—I’ve been sorting out your stuff. There’s a few things we can chuck. Do you want this? she says, and she lays the box between us and opens it. It’s my box of bird skulls. I’ve built up quite a collection over the years.
—I don’t mind, I say at last.
—You sure?
—Chuck it if you like mum.
It’s not even noon yet, a bit early for the lagers maybe, but it’s not as though it’s a habit. I don’t rush my drink. I sup it slowly. I suppose I’m hoping for a more meaningful conversation, but it doesn’t happen. She holds her lager and stares at the blank grey wall. I stare out of the window. There’s a web in the top frame and I watch as a spider approaches a fly that it has caught. The fly wriggles in the netting. The spider is much smaller than the fly. It inspects its catch. It doesn’t kill it. It starts to wrap it up using its two back legs and the silk from its silk glands. It works quickly, wrapping up its wings and legs, then it flips it over and wraps it up some more. All this takes about three or four minutes. Then it drags it back to its nest. Why doesn’t it eat the fly? I’m wondering. It has probably already eaten and it makes sense to keep the fly alive so that it is fresh later on when it feels hunger again.
—The Cliff will be great mum, won’t it? I manage to say at last.
She nods.
—Better than Ordsall, I say.
It was a rather stupid thing for me to say, because mentioning Ordsall will remind her of when she had to go into hospital and me and my sister had to go to that place that wasn’t very nice. It was during our time in Ordsall that mum went for my sister with a knife. It was during our time in Ordsall that a van came and carted her off into the night. So I suppose there are lots of bad memories there. Still, that’s all in the past.
In the end, I finish the lager off and pick up my bag. I put my coat on. Mum walks me to the door and she does something she’s not done for a long time, she gives me a hug. She clings on to me for ages until it becomes more than a hug, then she moves away and I walk out the door. I turn around and give her a wave and she waves back and I get that feeling I got that day I’d waved to dad from the top of the climbing frame. I catch a bus that drives down Weaste Road past Roseway School and I notice they’ve taken the Care Bear off the razor wire. Someone must have seen it on TV perhaps. I’m a bit of a celebrity now. Someone at school has even started a Facebook group in my name, Fans of Paul Cooper. I’ve never had a fan before, or a friend for that matter. Something Kate the psychiatrist said, people need something to believe in, but it’s important you believe in the right things. The bus drops me off close to the motorway and I stand near the lay-by with my homemade sign: Kendal.
Several cars go past. The wind blows and I zip up my jacket. I’ve got my raven book still in the inside pocket and it digs in to my chest. I unzip the jacket and take the book out, then zip the jacket back up again. I open the book and find the photograph of me and my dad and that stuffed raven. For the first time in many years I decide to turn the photograph over and read what my dad wrote. I turn it over, and there it is: I’ll always be here for you son. Love Dad. It’s strange, but for the first time since I was small, reading the message brings tears to my eyes, but maybe it’s just the wind. It does that, it makes your eyes water. I take the book and place it gently on the kerb.
More cars go past. I think about the text from Becky: can’t wait to C U xxx. I wipe the tears away and smile. It makes me feel warm inside. I take a deep breath, everything is going to be alright, I say to myself. Everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to be alright. I imagine the words going round in a circle, like they do in Manchester Central Library. I look up and see the rooks circling and I think of Smiler and the ravens. It’s funny but for a moment on the moors that day, I did actually think I’d killed him, it’s a good job people say I didn’t. I watch the rooks get higher and higher and fly off. I hold the photograph aloft and watch as the wind carries it up into the sky. And for a moment I think I can fly. Then I laugh. Of course I can’t fly, what was I thinking about? You nutter, I say out loud to myself.
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Kevin Duffy, Hetha Duffy, Leonora Rustamova, Lin Webb, Jim Greenhalf, David Gill, Paul Magrs and Conrad Williams.
Copyright © Michael Stewart 2011
First published in 2011 by
Bluemoose Books Ltd
25 Sackville Street
Hebden Bridge
West Yorkshire
HX7 7DJ
Reprinted 2012
www.bluemoosebooks.com
All rights reserved
All rights reserved
King Crow Page 18
