The Messenger Bird

by Ruth Eastham

Thirteen at last, Nathan

  The petrol from BP, Nathan

  The whole book, Nathan

  Important that you go there, Nathan

  Could Dad have been trying to help me with Lily’s trail? Why weren’t Sasha and Josh here yet? I thought with frustration. They must have got my three rings!

  “Full, kids?” Mum reappeared and gathered up our plates in a hurry, like she was trying to hide the wasted food on them. Both of us waited for her to tell us what Mr Edwards had said, but she just took the plates away and I heard her scraping them into the dog bowl.

  “Ta-da!” She came back in carrying a birthday cake, a chunky thing with green icing and plastic footballers running about on it, and XIII iced on in big Roman numerals like Dad would have done, and a ring of lit candles.

  “But we’ve only just had a huge Full English!” protested Hannah.

  “Just a small piece,” said Mum. “Nathan’s to make his wish.” Mum set the cake down and the three of us stared at it. “Make a wish then, Nathan,” said Mum, her voice low and urgent.

  We all leaned in around the table and it was like she and Hannah were pressing forward, staring at the flames, willing me on, because we all knew there was only one wish to make, only one wish I could make, and if there was any magic, any scrap of power in that wish…

  I stared at the circle of little flames, feeling the heat rise up my face. I wish…

  I wish Dad would come home.

  I blew the candles out and the smoke spiralled and spread and Mum drew back and nodded, like the ritual had been performed right. She pulled out the candles and jabbed a knife in the middle of the cake, footballers scattering like they’d been in a bomb blast. She eased out two big wedges of cake and dropped them on to plates for Hannah and me.

  I put some cake in my mouth. It was very sweet. Sickly. I coughed on a crumb, then forced it down, but my face must have given the game away.

  “We are allowed to enjoy ourselves,” Mum said, her voice gone up a pitch. Never a good sign.

  “Yes, Mother,” said Hannah, stabbing at her cake with a finger. “We are. This is great. Calm down.”

  The three of us stared at the place where Dad wasn’t.

  “Your other cards, Nathan!” said Mum, suddenly, like she’d just remembered she’d found the Holy Grail. She rushed off to get them and fanned the envelopes out in front of me. There was one from Sasha’s mum and dad with a book token in it, one from our relatives up north… But I was hardly looking at them. I was thinking about what Dad had said on the phone, the words tumbling over and over:

  Thirteen at last, Nathan

  The petrol from BP, Nathan

  The whole book, Nathan

  Important that you go there, Nathan

  I passed Mum the birthday cards and she squinted at them. “Find my glasses, will you, Hannah, love?”

  I was about to open another card when Hannah came back to the table, shaking a bottle of pills and flapping a leaflet at Mum. “What’s this?”

  Mum straightened in her chair. “Since when did you have the right to go rifling about in my bag, young lady?”

  “You asked me to find your glasses! Now are you going to tell us what this is?”

  “A bottle of sleeping pills,” said Mum, matter-of-factly. “My doctor prescribed them and…”

  “This!” yelled Hannah, tossing the pill bottle away and slapping down the leaflet. I knew what it was. HM Prison Service – Support for Families of Long Term Inmates.

  “It’s Nathan’s birthday, Hannah,” said Mum. “Do you think we can discuss this later?”

  “No we can’t,” said Hannah. “I’m sick of all these secrets and you not telling us everything!” Mum tried to yank the leaflet off her but Hannah whipped it away so a big piece of corner ripped off in Mum’s hand.

  “What’s going on?” I said. Hannah had obviously totally forgotten what she’d said earlier about not upsetting Mum. I didn’t have time for all this pointless arguing.

  “It’s just something Mr Edwards gave me,” Mum began.

  Hannah gave a hysterical laugh. “Oh, so Dad’s solicitor thinks he’s going to prison for the long term now, does he? That’s reassuring!”

  “He doesn’t think any such thing!” I saw Mum’s face twist like Hannah had shot her. “It’s just a formality, Hannah. He gives out leaflets like that to all his clients … in case … in case…” Mum looked away.

