To be honest, the political work became a little tedious and, just as I suspected, far more complicated than my experience could cope with. Because of this, I advised that the foundation select Ala and Gene to head up task, which released me to concentrate on the environmental activities for which I had far more passion.
My conservation work took me to places such as the wonderful Durrell Wildlife Park in Jersey that only houses endangered species, such as Andean bears, orangutans and giant fruit bats; Chester Zoo, who had already done amazing things for tapir and pine martens, plus a major initiative to stop the on-going dangers of the unsustainable palm oil industry. I became a patron for the London Zoological Society too, but the zoo I found most inspiring and friendly in Britain was the one in Edinburgh. Their continued support on projects to help giant pandas, wildcats, armadillos and chimpanzees impressed me, as did their work on amphibians and the pine hoverfly. My offers of help from and partnership with the Gaia Foundation led to me being offered an honorary fellowship with full membership to the board of the Royal Zoological Society of Scotland.
To me, this work was preferable to the unending paperwork and meetings of the political arena. That suited the others far more. I preferred to get my hands dirty by visiting places and regions first-hand to see the problems for myself, and to think creatively about various solutions.
Finally getting a moment alone, I thought for the first time in ages about my parents. My poor mum. I’d been so caught up in events and a sense of mission that I was forgetting the most important people in my life.
I used my own key to let myself in to my parents’ house. Dad sat unshaven in his pyjamas snoozing on the sofa in front of the telly. It looked like he’d been crying. Even though I’d paid for carers and helpers to ease his load, it was clearly getting the better of him.
One eye opened and Dad sat up.
‘Hi, mate. Good of you to come over.’
‘Sorry I haven’t been for a while.’
I wished we had the kind of relationship where I could give him a tight hug and kiss.
‘I can see you’ve been busy, Luke. You have important work to do. We’re dead proud of you, you know, your mum and me.’
‘Thanks, Dad, that means a lot. But it’s no excuse. Not with Mum ill and all.’
I slumped guiltily into a chair.
‘Your mum has early onset dementia. So bloody unfair. Dunno what else to say, son.’
Even though I’d kind of suspected as much, it was still a shock to hear the words out loud, and consider all the consequences that go with them. It was horrible seeing someone you love lose their personality and life-force.
‘She’s worse than ever, Luke.’
I nodded, while frowning.
‘Doesn’t seem to matter how much money you throw at it or how many doctors we see. She’s going downhill. Fast.’
I put my hand on his, before going upstairs with some trepidation. Seeing her so small and inert, surrounded by creased bedclothes, was more than I could bear. I bit my top lip and tensed up my whole face to keep the tears from falling. I wanted to stay and be strong for her – and for Dad. Mum lay in her bed, eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, her head and face covered with bruises; some were from falls she’d had, but not all.
Sitting on the bed next to her, I hoped she’d turn to look at me, but she ignored me – or just didn’t detect my presence, lost in her own little world.
‘Hello, Mum.’ I stroked her cheek but she didn’t flicker or even blink. ‘I love you, Mum. Wish I could make you better. I want you to be you again.’
Now, more than ever, I wished my powers extended to healing humans too. I lay my hands on her shoulder and then on her head and willed her better, not knowing if it would make any difference.
I took her hand and kissed the back of it gently. The knuckles were red-raw and the wrists scratched and scarred. Finally her eyes slid sideways to look directly at me. I grinned and my heart thumped in my ribcage. ‘Love you, Mum.’
She swiped at me so rapidly that I couldn’t defend myself or get out of the way. Her fist slammed into my nose. It hurt like hell. I jumped up and held my hand over my throbbing nose and lips; I could feel the stickiness of blood on my chin, and my nose was clogging up with the stuff. It dripped off my fingers and onto the cream carpet. I rushed to the bathroom to wash my face and hands, then grabbed a wad of toilet paper which I held securely over the injury.
