Shivers 7

by Clive Barker

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Rachel said. “I’ll bring us all back some champers in a while, how about that?”, egging her daughter on as if this was some treat, something she’d looked forward to.

  Ava lifted her shoulders and didn’t let them drop again.

  Serena straightened the nest-like bed and laid out the clothing she’d brought. “Let’s pull your hair back, cos it can be easier to see a style that way,” she said, thinking that the lank, greasy hair might dirty the samples.

  She handed Ava a dress with three-quarter sleeves, tapered hem and a square neckline. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one. I wasn’t sure about the color, so I brought a few, but let’s start with the dark brown.”

  Ava took it reluctantly and stood with it draping on the floor.

  “I’ll wait outside,” Serena said, and tugged open the sticky glass door.

  She wasn’t sure how long it would take, or if the girl would have the confidence to call her when she was ready. She stood, arms crossed, stamping her feet to keep warm.

  The back garden was small but beautifully designed. She saw four more naked female statues, each one more graphic than the last. Someone had draped an old dress over one of them and she wondered if this was humor or prurience. Who sculpted these? They were very good; anatomically correct, and the women’s faces beautiful; slack with desire. She walked amongst them, touching the cold marble, enjoying the art.

  She pulled up sharp when she realized there was an aviary running along the back fence. She hadn’t seen it behind the statues and the long trails of tomato plants, cactus pots and calendula flowers. There was movement inside but she couldn’t see the birds, so stepped up to the wire cage.

  She didn’t notice the man until she heard him breathing. Wheezing.

  He crouched on a stack of concrete blocks, his knees under his chin, his long, thin arms wrapped around his shins. His hair stood straight up and had feathers stuck in it. His face was unevenly shaved and seemed bruised. He didn’t look at her and she wondered if he’d even seen her. He ducked his head and tilted it as if listening to something she couldn’t hear.

  She stepped carefully away.

  Ava opened the granny flat door and stood in the doorway.

  “Oh, look!” Rachel said. She held a tray of drinks and carried a packet of potato chips under her arm. “Look at her!” Rachel’s long, brightly-painted fingernails were like talons. She scratched a red spot on her cheek. “You look gorgeous!”

  Ava smiled. “I actually look okay,” she said.

  “Let’s try some more stuff on,” Serena said, taking a glass of champagne. “I’ve got these amazing pants, and some tops that will look fantastic on you.” She had a feeling she was going to sell the lot. The boutique owner would be thrilled.

  Serena and Rachel waited outside with their champagne as Ava tried on the next outfit. The man had turned his head, though his body remained still. He looked at them with wide eyes.

  “That’s my brother-in-law, Finch. He loves birds.”

  “Is his name really Finch?”

  “He’s my ex-husband Jay’s brother. Their father was obsessed with birds. Geddit, Jay and Finch? He was a real shit. It’s why I forgave Jay a lot. Why we lasted as long as we did. Total arsehole.” She spoke between sips of champagne, drinking it like a bird swallowing nectar.

  “Your ex or the father?” Serena said, curious. Her family had rare divorces and there were no obsessions. None spoken of.

  “Funny! Both of them. Two arseholes in one family. Finch’s all right, though. Harmless.” He turned back to the aviary, resting one hand on the wire. Two jet black birds with bright gold peaks hopped around, pecking.

  “What sort of birds are they?”

  “Bower birds. You should see. They make the most amazing nests.”

  Bowers, Serena thought but didn’t say.

  “Regent Bower Birds,” Finch said.

  Rachel rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll give you a feather next time they drop one. You could pin it on your dress.”

  Inside the aviary was another naked woman statue, this one with her hands on her hips, her back arched, her throat exposed, her chin sharp, beak-like. A bird sat on her shoulder, hopping up and down.

  “They’re a bit crazy cos they’re locked up,” Rachel said.

  “They’re not crazy! They get to build a new one whenever they want!” Finch said. He pointed.

