Broken Wings 62

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CHAPTER 62
I ended up in a daze for weeks after the wake, in an odd way. I functioned at work, with no distraction or concentration issues when driving, and I apparently managed to act human when at home, but all the time I was chatting about school and college, trips to the hills or to the far West, I was asking the same questions of myself, over and over again.

Is this worth it? How am I making any difference, doing anything useful, when a girl goes up a chimney as soon as she finds her family again? I found myself planning ahead one evening, working out when the last of my brood would finally hit eighteen, and I could pull myself back into my shell. I went all the way through January and into February assigning a departure date to each girl, as Heidi kept away and Paul kept his counsel limited to an occasional prod to take the urn out to Splott or other places of need.

Andrea’s death had hurt me, but Serena’s murder was a mortal wound to my sense of purpose, to my soul. Rosie and Carl tried to lift me out of that pit, Oily was as cheerful and, yes, loving as ever, but I remained numb to their support and locked in despair.

Bert made the first little crack, simply insisting that I come with him in his car on a working day when I was due to carry out some longer-distance duties. He drove me home, and simply instructed me to go in, collect my scope, boots and waterproofs and bring them and myself back to his car. Once I was strapped in again, he simply set off towards the motorway, saying nothing more until we were on the M4 and heading East.

“Been watching you, Debbie, and I am not a happy man. Nothing you’ve done, but I am concerned. Wouldn’t be a good businessman if I didn’t watch out for my employees, would I?”

He paused, and I grunted something meaningless.

“I know what you do when you’re off work, girl. Or at least I have an idea. Couple of other drivers have kids in that school, and they were at the funeral. Saw you, they did, and all those girls, so I will shut you up now and say that I don’t care. I actually DO care, but as it fits in with what I saw in you all those years ago, I mean that I care for what you do and bloody well applaud you for it”

He paused for a few more seconds.

“Had only a couple of smashes in my time, love, drivers who ended up dead or badly injured. Neither of them were their fault, neither of them were down to me, not the way the lads drove nor the deadlines I set. We spoke about that when we met the second time. I do my best to stop things like that happening, and my way is to watch my drivers. I am watching you, and what I am seeing is someone asking herself if what she does makes a difference, if it is worth doing. That is why I am taking you out, and off driving today”

“Where are we going, Bert?”

“Place called Slimbridge, in England. Wetland place. Be plenty of winter stuff still there, and there’s a lot of paths and that to wander around. Middle of the week it’ll be quiet, so you take your time, we watch some of the feathered things, and if you want, we can talk. Either way, it’s a lovely spot, and you get a day out in the cold but sunny. That do you?”

I couldn’t disagree, right up until I saw the admission price, at which Bert just grinned and pulled out a tiny pad, peeling off one piece of paper and handing it to the receptionist with his membership card. He turned back to me with his familiar grin.

“Guest pass for one free entry, love. Told you: I am a very astute businessman, or at least not that stupid!”

The young man at the till laughed at that.

“We’ll still try and sell you a membership when you’re leaving, love! Anyway, there’s a list over there of what’s about, and when you’re done, it would be nice if you could fill in the book next to it, so we can keep the list current. Enjoy!”

The place was an odd mix of captive bird displays, pools and vast sweeps of open land running down to the huge expanse of the lower Severn. I saw several new species, including two types of swan, Bert explaining the way they could be separated by size comparison when together and bill pattern when alone, and then added the smiling comment that as there were always loads of Bewick’s, and only a few whoopers, it was an easy job.. Masses of waders were everywhere, and I found myself perking up as my life list grew steadily.

“Debbie.. over there. See it? Flying?”

“What is it? Some sort of raptor… harrier?”

“Yup. Female marsh harrier; see the way the front of the wings look gilded, and bits of the head?”

“Yeah… my guide book’s spot on about the way they fly! Thanks, Bert!”

Another grin, and then a soft “Shit!” from him as he turned his eyes back to the outside.

“There, Debbie! Flying low…”

A large brown bird, almost a floating flight, and the guidebook’s words came to me immediately: ‘flight rather owl-like’.

I found myself whispering.

“Bloody hell, Bert! Bittern?”

“Yup. Only about the fourth I have ever seen. One of those birds you see for the first time, and you just know what it is. You are bringing me luck, girl!”

He turned his grin back on me after the bittern had settled into cover.

“I think if we’re lucky, we should look at the gulls over there. Never know; might be a Med among them already”

I found his plan slowly working, my mood lifting, and that suggestion was the key.

“Remember that day, Bert? Down by the Bay, you showing me the differences between all those birds I just called seagulls?”

“You have a good memory, love. Am I starting to get my Gypsy Rover back?”

I wasn’t quite there yet, but he got a hug and a kiss on the cheek as tokens. We ended up back at the main building after a superb day’s bird spotting, which did include a couple of Mediterranean gulls, and over a cuppa and a bowl of soup in their café, Bert wrote up his sightings in a little notebook, once again grinning as he saw my expression.

