‘Hymns aren’t people,’ said Todd, ‘And Kenzie isn’t good with anyone much either. So you’ll get along great.’
The raven picked his way over to Todd and poked around in the grass. ‘There’s a beetle scuttling out of your ribs,’ he said.
‘All you gotta do is tell her I don’t blame her. That I’m always gonna be looking out for her. Also, you might want to slip in that she shouldn’t pick fights with boys from year six. And yeah, to stop wearing my clothes.’
‘Well, it’s not like you need them,’ the raven mumbled, his head in the dirt.
‘She’s only gonna help you if she knows about me. You won’t get to her any other way.’
The raven looked away. He pottered about. He picked at imaginary worms.
‘Come on,’ said Todd. ‘It’s my little sister. I just want her to be happy.’
‘We all want to be happy,’ said the raven, and his tone of voice made Todd roll up. He sat there, with grass growing out of his body.
‘Are you happy?’
The raven darted away and hid his head in the remnants of a shattered statue. ‘Mind your own business,’ he said. ‘I’m sick of that question.’
‘When are you happy?’ asked Todd. ‘I can tell you. When you’re in church, sitting up there listening to your songs. I’ve seen you. But you can’t even do that now. So how badly do you want to get back there, huh? What’s stopping you? Because you’re scared that someone else might be happy while you just sit here with your mouldy treasure and your stinking worms?’
The raven rested his head against the statue and thought he might vomit. He knew what he had to do, but he felt like a baby chick that didn’t know how to fly. ‘I’m not scared,’ he said, ‘I just don’t want to try and then fail. How embarrassing.’
‘Gotta give devotions before you get devotions back,’ said Todd.
‘At least be original,’ said the raven, poking his head out from under the rubble. ‘I’ve heard that one before.’
Todd grinned. ‘I know. You said it to me.’
‘Trust you to steal all my best lines.’
Todd sat there waiting, his arms crossed over his chest.
The raven emerged from the debris of the statue and shook the dust from his feathers. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘I’ll do it.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The raven peeked out from an azalea bush. ‘It’s not looking good,’ he said.
‘She’s just in one of her moods.’ Todd folded himself through a branch and grinned. ‘You’re more than a match for her.’
‘She’s giving me the evil eye.’
‘Probably ’cause she knows you’re spying on her.’
The raven hopped from claw to claw. ‘I’m waiting for the right moment.’ He opened his beak and tilted his neck up to let off a few nervous caws. His wings fluttered up and down. Korkorkorkor.
‘Just approach with caution,’ Todd said.
‘Easier said than done.’
Mackenzie paced round and round her brother’s grave like a toy car with a faulty battery. Every now and then she would look over the raven’s way and her eyes would narrow in her scrunched-up face.
Korkorkorkor.
‘Shut up, crow!’ she shouted. ‘I told you before to get!’
‘A raven,’ mumbled the raven. ‘I am a raven. Not a crow. Not a blackbird. A raven.’
‘What are you looking at, you overgrown blackbird!’
‘A raven. I am a raven.’
‘Sooner you speak to her, sooner she’ll stop insulting you.’ Todd floated up past the azalea bush with his arms crossed behind his head. ‘I’ll just hang about here and wait for you to work up enough guts.’
‘Come on over here,’ Mackenzie was shouting. ‘Just you come! I’d like to see you try.’
‘Try what?’
‘To eat me,’ said Todd, unfazed.
‘Kraaa! I don’t want to eat you!’
‘Well, go over and tell her that.’
‘I am, I am.’ The raven moved half a claw forward. ‘It’s difficult, you know. I’m putting my whole species at risk. Not that some don’t deserve it. Kookaburras. Sparrows. Crows. Seagulls. Water fowls. I could do without them. Especially pigeons. But still, the fate of the skies hangs from the very tip of my beak.’
‘Don’t be so dramatic.’
‘I said come over!’ Mackenzie scooped up a nearby pebble and lobbed it at the raven.
It missed entirely, but it didn’t fail to dent the raven’s ego. Nobody threw rocks at him. Especially in his own churchyard. He drew himself up to his full height and stepped out from behind the azaleas.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘That’s it. I am going to do it.’
