Sky Hawk

by Lewis, Gill

  It is also a sad day tomorrow because Max is going back to America. We are having a party for him today. Max gave me his medical books. He said I’m going to need them when I am a doctor. And I will be a doctor one day, Callum, I will. The money you raised is enough to send me to school and then college. I’ve never seen Mama Binta smile as big as she did when she found out. Mama Binta says she always wanted to be a doctor. I think she would have been the best doctor too.

  Maybe I can come and see you in Scotland. Is it far from London? I would love to see the mountains and the rivers in your photos. I hope I will see Iris again one day too.

  Your friend

  Jeneba.

  CHAPTER 39

  The next few months went by so fast. At Christmas, people from the village sent Mama Binta and Jeneba clothes and books. Mama Binta phoned us to say Jeneba was doing well, but had had four operations on her leg already and was very tired most of the time. I’d sent a Christmas card and a letter, but it wasn’t until New Year that I got a letter back from her.

  4th January

  Happy New Year, Callum.

  I am writing from my hospital bed. I don’t have a computer so I can’t email you, but maybe when I am strong enough Mama Binta can take me to the internet café on the street below my window.

  Please thank the people from your village for the kind gifts. Mama Binta was very happy with the jumpers you sent. She finds England so cold. She is wearing all three of the jumpers all at the same time!!!

  We had a great surprise at New Year. Max came to see us. He is staying with friends in London. He says Scotland is the best place in the world for New Year. He tried to teach us a song called ‘Auld Lang Syne’, but he only knew the first line. It didn’t stop him getting all the doctors and nurses singing and dancing along. Even Mama Binta joined in, and I didn’t know she could dance.

  The streets here are very pretty with bright lights. There is even a flashing reindeer on the shop opposite my room. Mama Binta says she doesn’t know if it is day or night in London. She misses the dark skies of home.

  Today I saw snow. One of the nurses took me outside in the street. I watched it fall from the sky and tried to catch it in my mouth. I was covered all over in big white snowflakes. They landed in my hair and on my face and on my clothes. Close up, they look like little stars, millions and millions of them. The nurse told me that not one snowflake is ever the same. She said they are all different, all special.

  Is there snow in Scotland?

  I hope one day soon I can come and see you.

  Your friend

  Jeneba.

  It didn’t snow properly in Scotland until late February. When it did, it was thick and deep. The farm and hills and village were white with it. School was cancelled for nearly a week, and Rob and Euan and I spent most of the time tobogganing on the hills behind the village.

  We checked on Iris’s position in The Gambia every day. She was still on the same river creek she’d been on for weeks. Then, in the middle of March when most of the snow had thawed from the hills, leaving only dirty grey patches in the deepest gullies, Iris’s signal changed. She left The Gambia and was flying north, up along the coastline of Senegal.

  After all those months in Africa, she was on her way, back here.

  To Scotland.

  Every chance we got, we followed her journey. We were in the school ICT rooms at most break-times and lunch until Mrs Wicklow found us out. We couldn’t believe it when she asked us if she could put Iris’s journey up on the whiteboard, so the whole class could follow her too. She’d stop lessons half an hour early so we could look at photos of dawn in the desert, of Berber shepherds in the high Atlas Mountains, flocks of birds on estuary mud flats, and cattle grazing green lowland pastures.

  Hamish was following Iris’s journey too. I met him after school one day to check on the eyrie up at the loch. The sky was overcast and still. Thin wisps of mist clung to the tops of the pine trees, and the oak and wild cherry were bare-leaved, waiting for spring.

  ‘Iris has left Spain,’ I said. ‘She’s flying in a straight line, north, across the Bay of Biscay.’

  Hamish nodded. ‘I’m surprised she’s flying over open water. Ospreys usually come up through France and rest on the way. I guess she’s in a hurry to get back to the nest.’

  ‘Will she be OK?’ I said.

  ‘Other birds have done that route before.’ He stopped at the loch-side and pulled out his binoculars. ‘She could be here within the week,’ he said.

