Page 30 of The Spiral
“It’s Bob, lassy. I look after the old place. There’s only me now.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Bob, even if it is in unusual circumstances.”
I rock on my feet, and watch him continue to potter around as I wonder what to do. I can’t really go back inside. If I do it’ll get all odd again. It’s not something I want to deal with. I just want to get in my car and get out of here, perhaps find some sense of normal again. I snort at myself as the mist drifts around my feet again, and I glance back out into the darkened air. Normal? I haven’t even got a house to go to anymore, let alone any sense of normality. I suppose I’ll have to go to Callie’s place first, find her parents’ number and then find a hotel room.
“Funny weather,” I say, inching myself onto an old chair to stare out into the beauty of the nightly vision. It’s haunting really, like one of those old creepy movies, but it’s got a real sense of calm about it here. There’s no trepidation or hostility, no fear. It’s just quiet and serene.
“The old house sits in a dip in the land. We get all sorts here. Think the headland pulls the damp air through us,” he eventually replies. Oh. Okay. Must be reasonably normal round here then. Not that I’ve ever heard of it, but hey. If he says so.
“You got some good prices yet?”
“What?”
“You said you was an antiques dealer?”
“Oh, yes. There’s plenty in there to sell if he wants to sell it.” Not that he seems to. In fact, I’d almost forgotten that was what I was here to do in the first place. He didn’t seem very affable to the idea, though, did he? I’m not sure why I was ever called here, actually.
He doesn’t speak again, and I get to a point after a while where I feel a little uncomfortable, so I get off the chair and amble back out into the mist again, ready to wander back to the house.
The journey back takes me longer this time, or perhaps I make it so. I’m not sure, but the fact that I can’t stop gazing up at the massive place probably slows my pace. It’s magnificent as it rises from the mist covered ground. It dominates the landscape around it, giving the area a sense of strength at its centre. The frontage may look old but there’s no decay on the outside. It’s as solid as the principal spiral of stairs within it.
That thought makes me question the stairs again as I keep my legs flowing through the grey expanse of low level fog. Why should he be scared of me going up them? Everything seems to be odd around them. He changes. I change. I feel something near them, something guiding me. A memory that isn’t mine maybe. It isn’t like me to have sex with strangers. It’s as bizarre as dancing in the ballroom.
A shriek and sudden brush against my head has me ducking down, flustered at whatever’s hit me as I search the area. There’s nothing to see at first, only the continued shrieking and cawing as I back away from the noise. And then I notice the flap of a wing flitter through the fog a few feet away. I focus on it as it gently batters the mist around, trying to see what it belongs to and inching my way forward again. A crow appears as the density disperses, its wings still flapping about as it hops and jumps around. I smirk as it tilts its head, eyeing me up with its beady black eyes and snapping its beak almost noiselessly.
“Where did you come from?” I ask, glancing around the area to see if there are any more of them. There isn’t, just this lone one who’s still prancing and ruffling out his jet black feathers. It’s only after a while of watching him move that I notice something around his right leg, a clump of mud maybe, by his foot, but it’s not clear enough to see. I inch forward again and bend down to him, willing the moon to come out and illuminate the ground beneath us, but that’s not being helpful at all.
The crow dances again, and I realise that perhaps he’s not dancing at all—maybe he’s trying to dislodge the muddy clump.
“You need help with that?” I ask. What is wrong with me? Now I’m talking to birds in this insanity? I roll my eyes at myself and stand back up, utterly perplexed by what the hell’s happening around here. My eyes sweep the area, looking for what I don’t know, but as they do I hear the crow cawing madly as his wings bat my jeans. “Okay, okay,” I say, still smiling at the sound he’s making and crouching back down.
He stares at me, his feet hopping backwards away from me as he twists his head about.
“Okay, let me help,” I mumble out, reaching my hand to him and flicking some of the fog between us away. “I’ll get it off. What is it? Let’s have a look, shall we?” His neck twists again, looking awkward on his body as he looks me over. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed a bird watching me before. It’s eerie really, slightly disturbing in the middle of this fog and darkness. He reminds me of horror stories and ghouls. I snort out a small laugh, glancing around me again to check for concerns. There’s none to speak of, other than this odd weather. “Come on, birdy. Let’s get you free of whatever that is.”
