If Wishes Were Horses 18

Today’s word count:   3636     Total word count:  35, 752

At work, Minty immediately recognised that something had upset me seriously. She came across to me as soon as I arrived. She wore her hair down for once, but there were coloured beads woven into it, not all of which sat comfortably against the bright red shade of her tresses.  She said I looked upset and asked if there was anything she could do to help.  I appreciated her concern but didn’t know how to explain my sadness. I couldn’t tell her the truth. “It’s nothing you can change. You might have seen the news about the church fire at the weekend. I just think it’s a real shame that the windows have been wrecked. It was a beautiful building. Not to mention how Father Brendan must be feeling.”

“Did you know him?” she said, surprised that I might count a clergyman among my acquaintances.

“I’ve spoken to him. In fact I was there on Saturday morning.  It was a lovely church, all bright colours and gorgeous glass. It felt so peaceful inside and he was very friendly. He’s a nice guy and didn’t deserve to lose his church in a fire.”

“You make it sound like it was started deliberately, but surely the news said it was an accident. A candle or something got out of control.”

She looked at me as if she didn’t believe I could be so upset over a few bits of coloured glass, but she didn’t press the point. I could tell from her expression that she knew I had real troubles to deal with, but like the good friend she was becoming she didn’t push the point and we chatted for a while about her weekend. 

Then we went off to our respective desks and I settled in to work, but soon after I’d started going through my weekend emails one of our sales managers came over to my desk and coughed to attract my attention. He’s a lovely man and he’s asked me to do a few favours for him while I’ve worked for the company; nothing too serious, just a bit of photocopying or filing to help him out when he’s been pushed for time. He’s nearly old enough to be my dad, but he’s good fun to chat with in spite of that.

“Hello Mr Stephens, how can I help?”

“Oh please, call me Will. Actually, I’ve got to do an assessment in Wales and I need somebody to do the secretarial work for me. It’ll mean an overnight stay and we’ll be able to treat ourselves to a nice dinner on the company.  Are you interested?”

I thought back to the last dinner I went out for, with Dee, when I’d woken up with a stranger the morning after and remembered how I felt then. I must have looked upset, because Will rushed in apologetically. “Don’t feel you have to. I can ask one of the others, but I thought you might enjoy a couple of days away from the office.”

I forced a smile. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I had some bad news over the weekend, that’s all.  I’d love to get away for a while, it’s precisely what I need. When did you want to go?”

We arranged to meet up early the next morning. He was to collect me from my flat and drive us both to Aberystwyth, a little seaside town on the mid Wales coast. I really looked forward to it. I could really do with a couple of days out of the office and a night at the seaside sounded exactly what I needed.  We were facing a three hour trip but our appointment wasn’t till the afternoon, so Will drove at quite a leisurely rate that let me watch the scenery pass by.  It was a beautiful route. No motorways, and the countryside looked lovely in its autumn colours.  

For the first time in a long while I felt at ease, and I settled into my seat, ready to enjoy the journey. “Oh I wish we could be out of the office every day!” I exclaimed as my mood took over .

“It’s no good wishing,” Will replied. “Wishing won’t get you anything you want.”

I was intrigued to find he felt that way and I had to ask. “What makes you say that?”

“You must have heard the old saying ‘if wishes were horses, beggars would ride’,” he said.

I turned to look at him. “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Well it would for a while,” he said, “But before long we’d all be up to our necks in manure!”

That made me think. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better description of my position with Dee if I’d spent all day trying.

Will continued to talk as we travelled, identifying trees and plants by the wayside and birds overhead. At one time he became really excited as a large bird with a dark orange forked tail flew almost alongside us.

“That’s a red kite. They used to be really rare, but their numbers are coming back now. There’s a lot of them in Wales, but you still don’t see them regularly in England. That’s a real treat for me.”  I looked over towards him and smiled, and he blushed. “I’m sorry. I have to admit, I’m a keen birdwatcher. I’ve even brought my binoculars in case I can spot something out of the ordinary while we’re here. There’s supposed to be a wonderful murmuration in Aberystwyth every evening and I’m planning to go and watch it. I’ve brought my camera too, so I can take some photos.”