  ‘What day d’ you reckon she’ll get here?’ I asked.

  But Hamish wasn’t listening. His binoculars were fixed on the cluster of pines on the rocky island, and he had a big grin on his face.

  ‘What is it?’ I said.

  ‘Here,’ he said, passing me the binoculars and pointing across the loch. ‘Take a look at that.’

  CHAPTER 40

  I couldn’t wait to tell Jeneba what Hamish and I had seen on the loch, and the next day I had my chance. I received an email from Jeneba:

  From: Jeneba

  Sent: 31st March 20.30 GMT

  Subject: Good News

  Hello Callum,

  The doctors say I am strong enough to go out and about now, so Mama Binta has pushed me in my wheelchair to the internet café so I can write to you.

  Mama Binta and I are coming to Scotland, TOMORROW! I am so excited. It is so sudden, but one of the doctors said he can drive us up to you because he is visiting his family in Scotland for the weekend.

  I will not get any sleep tonight. I can’t stop thinking of meeting you.

  Your friend

  Jeneba.

  ‘Mum!’ I yelled. ‘Dad!’ I ran downstairs and jumped the last five steps. ‘Mum!’ I burst into the kitchen where Mum and Dad were watching TV. ‘They’re coming tomorrow night. I’ve just got an email.’

  Mum jumped up. ‘Tomorrow, are you sure?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Heavens!’ She picked up the telephone. ‘I’d better let everyone know. We’ve got a party to get ready.’

  I ran back upstairs so I could email Jeneba. I was bursting to tell her my news:

  From: Callum

  Sent: 31st March 20.44 GMT

  Subject: Racing Iris

  Hello Jeneba,

  That’s brilliant. I can’t believe you are coming to Scotland tomorrow. Word is spreading around the village, and we’re having a big party for you and Mama Binta when you get here.

  I have two bits of good news for you too.

  Iris’s mate is back! Hamish and I saw him yesterday up at the loch collecting sticks for the nest. I wonder where he spent the winter. Maybe he was in your country too. But now he’s back here, on the farm and waiting for Iris.

  And the other great news is about Iris. She’s almost here. She made it to the south-west tip of Ireland this evening. She flew all the way across the sea from Spain. Hamish thinks she got blown off course, because ospreys usually come up through France and the south of England. She must be exhausted. She flew non-stop for over seven hundred miles and it took her less than two days!

  I’ve worked out that if she sets out really early tomorrow and flies non-stop like she did before, she could be on our farm by ten tomorrow night.

  You’d better hurry. She might even beat you here!

  I can’t wait until tomorrow.

  Callum.

  P.S. I hope Mama Binta’s practised for the Scottish Dancing.

  CHAPTER 41

  The next morning I rolled out of bed and checked on Iris’s position. I grinned. She was on her way.

  She’d made an early start and was flying up the east coast of Ireland. I ran down the stairs into the kitchen to tell Mum and Dad, but was met by Graham in the hall.

  ‘I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,’ said Graham. ‘Mum’s in panic mode. She’s sending me to the shops to get a ton of flour for making cakes.’

  I peered in through the door.

  ‘There you are, Callum,’
snapped Mum. She was madly scrubbing the kitchen floor. ‘I hope your room’s tidy, you’ll need to strip the beds, and clean the bathroom, we’ll need extra blankets from the attic and … oh, Graham, haven’t you gone yet?’

  ‘Cool down, Mum,’ called Graham. ‘Last minute parties are always the best, trust me.’

  ‘But there’s all the food to think about … and the music,’ said Mum.

  Dad walked in from the yard.

  ‘It’s all sorted. Everyone from the village is bringing some food and drink. The bar will be open. There’ll be more than enough.’

  ‘And Flint’s girlfriend is bringing her band,’ said Graham. ‘There’ll be Scottish dancing and everything. Even Euan’s dad is playing his bagpipes to welcome them in.’

  ‘But … ’ said Mum.