  “In case he’s found guilty,” I said, trying to be helpful.

  Only not being.

  “They’ll find him guilty, won’t they?” Hannah yelled. “Won’t they?”

  Mum gazed at the crumbling birthday cake, and when she replied, her voice was weary, like all the fight had gone out of her. “Yes, they probably will.”

  But I’m going to solve the clues! I wanted to shout at them. You don’t need to worry about him being guilty.

  “They’ve got CCTV film of him, kids,” Mum said, “waiting in some car park somewhere. It was the same night the files went missing, apparently. They taped Dad handing something over to someone, and being given an envelope of money.”

  I turned away. LOOK OUT screamed the ripped poster.

  Tears slid down Hannah’s cheeks. She struggled to catch her breath. “I want Dad!” she wept. “I want my dad.”

  Mum’s face creased. “Oh, kids,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She moved towards Hannah, and my sister let her hold her like she was a little kid again. Then Hannah backed away and tramped upstairs and I heard her plugging a number into her mobile. “Gav. It’s me.” More sobbing.

  Mum stared again at the messed-up birthday cake, and then she snatched at the cardboard boxes where they were lined up along the wall. “It’s time these were unpacked.” She got a big pair of scissors and slit their brown tape, yanking up the flaps and pulling out the stuff inside, heaping them in piles; then she started to bung Auntie Hilda’s things into the newly empty boxes. She pulled the war posters from the walls and rolled them into tubes before dropping them in. She took down the butterflies in a frame, the metal helmet with a “W” painted on it. It was like if only she could make this house properly ours, properly home, everything would be OK.

  She bundled in the horseshoes and the knitted cushions and the cracked plates from the dresser, then looked wildly at the glass case with the pigeon in it like she was about to bung that in too. She got the manky fox fur from the coat stand in the hall, the scratchy paws dangling out from the side as she forced the box lid closed. She sat on the top and slumped back, as if she had suddenly shrunk in her skin. She leaned against the wall like any second she might disappear into it.

  Bones hobbled over and licked at the cake crumbs on the carpet. I gave his head a stroke. There was the sound of a car on the drive and the double headlights of Gavin’s dad’s four-by-four blazed at us through the window. From the music we could hear blaring, Gavin was probably at the wheel. Hannah came down the stairs. “See you later,” she said, her voice all quiet, then the front door slammed and the car revved away.

  Mum started to clear the table. “Can you freeze cake?” she said to the wall. Lines creased her forehead. “I’m sure you can.” She sat down on the floor and stayed there. I helped her up and guided her to the fire. She stayed hunched on Dad’s favourite armchair and stared at her slippers. I put a cushion behind her head and covered her with the sheepskin blanket.

  She’s at cracking-up point as it is.

  If Mum cracked up, what would happen? My face went hot. I felt what I had to do pressing down on me. The hugeness of it. What if loving someone wasn’t enough? Like with Lily and her dad. What if loving someone wasn’t enough to save them?

  The stuffed pigeon stared back at me with its one eye, like it knew all the answers but wasn’t telling. The clock on the fireplace clicked loudly, like lots of scuttling creepy-crawlies.

  The people listening in, they were probably having a good laugh at us. I felt my fists go tight. Now they’d know Hannah was losing it and
Mum was at cracking-up point. They must really think they’d won.

  The stupid pigeon stared and stared and stared, and suddenly I couldn’t stand it any more. I swept the glass dome up from the table and marched out of the house. Down the garden I went with it pressed to my chest, and then, with a grunt, I hurled it against the nearest tree. Glass exploded outwards and sprayed over me. I felt a piece glance my face and I tasted blood.

  At cracking-up point… Cracking-up point…

  I stood there, panting, then stepped towards the tree and pressed my face against the freezing bark. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I want my dad,” I whispered. “I want my dad.”

  I stared down at the crazy thing I’d done. The wind tugged at a corner of Lily’s envelope, shifting it slightly along the ground. I picked it up from the mess of glass and shrivelled moss and gave it a wipe with my sleeve.

