Black Feathers: Dark Avian Tales: An Anthology(58)

“I’m fine.”

“Have you seen Joanne lately?”

Joanne was my social worker. “Yes,” I lied.

“I spoke to her, Wil. She says you missed your last appointment.”

“Please, Sara, I’m okay.”

“Are you taking your meds?”

“For fuck’s sake—you don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’d come up tomorrow if I could, bring the children. But this missing child. I mean, it’s so awful. I’m scared to bring them.”

“I don’t expect you to come up,” I assured her.

She didn’t speak for a moment. I realized she was struggling to say what she wanted to say. “Wil, listen. David called me.”

“Who?”

“David Carroll. The policeman up there in Sennybridge. He asked me what you’ve been up to. This thing with the bones. What is that, Wil? I don’t understand.”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Just a distraction.”

“Distraction from what?”

“Nothing—I told you.” I couldn’t keep the anger from my voice.

“Jesus Christ, Wil. You would tell me, right?”

“Tell you what?”

“If, if you were in trouble. If you weren’t well.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Why were you speaking to those kids? You don’t know them. What were you doing?”

“No reason. I swear to you.”

“I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what you’re capable of. I’ve thought about Molly and Rhodri, when we’ve been up to see you. Oh God, did you hurt that child, Wil? Did you take him?”

I hung up, unable to take anymore. I picked up the red cap and took it outside. I wanted to get rid of it, burn the damn thing. It had nothing to do with me. Instead, I took it to the Austin and left it there for Blyth.


I felt burdened with doubt and uncertainty. Since the incident at the caravan park, discord had come between Blyth and myself. I couldn’t explain it. After three years, it was hard to take. I tried to walk off my anxiety but when I returned to the house, it was still there.

Entering the yard, I saw Joanne standing by her car. I could tell by her expression that my appearance concerned her. I suppose I looked somewhat unkempt and undernourished. I hadn’t been eating regularly.

“Wil,” she said. “You knew I was coming, right?”

I told her I didn’t.

“I left a message this morning. I know it’s short notice but, well, it’s been a while.”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“Well, I’m here now. Okay?”

“I guess.”

“Can we go inside?”

In the kitchen I made her a cup of tea and asked what was so important she had to come on an unscheduled visit. “Your sister called me yesterday,” she said. “She’s concerned about you. She thinks you’re off your meds.”

I got up and opened the wall cabinet above the fridge and took down the empty bottles labelled aripiprazole and lithium. Joanne frowned. “You flushed them? A month’s supply?”

“I haven’t taken any pills for months.”

“We’ve talked before about what happens if you don’t take them. How you become unstable.”

“I’m stable.”

“Sara doesn’t think so. She mentioned an incident the other day. Said the police came to see you.”

“Did she?”

“Are you eating properly? You’ve lost weight.”

“I eat what I need.”

She sighed. “You got into a fight with some guy.”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“You’ve been talking to kids, putting disturbing ideas in their heads.”

“Kids are inquisitive. They’re more receptive than us.”

“Receptive to what?”

“Things we don’t see or that scare us.”

“The police believe that boy was abducted.”

I stared at her, trying to read what was in her head. “You think I have something to do with that?”

“No. But look how it seems. People who are well don’t carry around dead birds or have crows as pets. They don’t show them to young kids. When people are frightened, they look at strangers, at those who don’t seem normal.”

“Do I seem normal to you?”

She brushed the hair back from her forehead. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what others think and right now they’re saying things about you.”

“Because I study birds?”

“Because of your behaviour.”

“They stopped my funding, you know. My research.”

“What has this got to do with—”

“The crow family are the smartest of all birds, smarter than most animals. I’m trying to find ways to communicate with them, learn their languages.”

“Languages?” she said, bewildered. “Birds don’t talk.”

“Don’t they? Let me show you something.”

She followed me outside. I made a clicking sound, calling to Blyth. I repeated the sound, three, four times but he didn’t come.