He’s huge up close, much bigger than other birds, and as I gently reach to touch him, I realise I’ve never been this close to one before. I think I went to the Tower of London once when I was little, saw them there and the Beefeaters guarding the place, but I don’t remember crows being so big. He dwarfs my hand as he lets me touch his wing, all the time twitching his head around ready to fly off if things don’t go his way.
I gaze at him, slowly running my fingers along his frame until I reach his leg, which makes him instantly hop away again.
“Come on, I can’t get it off if you don’t let me.” He inclines his head again, opening and closing his beak as he does. “You’ve got to trust me, yeah?” He snaps his beak again, offering nothing but distrust as he opens his wings and waves them about. I can’t say I’m surprised, but he’s the one hovering around. “Surely you didn’t fly over here just to wimp out on me? Because we don’t do wimping out, do we?” Not anymore. I’ve done my years of wimping out. The beady eye blinks a bit, his beak suddenly closing and stilling as he wanders closer again. “Okay, let’s get it off then. What have you got yourself wrapped up in?”
He lets me pick him up carefully, and then rests quietly as I start picking at the clump around his foot. It’s sodden with wet mud and grime as I begin to tug, trying to cause no damage to his tiny bones as I do. “It’s really wedged, huh?” I say, continuing to talk to a bloody bird in the middle of the fog. Something is very odd around here. I flick at a bit and my nail gets caught, enough so that I’ve got to rip at it to get my finger out, but as I do the last glob of mud comes with it. “Oh,” I cry as I stare at what materialises. A ring. A filthy one, but a ring nonetheless. It’s not a ring like they’d put on pigeons. It’s a proper ring. “How did you get that around your foot?” I tap at the metal, not sure what colour it is and trying to work out if it’ll slide over his claw. “And how are we going to get it off without hurting you?” He squawks in response, snatching his foot away from my hand and turning his black eye on me again. “Perhaps if we…” He struggles in my grasp, pressure building in his wings as he tries to open them out. “Now, now. Stop being melodramatic. You’ll just need to squeeze your foot together a bit. It’ll slide right off if you’re brave enough. You’re brave, right?”
The flapping and struggling stops enough to give me time to squeeze my fingers around his toes, pressing them together and pushing at the ring as I do. Wings flap again as I lose my hold on him slightly to give me room, battering me around the head and flicking about in my line of sight. But I keep hold of the leg, letting him scramble about on me to get away. “It’s coming,” I snap out, trying to avoid his frantic fluttering around. “I’m sorry, but if you’d just stay...” The final tug sends me reeling onto my backside, letting go of his leg and clutching at the thing I’ve managed to pull off.
I land with a jolt on the wet gravel, snorting at myself and searching the ground for him to make sure he’s okay. He’s nowhere to be seen. There’s nothing but the mist still hovering around and a distant caw resonating in the air somewhere. Gone. Great.
“You’re welcome,” I muse, lifting my hand to get a look at the ring. It doesn’t sparkle or glimmer. It’s as soiled as it was when I first saw it, so I rub my fingers over it to clear some of the mud off. There’s an impression on it of some sort, travelling the circumference, but again I can’t see clearly enough here. If the sun would come back it might be helpful.
I pick myself up and walk back around to the front of the house, staring at the sky and still wondering what’s happening around me. Crows and mist. Night time in the middle of the day. Sex sessions with someone I hardly know. It’s all completely odd, and all I should be thinking about is getting out of here, but for some reason all I want to do now is go back in the house and wash the dirt off this ring. The thought hurries my steps, making me swish through the fog until I’m back in front of the entrance again. The caw sounds above me somewhere, so I turn back, gazing at the tall trees and searching for him as I climb up the stone steps to the house. The sun instantly starts to break in the sky behind the redwoods, spreading itself luminously out on the horizon and brightening everything around me. I stare open mouthed, bewildered by its sudden arrival again, watching the dense fog surrounding the ground ebb away to nothing as the colours of summer bleed back into the area.
“What the hell?”
“I said stay inside,” Jack’svoice says calmly from behind me.
“I know. I just…” I wander back down the steps again, not believing what’s just occurred as I rub the ring in my fingers to make sure it’s all real. “The sun. Look. It’s back again. Where did it go?”
“Come inside, Madeline,” he says again. I shake my head, trying to put some semblance of normality into what’s going on as I turn to look at him. He’s there, standing just behind the door, the light now cascading into the porched area and making him glow as he lurks in the dark.