Skellig David Almond

S KELLIC 'Simply brilliant' OBSERVER.

Also by David Almond Wilderness Heaven Eyes Counting Stars Secret Heart Wild Girl, Wild Boy -A Play Skellig — A Play The Fire-Eaters Jackdaw Summer My Name Is Mina Experience the magic of Skellig brought to life, on DVD — out now. A division of Hachette Children's Books.

Copyright 0 1998 David Almond First published in Great Britain in 1998 by Hodder Children k Books This edition published in 2009 by Hodder Children 's Books The right of David Almond to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. 9 All rights resewed. Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form, or by any means with prior permission in writing from the publishers or in the case of reprographic production in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency and may not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or deact is purely coincidental. A Catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: 978 0 340 94495 0 Wpeset by Avon DataSet Ltd Bidford on Avon, Warwickshire Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays St Ives plc The paper and board used in this paperback by Hodder Children S Books are natural recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. Hodder Children S Books a division of Hachette Books 338 Euston London NWI 3BH An Hachette UK company www.hachette.co.uk For Freya Grace.

'Yes,' 1 said. 'Yes. Yes.' I started to brush the dust off myself. A spider dropped away from my chin on a long string. He put his arm around me. 'It's for your own good,' he said. He picked a dead bluebottle out of my hair. He thumped the side of the garage and the whole thing shuddered. 'See?' he said. 'Imagine what might happen.' I grabbed his arm to stop him thumping it again. 'Don't,' I said. 'It's all right. I understand.' He squeezed my shoulder and said everything would be better soon. He laughed. 'Get all that dust off before your mother sees, eh?' 8 Four I hardly slept that night. Every time I did drop offl saw him coming out Of the garage door and coming through the wilderness to the house. I saw him in my bedroom. I saw him come right to the bed. He stood there all dusty and white With the dead bluebottles all over him. 'What do you want?' he whispered. 'I said, what do you want? ' I told myself I was stupid. I'd never seen him at all. That had all been part ofa dream as well. I lay there in the dark. I heard Dad snoring and when I listened hard I could hear the baby breathing. Her breathing was cracked and hissy. In the middle Of the night when it was pitch black I dropped off again but she started bawling. I heard Mum getting up to feed her. I heard Mum's voice cooing and comforting. Then there was just Silence again, and Dad snoring again. I listened hard for the baby again and I couldn't hear her. It was already getting light when I got up and tiptoed into their room. Her cot was beside their bed. They were lying fast asleep with their arms around each other. I looked down 9.

as well, but I didn't. I wanted to stay at Kenny Street High with Leakey and Coot. I didn't mind that I'd have to get the bus through town. That morning I told myself that it gave me time to think about what was going on. I tried to think about it but I couldn't think. I watched the people getting on and Off. I looked at them reading their papers or picking their nails or looking dreamily out of the windows. I thought how you could never tell just by looking at them what they were thinking or what was happening in their lives. Even when you got daft people or drunk people on buses, people that went on stupid and shouted rubbish or tried to tell you all about themselves, you could never really tell about them either. I wanted to stand up and say, 'There's a man in our garage and my sister is ill and it's the first day I've travelled from the new house to the old school.' But I didn't. I just went on looking at all the faces and swinging back and forward when the bus swung round corners. I knew if somebody looked at me, they'd know nothing about me, either. It was strange being at school again. Loads had happened to me, but school stayed just the same. Rasputin still asked us to lift up our hearts and voices and sing out loud in assembly. The Yeti yelled at us to keep to the left in the corridors. Monkey Mitford went red in the face and stamped his feet when we didn't know our fractions. Miss Clarts got tears in her eyes when she told us the story of Icarus, how his wings had melted when he flew too close to the sun, and how he 12 had dropped like a stone past his father Daedelus into the sea. At lunchtime, Leaey and Coot argued for ages about whether a shot had gone over the line. I couldn't be bothered with it all. I went to the fence at the edge of the field and stared over the town towards where I lived now. While I was standing there, Mrs Dando, one of the auxiliaries, came over to me. She'd known my parents for years. 'You 0K, Michael? she said. 'Fine.' 'And the baby?' 'Fine, too.' 'Not footballing today?' I shook my head. 'Tell your parents I was asking,' she said. She took a fruit gum out of her pocket and held it out to me. A fruit gum. It was what she gave the new kids when they were sad or something. 'Just for you,' she whispered, and she winked. 'No,' I said. 'No, thanks.' And I ran back and did a brilliant sliding tackle on Coot. All day I wondered about telling somebody What I'd seen, but I told nobody. I said to myself it had just been a dream. It must have been. 13.

