Skellig

Chapter 39

“DON’T CALL DR. DEATH,” I MURMURED. “Don’t call Dr. Death.”

I was slumped on the floorboards. Mina was kneeling over me. She stroked my brow, whispered my name.

“Not Dr. Death,” I said again.

“No,” she said. “Not Dr. Death.”

I struggled to sit up. I leaned against the wall beneath the window.

“Touch your heart,” she said.

I did this, and I felt the beating there.

“See?” she said.

“But it’s only mine. It’s not the baby’s.”

“Oh, Michael.”

I felt my strength coming back to me. I swallowed, squeezed my eyes, tightened my fists. I felt my heart again.

“It’s only my heart, Mina. Not the baby’s. The baby’s dead.”

“You can’t know for certain,” she said.

I pulled myself to my feet.

“I think I can, Mina.”

She held me as we went out of the room and into the darkness of the house.

“Where is he?” I asked as we went down.

No answer.

“You looked everywhere?” I said.

“Yes, everywhere.”

I touched my heart again and it was still the same.

“She’s dead,” I whispered.

“But maybe she’s fine.”

“I’ll phone the hospital,” I said, but I knew I wouldn’t dare.

We went out into the spring light. As we stepped out, we saw blackbird fledglings tottering into the cover of hedges. In the lane, an unknown cat hunched behind a rubbish bin, and watched us pass with hostile eyes.

“Your dad’ll come for you soon,” said Mina. “He’ll tell you everything’s fine.”

“Don’t tell him about me,” I said. “He doesn’t need to worry about me.”

She smiled and squeezed me tight.

“Where the hell’s Skellig?” I said.

She shook her head and we walked on. Miles above us, a great heavy bird flapped across the blue.

“William Blake used to faint sometimes,” said Mina. “He said the soul was able to leap out of the body for a while, and then leap back again. He said it could be caused by great fear or enormous pain. Sometimes it was because of too much joy. It was possible to be overwhelmed by the presence of so much beauty in the world.”

We walked on. My body was heavy and awkward, like I was arthritic, like I was turning to stone.

“I think you understand that,” she said.

I couldn’t speak. My mouth was dry and sour, like I’d swallowed the owls’ leavings from the windowsill.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s what he said. The soul leaps out and then leaps back again.” She laughed. “It’s like a dance.”

We went back to Mina’s house. We sat on the step and watched the fledglings.

“Maybe he’s gone away forever, like he said he would,” I said.

I held my hand against my heart, and we waited for Dad to come home.