by Matt Haig
Evie shook her head. ‘Nope. They’re not.’
‘Are you kidding?’ said Ramesh, a little too loud. He lowered his voice. ‘The saltwater crocodile can kill anything. On land or water. It can kill wild buffalo. Even sharks. It grabs them in its jaws and does a death roll.’
Evie sighed her disagreement. ‘The saltwater crocodile is actually not even in the top three most dangerous animals.’
‘Oh, so you’re counting humans?’
Evie cleared her throat. ‘Well, humans are the deadliest animal. No question. We kill each other. And we’ve wiped out millions of other animals. According to National Geographic the rate of species extinction happens one thousand times faster because of humans. Two hundred species of plants and animals go extinct every day. And if we’re not careful we’re going to wipe out the giant panda and the blue whale and the Asian elephant. They’re all on the endangered list.’
‘I know, it totally sucks.’
‘But even if you don’t count humans, the saltwater crocodile is not the deadliest animal.’
Ramesh doodled next to a picture of a triangle. ‘What is, then?’
‘Easy. Mosquito. They kill three million people a year. By spreading really, really dangerous dis—’
Just then Mrs Azikiwe woke up with a start and told them off for talking. So Evie and Ramesh went back to their geometry.
But in the afternoon break they kept the conversation going as they sat on a bench in the yard.
‘You know a lot about animals,’ Ramesh said.
Evie shrugged. She felt uncomfortable suddenly and started rambling.
‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I mean, I know facts. I know that 10 per cent of a cat’s bones are in its tail.
‘I know that a hummingbird’s wings beat up to seventy times a second. I know that chickens are the closest living relative to the Tyrannosaurus rex.
‘I know a platypus swims with its eyes closed. And that the heart of a shrimp is located in its head.
‘And that giraffes have black tongues to stop them getting sunburn, and – on the subject of giraffes – male giraffes sometimes drink the wee of female giraffes . . .’
Ramesh gagged. ‘Wow. Gross.’
‘But facts aren’t really the only kind of knowledge,’ Evie continued. ‘I mean, imagine if you could actually know what it feels like, inside their heads . . . Inside the mind of a hippopotamus. Inside the mind of a goldfish. Inside the mind of a cat.’
Ramesh smiled. He liked this idea. ‘That’s what I always wonder. When I am at the zoo. Imagine what it’d be like to talk to a giraffe . . . Or any animal that wasn’t us.’
‘Yes,’ sighed Evie. ‘Imagine.’
‘Mind you, I doubt animals would say very nice things to us. We’re a cruel species.’
And just at that moment Leonora looked over at Evie and Ramesh and laughed with her new group of friends. Evie was pretty sure the laughter was aimed at her and Ramesh.
Evie put her head down. ‘Yeah,’ Evie agreed. ‘A cruel species.’
Ramesh looked at Leonora and her gang giggling. ‘Hey, on Saturdays I help out at the zoo. Do bits and bobs for my mum. Mainly, though, I just hang around. If you wanted to come along, I can give you a behind-the-scenes tour. We’ve got some cool creatures.’
Evie smiled. She thought of her dad, and of Mortimer J Mortimer. ‘Thanks, but I can’t.’
‘Why?’
And Evie was thankful that the school bell went just at that moment, so she didn’t have to answer the question.
The Power of Reptiles
hen Evie got back from school, Granny Flora was there, sitting in the living room, chewing on liquorice.
She held out the packet. ‘Do you want one?’
Evie took a sweet. ‘Thank you, Granny. What are you doing here?’
‘I came to see you.’
‘Where’s Dad?’ Evie asked, putting the liquorice in her mouth.
‘He’s out. He told me earlier he had to pick up a sofa from somewhere. I need to talk to you.’
Evie was confused. ‘Why?’
Granny Flora looked worried. Evie had never seen Granny Flora look worried. And seeing Granny Flora look worried made Evie feel worried.
It was all very worrying.
‘What’s the matter, Granny Flora?’
‘Plato,’ she said.
‘Is he hurt?’
‘No, buttercup. It’s worse than that.’
Evie’s eyes widened.