“What’s a.... a..sorry, what did you call it?”

“A murmuration. It’s lots of birds all coming in to roost at dusk and they swarm around in the sky making amazing shapes before they settle down. I’ve seen films of it, but never seen it for real. They say it happens by the pier. Sometimes there are thousands of them and they turn the sky black.” He looked wistful , which made me laugh and he smiled back at me, then we drove on for a while as I watched out for other birds that might interest him. 

Some time later I asked him, “Have you been a birdwatcher for a long time?”

“Oh yes, I started as a young child. I was quite ill when I was a kid and I spent a long time unable to go to school. I got very bored, so my mum started me watching out for birds in the garden. I soon learned to identify them and we started putting out different foods to attract all kinds to the window. It’s surprising how many species visit a perfectly ordinary garden, if you do a few simple changes to make it attractive for them.”

It made me sad that I had nothing similar in my own life. “I don’t have any hobbies,” I told him. “I’ve never developed an interest in anything special like birds. Just antique shops, and I’ve gone off them lately.” While I talked I turned the blue pebble over in my hands and Will glanced down at it. 

“That’s pretty.  It looks exactly like a starling egg. Is that an antique?”

“No, it’s just a pebble. Someone gave me it as a gift. I carry it for luck.”

“It’s a good luck charm. That’s handy. Let’s hope it works tonight.” I looked up, confused at what he could have meant.“It looks like a starling egg so let’s hope it attracts them for me. That’s what a murmuration is – a huge flock of starlings. It’s the collective noun for them.”

I looked at the pebble with new eyes as his words sank in. “I have a notebook with starlings on the front. They’re pretty,” I said after a while.

“Not many people would agree with you.  Most say they’re a bit drab, just plain black, but if you look carefully you can see that isn’t true. You’re observant if you know they’re pretty.”

“They have lots of bright sparkles and there are several colours that just look black because you see them all  together. They aren’t drab at all. And their eggs are pretty too, if they look like this, ” I said, holding it up between my thumb and forefinger.

“Would you like to go and watch the murmuration with me tonight?,” Will asked. “I think you’d enjoy it.”

“Yes please. I can’t imagine it, so I’d love to see it,” I said, and we carried on to the coast in companionable silence. 

Our survey went without a hitch. We had to take stock of an insurance claim made by a shop in the town after its next door neighbour’s chimney fell through the roof and damaged the stored goods in its stock room. It wasn’t difficult, just a matter of taking a few photos and making notes. Will dictated to me as we walked around the shop and I felt good to be doing something different from the usual paperwork I carried out in the office. The work went quickly, and it was soon obvious that we’d be finished early and could enjoy our evening. Several times I took out the pebble and looked at it, wondering why starlings seemed to have such significance in my life all of a sudden. I hoped we would see the murmuration later, but I tried hard not to wish, in case Dee heard me and made it all go horribly wrong. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if Will’s dream was spoiled because of me. So many people suffered around me these days and it was hard not to feel guilty about it, even if I never intended anyone harm. 

Will and I checked into a small hotel just off Aberystwyth’s main street, and after freshening up we set off towards the shore.  “We’ve got a choice,” he offered. “We can go for a full dinner later, or would you prefer fish and chips, sitting on the sea front, now? We can always have a couple of drinks in the hotel bar later.”

“Oh fish and chips, please!” They taste so much better at the coast and the chance was too good to miss.

“Excellent choice!” he agreed with me, and we found a suitable shop, then strolled along in the direction of the pier eating our treat out of the paper packaging and licking the salt and vinegar from our fingers as we went.