‘If you even try one more step, my brother will stop you,’ Mackenzie said, her temper rising in her cheeks. ‘He will. He’ll kill you. He’ll come outta his grave and rip you to shreds.’
And then she sank to her knees and burst into tears.
‘He’s gonna come for me,’ she said, and tucked herself up, cradling her knees in her arms as she lay there like a dying centipede, curled into the crook of her brother’s grave.
‘Well, that doesn’t solve anything,’ the raven said, and started towards the girl. Once again he caught a whiff of strawberries and he felt Todd following close behind, no more than a puff of air.
He stopped a few metres away from Mackenzie’s subdued form. Her sobs were little hiccups now, lost in the incredible sadness that engulfed her body.
The raven composed himself and waddled forward a few more steps. He cleared his throat. Pruuuuuk-pruuk-pruk-pruk. Mackenzie still didn’t move.
And then he did it.
‘Excuse me,’ he said.
The girl said nothing, but the raven was sure her foot moved an inch or so. He cleared his throat – pruuuk-pruk – and tried again.
‘I beg your pardon,’ he said.
‘What do you want?’
‘Well –’ said the raven.
‘Go away.’
The girl’s voice wisped out from among her bunched-up arms and legs. This was not the reaction the raven had expected. She was supposed to look up and see him – a bird – talking to her. She was supposed to make a big scene. Not just ignore the enormity of what he’d just done. It was unforgiveable.
‘Just in case you haven’t realised, I’m talking to you.’
‘I know, dumbo,’ said Mackenzie.
‘Yes,’ said the raven, ‘but I’m talking to you. Me.’
‘I know,’ came the girl’s voice. ‘I don’t care. Go away.’
‘But, but . . .’ The raven turned around in a circle and stuck his beak close to where he supposed her eyes would be. ‘Do you realise what I am?’
‘Yeah,’ snapped Mackenzie. ‘Some dumb bird.’
‘Charming sister you’ve got there,’ the raven whispered to Todd. ‘That’s just great. The last big revelation of my life and no one even cares.’
Mackenzie sighed, as though all the air was being expelled from her body. She uncurled herself and sat up, grubby and red-faced. ‘Stop whining,’ she said. ‘It’s not a big deal. I’m not stupid – I know birds can talk.’
The raven stared at her. Todd swirled in the air behind him, his mouth gaping open.
‘News to you too?’ the raven asked him.
‘Well?’ said Mackenzie. ‘What do you want?’
The raven looked closer and realised that her whole body was shaking. Fearing another outburst of tears, he decided it was best to keep her talking. ‘You’re not surprised?’ he said.
‘’Bout what?’
‘That I can speak?’
Mackenzie shrugged. ‘I always knew it. Every kid knows it. Ain’t a big deal.’
‘Maybe not to you,’ the raven said, strutting forward and discovering some of his old spark. ‘But it’s not something we like to spread around. I would appreciate if you could keep this just between us.’
Mackenzie pushed her hair out of her eyes and flopped bac
k into the grass. ‘You’re not that interesting that I’m gonna go tell everyone about what you got to say.’
‘Nevertheless,’ the raven said, ‘it’s very important that nobody else knows – especially adults.’
‘Wouldn’t believe me anyway,’ said Mackenzie, ‘even if I did tell them.’
‘Right,’ said the raven, ‘so we have an understanding?’
Mackenzie kicked out her feet and rolled over onto her stomach. She began to pick at the grass, making a point of ignoring the raven. ‘Leave me alone,’ she said.
‘Believe me, I would,’ he said. ‘Your manners are disgraceful. Not to mention your personal grooming. But I promised your brother –’
The raven had never seen anyone move so fast. In an instant Mackenzie was towering over him, her eyes nearly busting out of her face.
‘My brother?’ she said. ‘What do you know about him?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
‘Depends,’ said the raven, ‘on whether you’ll help me or not.’
