.
FIVE
‘Why do we tell stories?’ he asks.
It’s not a test, but he wants me to give him the answer. No. He wants me to give him his answer. But I don’t know. He shakes his head and smiles his devil smile at me.
‘We tell stories,’ he says, ‘because we know no other ways to fly.’
I remember the grass and the smell of the trees, but it’s dim, like a dream, or the echo of a song. But I remember, still, a little. I remember Em and the crow. I remember Em’s mum.
HER PARENTS were sitting on the sofa when we went in and they both stood up when they saw me. ‘Oli, is it?’ asked Em’s mum. ‘I’m Lucy, and this is George. Emma told us Robert’s your uncle.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ I said. ‘Yeah, me and Mum are staying with Uncle Robert for a while.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Em’s mum, ‘of course.’
I looked at George. He nodded and smiled briefly before turning to Em. ‘You mustn’t disturb the boy too much, Emma. No doubt he’s got stuff to do, people to talk to.’
‘Honey…’ said Em’s mum. Em’s dad grunted, nodded again and sat down to turn on the TV. ‘Right, well then, why don’t we get you a drink? Oli, George’ll phone your uncle.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, looking at Em. She shrugged and mouthed to me, Don’t worry about him. In the kitchen her mum gave us each a glass of Coke.
‘Don’t you think Dad was being strange?’ asked Em.
Her mum looked thoughtful and spoke slowly. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. You mustn’t worry about it, Oli. You’ve got friends here. Your whole family has.’
‘Do you know Oli?’ Em looked at me suspiciously and sucked her Coke through a straw.
‘Don’t be silly, of course not!’ said her mum.
Em turned to me. ‘Who are you? What government do you work for?’ she said, pointing her fingers at my head like a gun. ‘Pow!’ she said.
‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you.’
‘Hey, you’ve got a mysterious one here, Em,’ said her mum. ‘You be careful. Don’t let him get hold of your fingerprints.’
‘Luce!’ called Em’s dad from the living room. She tutted and left.
‘That,’ said Em, ‘was kind of strange.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. The ice in my Coke bobbed and turned. The light made it look like two eyes.
‘You should meet Takeru,’ she said. She sounded very certain.
‘I should meet who?’
‘Takeru. He’s a friend. He’s Japanese but he was adopted by a married couple and now he lives here. He’s great!’ The Coke fizzed on my tongue and tasted sweet and cold. Takeru? Sure, why not, I thought, I don’t want to go back to the house. I shrugged. Em stood up and raced off after her mum. I played with a beer mat on the table, flipping it over and over. ‘OK, we’re ready!’ said Em as she walked back in. ‘Tak only lives in the next street along, but we can push through the fence down the garden to his place. Come on!’
She was already out the door and I hurried after her, leaving my drink half finished. Back outside I felt the hairs tingle on my neck as I thought of the window looking down from Uncle Rob’s.
I couldn’t say how, and I couldn’t say what, but I knew – I knew – that something was watching.
I ducked my head, not looking behind me. Em raced through the garden, past the apple trees, and came to a thick scramble of trees and bushes at the bottom. Behind it, separated by an old wooden fence, I could see the roofs of a line of houses. ‘Mind the holly,’ said Em, ‘and watch out for spiders, they seem to like it here.’
‘We’re going through this?’ I asked.
‘Man, come on. Takeru’s ’mazing, you’ll see!’
She crouched down and moved slowly, pushing leaves aside, working her way between branches like a cat, never letting her knees touch the ground, snaking and winding gracefully. I stumbled after her, catching my hair in the spikes, scratching through the leaves, my fingertips soon dirty and black. The fence was spotted green and purple with lichen and age. ‘Magic time,’ said Em, grinning like a wolf. She pushed the fence lightly with her fingertips. A small, wonky door had been cut into the fence, a gold hinge screwed onto one side to keep it in place. It opened silently, nothing more than Em’s touch pushing it out, and hung limp against the other side of the fence.
‘That’s … wow, that’s pretty impressive!’ I said.
Em tutted and rolled her eyes. ‘Pretty impressive? It’s amazing! We fixed it up so we can go from his to mine to his. Like a cat flap. But an us flap!’
‘Does anyone know?’