‘The thing you should know is that Plato is a bearded dragon and bearded dragons are lizards and lizards are reptiles. And reptiles are . . .’ Granny Flora looked around, as if the right word was somewhere floating in the air. ‘. . . Special. Reptiles are special. They are different to other animals. They have powers. They know things. I think it’s because reptiles have been around for a long time.’
Evie knew this, of course. Evie knew that reptiles had been around for more than 300 million years, from the murky swamps of the late Carboniferous period. But she didn’t know what this had to do with Granny Flora sitting in the living room eating liquorice on a Tuesday evening.
‘Plato speaks to me in riddles,’ said Granny Flora. ‘It’s not always clear what he means. But on this he was very clear about one thing. I have made a mistake.’
‘What was the mistake?’ Evie asked, as she saw her dad – red-faced and exhausted – carrying a sofa outside the window.
‘I have to teach you,’ said Granny Flora as Evie’s dad rested the sofa on the pavement to catch his breath. ‘I have to help you develop the Talent. It’s very important. Your life depends on it . . . But it has to be a secret. Not even your dad can know. It would put him in grave danger.’ Evie’s dad was now opening the front door. ‘Do you understand?’ whispered Granny Flora urgently.
Evie did not understand. Not at all. But she could see in Granny Flora’s milky eyes that she was deadly serious.
‘Yes, Granny,’ she said. ‘Of course.’
The Lesson
very Sunday during that first term of high school, Evie went around to see Granny Flora for art class. That’s what they told Evie’s dad. And Granny Flora even prepared a work of art for Evie to take home. A picture of a cat that got a bit more complete every week.
‘So,’ said Evie on the first afternoon, staring at the bearded dragon as he ate from his chipped saucer of asparagus and mealworms in Granny Flora’s garden, ‘why are we trusting Plato on this?’
Plato tilted his head towards the sunshine.
Granny Flora giggled. ‘Buttercup, I’ve told you. Plato knows everything. We have to trust him. He’s never been wrong before.’
Evie studied the bearded dragon.
‘But . . . we don’t want to end up like mum.’
Granny Flora creaked forward in her wooden deckchair and reached for Evie’s hand. ‘I know, but Plato says we’d be in more danger if the Talent fades.’
As Granny Flora spoke Plato’s spiky beard grew larger and turned brown to black. Evie tried to mind read him but couldn’t. She felt that strange weakness she’d experienced around him before. ‘Okay. Okay. Who are we going to start with, Plato himself?’
Granny Flora shook her head and chuckled as if she had never heard anything so ridiculous.
‘You can’t start with Plato. You END with Plato. You START with a liquorice.’
‘You want me to mind-read a liquorice?’
‘No, buttercup. I want you to taste one. Because I don’t think you’ve ever tasted liquorice before.’
Now it was Evie’s turn to laugh. ‘You give me them all the time.’
‘Yes. And I’ve seen you. You gobble it up. And then it’s gone and you’ve hardly noticed it. Now, here is a liquorice. Pop that in your mouth and this time keep it there and really taste it. Let the world slip away so there is nothing at all but the sweet flavour.’
So Evie did just that. She let everything slip away. She concentrated on it and realised Granny Flora was right. She hadn’
t really tasted liquorice before. Hadn’t noticed all the subtle types of sweetness in there. And even some saltiness. And bitterness. It wasn’t a totally wonderful taste but it wasn’t a totally unpleasant one. Evie thought that if a taste could sum up life – the range of good and bad and in-between – then it would probably be liquorice.
‘You see,’ said Granny Flora, ‘animal thoughts are like liquorice. You don’t have to change a liquorice to taste it differently. And you don’t have to change an animal. You don’t have to get an animal to think. Animals are thinking all the time. And their thoughts talk to us all the time. It’s just we haven’t been paying attention.’
‘I see,’ said Evie. Though she wasn’t sure she did.
‘Different animals have different kinds of minds,’ said Granny Flora. ‘Whereas a dog thought can just arrive in your mind, simple and complete, like a slipper dropped on the carpet, a lizard thought is something that darts around, hard to catch.’
