Little Bird

Little Bird

Valerie! Whats keeping you? Ive been waiting forever. Sit down! Anne, her neighbour and old friend, wriggled around on the garden bench to make herself more comfortable.

And why hurry? What a lovely evening! Why stay indoors with nothing but the telly and Tiddles the cat for company? Dreadful boredom! Out here in the garden its spring though its only April and the air is unseasonably warm. Even the cherry tree, once planted by Annes late husband Stephen, had woken and burst into bloom, her white ruffles blushing in the sunset. And beneath the blossoms: this very bench, lovingly built by Stephen. Only last week Anne had painted the slats sky blue, and now it waited, spotless, ready for an evenings gossip and sun-warmed musings. Conversation would meander, as always: children growing, ailments sprouting, life, love, disappointments, and memories.

What else would women chat about? And it never mattered that Anne and her neighbour Valerie had known each other from pram to pension somehow there was always a secret unraveled, giving rise to new stories. The children went off and grew up, new aches cropped up, and love well, love was never abundant. If anything, there was always too little. Thats why Anne always waited heart braced, lips parted for someones confession, some bright recollection of what it felt like to be loved. Hearing it made life lighter. Even if ones own heart felt silent as a church on Tuesday, the warmth in someone elses tale hinted that love hadnt fled the world completely. It still flickered somewhere. It still brought life and light.

Anne, known in the block simply as Annie, had known Valerie for as long as she could remember. More than half a century neighbours on the same landing. As little girls, their mothers never bothered locking up, trusting the girls would be safe, either here or there, tumbling between flats. Only after the girls set out hunting for happiness, at the tender age of six, did the parents start locking up. Just in case.

Valeries grandmother had come to visit Annes family, spinning tales for the girls about the main thing in life: to catch the bird of happiness by its tail, and keep it close. Then your life would unfold as smooth as clotted cream, and everyone around would be content.

The girls hadnt really understood about life, but the bit about making everyone happy stuck. Who wouldnt want to stop their parents bickering over nothing? And so, they resolved to seek out the bird.

Especially since Anne, in her airy confidence, assured Valerie she knew exactly where the happiness-bird lived: next door, with a rather disagreeable old fellow who kept a colourful, raucous bird in a cage. Hed bring it into the garden sometimes. It wasnt found at the city zoo, which the girls visited on family outings. Clearly, then, this must be it: the very bird of happiness loud, bewildering, and exotically rare.

The mission required serious preparation. Anne found an old rabbit cage on the balcony, a relic from when her gran had brought a bunny up from the country ages ago. Well need a cage, wont we? We cant hold it by the tail forever our hands would be too full, especially with the ice creams well definitely earn once were happy.

They gathered some bread and biscuits, You never know what a happiness-bird prefers, mused Valerie, and tucked in a toffee just in case. Everybody likes sweets itd be rather rude if the bird turned its beak up at their bread.

No point rushing. This was an Important Quest. Annes gran left, promising to have her for the summer, and both families soon packed for their annual trip to the coast both households piling into the Cortina to save petrol for the journey. Only a few hours to the sea, and no time to nap just a whiff of briny air and there you are. The rented house was shabby but solid, with a big garden and swings, and the beach a stones throw away. What bliss!

Anne was eagerly awaiting all of it the seaside, and a long holiday with Granny. She felt a pang for Valerie: imagine, no grandmothers at all. Whod sneak you extra pudding behind your parents backs or tell a proper story, not the brief ones about washing up and endless laundry? Whod crochet you a sunhat with an enormous ribbon?

Anne secretly thought if they could only catch the happiness-bird, Valerie would get a grandmother, too. Maybe even from Annes own village, then summers together would be a given. That plan made the hunt doubly serious.

The day before the seaside holiday, they told their mothers they were off to each others flats, and slipped out. Shutting the doors quietly so as not to catch the draught, shushing each other to stop giggles escaping, they tiptoed down the stairs.

Through their garden, into the next and then there it was, the dull pebble-dashed house belonging to their bird.

But all was silent. It was too hot, and nobody was out; adults were at work, others indoors, faint telly sounds drifting through open windows.

The girls exchanged worried glances. How do you hunt for the happiness-bird in a deserted square? Valeries lip began trembling, but Anne wasnt one to burst into tears for nothing. If the bird was so wonderful, why wasnt it perched outside awaiting capture? Why must they chase it?

Anne, scanning the empty steps, tugged Valeries arm and marched to the front door. No point hanging about. Well just knock and ask where the bird lives.

There were so many doors. Most didnt answer, likely out at work. Some were cross, yanking the latch and scolding the girls for their nonsense.

Still, from flat to flat they went, knocking wherever they couldnt reach the bell. Excuse me, where does the bird of happiness live?

What odd creatures adults were! So simple a question, yet they only waved them away, some even threatening a smack. At least Anne and Valerie wouldnt knock at the green door with the twisted handle ever again. No happiness-bird could live with such a cross lady inside.