Six At home, there was a hole in the floor where Ernie's toilet had been. It was filled with new cement. The plywood Screen had gone. Ernie's old gas fire had been taken away and there was just a square black gap behind the hearth. The floor was soaking wet and it stank of disinfectant. Dad was filthy and wet and grinning. He took me into the wilderness. The toilet was standing there in the middle of the thistles and weeds. 'Thought it'd make a nice garden seat for us,' he said. The gas fire and the plywood were down by the garage door, but they hadn't been taken inside. He looked at me and winked. 'Come and see what I found. ' He led me down to the garage door. 'Hold your nose,' he said. He bent down and started to open a newspaper parcel. 'Ready?' It was a parcel of birds. Four of them. 'Found them behind the fire,' he said. 'Must have got stuck in the chimney and couldn't get out again.' 14 You could makeeout that three of them were pigeons because of their grey and white feathers. The last one was pigeon-shaped, but it was all black. 'This was the last one I found,' he said. 'It was under a heap Of soot and dust that had fallen down the chimney.' 'Is it a pigeon as well?' 'Yes. Been there a long, long time, that's all.' He took my hand. 'Touch it,' he said. 'Feel it. Go on, it's 0K.' I let him hold my fingers against the bird. It was hard as stone. Even the feathers were hard as stone. 'Been there so long it's nearly a fossil,' he said. 'It's hard as stone,' I said. 'That's right. Hard as stone.' I went and washed my hands in the kitchen. 'Today was 0K?' he said. 'Yes. Leakey and Coot said they might come over on Sunday.' 'That's good. You managed the buses 0K, then?' I nodded. 'Might be able to drive you there next week,' he said. 'Once we're sorted out a bit.' 'It's 0K,' I said. 'B'lrs Dando asked about the baby.' 'You told her she was fine?' 'Yes,' I said. 'Good. Get some Coke and a sandwich or something. I'll make tea when the Others come home.' Then he went upstairs to have a bath. 15.

I looked down through the wilderness. I waited for ages, listening to Dad's bathwater banging its way through the pipes. I got my torch off the kitchen shelf. My hands were trembling. I went out, past Ernie's toilet, the fire, and the dead pigeons. I stood at the garage door and switched the torch on. I took a deep breath and tiptoed inside. I felt the cobwebs and the dust and I imagined that the whole thing would collapse. I heard things scuttling and scratching. I edged past the rubbish and the ancient furniture and my heart was thudding and thundering. I told myself I was stupid. I told myself I'd been dreaming. I told myself I wouldn't see him again. But I did. 16 Seven I leaned over the tea chests and shone the torch and there he was. He hadn't moved. He opened his eyes and closed them agam. 'You again,' he said, in his cracked, squeaky voice. 'What you doing there?' I whispered. He sighed, like he was sick to death of everything. 'Nothing, ' he squeaked. 'Nothing, nothing, and nothing. ' I watched a spider scrambling across his face. He caught it in his fingers and popped it in his mouth. 'They're coming to clear the rubbish out,' I said. 'And the whole place could collapse.' He sighed again. 'Got an aspirin?' 'An aspirin?' 'Never mind.' His face was pale as dry plaster. His black suit hung like a sack on his thin bones. My heart pounded. The dust was clogging my nostrils and throat. I chewed my lips and watched him. 17.

Eight When he came down from his bath, Dad started moaning that there was no bread and there were no eggs, and in the end he said, 'I know. Let's have a takeaway, eh?' It was like a light went on in my head. He had the menu from the Chinese round the corner in his hand. 'We'll get it in for when your mum gets back,' he said. 'What d'you fancy?' '27 and 53,' I said. 'That's clever,' he said. 'You did that without looking. What's your next trick?' He wrote it all down. 'Special chow mein for Mum, spring rolls and pork char sui for you, beef and mushroom for me, crispy seaweed and prawn crackers for the baby. And if she won't eat them, we will and serve her right, eh? She'll be back on boring mother's milk again.' He phoned the Chinese, gave me the cash, and I ran round 20 to collect it all. Bfihe time I got back again, Mum and the baby were there. She tried to make a fuss of me and kept asking me about the journey and about school. Then the baby puked over her shoulder and she had to get cleaned up. Dad belted through his beef and mushroom and the sea- weed and prawn crackers. He said he was all clogged up with Ernie's dust and he swigged Offa bottle ofbeer. When he saw • I was leaving half Of mine, he reached over with his fork. I covered it with my arm. 'You'll get fat,' I said. Mum laughed. 'Fatter!' she said. 'I'm famished,' he said. 'Worked like a bloomin' slave for you lot today.' He reached out and tickled the baby's chin and kissed her. 'Specially for you, little chick.' I kept my arm in front of the food. 'Fatso,' I said. He lifted his shirt and grabbed his belly with his fingers. 'See?' said Mum. He looked at us. He dipped his finger into the sauce at the edge of my plate. 'Delicious,' he said. 'But enough's enough. I've had an ample sufficiency, thank you.' Then he went to the fridge and got another beer and a great big lump of cheese. I tipped what was left of 27 and 53 into the takeaway tin and put it in the outside bin. 21.

Nine I saw Mina again later that evening. I was in the little front garden with Dad. We stood there in the thistles and dande- lions. He was telling me as usual how wonderful it would be — flowers here and a tree there and a bench under the front window. I saw her further along the street. She was•in a tree in another front garden on the same side of the street as us. She was sitting on a fat branch. She had a book and a pencil in her hand. She kept sticking the pencil in her mouth and staring up into the tree. 'Wonder who that is.' 'She's called Mina.' She must have seen us looking at her but she didn't move. Dad went in to check the cement in the dining room. I went out the gate and along the street and looked up at Mina in the tree. 'What you doing up there?' I said. She clicked her tongue. 'Silly you,' she said. 'You've scared it away. Typical.' 22 'Scared what away?' 'The blackbird. ' She put the book and the pencil in her mouth. She swung over the branch and dropped into the garden. She stood looking at me. She was little and she had hair as black as coal and the kind of eyes you think can see right through you. 'Never mind,' she said. 'It'll come agarn.' • She pointed up to the rooftop. The blackbird was up there, tipprng its tail back and forward, and squawking. 'That's its warning call,' she said. 'It's telling its family there's danger near. Danger. That's you.' She pointed up into the tree. 'If you climb up where I was and look along that branch there you'll see its nest. There's three tiny ones. But don't you dare go any nearer.' She sat on the garden wall and faced me. 'This is where I live,' she said. 'Number Seven. You've got a baby sister.' 'Yes.' 'What's her name?' 'We haven't decided yet.' She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes towards the sky. She opened her book. 'Look at this,' she said. It was full of birds. pencil drawings, lots of them coloured in blues and greens and reds. 'This is the blackbird,' she said. 'They're common, but nevertheless very beautiful. A sparrow. These are tits. And 23.