  ‘Trust us,’ smiled Dad. ‘It’ll be fine.’

  We were busy all day. Rob, Euan, and I helped Dad get the village hall ready for the party. We put out tables and chairs, hung bunting from the roof and decorated the stage. More people came in the afternoon to help and deliver food. Euan’s dad practised his bagpipes and soon there was quite a party happening. Rob got a football match started between the kids and the parents, and even Mrs Wicklow joined in.

  When everything was finished and done, Dad and I went back home to get changed for the party.

  ‘You’ve not got long,’ said Mum as we walked through the door. ‘I’ve just had a phone call. Jeneba and Mama Binta have made good time. They’ll be here within the hour.’

  I rushed upstairs. I felt suddenly so nervous. I hadn’t met Jeneba face to face before. What if she didn’t like me? What if after all the excitement our village was a huge let-down for her?

  I changed and went down into the kitchen where Dad was watching the six o’clock news. He was in his jeans and blue checked shirt, and was brushing his hair in front of the telly.

  ‘Come on,’ said Mum. ‘Hamish is giving us a lift. I can see him coming up the lane now.’

  ‘I’ll just catch the weather,’ said Dad.

  I sat down beside him jiggling my feet under the table. I couldn’t keep still.

  The weather man stood in front of a big map of Britain sweeping his hand across Scotland.

  ‘Northern Scotland will enjoy a spell of settled weather over the next couple of days,’ he said. ‘But I can’t say the same for the south and west of England. There’s a severe weather warning in place for the Bristol Channel and the Irish Sea. Just look at those isobars packed together. We can expect gale-force winds with those.’

  I stared at the map. It was real time. A storm was moving across the Irish Sea now. Iris was out there, in those winds, in that storm.

  I raced up to my room and switched on the computer. Maybe she had made it ahead of the storm. Maybe she was already sheltering on land somewhere.

  My heart hammered in my chest.

  The computer flickered into life.

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Come on.’

  But there was no signal.

  None.

  It was as if she’d vanished off the face of the earth.

  I tried to block out thoughts of the storm, but all I could see and hear were screaming winds and high, mountainous seas.

  Iris sensed the storm long before the dark clouds massed and formed above her. She tilted away from the curling threads of wind, flying hard and fast. But the storm was faster still. It ploughed across the sea, churning it into green-grey troughs and peaks of foam-tipped waves.

  The storm-winds pounded Iris. Salt spray clogged her tattered flight feathers. The air and sea were white with foam. It stuck to her face and reached deep into the soft downy layers. She felt heavy, waterlogged. She was flying to stay alive.

  The waves peaked and crested beneath her in a blur of white-streaked surf. One wave rose beside her, higher than the rest. Higher and higher, its peak curled and tumbled, folding over Iris, sealing her in a tube of thundering whiteness. Her wingtips brushed the wall of surf. It broke onto her, pushing her into the sea. Over and over she turned. Salt water rushed into her beak and nostrils.

  She bobbed up to the surface and shook the water from her head. The straps the humans had tied to her floated loose around her. She clawed at them, pushing them down, down into the water. Iris launched upwards as another wave curled high above her. Her feet still trailed beneath the surface as it came crashing down towards her in a surging mass of surf and foam and spray.

  CHAPTER 42

  ‘We’ve lost her,’ I said to Hamish as he came into the kitchen. ‘There’s no signal.’

  ‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve just checked too.’ He frowned, the lines on his forehead running into a deep crease. ‘These transmitters are designed to fall off eventually. Sometimes they just go wrong, they stop working.’

  ‘It was working this morning,’ I said. ‘She’s gone, Hamish, gone.’

  Hamish gave out a long sigh.

  ‘All I’m saying is,’ he said, ‘we can’t give up hope. Not yet.’

  I slumped back into my seat and shook my head. ‘She hasn’t made it.’

  Dad put his arms round my shoulders. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I know this is a shock, but we have to get you to the party to welcome Jeneba.’