  There were two birds and two bowers. One ran deep, to the back wall and into darkness, the other rose over a log and was built up against the left hand wall. It glinted in the sunlight that shone briefly. Serena saw glass, mirrors, silver paper, scraps of metal and tiny balls. “It’s beautiful!” She said.

  Finch nodded. “They get better as they get older. These guys are both getting on. They’ve had like twenty wives each.”

  “Wives!” Rachel snorted. “Those birds are as sleazy as Jay. Come on, let’s check on Ava.”

  Ava had showered; her hair was wet but clean, her face shining. She’d only rejected a couple of the items, things Serena had thrown in as a contrast. Serena was pleased with herself. Rachel whistled in appreciation.

  “You should try some of this stuff on,” Ava said. “I want to see what it looks like on a skinny person.”

  “I’m not skinny and you’re not fat,” Serena said, looking at Rachel for back up.

  “She could drop a dress size. Easy. Look at me; it’s genetic, you know.” Rachel was far too skinny, almost bird-like, Serena thought. Like a skinny little starved sparrow.

  Ava twitched. Serena said, “Dress sizes vary so much, don’t you think? My mother is really big, but then she only wears trakkie daks and truly awful T-shirts so who the hell knows what size she is?”

  “Where did you get your style from? What’s the secret?”

  “A little bird told me not to tell,” Serena said. They all laughed, tiny peck peck snickers, and Ava put her arm around Serena.

  “You’re cool. We like you.”

  “We do! You should stay,” Rachel said.

  “I probably should get going.” Serena wanted to stay but she was here on business. She wasn’t here to make friends. Her boss had told her, don’t get personal with them. Don’t get caught up. They’ll be asking for freebies if you do.

  “I’ll get my brother to give you a lift home,” Rachel said. Serena looked out at Finch, still squatting near the glinting bowers. “No, not him! My actual brother, Luke. Chalk and cheese!”

  Luke came out carrying keys. Serena caught her breath. He was broad, strong, tanned. Aquiline. He smelled good. Clean. Expensive scent but not a lot of it.

  “He’s a catch,” Rachel whispered. “Don’t worry about it. He’s got women all over him but he’s a nice guy. Don’t worry about it.”

  Luke drove casually, confidently. She liked a man who drove like that.

  “So you sell clothes? I used to own a clothes shop. I love fashion. But my girlfriend kicked me out and took the lot. I couldn’t even bring stuff down for Rach and Ava.”

  “That’s a shame. So do you still deal with clothes?”

  “Nahh, I’m a builder by trade. Built that place, my sister’s place. I’ll show you around next time. I’ve done some shit hot stuff there.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll come back. Ava’s picked heaps of clothes.”

  “You can come back to visit me then.” He winked. “Rache’s a lot older than me, don’t worry! And don’t worry about Finch, either. He’s a fucking lunatic, but I’ll be getting him out soon.”

  Serena hated being dropped at her plain, unadorned, quiet house, so clearly a family home. She didn’t want him to know she still lived with her parents. He drove her to the door, kissed her cheek, gave her his card and said, “Call me.”

  She went back a month later, after texting with Ava, sharing music and jokes.

  There was a high bamboo fence built in front of the house and she wondered if Luke had done it alone, bare-chested, or if Finch had
helped him.

  She walked through the driveway bower and around the back to see Finch. She could hear him cheep cheeping and wondered if they’d talk back today.

  She arrived to find him leaving the cage, feathers and twigs in his hair, the mark of same on his cheek. There was a tiny bone over his ear. She pointed.

  “They love bones. Human bones the best, but not the big ones. Hand bones. Toe bones. They love those. Ear bones. They can make a beautiful bower out of those. That’s why they’re called ghost birds. That and the mimicry.” He tilted his head from side to side, his mouth opening and shutting. “Usually they mimic other songs, but in captivity they mimic human voices.” He put his finger on his lips.

  Silence.

  “They’re clearer at dawn,” he said. “And you have to know what to listen for.” He crouched. She realized that his elbows were in his crotch and looked away.

  As the light dropped, Serena thought she saw movement in the cage, fluttering. “Did you get more birds? It seems busy in there.”