mouth. I could see he wasn't all there. 'There's a man in our garage,' 1 said when he'd shut up. The Jack Russell yapped. He put his hand around its mouth. He seemed to be thinking hard. 'Aye,' he said again. 'And there was the loveliest lass on the trapeze. You could swear she could nearly fly.' 34 Twelve Doctor Death was there when I got home. He was in the kitchen with Mum and Dad. He had the baby on his knee and he was fastening her vest up. He winked at me when I came in. Dad poked me in the ribs. I saw how flat Mum's face was. 'It's this damn place!' she said when Doctor Death had gone. 'How can she thrive when it's all so dirty and all in such a mess?' She pointed out of the window. 'See what I mean?' she said. 'Bloody stupid toilet. Bloody ruins. A bloody stupid wilderness.' She started crying. She said we should never have left Random Road. We should never have come to this stinking derelict place. She walked back and forward in the kitchen with the baby in her arms. 'My little girl,' she murmured. 'My poor little girl.' 'The baby has to go back to hospital,' Dad whispered. 'Just for a while. So the doctors can keep an eye on her. That's all. She'll be fine.' 35.

Thirteen 'You're unhappy, ' she said. I stood there looking up at her. 'The baby's back in hospital,' I said. She sighed. She gazed at a bird that was wheeling high above. 'It looks like she's going to bloody die,' I said. She sighed again. 'Would you like me to take you somewhere?' she said. 'Somewhere ? ' 'Somewhere secret. Somewhere nobody knows about' 1 looked back at the house and saw Dad through the dining-room window. 1 looked at Mina and her eyes went right through me. 'Five nünutes,' she said. 'He won't even knowyou're gone.' I crossed my fingers. 'Come on,' she whispered, and 1 opened the gate and slipped out into the lane. 'Quickly,' she whispered, and she bent low and started to run. 38 At the end of the street she turned into another back lane. The houses behind the walls here"were bigger and higher and older. The back gardens were longer and had tall trees in them. It was Crow Road. She stopped outside a dark-green gate. She took a key from somewhere, unlocked it, slipped inside. I followed her in. Something brushed against my leg. I looked down and saw a cat that had come in through the gate with us. 'Whisper!' said Mina, and she grinned. 'What?' 'The cat's called Whisper. You'll see him everywhere.' The house was blackened stone. The windows were boarded up. Mina ran to the door and opened it. There was a painted red sign over the door: DANGER. 'Take no notice,' she said. 'It's just to keep the vandals out.' She stepped inside. 'Come on,' she whispered. 'Quickly!' I went in, and Whisper entered at my side. It was pitch black in there. I could see nothing. Mina took my hand. 'Don't stop,' she said, and she led me forward. She led me up some wide stairs. As my eyes got used to the gloom I made out the shapes of the boarded windows, of dark doorways and broad landings. We ascended three stair- ways, passed three landings. Then the stairs narrowed and we came to a final narrow doorway. 'The attic,' she whispered. 'Stay very still in there. They 39.

might not want you to be there. They might attack you!' 'What might?' 'How brave are you? They know me and they know Whisper but they don't know you. How brave are you? As brave as me?' I stared at her. How could I know? 'You are,' she said. 'You have to be.' She turned the handle. She held her breath. She took my hand again, led me inside, closed the door behind us. She hunched down on the floor. She pulled me down as well. The cat lay quietly at our side. 'Stay very still,' she whispered. 'Stay very quiet. Just watch.' We were right inside the roof. It was a wide room with a sloping ceiling. The floorboards were split and' uneven. Plaster had fallen from the walls. Light came in through an arched window that jutted out through the roof. Glass was scattered on the floor below the window. You could see the rooftops and steeples Of the town through it, and the clouds, turning red as the day began to close. I held my breath. The room darkened and reddened as the sun went down. 'What will happen?' I whispered. 'Shh. Just watch. Wait and watch.' Then she trembled. 'Look! Look!' A pale bird rose from some corner of the room and flew silently to the window. It stood there, looking out. Then another came, wheeling once around the room, its wings 40 beating within inclwof our faces before it, too, settled before the window. I didn't breathe. Mina gripped my hand. I watched the birds, the way their broad round faces turned to each other, the way their claws gripped the window frame. Then they went, flying silently out into the red dusk. 'Owls,' whispered Mina. 'Tawny owls!' And she looked right into me again and laughed. 'Sometimes they'll attack intruders. But they saw you were with me. They knew you were 0K.' She pointed to the back wall, a gaping hole where some plaster and bricks had fallen in. 'That's the nest,' she said. 'There's chicks in there. Don't go near. They'll defend them to the death.' She laughed at my stunned silence. 'Come on,' she whispered. 'Be quick!' And we left the attic and ran down the broad stairs and out of the house and into the garden. She locked the door and the garden gate and we ran through the lanes to our wilderness. 'Tell nobody,' she whispered. 'NO,' I said. 'Hope to die,' she said. 'What?' 'Cross your heart and hope to die.' 'Cross my heart and hope to die.' 'Good,' she said, and she ran away with Whisper at her heels. 41.