  I nodded and followed them out to Hamish’s Land Rover. The hills and fields passed in a blur beside me and soon Hamish was pulling into the crowded car park of the village hall.

  Mum turned round and squeezed my hand. ‘Deep breath,’ she smiled. ‘Do this for Jeneba, OK?’

  I stepped out of the car.

  ‘There you are, Callum,’ shouted Rob.

  I turned to see Rob and Euan pushing their way towards me.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ said Euan. ‘You almost didn’t make it.’

  Rob’s dad’s voice shouted over everyone. He was standing on the top of his pick-up truck. ‘They’re here,’ he yelled. ‘I can see them, coming up the road.’

  Suddenly everyone was gathering together, children and adults all laughing and shouting. No one was in charge, but we all somehow formed two long lines up the road to welcome Jeneba and Mama Binta in.

  Their car swept them into the village and up to the hall. Mama Binta stepped out onto the pavement, wrapped in shawls and blankets. Everyone was cheering and clapping, and I guessed for probably the first time in her life, Mama Binta was utterly speechless.

  Jeneba was waving madly through the window. I just watched as Mum and Hamish helped her out and into her wheelchair. I couldn’t believe she was really here, in Scotland, in our village. Suddenly I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I backed away into the crowd.

  ‘Callum McGregor?’ Mama Binta was marching towards me. ‘Callum McGregor, what you doing hiding in there,’ she bawled. ‘You get your skinny backside out here.’

  I was being pushed forward by the crowd towards Jeneba and Mama Binta. Jeneba was grinning and Mama Binta put her arms around me and gave me a bone-crushing hug. ‘Well, Callum,’ she said. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this day for a long, long time.’

  Everyone was cheering and clapping again.

  I pushed the wheelchair, and Jeneba and I led the way into the hall.

  CHAPTER 43

  Graham was right. It was a great party. Flint’s girlfriend got everyone to find partners and started calling the dances. Mama Binta was up there swinging round on Hamish’s arm. Rob and Euan and some of the girls from school pushed Jeneba round and round in the wheelchair. Music played, people ate and drank and danced well into the night.

  The only person who wasn’t there was Mr McNair. Mum had offered to give him a lift, but he didn’t come. He told Mum he’d given up dancing a long time ago.

  ‘I’m really sorry about Iris,’ said Jeneba. ‘Hamish told me.’

  We sat beside each other at the back of the hall while the band worked the dancers faster and faster.

  ‘I wanted to see her so much,’ I said.

  Jeneba nodded. ‘I kept looking into the sky
today. I hoped to see her on the way here.’

  I looked across at Jeneba. It struck me how real she was, not just a name at the end of an email. She was actually here, right now, after all that had happened.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ I said.

  Jeneba smiled at me. She reached across and squeezed my hand, tight. ‘I am too.’

  Dad flopped down in a chair next to us. Sweat was pouring down his face. ‘Mama Binta can’t half dance,’ he said. We looked across to see someone else twirl Mama Binta by the arm and whisk her away across the dance floor.

  ‘You both look shattered,’ said Dad. ‘It’s gone twelve. Come on, you two, let’s get you home. I’ve got to check on the sheep anyway.’

  Hamish drove us home. We huddled under coats in the chill night air. The mountains were blue-black against the midnight sky. A thin veil of mist circled the moon like a halo.

  ‘Go on in and make yourselves a hot chocolate,’ said Dad. ‘I won’t be long checking the sheep.’

  Hamish helped Jeneba down from the Land Rover. Jeneba propped her crutches under her arms. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘The doctors say I can try to walk a little on crutches now.’

  ‘That’s just amazing,’ smiled Hamish. He helped her across the stony yard to the kitchen door.

  ‘Hamish?’ I said.

  He turned to look at me.

  ‘Will you take us up on the hill tomorrow morning, just us?’ I said. ‘I promised to show Jeneba the eyrie.’

  Hamish nodded. ‘I’m working tomorrow, so it’ll have to be early.’

  ‘We’ll be ready,’ I said.