  Help me

  Something glinted in the snow and I picked up the scuffed bronze plaque that had been on the base. Many miles … urgent flight … terrible weather … under fire … journey’s end … life … saved.

  I looked at the bird lying in the snow, the messenger bird, and all I could see in my head was this small thing, high in the sky, dodging the bad weather and the hawks and the bullets. A speck in the sky, not knowing if he will make it or if it will do any good or if it’s already too late. Only thinking of getting to the end. Only knowing that he has to make it home.

  Like me, Dad, Lily. Struggling with the weight of the secrets we were carrying.

  I picked the bird up. Nestled it against my jumper. How could I ever have doubted Dad, even for a second? All my anger drained out of me and shame squeezed my insides like a knot tied too tight. I was going to do whatever I could to help him. Whatever it took. They hadn’t won. Not yet. Lily might not have been able to save her dad, but I wasn’t giving up trying to save mine.

  And the top priority now was to solve Dad’s secret phone message.

  I went in and laid the pigeon on the hallway cabinet, then went up to my bedroom and hid Lily’s message at the back of the secret drawer where I’d first found it. I pulled off my wet trainers and socks and got into bed. I got right under the covers, feeling warmth slowly seep through me, Dad’s rushed call running through my head again.

  Thirteen at last, Nathan

  The petrol from BP, Nathan

  I felt Bones thud down on the quilt and move around, trying to settle.

  The whole book, Nathan

  Important that you go there, Nathan

  If I took the words, the words just before my name…

  LAST

  BP

  BOOK

  GO THERE

  Hope you like the message in the card, Nathan. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

  I came up from my covers gasping, rushing to get Dad’s card from the front zippy pocket of my fleece.

  BP BOOK

  With all my LOVE for ALWAYS and ever, Dad XXX

  I scrambled out of bed and darted to my bookshelf, nearly trampling Bones in my hurry. I went along the row and pulled out the big Bletchley Park book.

  It had gone quiet downstairs. The house seemed to be holding its breath.

  Kiss, kiss, kiss. XXX

  I turned the pages quickly, my shoulders hunched and tight, searching for the one I wanted. I got to a chapter about the mansion. Page thirty.

  Page XXX.

  I laid the book on the bed and crouched over it, smoothing the paper.

  There was a colour photo of the ballroom we’d seen through the gap in the door, with its high, fancy ceiling and wood panel walls, and text about how the mansion was used during the war, and at the bottom of the page there was a small picture. A photo of a section of the ceiling. I almost yelped out loud. A section of the ballroom ceiling with a full moon and beams coming from it! Exactly like the design carved on the old griffins!

  I could hardly believe it. Good old Dad! He’d slipped in a clue of his own, not part of Lily’s trail, but something to help me with it. We had to go back to Bletchley Park! I started to leap about on the bed like it was a trampoline. Bones was not impressed.

  LAST. GO THERE.

  Was Dad telling me this was the last clue? Was he telling me that the evidence was hidden in the Bletchley Park ballroom – up in the painted ceiling?

  I had to tell Sasha and Josh! I grabbed my mobile, and then I remembered about the hacking. What I needed was a decoy.

  I thumbed Sasha and Josh a text.

  Evidence is @

  I stopped to think.

  Then I wrote

  football stadium. Get 2 mine asap

  I pressed send. Let’s see how clever those hacking people were now!

  My mind went back to the photo in the book. But the ballroom ceiling was being painted. Those workmen had been pretty clear. Nobody was going to be allowed in until tomorrow.

  But we’d find a way in, we had to! Distract them or something. Whatever happened, we had to get in there today. Tomorrow was Dad’s transfer. Tomorrow he’d be charged. I couldn’t just let that happen. No, the sooner we found the evidence the better. The corrupt staff were closing in, and if it fell into their hands…

  Worry nagged me, but I pushed it away. I’d bike round to Sasha’s. I couldn’t just wait about for her to get here! I took the Bletchley book downstairs and edged round Mum sleeping in the chair.

  Dad might be in prison, but he was still alive. Not like Lily’s dad. Not like Lily. Percy’s words weaved through my mind. Where would we be without hope? Was a part of Lily still here in this house somewhere, still blaming herself for not breaking the code in time, still blaming herself for not saving her dad, and willing me to save mine?