When we reached the area by the pier there was already a crowd of a couple of dozen people milling around and chatting. I imagined they looked similar to how the murmuration would appear when it started. The sun was low and sinking slowly towards the sea; the outline of the pier etched in black across the reddening sky. The setting was beautiful.  Gradually the crowd slowed to a halt and began looking hopefully towards the pier. Conversation died down as well, so we heard an occasional comment between friends, but mostly we were all silent. I felt a very slight change in the atmosphere that grew in strength until it was impossible to miss the almost tangible sense of anticipation. Any time now the show would start and the people gathered by the pier could barely contain their excitement.

“Once it starts I might get a bit carried away,” Will said, taking a camera out of his coat pocket and fixing a long lens to the front. “So I’m sorry if it looks like I’m ignoring you, but I promise I won’t forget you’re here. Just bear with me, I’ve waited a long time to see this and I’m not sure how I’ll react. But I’ll come back for you, I promise. Wherever I end up trying to get good photos.”

I told him not to worry and that I’d be OK and I hoped it would turn out as spectacular as he’s dreamed it would be.  Will smiled, and told me the show would begin slowly so I should watch carefully if I wanted to get the most from the experience, but it was sound that gave the first hint of what was to come. I heard a twittering high above me and tried to spot the bird responsible, but as I searched I detected more tweets and saw a few black dots moving against the red.  Slowly, imperceptibly, the numbers grew and soon it became impossible to determinehow many there were.  The cloud expanded, swirling and twisting to create amazing, outlandish shapes. I stood mesmerised and hardly noticed when Will wandered off among the crowd to take his photos of the display in front of us.

By now the birds must have numbered in their thousands, but they formed a single, amorphous mass as they performed their aerial ballet. I tried to identify shapes among the constantly changing panorama but as soon as I decided they looked like a butterfly it was gone and looking more like a whale breaching in the ocean.  Sometimes high and tell, sometimes long and wide, the formations continued in a brilliant passage that I wouldn’t have believed possible unless I’d seen it for myself.

I was so engrossed that I didn’t notice the figure at my side until he spoke.  “You have been seeking me, I believe.”

I turned, amazed to see Ami standing in front of me. He wore a dark, padded jacket over indigo jeans and had a dark purple scarf wrapped around his neck against the cold. “What are you doing here?” I asked, delighted to see him, but confused at how he’d found me. “How did you know I was here?”

“I was.....” he paused as if searching for the right word. “I was nearby, and I saw you in the crowd. Watching. I came to speak to you; to inquire about your quest. Have you identified your quarry yet?”

“What do you mean have I ‘identified my quarry’? How do you know what I’m trying to do?”

“Surely Angela, you have realised who and what I am, otherwise, why would you be here?”

“Here? You mean in Wales? I’m working. Helping a colleague.” He looked crestfallen. 

“But you still seek my aid, is that not so?”

“Well, yes. I went to the library looking for you because I needed you to help me understand the books you gave me. But I found out you don’t really work there and they aren’t library books. I know you’re not who you appeared to be, but I don’t know who – or what – you are. I need you to help me with a problem.”

“I cannot. It is forbidden. I may not assist you in the first stage. You must identify your quarry for yourself. Only then may I offer aid.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘forbidden’? By who – what’s forbidden – who are you?”

He looked directly at me and I felt as if he had reached as far as my soul. “Listen carefully Angela. You must first identify your quarry.....”

“You mean Dee?”

“Sssh. Do not give it a name of your choosing. You must identify its type.” He had begun looking around him, as if scared, and glanced up repeatedly at the swirling mass of birds overhead.  “All  you require is in the books. Study them! Now I must go and return to my brothers. I will return when I can.” Then he slipped away into the crowd and I lost sight of him in the almost total darkness.  Soon afterwards the spectacle of the murmuration began to contract as the birds settled down onto the pier structure. I watched to the very end, wondering why Ami would appear at this point, while I was in Wales, rather than my home town.  I started to understand that starlings were somehow important for me. First my notebook, then the pebble, and now the arrival of Ami while I watched the murmuration.  I tried hard not to wish, but I couldn’t help myself. I truly wished that I understood what was happening to me. I held tightly to the pebble, hoping it would protect me from having my mind read. I didn’t want to think what damage Dee might cause Ami if he caught on to how special I thought he was.