A noise from the bedroom alerted me. I scampered back in to see Mum frantically pinching and pulling her hair and moaning desperately. Small clumps of hair came out in her clenched fist, and then she repeatedly slammed herself with her knuckles. Gripping her hands tightly in mine, I gently eased them down to her side. She ran out of energy quite quickly, her hyperventilating gradually slowing down to long wheezes. I kept her restrained, as my tears mixed with drops of blood before falling onto her duvet.
‘That’s it, Mum. That’s better now, isn’t it? I’ve come to see you. It’s me. Luke.’
She croaked something, which I couldn’t make out. I kept hold of her hands in case she hurt herself again. Then she spoke a bit louder.
I heard it that time.
‘Fuck off.’
I was horrified. It was like a scene from The Exorcist.
‘Fucker.’
Maybe I’d misheard. My mum wasn’t someone who swore a great deal.
Perhaps she was trying to say ‘Falco’?
Then she said it again. And again, but I noticed her eyes had softened as tears welled up and burst sideways. One tear ran down the length of her nose, the other towards her ear.
She wasn’t possessed or crazy. She was my mum.
I kissed her, waited for her to fall asleep and went downstairs to watch television with my dad before letting myself out.
Peregrine falcons can’t cry but they can screech at the sky and curse whoever or whatever is listening.
Once again, Gene proved to be an invaluable friend, offering to keep an eye on my parents whenever I was too busy or travelling abroad.
My limo pulled into the West Street car park to Cardiff Castle and the gentle hum of the engine stopped, allowing me a moment of silence before getting out to acknowledge the loud masses of general public lined up along Castle and Duke Streets, as well as those on the castle battlements and inside the grounds.
I was here to speak to some scientists and had decided to enjoy a quick tour of Wales’ capital city beforehand, taking in the castle then Cardiff Bay with its beautiful harbour and all the trendy waterfront developments.
But if I’d hoped for a quiet afternoon stroll then I was a fool. Someone had obviously leaked my movements online, so I was greeted by this huge gathering. I didn’t get very far, even with the help of my bodyguards. As soon as word got round that I was by the castle, there was a terrific surge of bodies, which shoved us all backwards, crushing me against a fence. My first action was to shout to my head of security to tell him not to use the Tasers or the CS gas I knew he and his team keep in their tool belts. That would be bad publicity. But they were easily overwhelmed, once the crowd knew they couldn’t use any weapons or defence projectiles of any sort.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I insisted. ‘They won’t hurt me. Watch.’
After barging my shoulder against the person leaning on top of me and forcing him backwards, which started the process of others stumbling away from me, I stretched out my arms to clear a small space. Some people had fallen over in the crush, so I stepped towards them and hauled them up. Others copied me and helped up anyone who’d fallen. Things calmed down slightly and, as I moved another pace forward, the throng moved with me, until I felt I was somehow controlling the flow of it like a snake charmer. If I swayed right, they all moved with me. I told my bodyguards to hang back a little.
Then, without warning, a woman ran up and threw herself at me in a tight embrace. My initial fear was that she might attack me, but I quickly became aware of her tears and broken pleading. My sec
urity team stepped forward – a little too late, I might add, but I waved them away.
‘… Falco, please help me. Please, please save my daughter … we love you, Falco … I’ll do anything …’
I gently patted the back of her head as I hushed and whispered into her ear. ‘Ssshhh. It’s OK now. Tell me what’s happened.’
The hordes around us quietened down without any prompting.
‘My little baby girl …’ The distraught mother then muttered a few symptoms and medical terms that meant little to me.
‘I’m not sure I can do anything to help her.’ Surely the worst thing I could have done would be to have got her hopes up. ‘She needs a doctor, not me.’
‘We’ve seen doctors. They’re useless. They can’t do anything. Oh God, my baby …!’
‘OK, OK. But I don’t think you know what you’re asking me to do. I don’t know how to help your daughter—’
‘I believe in you, Falco. I’ve seen you do miracles. Nature always has the answer. Ask Gaia to help you. I believe in you and in Gaia. Please …’
What could I do?