‘What did you do with my brother?’ said Mackenzie. Her fingers clenched, in and out, and there was a desperate air about her that he hoped to never again see in a little girl. ‘What did you do with him?’ Her face changed into a sneer. ‘Ate him, I suppose.’
‘Excuse me?’ said the raven. ‘From five metres under the earth? I don’t think so.’
‘Thanks for reminding me,’ said Mackenzie, and turned her back on him.
The raven looked at Todd and fluffed out his wings. ‘This is impossible,’ he said.
Todd only looked at him.
‘She won’t listen to me.’
‘Sound like someone we know?’ Todd said.
‘Who you talking to?’ asked Mackenzie.
‘Your brother,’ said the raven. He scooted into the sky, scanned the immediate area, and settled for an impressive-looking slab of stone. Such a defining moment in his life needed a suitable platform.
‘My brother’s not here,’ said Mackenzie. ‘My brother’s nowhere good, only under the ground, where I can’t speak to him or nothing.’
‘Yes,’ said the raven, holding his head very high, ‘but I can speak to him. I can speak to all dead. It’s a special privilege given to ravens, and ravens only. And I’ve been having some lovely chats with your brother.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Mackenzie. ‘Why would he talk to a stinking raven?’
‘I do not stink,’ said the raven. ‘And I most certainly was not the one who initiated the conversation. He talked to me first, and guess what it was about? You.’
‘Don’t believe it,’ said Mackenzie, and she crossed her arms across her chest.
‘No bone off my beak,’ said the raven. He padded around on his stone slab. ‘He’s here now, you know.’
One side of Mackenzie’s face twitched. ‘Why can’t I see him?’
‘Because he’s dead,’ said the raven. ‘A ghost. Like I said, only ravens are able to commune with the dead.’
‘What’s “commune”?’ said Mackenzie.
‘Talk to,’ said the raven, and he brought out his best withering look.
‘Still don’t believe you,’ said Mackenzie. ‘If he was here, ghost or no ghost, he’d talk to me. He talked to me about everything. Not you. I’d be able to see him. Not some stinking raven.’
‘I – do – not – stink.’ The raven jumped up and down and transferred his withering looks to Todd. ‘This is useless.’
‘Tell her I don’t blame her,’ said Todd. ‘Please. Just say that.’
‘Fine. But there better be some croissants in it for me.’ The raven shuffled to the end of his slab.
Mackenzie, chewing on her hair, held out a finger. ‘Not another claw,’ she said.
The raven stopped. ‘He doesn’t blame you,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Your brother. He doesn’t blame you for the accident. And he says you were right – it was his turn to do the dishes.’
Mackenzie’s braid fell from her mouth. She stood very still and did not look away from the raven. ‘You better not be saying lies,’ she said.
‘He misses you,’ the raven recited, ‘and he doesn’t blame you. But he wants you to stop being so upset. It upsets him, and ghosts are mopey enough as it is. He also thinks you shouldn’t go around making a scene in church and ripping up the garden beds. It’s deplorable behaviour.’
The last bit was the raven’s touch, but he thought it the most important.
‘He told you that?’ Mackenzie’s hands were clenching again and her eyes were twice as big as they’d been before.
‘Yes,’ said the raven. ‘He did.’
‘He’s here?’ Now she looked like a trapped mouse, ready to scatter at the slightest noise.
‘Yes. Ever since he died I can’t get rid of him. And he won’t leave either, not until you stop sulking about and being a nuisance.’
Todd cleared his throat.
‘Fine,’ said the raven, ‘until I talked to you and let you know what he said.’
Mackenzie had no answer, but her eyes were taking in every inch of her brother’s grave.
‘He’s actually one of my better ghosts,’ said the raven. ‘Not bad for a dead boy.’
Todd cleared his throat again.
‘What?’ said the raven. ‘Well, you are.’
‘Don’t need to keep bringing it up,’ Todd said.
‘Excuse me for being honest.’ The raven turned back to Mackenzie. ‘Basically, he can’t be happy until you are. So go and be happy. And then he will be too and you can both go away and have lots of happiness. I’ll be glad to see the back of you.’ He scratched furiously at the stone and avoided Todd’s gaze.