  He gave a “huh” of surprise. “Why, do you see more?”

  She squinted. “No…I thought I did.”

  “After you spend a night with ghost birds, nothing is ever the same,” he said.

  The bower birds sat each in the mouth of their bower. Each had added items since she was last there: hair ties, plastic bag scraps, Christmas tinsel. She’d read about the tricks they used, the visual manipulation they played with, to make their bowers look bigger and more impressive than they actually were. Lining up stones from smallest to largest, so it appeared to be a grand walkway. Tricky in such a small space, but she imagined these creations in all their magnificence out in the open.

  She wondered how lonely they felt, sitting there with their beautiful homes, waiting for females who never arrived.

  “Don’t they get frustrated?”

  He pressed his elbows harder into his crotch. “I bring ’em ladies every now and then. Borrow them from a mate. He gets the babies but he gives me one when these ones die. He takes the ladies away when it’s all done. They have to make their own nest.”

  “Just like Rachel’s ex,” Serena said, making the family joke.

  “Jay’s nested happily with his second wife,” Finch said, casting a guilty look at the house. “They just didn’t get on.”

  Rachel called out, “Come in if you’re coming in! Dinner’s on!”

  “I’m not hungry,” Finch said, cheeping it like a bird, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of sunflower seeds.

  “Not hungry,” she heard, an echo, one clear note.

  “What was that?”

  “Huh!” Finch said again. He stood up; skinny legs, jeans too short. She mostly saw him squatting and was surprised again at how tall he was.

  Fragile.

  “He can learn to sound like you if you want him to. Pick a sentence and say it to him.”

  “What sort of thing?”

  “Doesn’t have to be profound.” He smiled, his cheeks lifting up to show his rough yellow teeth.

  “Polly want a cracker?”

  “Not that!” But he laughed with her. “Something you’d like to be remembered for.”

  “I know.” She leaned into the cage and spoke breathily, imagining herself Coco Chanel. “I don’t do fashion. I am fashion.”

  “Say it again,” he whispered. “Sometimes they need to hear it twice.”

  “I don’t do fashion. I am fashion.”

  The bird turned his head at her, his beak opening and closing. He squawked a few times as if practicing, then repeated the words.

  “He sounded like me!”

  Finch ducked gently, then reached in with a piece of apple; they came to him, all of them hacking at it till he dropped it.

  “What did they learn from you? What do you want to be remembered for?”

  “I can’t think of anything,” he said, and Serena thought that was the saddest thing she’d heard in a while.

  “Come inside,” Ava said, tugging at Serena’s arm. “Finch is okay. Leave her alone, Finch.” Ava wore the pants and shirt Serena had chosen for her; she seemed to walk with more confidence, and she’d had her hair cut. They could hear Rachel singing inside, her trilling, wordless song.

  It was dark and Serena scraped her arm against the outstretched finger of one of the statues.

  “Watch it!” Luke. Serena’s heart beat faster. He had an armful of building supplies, she thought; shining things he’d make stuff with. “That’s how Finch likes ’em,” Luke said as they climbed the steps and went inside. “All cold, unmoving. Like my ex-girlfriend.”

  “Don’t go there,” Rachel said. “Not again. Can we not have the jokes this time?”

  “She’s got no sense of humor, I swear,” Luke said.

  Dinner was something cooked in a pot. Serena couldn’t quite identify it. At home, each food item stayed separate on the plate, perhaps joined by some sauce or gravy. Everyone digging in, elbows out, her sister eating with her fingers, the only thin, beautiful part of her. Barely a word spoken unless it was something about the TV that blared in front of them. None except Serena concerned about the quantity of the food, all of them shoveling it in as if it made no difference to their size at all. Serena felt like an outsider amongst them, an imposter, a cuckoo. Here, they sat at the table and ate carefully measured portions. Ava ate quickly, then said, “I’m going to stay at Dad’s tonight.”

  “But Serena’s here!”

  “I know! She can keep you company. Dad’s got a new game he wants to show me. And he’s closer to school. And he’s got a big house. And I don’t feel as if I’m in a bird feeder there. And there are no shitty birds there, either.”