“Still not a twitcher, Debbie. Never will be, but I do like to know when and where I have seen something. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking ‘life tick’ for the bittern?”

I had to laugh at that remark.

“Guilty! And the Bewick’s, whoopers and marsh harrier, plus a couple of the geese. Good day”

He nodded.

“I bloody well hope so, love. Hope it’s done some good for you. Hard line from me, now: those girls you look after, they look to you, they depend on you. Your responsibility, they are, and that will sound like it’s a burden, but it isn’t. It’s a gift. Not many of us get the chance to change lives, after all. Now, when we are back, we sit down and we look at the best times for you to take some time off over Summer. I can sort you another minibus for that one, after all, and I get one of my drivers back on stream. Deal?”

We shook on it, and as we drove home in the early darkness of Winter, I thought it through. Yes, there would be a date for each of my girls to fly the nest, but it was also clear that if others turned up, I would be unable to turn them away. I was trapped, but trapped by privilege, the privilege od being able to offer life to others.

I perked up once home, and there were more than a few smiles as the girls saw my new mood. I started a new project, and while it also involved the girls’ birthdays and school plans, it was more a diary for the coming year than a set of eviction notices-in-waiting.

I realised, naturally, that I had to take an extra step, and so I fired up the bike on a day off and rode out to Heidi’s office. A quick call from the front desk, and she was there, looking drawn and clearly apprehensive.

“Can we have a quick chat, Heidi?”

“I have a meeting in about an hour, but I suppose we have enough time. There’s an interview room free over there, Debbie, so if you want to park yourself in there, I’ll get the paperwork. I had it ready for you”

“What paperwork? I am just after a chat, love”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. Come in and grab a seat, won’t take long”

She shut the door behind us, standing against it as I sat on the far side of the desk, for once not grabbing the seat nearest the exit.

“Debbie, I may have this wrong, but, well, I anticipate you calling it a day. That’s what I meant by paperwork”

“Sit down, my friend. Please”

She slipped into the seat opposite mine, and I reached out for her hands, noting how tired she looked.

“Heidi, I know what you were thinking, and, yes, I was heading that way. Not now, though. Couple of things changed that”

“You happy to tell me what they were?”

“Ah, first one was an old friend, talking sense to me, in a really gentle way. Took me away from the City, somewhere nice… No! Not like that. Just a friend, okay? Anyway, he set me thinking, and he made me look at everything more clearly. That was the first thing, and the second…”

Where had the tears come from? Sodding moods.

“Sorry, Heidi. Second thing was that funeral. All those school friends there, and they were Serena’s friends, and they were boys and girls, and they were my other girls’ friends too, and I thought for a bit, and what was clear was that if it hadn’t been for one bastard, Serena would have been just another face in that crowd, just another schoolgirl”

Heidi was staring at her hands, where they clasped mine across the little table, so I squeezed them.

“Going to sound smug, love, but that’s my doing. Our doing, me and you, and Nita, Paul, our doing, our difference for the better, How could I walk away from that?”

She sat in silence for nearly a minute, clearly fighting back tears, until she lost that battle, and let them flow. After a while, she started laughing.

“Look at the two of us, woman! Supposed to be responsible adults, we are! Anyway…”

She gave a much happier grin, almost back to herself at last.

“Anyway, I will need to go and grab some paperwork. Different sort, aye?”

I laughed out loud, tension broken, and my suspicions rapidly blooming.

“And where is this new girl at now, then?”

She laughed in turn.

“Um, She’s from Merthyr. With us in a temporary place in the City at the moment. Another Daddy’s Little Princess victim”

“And would she also just happen to be in the building waiting for me?”

Heidi’s face fell once more.

“No, love. I, we, we really thought you’d be stopping the work. I can pick her up tomorrow, though, if you’re okay?”

I left her office with a smile.

I owed so many obs; how could I have thought of ignoring them?

The new girl was called Maria, and two days after her arrival, another twink left the Smugglers and ended up in hospital.

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It might not be all sweetness and light

Maddy Bell's picture

but i'm glad Deb has pulled out of her depression.

I get up Slimbridge way fairly often - never been in - yeah its not a cheap visit. What i want to know is, if there are all these fancy birds inside, how come i never see any outside? There's more swans in this neck of the woods than you can shake a stick at but the other stuff must go other places and beyond the bounds of Slimbridge. Can't say as i've seen a Bittern but i know a place where they are fairly 'common' spots but thats up on the Humber. OTOH in recent months i've seen Great and Little Egrets in my Somerset travels!

So, to quote Rogers & Hammerstein, is there something about Maria?