There was a cat sitting on Granny Flora’s fence. The cat was a ginger tabby that Evie had seen before. It was the same one that had been hiding under the car from Scruff a year ago. Marmalade.
‘Right,’ said Granny Flora. ‘You can start with that cat over there on the wall.’
Evie smiled. ‘Well, that’s easy.’
Granny Flora gave a low chuckle. ‘I don’t want you just to understand the cat. I want you to persuade it. I want you to get the cat to come over with nothing but your mind.’
Evie gulped. ‘What? That’s impossible. You can’t tell a cat what to do. That’s the whole point of cats. Cats don’t obey. No Talent is that strong.’
‘Believe me. There is someone with a Talent so strong that they could get a whole army of cats to do anything.’
For a moment Evie wondered if Granny Flora was talking about Mortimer J Mortimer, but she was too scared to find out. Mortimer J Mortimer was already scary enough in her mind.
So Evie tried it.
She stared deep at the cat as it licked a front paw.
‘That’s it,’ said Granny Flora. ‘Focus on the subject. Imagine there is nothing else in the world than that particular cat sitting on the wall.’
Evie let the world fade away. Until there was nothing but the ginger cat licking its right front paw with careful strokes of its tongue.
‘Now,’ said Granny Flora. ‘Bow and arrow. Imagine your mind is a bow, and the thought is an arrow. Pull back, and speak a thought into the cat’s mind.’
Evie did just that. ‘Hello, Marmalade. I would like you to come over here, please.’
Marmalade stopped licking its paw and looked over at Evie. ‘Now why would I want to do that?’
‘Well,’ said Evie, feeling how content the cat was, sitting on the wall, ‘because it’s nice here. And because I’m telling you.’
‘That’s not a reason. Sardines are a reason.’
Granny Flora pressed her hand on Evie’s shoulders. ‘No bribery. Remember. He has to come simply because you are mentally telling him to.’
Evie took a deep breath and tried again. ‘Come here, Marmalade. Come here, Marmalade. Please come, Marmalade . . .’
Marmalade looked over at Evie and stood up, and for a moment – for a brief and wonderful moment – Evie thought that it had worked. She thought that she could do it, persuade a cat.
Then the cat jumped off the wall, but away from Evie, not towards her. Into the neighbour’s garden.
‘Oh no, he’s gone,’ said Evie.
Grandma Flora made a tutting sound. ‘Oh, he’s not gone. Watch this.’
And Evie watched Grandma Flora stare intently at the wall, as if trying to see something beyond that wall, then close her eyes. She looked deep in concentration.
A second later, the cat jumped back into view, onto the wall, then into the garden, trotting all the way over to Granny Flora.
Evie’s jaw dropped open. ‘How?’ she said. ‘How?’
Marmalade stroked his head against Granny Flora’s ankles, which looked like they were frowning because of her wrinkly tights. ‘And not a single sardine in sight,’ she chuckled. ‘You see, your problem was that you were asking Marmalade to come to you. You need to make it INEVITABLE. You need not a shadow of doubt. You need to become him. Don’t just understand the animal, be the animal.’
‘Right. But—’
‘You need to stop asking the cat to come down off the wall and be the cat coming down off the wall.’
Evie rubbed her face with both hands, as if washing her face with an invisible flannel. ‘That sounds impossible.’
‘Everything is impossible until you can do it. And you’ll do it. It’s a kind of seeing you don’t need your eyes for. A kind of tasting but with your mind. Every animal is connected to every other animal. We are all linked. It’s the chain of life. We all had a common ancestor four million years ago . . .’
Evie knew this. She also knew that there were more than six thousand groups of genes all animals had in common.
‘Life is life,’ said Granny Flora. ‘Everything connects. Not just a grandma to a granddaughter. But a human to a chimpanzee, and primates to dogs and cats. Obviously we are related to some creatures more than others. We are actually closer to rabbits and rodents than cats and dogs, but the connections are all there. It’s one big jigsaw of life. Every piece depends on every other piece. And it is all connected. It’s all one big connecting energy. And humans don’t have a word for it. But other animals do. It’s called the dawa. It’s like a river. It flows through everything. It connects all life on this earth together. Sparrows to dogs to snakes to fish. Even to trees.’