But finally, in one flat, fortune smiled on them: a boy, a little older, opened the door and simply shrugged. “Come in then.”

No bird here, either. But so many marvels that the girls forgot their quest and even the ticking of the clock.

They tried on wild masks from the far wall, pressed massive sea shells to their ears, listening to the sound of forgotten tides. There was even a model ship sails furled, miniature sailors perched atop the rigging. “Dad and I built her. Shes called Saint Anne.”

Oh! Just like me! Anne drew her finger from the rigging, beaming.

Your names Anne? Thats nice thats my mums name, too. Shes at work, but will be back soon. Are you allowed out alone? You wont get in trouble, right?

And suddenly, the girls remembered everything: the bird, the time, the dread of when mothers would shout and fathers would threaten a consequence.

Valerie, weve got to run!

Anne, forgetting the cage, grabbed Valeries hand and made for the door.

Wait! the boy called, catching them at the threshold. He pressed something into Annes palm.

The feathers were dazzling, shimmering green and blue. The girls stared, awestruck.

What is it?

Peacock feathers. Mum brings them home sometimes. She works at the zoo. Take them, theyre lucky!

Wordless, hardly daring to breathe, the girls accepted the magical gift and fled homewards.

There, a storm awaited. Tearful mothers circled the garden, calling and calling. Fathers smoked, waiting for the constable, who ordered them not to budge till he said so.

Valeries mother spotted them and simply folded to the ground. Found

There were hugs and tears, scolding and a well-earned slipper, but not much time to dwell on consequences the car was already packed.

Two days later, Anne and Valerie sat swinging side by side outside the battered holiday house, gossiping in whispers.

You know, Valerie, we dont really need any special bird.

Why not?

My gran always said proper happiness is when someone loves you.

Well?

Well, if no one cared, they wouldnt have cried over us, would they? Or worried wed run away forever. Isnt that right?

I spose

So we really are happy, arent we?

Maybe.

I know we are!

What about the grown-ups?

What about them? Have Mum and Dad quarrelled these last two days?

No

See? They could stop arguing, if they wanted to. No bird could fix it for them. Understand?

Yeah

That summer wove itself into every golden memory of their girlhoods.

Anne never ceased to be grateful that she had someone to share those memories with and not just share, but to ask, when memories faded. After all, remembering is easier together.

Valerie always seemed to remember better than Anne, maybe because she was calmer, slower to rush. Anne was like quicksilver always bustling, on her way somewhere. Valerie would sit, think things through, and then make her move. More haste, less speed, said Annes gran. Valerie remembered everything like yesterdays dream.

Anne didnt even recognise her future husband when they first met, not until she ended up at his flat over a month later.

“Saint Anne” She froze at the sight of the model ship on the bookshelf. Just as it had stood that strange summer day. She felt herself a little girl again, frightened to touch the miniature sailors in case she snapped off a mast.

After their wedding, Anne slipped a single peacock feather from her favourite book and handed it to her new husband.

Do you remember? she asked, laughing as he tried to piece together the distant puzzle.

Happiness lived with them stretching nearly thirty years. Through infant footsteps, and, eventually, their son. When Anne grew ill, Stephen fought for her, finding the best doctors and holding her hand as the future hovered anxiously just outside their door. And then, one day, time stopped, Anne forgot to breathe, and her air her life went with Stephen. Valerie was at her side, quick and steady, pressing cold hands to Annes cheeks and rocking her gently, child-like, until the world came back into focus.

“Stay strong, Annie your children still need you,” Valerie soothed.

And Anne woke. True, happiness was changed halved, incomplete but there, given her by Stephen. With grown children, yes, but losing a mother just after their father would be too cruel. As long as someone stands between a child and eternity, the child isnt an orphan. The child is lucky. Gran had been right. Anne kept going for the children, for the grandchildren. Even after the nest emptied, Annie always knew she was treasured. She could pack up a suitcase, buy presents, and visit. Or wait for summer, when the house would come alive with grandchildren, beds occupied in every room, and even the eldest would hover nearby, pretending not to want a bedtime story but staying anyway, tracing every twist of the tale she already knew by memory.

And then, peace would settle on her heart once more. A quiet, feather-soft happiness. Maybe not as dazzling as that old peacock feather, but precious all the same.

But not everyone was as lucky as Anne and Valerie. Some pleaded all their lives for happiness from the sky. Yet, somehow, they had found their own understanding while they were still little what happiness meant for a woman. For them, it was simple: let the children be well, and the rest would follow, if you cared enough to try.

Valerie, especially, had fought for hers. She might have remained without children hers and Anthonys never came, despite their love. Inseparable, always together, envied even by the neighbours. When wives complained about useless husbands, Valerie just smiled quietly. Not out of stinginess, but because there was nothing unkind to say about her own.

They were soulmates.

Anne had never believed such things happened, but after meeting Stephen, and looking at Valerie and Anthony, she saw love lived next door.