The crowd parted naturally, as if sensing the woman’s need, allowing her to direct me to a waiting car. I stopped uncertainly; I’m afraid to say that my first thought was suspicion of it being a trap. I stepped back to show I wasn’t willing just to be a mug and get in without being careful, and got the security guys to check things out. The mother seemed to understand my trepidation and opened the rear door of the car and pointed. There, in a black baby car seat, sat an inert baby with a clear tube in one nostril and whose nose was covered in plasters.
I stared at the baby, wondering if it was dead. As I stared on, I willed it to move, which it finally did: a very subtle shiver of its head and right hand in unison. The frisson of a weak creature breathing its last.
‘He’s here, my darling. Falco is here to help you, my poppet. That’s good, isn’t it?’
Her words were too much for me to bear and I broke into tearful sobs, and reached out for that limp little hand. The baby’s skin was loose and paper-thin – almost translucent – hardly covering the veins and delicate bones beneath. Her face was yellow, and the colourless eyes were struggling to stay open. My instinct was to gather her up and hold her close to me, but I was scared of breaking such a delicate mite.
‘It’s OK, Falco. I trust you completely. You do whatever you have to to save her. Her name is Rhea.’
Of course it was. What else would it be? For in Greek mythology Rhea is the daughter of Gaia. It was more than symbolic. It was a moment.
I got in the car, sitting on the back seat next to the baby, closing both the car door and my eyes. I had to do something now, but I didn’t want observers watching me make it up as I went along. I ignored the waiting, silent crowd observing me like scientists watching a lab rat perform in a maze.
I kissed the baby’s head gently, and then rested her on my level knees, taking her hand in mine. This was it. It had to work. I thought about my mum and her suffering. I thought about millions of people on our own planet dying and in pain. I imagined all the suffering in the past and all that yet to come. Then I imagined a healing energy. Love? God? Who knew? I pictured my mum standing up and walking towards me. I created images of baby Rhea smiling and walking; growing older, happier, successfulat school and at work.
Then in my mind’s eye I saw her change. No longer a girl she was a fluffy baby bird. Some kind of chick, with a long neck and large curly toes. Did she actually change though, or was it just in my imagination? I closed my eyes and swirled in a haze of complete rest – a nothingness that Guy had taught me to master.
When I opened my eyes I saw Rhea, a human baby, on my lap, squirming and making gurgling sounds. I was so overwhelmed that I laughed tears of madness for many moments. Through blurred vision I saw the vague outline of a laughing face, and wondered if we all of us, at certain times, reflect the face of Gaia. Or maybe I was hallucinating. I took her tiny hand in mine and stared at those tiny fingers and nails. She gripped my forefinger with surprising strength.
Did I now have the power to heal people too? Could I do the same for my mum?
After what seemed like at least half an hour, I let go of Rhea’s hand and smiled as I saw colour return to her cheeks and her eyes opening widely. She gurgled and waved both arms about as I carefully removed the plasters and tube from her nose. Then, opening the door first, I lifted Rhea from her car seat, held her close to my chest and got out of the car. The mother turned to me with a frantic look, which quickly changed to one of joy. I lifted up the baby to a deafening roar from the even larger crowd. People were packed into every available space as far as the eye could see. All traffic had stopped and people watched on from the windows and roofs of surrounding buildings.
The mother took her baby with vociferous ‘thank you’s and squeals of joy before retreating into the car to breastfeed Rhea.
As those nearby lifted me onto their shoulders, nobody noticed two broken fingers on my left hand or the blood running down my arm and over my hand. These superficial wounds would heal next time I transformed. Just a small price to pay for the life of another.
I didn’t stick around to check on Rhea. I thought that would look smug and arrogant. But then, just leaving them made me look uncaring and dismissive. Whatever I did would be wrong. It worried me. A lot.