  That’s when I saw a shape at the window looking in through a gap in the curtains, an eye on the glass, staring right at me.

  14

  Friends

  I yelped and jumped up, dropping the Bletchley book on my foot, while Josh looked in, his eye wide with surprise.

  “Nathan?” Mum shifted in her chair. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “Thank goodness you did!” Mum pulled herself up. “I’ll be late for my shift!” Then she was getting her bag and her keys and she was telling me stuff as I followed her down the hall, that she’d ring soon and about the pizzas in the freezer and not to answer the door to any newspaper people because Mr Edwards had warned there might be some.

  On the front step she looked at me and pulled me towards her, and I just stayed there, buried. Then her arms went loose and she walked away, and a minute later there was the sound of our car engine and I waved to her as she drove off.

  “Sorry if I scared you before,” Josh said, popping his head round the door. “But ASAP, you said. ASAP.” He wheeled his clattery old bike into view. “You weren’t supposed to be using your mobile!”

  “I’ll explain everything!” I whispered. “You should have been here hours ago! Where were you? I gave three rings!”

  Josh looked bemused. “I didn’t hear any ringing.”

  I checked up and down the lane and pulled Josh in, making sure the front door was bolted tight. I found the big pad of paper and scribbled: You won’t believe what I found out.

  Really? he wrote excitedly. He took off his woolly hat and his hair stuck up at impossible angles. “Happy birthday, by the way,” he said. “I was supposed to get you a card. But I forgot.”

  “Never mind that!” I said, getting my coat on. “Where’s Sasha?”

  “Here! Happy birthday, Nathan!” she called through the letter box, and I let her in and re-bolted the door. She grabbed the pad and pen.

  What’s this about the football stadium? What’s happened? she wrote, all muffled up in her fluffy pink scarf. Why didn’t you give 3 rings, Nathan?

  So much for the ringing three times tactic.

  Sasha took a little bottle from her pocket. “Before I forget, this is for your mum, from my mum and dad – perfume – to say
they’re thinking of her. I know it should be you getting the presents, but…”

  I shoved the present in the pocket of my jeans. All I wanted to do was get out of the door and get to BP. “That’s nice,” I said as I snatched the pad back. “Tell them thanks.”

  We need to go! Will tell you everything on way.

  We piled out of the house, huddling by the door awhile, checking there was no one about, breathing in the sharp cold. Then we set off quickly down the lane.

  We stopped suddenly. There was the sound of an engine behind us, a car pulling into our drive, churning chunks of gravel under its tyres. I relaxed. It sounded like our car. Mum back already? I thought.

  “Hang on,” I told the others as I hurried back.

  Mum must have got out of her shift, or maybe she’d forgotten something. That was handy, though. I could tell her where we were going and give her the bottle of perfume and…

  But it wasn’t Mum.

  A shiny black and white Mini was parked by our house, sharp flakes of snow catching on its windscreen, and before I could react, a lady I’d never seen before got out. There was fur round the collar of her coat and she had a red suitcase on little clacky wheels.

  “You must be Nathan,” she said with a smile, and she reached out a gloved hand to try and shake mine. “I’m Mrs Atkinson.” She held out an identity card.

  “What do you want?” Sasha said, coming up close beside me.

  The woman looked annoyed. “Didn’t you get a message about me, Nathan?”

  I shook my head. I felt my breathing speed up.

  Mrs Atkinson gave me a pitying kind of smile. “I’m going to be looking after you while your mum’s being questioned.”

  15

  Action This Day

  Sasha put a hand on my arm. “What’s this about Mrs Vane being questioned?” she demanded. “How long for?”

  “I’ve no idea, I’m afraid,” the woman said. “My first objective is the care of Nathan and Hannah. I’m not part of the police side of things.”

  I bit my lip, fighting back the panic. They must have taken Mum in on her way to work. She’d be in a right state. Would she be charged with something too? What had Mum said about intimidation tactics? They’ll be arresting me next.