1 stepped back through our gate and there was Dad, beyond the dining-room window, stretching up to paint the 42 Fourteen I didn't go to school next day. I was having breakfast with Dad when I started trembling for no reason. He put his arm around me. 'What about working with me today?' he asked. I nodded. 'We'll get it all done for them, eh?' he said. 'You and me together. ' I heard him on the phone in the hall, talking to school. 'His sister ... ' I heard him say. 'Yes, so much all at once .. State of distress ... Yes, yes.' I put some old jeans on. I stirred the green paint he was going to use on the dining-room walls. I laid old sheets on the floor. 'What should I do?' I asked, as he stepped up on to the stepladders. He shrugged. He looked out through the window. 'How about getting some of that jungle cleared,' he said. He laughed. 'Get covered up first, though. And watch out for the tigers.' 43.

'Don't know,' I said. 'Our motto is on the wall by my bed,' she said. ' "How can a bird that is born for joy/ Sit in a cage and sing?" William Blake.' She pointed up into the tree. 'The chicks in the nest won't need a classroom to make them fly. Will they?' I shook my head. 'Well, then,' she said. 'My father believed this, too.' 'Your father?' 'Yes. He was a wonderful man. He died before I was born. We often think of him, watching us from Heaven. ' She watched me, with those eyes that seemed to get right inside. 'You're a quiet person,' she said. I didn't know what to say. She began reading again. 'Do you believe we're descended from apes?' said. 'Not a matter of belief,' she said. 'It's a proven fact. It's called evolution. You must know that. Yes, we are.' She looked up from her book. 'l would hope, though,' she went on, 'that we also have some rather more beautiful ancestors. Don't you?' She watched me again. 'Yes,' I said. She read again. I watched the blackbird flying into the tree with worms drooping from its beak. 'It was great to see the owls,' I said. She smiled. 'Yes. They're wild things, of course. Killers, savages. They're wonderful.' 48 'I kept dreaming I heard them, all through the night.' 'I listen for them, too. Sometimes in the dead of night when all the traffic's gone I hear them calling to each other. ' I joined my hands together tight with a space between my palms and a gap between my thumbs. 'Listen,' I said. I blew softly into the gap and made the noise an owl mikes. 'That's brilliant!' said Mina. 'Show me.' I showed her how to put her hands together, how to blow. At first she couldn't do it, then she could. She hooted and grinned. 'Brilliant,' she said. 'So brilliant.' 'Leakey showed me,' I said. 'My mate at school.' 'l wonder if you did it at night if the owls would come.' 'Maybe. Maybe you should try it.' 'I will. Tonight I Will.' Hoot, she went. Hoot hoot hoot. 'Brilliant!' she said, and she clapped her hands. 'There's something I could show you as well,' I said. 'Like you showed me the owls.' 'What is it?' 'l don't know. I don't even know if it's true or if it's a dream. 'That's all right. Truth and dreams are always getting muddled. 'I'd have to take you there and show you.' 49.

'Never could tell. Used to look at me, but look right through me like 1 wasn't there. Miserable old toot. Maybe thought I was a figment.' He dropped a long sticky string ofpork and beansprouts on to his pale tongue. He looked at me with his veiny eyes. 'You think I'm a figment?' 'Don't know What you are.' 'That's all right, then. ' 'Are you dead?' 'Are you?' 'Yes. The dead are often known to eat 27 and 53 and to suffer from Arthur Itis. ' 'You need more aspirin?' 'Not yet. ' 'Anything else?' '27 and 53.' He ran his finger around the tray and caught the final globs ofsauce. He licked his pale lips with his pale tongue. 'The baby's in hospital,' I said. 'Some brown,' he said. 'Brown P' 'Brown ale. Something else Ernie used to have. Something else he couldn't finish. Eyes bigger than his belly. Something else 1 used to dig out of the bin, long as the bottle hadn't tipped over and spilt everything ' '0K,' 1 said. 52 'Brown ale. Sweetest Of nectars.' He belched, retched, leaned forward. I shone the torch on to the great bulges on his back, beneath his jacket. 'There's someone I'd like to bring to see you,' I said when he'd settled. 'Someone to tell you I'm really here?' 'She's nice.' 'No.' 'She's clever. 'Nobody. ' 'She'll know how to help you.' He laughed but he didn't smile. I didn't know why, but I started to tremble again. He clicked his tongue and his breath rattled and sighed. 'I don't know what to do,' I said. 'The garage is going to bloody collapse. You're ill with bloody arthritis. You don't eat properly. I wake up and think of you and there's other things I need to think about. The baby's ill and we hope she won't die but she might. She really might.' He tapped his fingers on the garage floor, ran his fingers through the furry balls that lay there. 'She's nice,' I told him. 'She'll tell nobody else. She's clever. She'll know how to help you.' He shook his head. 'Damn kids,' he said. 'She's called Mina,' I said. 'Bring the street,' he said. 'Bring the whole damn town.' 53.