As for seeing Cardiff Bay and the new harbour developments – no chance. The entire city had come to a standstill and I couldn’t go anywhere without people grasping hold of me. Some just seemed to want to touch me, as if that was enough to give them strength and hope. I offered high fives to grateful and patient folk and stopped for a billion selfies. I signed books, photos, DVDs, T-shirts, arms, and even some women’s cleavages. Some of the people I wrote on said they’d have my signature tattooed over permanently.
One grinning couple, smartly dressed, ran up to me. The man in a morning suit put two hands on my shoulders – my security team had given up on me and stood down at my insistence.
‘Chloe and I have literally just got married. Do you have a blessing for us, Falco?’
His new wife embraced him from behind and they stared at me dewy-eyed.
I had to think very quickly.
‘May the roots and branches of love entwine you. May the spirit of every living creature abide within you and your family, now and to come. Let Gaia bring you joy, peace and the wisdom to deal with problems and conflicts. Let love and patience be your guide in everything.’
Not sure where all that came from, but it sounded pretty good.
They asked me to pose for a couple of official wedding photos before heading back to their reception. I declined the kind offer to join them.
I did manage a quick tour of the castle, but found myself trapped by television cameras and a bank of reporters at the exit. They seemed to be expecting me to make a speech. It was this sort of thing I always dreaded, but I knew I had to give them something.
‘Hi folks. Lovely to be here in Cardiff and to see such a big turnout. Is there a rugby match going or something?’
This got a laugh from the crowd who began an impromptu but still rousing rendition of Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau. It gave me goose bumps.
‘I’m not a politician who can witter on for hours. I dislike speeches, to be honest. I’ve always believed that actions speak louder than words. Thanks for your support at the election. It’s given the professional politicians something to think about. It drives our message and mission forwards. We may have won the battle but we haven’t yet won the war. That’s why we must continue our efforts – ever onwards – to save our planet from ourselves. Governments and corporations have to listen if we tell them what we want and don’t want. We can rise up together. Find your numen and get in touch with us. Help us out – volunteer, get a job with us, join a community. Watch what you buy and use. Think about what is best for the planet and for our beautiful natural world. Planet Earth is your home. Without our home we die and are nothin
g. Gaia is awakening. May Gaia bless you all.’
Chapter Thirteen
The media, newspapers and various websites went mental the next day.
‘Falco Resurrects Baby!’
‘Teenage Miracle Worker!’
‘Falco: Friend or Foe?’
‘Will Gaia Bless Us All?’
‘Falco Stages Obscene Baby Stunt.’
As far as I could work out, baby Rhea had been given a short prognosis by the doctors – some reported that she had died before I was summoned to help her. In fact, her own mother told the press that her daughter’s internal bodily functions had ceased to work just before bringing her to me; that she’d been taken off the machine keeping her alive, and that I’d been her only hope.
‘And now my precious little girl has been returned to me. It’s a miracle, don’t you see?’ the mother gushed.
Television pictures showed little Rhea gurgling, smiling, burping and waving her arms and legs about before contrasting those with still grey images of her in a bed connected to monitors and drip feeds.
It cut back to a happy home life in the present where her mother was sat in an armchair feeding Rhea. The mother looked up from the baby straight into the camera.
‘Thanks, Falco.’
Then the analysis. Commentators, critics, panellists, politicians, church leaders, naturalists, environmentalists, philosophers, poets, scientists, even sports stars, all got to express their very varying opinions of me.
Con artist, prophet, swindler, role model, drug dealer, icon, liar, inspiration, hypocrite, charismatic, control freak, messiah …
Once something is said it’s impossible to unsay it.
I split the world in half: those who saw me as their hero and saviour, and those who hated me and wanted me dead. There was very little in-between, it seemed. People wanted to touch me, ask me for wise words, or just see me from afar. Or at least the kind ones. Others spouted words of anger, jealousy, spite or revenge – for what? Words used against me were personal, degrading, frightening and just downright offensive.
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