‘Careful,’ said Todd, gently, ‘you might start a fire.’
‘Too late,’ said the raven. ‘Too late.’
‘You talking to him?’ Mackenzie crept closer.
‘If that’s what you want to call it.’
‘He’s right there next to you?’
‘Yes,’ said the raven, and he indicated to the left. ‘Right there.’
Mackenzie stubbed her toe in the dirt, arms still crossed. ‘What does he look like?’
‘Kind of pale and thin,’ said the raven. ‘What do you think? Like a typical ghost.’
Mackenzie looked over at the space next to the raven’s stone slab. ‘Can’t see anything,’ she said, but her eyes kept darting back. Her nails looked as if they were gouging valleys in her palm.
The raven glanced from her to Todd. ‘He looks like you,’ he said, ‘but not such a ghastly shade of red. Messy hair. Definitely needs brushing. Yellow in colour. Dots across the bridge of his nose. What do you call them? Freckles. Grey eyes. Normal beak. Skinny.’ The raven squinted, trying to see past the glare of the sun. ‘Elegant fingers. Nice nails.’
‘Yeah,’ said Mackenzie. ‘He used to play the piano. Tried to teach me once, but I couldn’t get past “Chopsticks”. He played some that were real nice, though. When I was in a bad mood he always played stupid little baby ones but with rude words. Mum said he was teaching me to be uncouth, whatever that means, but I think she liked it too. Not anymore, though. Now she hurries past the piano like it ain’t even there.’ Mackenzie paused, looking thoughtful. ‘What else?’
‘Well,’ said the raven, ‘he possesses a rather bold amount of cheek, which I only let him get away with because of the unfortunate fact that he’s, er, dead.’
‘Yep,’ said Mackenzie, ‘that sounds like him, all right. He was all about getting in the last word.’ The tension dropped out of her fingers and they fell to her sides. In that one action she had become a lonely little girl again.
The raven shuffled about, sighed, and then jumped off the slab and hopped over to Todd’s feet. ‘Come here,’ he said to Mackenzie.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m standing right where he is,’ said the raven, struggling to rein in his temper. This whole devotions thing was hard work.
Mackenzie c
ame forward as if the raven might suddenly launch himself at her face. She stood as close to him as she dared and gazed at the space where she supposed her brother was. All the planes of her face fought each other for space. The tiniest whimper escaped from her mouth.
‘Still can’t see anything,’ she said. ‘Is he still there? Can he see me? Can he hear what I’m saying?’
The raven looked up. Todd was staring at his little sister in the sort of way that made the raven want to shut himself in his belltower and never come out, because he knew no one would ever look at him like that. For the first time he wondered what they’d been like, as brother and sister, and how they were supposed to fill in the spaces where the other had been.
‘Always rode his bike too fast,’ said Mackenzie. ‘Never been able to keep up. But he was always waiting round the next corner. I’m sorry that I was so slow. And his jokes were dumb, and he cut my Susie-Ann’s hair once ’cause Nan bought me an icypole and not him. And he always went to the toilet when Mum made us do the dishes. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want him to come back. I told him I’d never do them again if he keeps faking ways to get outta it, but I really don’t mind. It’s only dumb dishes.’
The raven looked away. His body felt full of hot air and he was afraid something in it might explode, burn him from the inside out.
‘Yes,’ said the raven. ‘I think he knows.’
Mackenzie reached out her hand, but her fingers couldn’t seem to find what they were after.
‘That’s his face,’ the raven said. ‘You just stuck your finger up his nose.’
Mackenzie giggled. ‘He miss me?’
Todd nodded.
‘Yes,’ the raven said.
‘He really okay? Apart from being dead and all that?’ Mackenzie said.
‘A fine specimen of a ghost.’
‘So he’s gonna be all right?’
‘I should think as long as you stop this nonsense, then yes, he’ll be fine.’
‘That’s enough outta you, crow,’ said Mackenzie.
‘Just tell me what you want to know.’
Mackenzie paused. ‘Does he really forgive me?’
Todd nodded.
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