As I stood lost in my thoughts Will came back over to me, placing the camera in his pocket as he walked towards me. “I didn’t realise you’d enjoy it that much. You were miles away then, lost in the magic.”

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me? I was a bit mesmerised, it’s true.”

“I’ll say! I’ve been waving at you for ages but you didn’t see me. “

“Was it as good as you hoped?” I asked, trying to bring myself back to reality. “Did you get some good shots of them? The shapes were amazing, weren’t they? Impossible to describe.”

“Oh yes, it lived up to my expectations and more,” he said, looking positively radiant as he spoke. “Who would ever think that such a tiny little bird would be so amazing when it got together with all its brothers and sisters.”

That struck me. “Brothers?” I echoed. 

“Well, figuratively speaking, you know. They’re all from the same species, so they’re all related in a way.  I didn’t mean literally.”

“No, of course not, sorry, I was being silly. It’s a good way to describe them all together like that.”

He talked about the display for a while but I didn’t pay much attention, I’m afraid. I was too caught up in wondering what the connection could be with Ami. He’d mentioned brothers too. Was it just a coincidence that Will should choose the same word to describe the flock of starlings.  I tuned in again and he was talking about starlings individually, rather than the sight we had just witnessed.

“...like their feathers. From the wrong angle they just look black, but in the right light they shine and you can see blue and green and purple and they have such a sheen! Sometimes you can see little sparkles in their plumage too. I think they’re lovely, whatever they do.”

Sparkles in their plumage, just like Ami’s hair the first time I saw him. And the dark clothes with the purple scarf he wore this time. Could it be? Could my friend really be a starling? A few weeks ago I’d have said what a preposterous idea, but since my experiences with the supernatural I didn’t dismiss anything lightly any more. I wondered what else I could find out through Will and his bird watching knowledge, but wasn’t sure how to keep him talking on the specific topic. Then I remembered my notebook. 

“I think it’s a shame that their Latin name means vulgar. They aren’t at all vulgar.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, surprised that I knew anything at all about the subject. “You mean vulgaris?” He asked. “It doesn’t mean vulgar, it means common, as in lots of them about.  They used to be a lot more common than they are now. Lots of birds and animals have vulgaris in their Latin names. It just means it’s the type you’re most likely to see.  Or at least, the one you were most likely to see when they were given their Latin names.  Though we should more properly say ‘scientific name’ because lots of them are derived from Greek, actually.” It looked like I was in for a biology lecture.

“Take the red squirrel, for example, its scientific name is Sciurus vulgaris, but thanks to the introduction of the grey squirrel it’s far from ‘vulgaris’ these days!”

I interrupted him to try to get the subject back onto starlings. “So there used to be enough starlings about to be considered common?”

“Yes, they were very common, even when I was a lad, but these days their numbers are in sharp decline. “

“Why?”

“No-one is really sure about why some species numbers are falling while others are growing. Canada geese, for example, used to be a rare sight, but these days they’re all over the place. In fact they’re considered a nuisance.  There are all kinds of reasons for it. Crop sprays and pesticides are thought to play a part in some species declines.  If gardeners use too many poisons to kill bugs and keep them off their cabbages the birds that eat the bugs build up poisons in their bodies and it can cause reduced fertility so they lay fewer eggs. All kinds of things like that."

“And is that what’s happened to the starlings? Have they been poisoned?” I held on to my pebble as I spoke, disturbed that such pretty eggs could be threatened by anything so mundane as cabbage.

“We can’t be sure exactly what’s causing it, particularly in a garden species like the starling. Their habitats aren’t threatened, people are still putting out food and water for birds, maybe even more than they used to, but poor old Sturnus vulgaris is waning.  “Surveys every year show fewer and fewer being spotted.”

He continued to talk, but I stopped listening as soon as he mentioned the birds’ full Latin name. Sturnus vulgaris – Professor V Sturnus. Could the book Ami gave me actually have been written by a starling? Was that Ami’s true nature?