'Just Mina. And me.' 'Kids.' 'What should I call you?' 'Eh?' 'What should I tell her you're called?' 'Nobody. Mr Nobody. Mr Bones and Mr Had Enough and Mr Arthur Itis. Now get out and leave me alone.' '0K,' 1 said. I stood up and started to back out between the tea chests. I hesitated. 'Will you think about the baby?' I said. 'Will you think about her in hospital? Will you think about her getting better?' He clicked his tongue. 'Please,' I said. 'Yes. Blinking yes.' I moved towards the door. 'Yes,' I heard him say again. 'Yes, I will.' Hoot. Hoot hoot hoot. Then I seemed to see a face, round and pale inside the darkness of an upstairs window in Mina's house. I put my hands together again. Hoot. Hoot hoot hoot. Something answered. Hoot. Hoot hoot hoot. Outside, night had almost given way to day. The blackbird was on the garage roof, belting out its song. Black and pink and blue were mingling in the sky. I picked the cobwebs and bluebottles off myself. I heard the hooting as I turned back towards the house. Hoot. Hoot hoot hoot. I looked into the sky over the gardens and saw the owls heading homeward on great silent wings. I put my hands together and blew into the gap between my thumbs. 55 54.

I tried to concentrate on the tree, on the branches and leaves, on the tiny shoots that grew out from the branches. I heard the shoots and leaves moving in the breeze. 'It comes from the nest,' she said. 'Just listen.' I listened, and at last I heard it: a tiny squeaking sound, far- Off, like it was coming from another world. I caught my breath. 'Yes!' I whispered. 'The chicks,' she said. Once I'd found it, and knew what it was and where it was, I could hear it along with all the other, stronger noises. I could open my eyes. I could look at Mina. Then I could close my eyes again and hear the blackbird chicks cheeping in the nest. I could imagine them there, packed close together in the nest. 'Their bones are more delicate than ours,' she said. I opened my eyes. She was copying the skeleton again. 'Their bones are almost hollow. Did you know that?' 'Yes, I think so.' She picked up a bone that was lying beside her books. 'This is from a pigeon, we believe,' she said. She snapped the bone and it splintered. She showed me that it wasn't solid inside, but was a mesh of needle-thin, bony struts. 'The presence of air cavities within the bone is known as pneumatisation,' she said. 'Feel it.' I rested the bone on my palm. I looked at the spaces inside, felt the splinters. 58 'This too is the res»lt of evolution,' she said. 'The bone is light but strong. It is adapted so that the bird can fly. Over millions of years, the bird has developed an anatomy that enables it to fly. As you know from the skeleton drawings you did the other day, we have not.' She looked at me. 'You understand? You've covered this at school?' 'I think so.' She watched me. 'One day I'll tell you about a being called the archae- opteryx,' she said. 'How's the baby today?' 'We'll see this afternoon. But 1 think she'll be 0K' 'Good.' She put her hands together, blew between her thumbs, • and made the owl sound. 'Brilliant!' she said. 'Brilliant!' '1 made the hooting noise last night,' 1 said. 'Just after dawn, very early in the morning. 'Did you?' 'Were you looking out then? Did you make the hooting sound?' 'I can't be certain. 'Can't?' '1 dream. 1 walk in my sleep. Sometimes 1 do things really and 1 think they were just dreams. Sometimes 1 dream them and think they were real.' She stared at me. 'l dreamed about you last night,' she said. 59.

'Did you?' 'Yes, but it's not important. You said you had a mystery. Something to show me. ' 'I have. ' 'Then show me.' 'Not now. This afternoon, maybe.' She gazed into me. 'You were outside,' she said. 'There was an eerie light. You were very pale. There were cobwebs and flies all over you. You Were hooting, just like an owl.' We stared at each other. Dad started calling. 'Michael! Michael!' 'See you later this afternoon,' I whispered. 60 Eighteen 'Mrs Dando was on the phone,' said Dad, on the way to the hospital. 'She was asking about you.' 'That's nice.' 'She said your mates want you back.' 'I'll see them Sunday.' 'Not missing school, then?' I shrugged. 'Don't know.' 'Maybe you could go back soon, eh? Don't want to miss out on too much.' 'I learn a lot from IVYina. She knows about lots of things, like birds and evolution. ' 'Aye, there's that. And of course you've learned the Chinese menu off by heart.' At the hospital the baby was still in the glass case, but the wires and tubes weren't in her. Mum lifted the lid back and I held the baby on my knee. I tried to feel if she was getting bigger and stronger. She squirmed, and I felt the long thin muscles in her back as she stretched. She took my finger in 61.