  “See, this is what I’ve been talking about,” Luke said, “Finch is Jay’s brother, yet we’re the ones who have to put up with him. Shitty birds,” Luke said. Ava laughed.

  “First, this isn’t your house to have an opinion on. Second, that arsehole pays rent for him to be here.” Rachel held out one fine leg. “Look at these shoes! This is what I’m talking about.”

  They were beautiful, hugging her foot with soft, mauve leather. Rachel was so well-dressed. Serena had long known the women she admired the most, the women she considered the most intelligent, were the well-groomed ones. Even her boss, who was small-minded and bitchy, she admired for her dress-sense.

  “Touch them. Go on. Put your finger on the toe.”

  The feel of them made Serena coo. “They are lovely.”

  “Paid for by him.” She tilted her head. “He’s alright, anyway. Harmless.” She screeched out for Finch at the back step, wanting him at the table to eat the leftovers.

  Even inside, Finch sat in a crouch. Rachel had made him take his shoes off at the door to stop him tracking bird shit through the house and he perched on his chair at the table, watching them.

  “Can we watch the bird doco?” he said. He flapped his arms as if they were wings.

  Luke laughed. “That’s all you watch! How about a bit of footy? Soccer? Or we could send the girls out and watch something with a bit more action.”

  He stood up, his crotch pressed up against the back of his chair. His jeans were tight, a size too small, and his stomach squeezed out over the waistband. Finch shook his head and shuffled outside.

  “Dad’s here,” Ava said. At the front door, she whispered to Serena, “Thank you. Seriously. You being here gives me the tiniest breathing space.”

  Serena couldn’t imagine wanting to escape them.

  Everything about the family fascinated her. There was music everywhere. Rachel singing or humming, Luke’s radio playing if he was at home, Ava playing her own music in the granny flat, Finch tweeting and peeping, trying to get his birds to talk. She wanted to save Ava from her body-judgmental mother, help give her the confidence to wear what she wanted to wear. She wanted to fuck Luke, regardless of how sleazy or manipulative he was. She wanted him just once, just to have a man like that once, before settling for a
nice guy, or a series of nice guys. He was the opposite of all she’d been led to believe she deserved, but there was nothing to it. It’d be shallow, and quick.

  And she knew it probably wouldn’t happen.

  “Hey, I haven’t shown you my cupboards,” Luke said.

  He showed off the house he’d built. Mirrors, special cupboards, equipment carefully concealed. Serena tried to stay interested, but mostly she wanted to look inside the cupboards, see what was inside this family, find their secrets. In the bathroom, she saw expensive lotions for men, six or seven all lined up neatly. The walls were straw colored and he said, “Don’t worry about those, I’ll paint ’em soon. Shitty color, that one.”

  Afterwards, they sat on the veranda and drank. Luke drank whiskey, glass after glass, and, in the moonlight and the glow of the candles Rachel lit, Serena could see him becoming redder and shinier. Finch joined them, sitting on the step and drinking apple cider, sculling can after can and stacking them in a tower on the lower step.

  Rachel drank white wine in a beaker.

  Serena drank white also, in a long, fine champagne glass. In the conversational breaks, she could hear the gentle murmur of the birds (two of them? Mimicking more?) and a soft tapping she eventually realized were the wind chimes above her head.

  Made of bones.

  “Finch’s rejects!” Luke said. “All the bones the birds don’t want!”

  Finch laughed at that, a cheep cheep chuckle that made her want to laugh out loud.

  “I designed them. Designed plenty in the house. I shoulda been a fashion designer,” Luke said. “I woulda made beautiful clothes.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “Mum always said it was stupid. Dumb idea for a man.”

  “Our mum was so unsupportive. Always telling both of us we were useless, no matter what we did. I wanted to be a model but she always told me no fucking way. She always said I was too fat and no amount of feathering up could make me look better.”

  Luke nodded. “She told her to get a job in an office where it didn’t matter what she looked like so long as she had clean clothes on.”