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Madeline Anafrid Bell

Birds

My local WWT reserve is Barnes in London, and that is attractive to birds as an oasis in he middle of ab avian desert. My old local reserve when I lived in Kent was Stodmarsh, and that attracted the rarities by its traditional reedbed management style, which matches the way harvest mice and corncrake populations crash around 'agribaron prairies". Offering areas for the animals to retreat to, as well as not simply shaving the place in one massive operation, helps. Same with Slimbridge, but remember that a lot of the good bird ground is a long way out on the edge of the river.

Both Barnes and Stodmarsh get bitterns.

If you are gadding about Somerset, keep an eye out for a surprising new regular: black winged stilts.

i do

Maddy Bell's picture

get into the Severn margins a fair bit - the very nature of the land has kept a very middle ages farming culture in these areas, several bike routes pass through the predominantly level 'flats'.


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Madeline Anafrid Bell

For those from Forn Parts

The longest river in the UK (Ireland has a longer one, the Shannon) is the Hafren, or Severn for the English. It forms the Bristol Channel, which separates Devon/Cornwall from Wales, and has one of the highest tidal ranges in the world, at 15 metres. The highest is in the Bay of Fundy, at 16.3m.

It means that the Severn/Bristol Channel 'verges' are subject to a lot of inundation every day, which affects land use. The tidal bore on the Severn is high enough to be surfed when it is running. The river's source is high up in the Cambrian Mountains on Pumlumon Fawr, inland from Aberystwyth, which is also the source of the River Wye. The Severn then runs out into England, where it ties together parts of my stories by running through Shrewsbury. Like the Ouse in York, it is a right sod for flooding.

The flooding in York

Maddy Bell's picture

is almost entirely caused by flood prevention measures upstream - before they were built flooding in York was rare, now its every time it rains! Of course in the past it was tidal up to York, evidence the wharves/warehouses on the western bank, again, human tinkering has helped cause more problems than it solved.

Likewise the Foss which hardly ever flooded now does thanks to an anti flood barrage where it meets the Ouse. Thankfully most of historic York sits several metres above the Ouse although Foss flooding has impacted the area around Fossgate/Coppergate in recent years including flooding the Jorvik centre.

Trivia session:

The Ouse, 129 miles (both the Ure and Swale are @ 73 miles long so the named Ouse is actually only 56ish miles), as you travel upstream, is formed by the meeting of the Ure which rises above Hawes and the Swale which rises about 10km north not far from Keld. The Nidd, 59 miles, rising near Lofthouse joins things at Beningbrough whilst the Wharfe, 60 miles, coming east from its source just a mile or two from the Ure south of Hawes, joins things near Cawood. Essentially most of the wet falling in the Dales will eventually find its way into the Ouse. Curiously the only proper Yorkshire river not to flow out through the Humber is the Esk, 28 miles, at Whitby, the Aire 72 miles, Calder, 44 miles, and Rye/Derwent, 71 miles, all join the Ouse above Goole, the Don, 70 miles, coming in via the Trent.


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Madeline Anafrid Bell

Going To Have To DO Something...

Someone's going to have to do something about those (you should pardon the expression) "poof bashers." Why do I think that Debbie and a few friends might soon be involved in bringing a little righteous effort to restore some peace?

Hmmmm Cyclist has already written....

0.25tspgirl's picture

The poofters comeupance. Look for stories with DC Owens as the main character.

BAK 0.25tspgirl

Deep down...

Andrea Lena's picture

She is not giving up or giving in. The more invested you get in the lives of others, the harder it hurts when they hurt. This wasn't a rebuke -

Hard line from me, now: those girls you look after, they look to you, they depend on you. Your responsibility, they are, and that will sound like it’s a burden, but it isn’t. It’s a gift. Not many of us get the chance to change lives, after all.

I cannot imagine how much those deaths hurt Deb. But I can imagine that she will pull strength and resolve from that place in her that loved them to continue loving the ones who live and even the ones who have yet to show up on her doorstep. As always, painful and rewarding. Thanks!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

We All Fail

joannebarbarella's picture

At something and at sometime in our lives. Deb does far more good than she realised until Bert pulled her out of her funk. It needed that perspective from outside.

Who hasn't asked that question?

Jamie Lee's picture

Only those who honestly care only about themselves. Deb was deeply hurt because of Serena's death. She asked herself the same question deeply hurt people ask all the time, is it worth it? Do I really make a difference?

Hurt blinds them to the need others have of them in their lives. Serena had a safe place to live until her mom was ready to met her daughter.

Deb offers all of the girls a safe place to live, and a chance to get their lives together after some horrendous things.

If Deb wasn't there, those girls would be put into a system which couldn't guarantee their safety. Safety from those where they may be placed.

Deb needed the time spent with Bert, and the advice he gave her. He never condemned her for hurting, never once chewed her out for wanting to hang up her spurs. He was there for her as a friend, a friend who cared about his friend.

Serena's death may yet spark something not yet seen but in the planning stages. Something that will help other girls like her.

What are the police doing to catch those attacking the boys. It would seem they could set up a decoy and if he was attacked, they could be ready to catch the attackers.

Others have feelings too.