other across the room. There were people practising rnovmg on zimmer frames. Some lay in bed, smiling and knitting, wincing as they called across the ward to each other. Some lay exhausted, filled with pain. At the far end, a cluster of doctors and students in white coats gathered around a man in black. He spoke, and they scribbled in notebooks. He strode through the ward and they followed. He pointed at patients and they nodded and waved. He stopped at several of the beds and smiled for a moment as he listened to the patients. He shook hands with a nurse and headed quickly for the door. I stood there as the cluster approached me. 'Excuse me,' I said. The man in black strode on. 'Doctor MacNabola,' I said. He stopped and looked down at me. The doétors and students came to a halt around me. 'What's good for arthritis?' I said. He blinked and grinned. 'The needle,' he said. He pretended to squeeze a great syringe. 'Deep injections right into the joint.' He winced, pretending to be in pain, and the doctors and students sniggered. 'Then the saw,' he said. He made sawing movements with his arm and he gasped and twisted his face in agony. 'Bits cut out and new bits put in,' he said. He pretended to thread a needle, then to sew. 64 'Stitch it up, good as new,' he said. He sighed with relief,eas if all his pain had gone. He leaned towards me. 'Are you a sufferer, young man?' I shook my head. 'A friend.' The doctor stood up very straight. 'Then tell your friend to come to me. I'll needle him, saw hin;, fix him up and send him home nearly as good as new.' The doctors sniggered again. 'Failing that,' he said, 'the advice is simple. Keep cheerful. Don't give up. Most ofall, remain active. Take cod liver oil. Don't allow those joints to grind to a halt.' He clasped his hands behind his back. 'Anything else?' I shook my head. He looked at the doctors around me. 'Any other advice for the young man's friend?' They shook their heads. 'Then let us carry on,' he said, and he strode into the corridor. I stood there thinking. 'You looking for someone?' said a nurse. 'No.' She smiled. 'He's a good doctor, really,' she said. 'But he does like to show off. You tell your friend: keep moving, and try to smile. Don't make it easy for Arthur.' 65.

I ran back to the lift and back to the baby's ward. Mum and Dad were sitting holding hands, gazing down at the baby. 'Hello,' said Mum. She tried to smile, but her voice was flat and I could see she'd been crying. 'Hello.' 'You've been a while.' 'All those Chinese takeaways,' said Dad, trying to get us to laugh. 'Cod liver oil,' she said. 'That'll sort you out.' She held me tight. 'You're my best boy,' she whispered. 'Whatever happens, you'll always be my best boy.' At home, as Dad prepared to get started again in the front room, I took a bottle of brown ale from the fridge and hid it with my torch just inside the garage door. I got my Swiss Army knife from my room. I took a handful of cod liver oil capsules from the bathroom and put them in my pocket. I asked if it was 0K if I went to see Mina again. 'Don't worry about me,' Dad said. 'I'll do all the dirty work. You just run around and have a good time.' 66 Nineteen Her blanket and books were still on the lawn, but she wasn't there. I looked up into the tree and she wasn't there. I stepped over the wall, went to her front door, rang the doorbell. Her mother came. 'Is Mina in?' I asked. She had jet-black hair like Mina's. She wore an apron covered in daubs of paint and clay. 'She is,' she said. She put her hand out. 'You must be Michael. I'm Mrs McKee.' I shook her hand. 'Mina!' she shouted. 'How's the baby?' she asked. 'Very well. Well, we think she'll be very well.' 'Babies are stubborn things. Strugglers and fighters. Tell your parents I'm thinking of them.' 'I will.' Mina came to the door. She had a paint—splashed apron on, too. 'We're modelling,' she said. 'Come and see.' 67.

Twenty I led her quickly along the front street, then I turned into the back lane. I led her past the high back garden walls. 'Where we going?' she said. 'Not far.' I looked at her yellow top and blue jeans. 'The place is filthy,' I said. 'And it's dangerous.' She buttoned the blouse to her throat. She clenched her fists. 'Good!' she said. 'Keep going, Michael!' I opened our back garden gate. 'Here?' she said. She stared at me. 'Yes. Yes!' I stood at the garage door with her. She peered into the gloom. I picked up the beer and the torch. 'We'll need these,' I said. I took the capsules from my pocket. 'And these as well.' Her eyes narrowed and she looked right into me. 'Trust me,' I said. 70 I hesitated. 'It's not just that it's dangerous,' I said. 'I'm worried that you won't see what I think I see.' She took my hand and squeezed it. 'I'll see whatever's there,' she whispered. 'Take me in.' I switched on the torch and stepped inside. Things scratched and scuttled across the floor. I felt Mina tremble. Her palms began to sweat. • I held her hand tight. 'It's all right,' said. 'Just keep close to me.' We squeezed between the rubbish and the broken furni- ture. Cobwebs snapped on our clothes and skin. Dead bluebottles attached themselves to us. The ceiling creaked and dust fell from the rotten timbers. As we approached the tea chests I started to shake. Maybe Mina would see nothing. Maybe I'd been wrong all along. Maybe dreams and truth were just a useless muddle in my mind. I leaned forward, shone the light into the gap behind the tea chests. 'Again?' he squeaked. I heard Mina stifle a cry. I felt her hand stiffen. I pulled her closer. 'It's all right,' I whispered. 'I brought my friend,' I said. 'Like I said I would. This is He turned his eyes towards her, then lowered them again. I showed him the brown ale. 'I brought this as well.' 71.