Still, Valeries family was far from peaceful. Anthonys kin were a clamorous bunch seven aunts alone, and two difficult sisters who left Valerie constantly off-balance. His mother, Mary, alone was a gem the only one who accepted Valerie at once, never reproaching her. Why the sisters were so different was beyond guessing.

Mary was soft-hearted, unable to refuse anyone. Valerie pitied her; called her Mum from their earliest days.

When Mary sold her house and moved closer to Anthony, the sisters were wild with rage. Still, Mary got her own flat nearby, saying she didnt want to crowd them, and knew all along that Valerie and Anthony wanted a child.

Mary, familiar with heartache her husband, long ago, had left her for someone new, and Valerie comforted her when even years later the wound was raw. Only later did they talk plainly, with Valeries help. It turned out her ex-husband still cared for her, in his own confused way almost like a sultan with two harems.

Mary refused to be part of a harem, but eased into her new role, and showed Valerie the way. It was she who ultimately arranged for Valerie and Anthony to foster a baby boy shed met at the maternity ward where she now worked.

Valerie and Anthony made plans, moved away for a time, came back with their son. Valerie fielded any nosy questions briskly and her mother-in-laws loving acceptance silenced the rest of the family, including the wary sisters, who now deferred to Marys steely side. His mothers heart will save him, she said, pouring all her love into her new grandson.

Valeries family was secure now; she alongside Anthony and their boy. So was Annes, surrounded by love.

Years passed cheerily, holidays together, doors always open for children to run between though never unwatched, mindful of the old happiness-bird adventure.

But one day, Stephen was gone; with him went Annes plans for growing old together.

Soon after, Anthony was taken too. Although he worked in a hospital and had regular checkups, an undetected clot took him without warning, and Valerie was undone.

Now, it was Annes turn to steady her friend, to remind her of her son, Anthonys family, and Mary still depending on her.

“Valerie, your boy, Mary they all need you. Think what Anthony would want for you to keep his love alive, not let it drift away. He wouldnt want you lost in grief.”

Maybe it was Annes words, or the quiet strength in knowing how many leaned on her, but Valerie straightened, learned to go on, guarding love however she could.

Her son, Paul, grew up, joined the officer corps, moved about the country, but never forgot her. Every year, with his children, they visited sometimes his wife Susan, sometimes Paul himself. Relations between Valerie and Susan were tender Valerie had become the wise mother-in-law shed vowed to be, embracing both Susan and her child from a previous relationship without hesitation: Hello, darling, Im your Granny Valerie. Oh, would you like a biscuit? Lets see what Father Christmas has tucked beneath the tree

So, Susan was quickly claimed as a daughter, her own children knitted firmly into Valeries family.

Valerie, when shall we set off for the allotment? Its warmed up nicely! Anne tipped her head to spot cherry blossom overhead.

This weekend, once Ive washed the windows. Easters come early this year: I must start cleaning.

Yours visiting?

For two days. The eldest is thinking of Oxford theyre stopping by on the way. The little ones might stay a fortnight. Well see. And yours?

Not til summer hols now theyre at school, not nursery, plenty left to learn.

Just six weeks, Anne!

Itll feel like forever.

It always does, waiting for something sweet. Time drags, then flashes past in one warm, gentle second, and youre left waiting again. But for that second, Id give away the lot. Happiness is counted like beads on a string not for its size, but for how you remember every bright drop lifes given.

Too right! Do you remember our hunt for the happiness bird?

Of course! I couldnt sit down for a week after my mother was frantic, so Dad made sure Id think twice next time. But you were there, too!

Thats true. But you know what, Valerie?

What?

I think, in that strange way of dreams, we caught that bird by the tail after all. We just didnt see it. All these years, its fluttered close by. How else to explain that we have everything so many women wish and pray for: these families, these husbands, these wonderful children and those grandchildren. Would you call us unlucky?

Id say youre spot on! We ought to thank our little bird, and ask it to flick its tail once again. That those we love may be happy, tooValerie chuckled, brushing a petal from Annes sleeve. Well, say thank you quick while its listening.

Just then, the breeze picked up, shaking the cherry blossom loose. A flurry of petals shimmered down, settling on their hair and shoulders, so soft it felt almost like the distant touch of feathers.

Anne reached up, laughing, to catch a swirling petal. Lookwish-blossoms. Shall we make one last wish for happiness?

Valerie closed her eyes, her lips curling in a quiet smile. Not for me, Annie. Ill wish for my children, and yours, and their children, too. Thats enough happiness for a lifetime.

The sun dipped low, and the evening quieted, broken only by the faint sound of childrens laughter somewhere across the gardensechoes of every summer past and still to come. Anne and Valerie sat together, side by side on Stephens old bench, letting the glow of memory and the promise of tomorrow settle around them.

And as the dusk folded gently over the blooms and the song of evening birds swept through the gardens, Anne squeezed Valeries hand, feeling the pulse of a happiness that could never quite be caged, but always returneda little bird darting just overhead, bright as a memory, near as a friend, singing them into another golden night.