‘Dawa,’ Evie said, as if saying the word out loud could help her understand it.
‘And to become a true Talent, you will have to be able to feel the dawa. You will have to truly understand that your life is not just contained in your body. It is a part of every living thing. It’s an odd idea at first, but you’ll get it.’
‘Will I, Granny?’ Evie said, staring at a daisy amid the grass.
‘Oh yes, Evie. Oh yes. You’ll get there. I know it. But you need to surround yourself with as many animals as possible. Every species. Exotic animals.’
‘But you said bearded dragons are—’
‘Difficult. Yes, they are. Absolutely. The most difficult of all. Which is why you need variety. To get to that level. To understand all the connections of life. Because you will need the Talent for more than cats and dogs. Anything could be coming your way . . .’
Evie thought. And then she thought some more.
And then she thought it was time to ask her dad a question.
And she would, when she got home, but first she was going to practise on any animal she could find in Granny Flora’s garden. She tried it on a slug that Granny Flora spotted climbing a cracked flowerpot.
‘Now, remember what I said. Focus on the creature with your eyes at first. But then close your eyes. And focus with your mind. With closed eyes, concentrate on the darkest part of the darkness. The part darker than liquorice, right in the centre. Then, ultimately, you will find the dawa.’
Evie stared at the slug. Then closed her eyes.
‘The challenge with mind-talking to a slug, or to any gastropod, for that matter,’ continued her grandmother, ‘is in staying awake. They have the most boring minds in the universe. And if you’d ever met your grandfather, that’s saying something.’
Evie laughed as she focused on the slug. But then the thoughts came – very slow and sluggish thoughts about soil – soil! – and Evie fell fast asleep instantly, dropping like a rubber tree in the Amazon as she collapsed on the lawn.
‘See?’ said Granny Flora, tapping Evie’s cheek to wake her. ‘Told you.’
The Boy Who Wanted to Talk to Horses
alking home from Granny Flora’s the day of the slug, Evie saw someone she hadn’t seen in a while, sniffing around a bin. A large dog with matted fur and a wagging tail.
‘Hello, Scruff,’ Evie said.
&n
bsp; Scruff didn’t have to turn around. He could smell her.
‘Oh. I’m good enough to talk to now, am I?’
Evie remembered that when she’d last seen Scruff she’d ignored him because she had been with her dad and she had still been trying to ignore animal thoughts in the hope they would go away. Now – since Granny Flora’s warning – things were different, and she felt guilty.
‘I’m sorry, Scruff, I really am . . .’ she thought. Then she tried what she had tried on the cat. ‘Come here, Scruff . . .’ But that had no effect, so she pretended she was Scruff. She remembered what Granny Flora had said. Don’t just understand the animal, be the animal. She closed her eyes and tried to find the dawa – the life that was in her, that was also in the dog. And she tried to implant a thought in Scruff’s brain: ‘I want to come to Evie.’
But it was no good.
‘Your mind control won’t work with me, Evie,’ said Scruff.
‘Sorry, I was just testing something.’
‘And I was just sniffing something. Something delicious. Pizza in a pizza box. I like you, but I also like pizza. Life is good. Life is good . . .’
Evie left Scruff to his sniffing and walked a little further down Grafton Street.
A little boy with wild curly hair was playing in his front garden. He couldn’t have been more than five years old. Six at the most. His mum was watching him from an inside window as he watered some flowers with a watering can that looked a bit too heavy for him.
He saw Evie and he looked at her strangely.
‘It’s you, isn’t it?’
‘What?’
‘I saw you. With the dog. Scruff.’
Evie’s eyes went wide. ‘Scruff? How do you know his name?’
‘He told me. He told me your name too, Evie.’
The boy kept watering the plants and Evie kept a fake friendly smile going because the boy’s mother was still looking at her from behind the window.
‘I can talk to dogs,’ the curly-haired boy continued. ‘But not cats. Only dogs. Please can you teach me? I want to talk to all animals . . .’