‘Them? No!’ She fixed me with a serious stare. ‘You’re not going to tell anyone … are you, Oli? I only just met you. I hope I can trust you with this.’
I held up my hands and flicked a ladybird off my thumb. ‘Hey, this is epic. Not a word, I promise.’
She held my gaze for a few seconds more, huddled down in the soil as the sunlight flitted across the dark. Then she whistled long and low. ‘Let’s go!’
She scrambled across and onto the grass, beckoning me through with a wave of her hand. Then, carefully and slowly, she pushed the secret door closed, wedging it firmly back in place. The wood was rough, all thick grain and knots, and stuck in without a lock. ‘Perfect, right?’ said Em, and we stood up to look around.
‘Won’t … uh … won’t his parents notice you’re here?’
‘We’re here, you mean,’ she said as she started walking over the lawn. I paused and looked back. The trees were tall enough to block out Uncle Rob’s house; nothing in there could see us. Why was I nervous?
I couldn’t stop thinking about the window.
SIX
He’s happy. I can tell. He’s mental and he’s happy that I’m here.
‘So much to learn,’ he says. ‘So much to do!’
‘Why do you care about me?’ I ask, breathing deeply, holding his stare. He tilts his head and rustles his wings in a shrug, as if he doesn’t understand.
‘A better question,’ he says, holding up a single finger, ‘would come if we shift the focus a bit. Why, young Oli, did nobody else care? Eh? Mummy and Daddy and everyone else, running around and pretending everything was so important.’
‘I—’
‘No, no, don’t you pretend as well. Not with me. Stories I love. Pretending I hate. Stories are truths. Pretending is nasty lies! So, no. You be honest. Why didn’t all them grown-ups listen to you?
I can’t answer him. My eyes are burning.
‘I listen,’ he says, singsong and gentle, swaying his head and hugging himself. ‘I always listen to the young and the lost. La, la, laaa, but I do!’
BY THE side of the house we stopped for Em to pick a pebble from the path. ‘Long way up, short way down,’ she said, and chucked it up at a window above our heads. There was a click, a thud, a muffled voice, and then a boy’s head popped out. ‘Em!’ he said, and then when he saw me, ‘And someone else! What’s up?’
He disappeared inside again and Em pushed me further along the alley, round to the front. �
�Can’t keep him waiting, hurry it up!’ she sang, tapping the backs of her fingers on my jacket. From inside the house we could hear the sound of feet on stairs, then the front door opened with a rattle. ‘Em!’ said the boy, smiling widely and pushing back hair from his eyes. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.
‘Takeru, I want you to meet Oli.’
‘Oli, nice to meet you.’
‘Good to meet you, Ta … um…’
‘Takeru, silly!’ said Em, punching my arm lightly. She laughed and looked at him.
‘Takeru,’ he said again. ‘Don’t worry. Coming in?’
‘Yeah, course!’ said Em loudly, pushing past him and disappearing into one of the rooms. She must’ve known the house well.
‘Uh, thanks,’ I said, feeling awkward as the boy moved past to let me in. I slipped off my muddy trainers. ‘So, you know Em well?’ I asked.
‘Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘You new here?’
‘I only met her this afternoon.’
He looked sympathetic and sucked in his breath, scratched his head. ‘Yeah, you kind of have to just go with it. She’ll drag you along on her mad ideas.’
‘Come on,’ came Em’s voice from inside. Takeru shook his head and led me to the living room. Em was curled up on a giant red sofa like a cat, flicking through TV channels aimlessly, the static filling the air with scratches and hisses.
‘Em, what are you looking for?’ asked Takeru, moving a cushion and pointing for me to sit down. ‘You want a drink?’ he asked.
‘No, no, I’m good.’
‘Em, what you looking for?’
‘Cartoons, cartoons, cartoons!’
‘Figures. Drink?’
‘Yup! Got any milk?’
He sighed, raised his eyebrows at me and shook his head. ‘I’ll be right back, Oli,’ he said, and went out. The channels fizzed and raced as Em ran through the programmes, searching for something she knew. She muttered under her breath, ‘Come on, come on…’
I watched her, watched the TV, heard Takeru clinking glasses somewhere else in the house, felt the unfamiliar sofa with my hands.
‘Whoa, stop!’ I yelled, pointing at the TV.
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