He laughed but he didn't smile. I squeezed through to him. I snapped the cap off the bottle with the opener on the knife and crouched beside him. He tipped his head back and let me pour some of the beer into his mouth. He swallowed. Some of it trickled from his mouth on to his black suit. 'Nectar,' he sighed. 'Drink of the gods.' He tipped his head back again, and I poured again. I looked back at Mina's dark form looking down at us, her pale face, her mouth and eyes gaping in astonishment. 'Who are you?' she whispered. 'Mr Had Enough Of You,' he squeaked. 'I saw a doctor,' I said. 'Not Doctor Death. One that could fix you.' 'No doctors. Nobody. Nothing. Let me be.' 'You'll die. You'll crumble away and die.' 'Crumble crumble.' He tipped his head back. 'IVIore beer.' I poured more beer. 'I brought these as well,' I said. I held a cod liver oil capsule out to him. 'Some people swear by them,' I said. He sniffed. 'Stink of fish,' he squeaked. 'Slimy slithery swimming things. ' There were tears in my eyes. 'He just sits here,' I said. 'He doesn't care. It's like he's waiting to die. I don't know what to do.' 'Do nothing,' he squeaked. 72 He closed his eyes, lowered his head. Mina came in beside us. She crouched, stared at his face as dry and pale as plaster, at the dead bluebottles and cobwebs, at the spiders and beetles that scuttled across him. She took the torch from me. She shone it on his thin body in the dark suit, on the long legs stretched out on the floor, on the swollen hands that rested at his side. She picked up one of the da;k furry balls from beside him. 'Who are you?' she whispered. 'Nobody.' She reached out and touched his cheek. 'Dry and cold,' she whispered. 'How long have you been here?' 'Long enough. ' 'Are you dead?' He groaned. 'Kids' questions. Always the same.' 'Tell her things,' I said. 'She's clever. She'll know what to do.' He laughed but he didn't smile. 'Let me see her,' he said. Mina turned the torch to her face, and it was brilliant white, with pitch dark gaps where her mouth and eyes were. 'I'm called Mina,' she said. She sighed. 'I'm Mina,' she said. 'You're .?' 'You're Mina,' he said. 'I'm sick to death.' 73.

Twenty-two I with the baby. We were tucked up together in the blackbird's nest. Her body was covered in feathers and she was soft and warm. The blackbird was on the house roof, flapping its wings, squawking. Doctor MacNabola and Doctor Death were beneath us in the garden. They. had a table filled with knives and scissors and saws. Doctor Death had a great syringe in his fist. 'Bring her down!' he yelled. 'We'll make her good as new! ' The baby squeaked and squealed in fright. She stood at the edge of the nest, flapping her wings, trying for the first time to fly. I saw the great bare patches on her skin: she didn't have enough feathers yet, her wings weren't strong enough yet. I tried to reach for her but my arms were hard and stiff as stone. 'Go on!' the doctors yelled. They laughed. 'Go on, baby! Fly!' Doctor MacNabola lifted a shining saw. She teetered on the brink. 78 Then I heard the hooting of an owl. I opened my eyes. Pale light was glowing at my window. I looked down, saw Mina in the wilderness with her hands against her face. Hoot. Hoot hoot hoot. 'I didn't sleep all night,' I said, once I'd tiptoed out to her. 'Then at the very last minute when the night was ending I did.' 'But you're awake now?' she said. 'Yes.' 'We're not dreaming this?' 'We're not dreaming it.' 'We're not dreaming it together?' 'Even if we were we wouldn't know.' The blackbird flew to the garage roof, began its mormng song. 'No time to waste,' I said. We went to the door, stepped inside. We moved swiftly through the furniture. I shone the torch on his face. 'You have to come with us,' said Mina. He sighed, groaned. 'I'm ill,' he said. He didn't look at us. 'I'm sick to death,' he said. We squeezed through the gap between the tea chests and crouched before him. 'You have to come,' she said again. 'I'm weak as a baby,' he said. 'Babies aren't weak,' she whispered. 'Have you seen a baby 79.

screaming for its food or struggling to crawl? Have you seen a blackbird chick daring its first flight?' She put her hand beneath his armpit. She tugged at him. 'Please,' she whispered. I held him, too. I tugged. We felt him beginning to relax, to give himself up to us. 'I'm frightened,' he squeaked. Mina bent close to him. She kissed his pale cheek. 'Don't be frightened. We're taking you to safety.' His joints creaked as he struggled to rise from the floor. He whimpered in pain. He leaned against us. He tottered and wobbled as he rose. He was taller than us, tall as Dad. We felt how thin he was, how extraordinarily light he was. We had our arms around him. Our fingers touched behind his back. We explored the growths upon his shoulder blades. We felt them folded up like arms. We felt their soft coverings. We stared into each other's eyes and didn't dare to tell each other what we thought we felt. 'Extraordinary, extraordinary being,' whispered Mina. 'Can you walk?' I said. He whimpered, squeaked. 'Move slowly,' I said. 'Hold on to us.' I moved backwards, between the tea chests. Mina sup- ported him from behind. His feet dragged across the ruined floor. Things scuttled across us. The garage creaked. Dust fell. His breathing was hoarse, uneven. His body shuddered. He whimpered with pain. At the door he closed his eyes, turned his head away from the intensifying light. Then he 80 turned again and faced the daylight. Through narrowed veiny eyes he looked out through the door. Mina and I gazed at his face, so pale and plaster dry. His skin was cracked and crazed. His black hair was a tangle of knots. Dust, cobwebs, bluebottles, spiders, beetles clung to him and fell from him. We saw for the first time that he wasn't old. He seemed like a young man. Mina whispered it: 'You're beautiful!' • I peeped out across the wilderness towards the house, saw nobody at the window. 'Keep moving.' I opened the gate, drew him by the hand. He leaned on Mina, shuffled out after me into the lane. I closed the gate. Already traffic could be heard in the city, on nearby. Crimdon Road. The birds in the gardens and on the rooftops yelled their songs. Whisper appeared at our side. 'We'll carry him,' I said. 'Yes,' said Mina. I stood behind him and he leaned back into my arms. Mina took his feet. We caught our breath at our ability to do this thing, at the extraordinary lightness of our load. I closed my eyes for a moment. I imagined that this was a dream. I told myself that anything was possible in a dream. I felt the great bulges at his back bundled up agamst my arms. We started to move. We walked through the back lane, turned into another back lane, hurried to the green gate of the boarded house. 81.

I got a biro and took the work along the street to Mina's front garden. She was sitting with her mum on the blanket underneath the tree. Her mum was reading, Mina was scrib— bling fast in a black book. She grinned, and beckoned me over the wall when she saw me standing there. Mina looked at the worksheets. It is thought that Man is d This is the neory of E from the apes. 77-1is theory was developed by Charles D There was sentence after sentence like that. Mina read the sentences out loud. She said, 'Blank blank blank,' in a singsong voice when she came to the dashes. She stopped after the first three sentences and just looked at me. 'Is this really the kind of thing you do all day?' she said. 'Mina,' said her mum. Mina giggled. She flicked through the book. It was about a boy who tells magical tales that turn out to be true. 'Yeah, looks good,' she said. 'But whatk the red sticker for? , 'It's for confident readers,' I said. 'It's to do with reading 'And what if other readers want to read it?' 'Mina,' said her mum. 'And where would William Blake fit in?' said Mina. ' "1Yger! Tyger! burning bright/ln the forests of the night." 84 Is that for the best readers or the worst readers? Does that need a good reading age?' I stared back at her. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to get back over the wall and go home again. 'And if it was for the worst readers would the best readers not bother with it because it would be too stupid for them?' she said. 'N'lina,' said her mum. She was smiling gently at me. 'Take .no notice,' she said. 'She's a madam sometimes.' 'Well,' said Mina. She went back to scribbling in the black book again. She looked up at me. 'Go on, then,' she said. 'Do your homework, like a good schoolboy. ' Her mum smiled again. 'I'll get on inside,' she said. 'You tell her to shut up if she starts getting at you again. 0K?' '0K,' 1 said. After she'd gone we said nothing for ages. I pretended to read Julius And The Wilderness, but it was like the words were dead and meaningless. 'What you writlng?' I said at last. 'My diary. About me and you and Skellig,' she said. She didn't look up. 'What if somebody reads it?' I said. 'Why would they read it? They know it's mine and it's private. ' She scribbled again. 85.

I thought about our diaries at school. We filled them in every week. Every so often, Miss Clarts checked that they were neat and the punctuation was right and the spellings were right. She gave us marks for them, just like we got marks for attendance and punctuality and attitude and every- thing else we did. I said nothing about this to Mina. I went on pretending to read the book. I felt tears in my eyes. That made me think about the baby and doing that just made the tears worse. 'I'm sorry,' said Mina. 'I really am. One of the things hate about schools is the sarcasm that's being sarcastic.' She squeezed my hand. 'It's so exciting,' she whispered. 'You, have to go to him. He'll be waiting for us. for him?' 86 in them. And I'm me, Skellig. We'll What shall €e take Twenty-four 'What is this place?' I asked her as she opened the gate and we stepped into the long back garden. We ducked down and hurried to the DANGER door. 'It was my grandfather's,' she said. 'He died last year. He left it to me in his will. It'll be mine when I'm eighteen.' She turned the key in the lock. 'We're having it repaired soon. Then we'll rent it out.' We stepped inside, carrying our parcels. Whisper slipped In at our heels. 'Don't worry, though,' she whispered. 'There's weeks before the builders come.' I switched my torch on. We went into the room where we'd left him. He wasn't there. The room was silent and empty, as if he'd never been there at all. Then we saw Mina's cardigan behind the door, and dead bluebottles on the floor- boards, and heard Whisper mewing from the stairs. We went into the hallway, saw the shape of Skellig lying halfway up the first flight. 'Knackered,' he squeaked as we crouched beside him. 87.

I tiptoed to the shutters and stared out through the narrow 'What you doing?' she whispered. 'Making sure the world's still really there,' I said. 90 Twenty-five The wires and the tubes were in her again. The glass case was shut. She didn't move. She was wrapped in white. Her hair was fluffy, dead straight and dark. I wanted to touch it, and to touch her skin, feel it soft against my fingertips. Her little hands were clenched tight on either side ofher head. We said nothing. I listened to the drone of the city outside, to the clatter of the hospital. I heard my own breathing, the scared quick breathing of my parents at my side. I heard them sniffing back their tears. I went on listening. I listened through all these noises, until I heard the baby, the gentle squeaking of her breath, tiny and distant as if it came from a different world. I closed my eyes and went on listening and listening. I listened deeper, until I believed I heard her beating heart. I told myself that if I listened hard enough her breathing and the beating of her heart would never be able to stop. Dad held my hand as we walked through the corridors towards the car park. We passed a lift shaft and the woman with the Zimmer frame from upstairs tottered out. She gasped 91.