The Aviary (15 page)

No. She would have to share what she had found with someone she could trust. And there was only one person who met that requirement: dear, indispensable Daphne Aspinal.

While waiting for an opportunity to meet with Daphne, Clara had days to puzzle over everything she had learned about the Glendoveers.

One thing that she deduced on her own: Frances the Mynah retained a smattering of Latin, but her English words were few. After thinking back on her experience with both birds, Clara realized that the cockatoo seemed to learn English words after hearing them spoken—not by Ruby or Harriet but by Clara herself. The mynah, on the other hand, seemed to remember some words of her own, but also learned what she heard from Clara. This realization made Clara desperate to have time with the birds. For the more she spoke to them, the more they might be able to speak back.

But visiting the aviary undetected was not easy.
Occasionally, Clara would bring the honeycreeper back to her room for long “conversations.” Piecing together what had happened to the Glendoveer children from Helen’s
tsip
s was a hit-or-miss process. But sometimes the questions bore interesting results. For example, it became clear that the Glendoveers’ nanny, Nelly Smith, did take the children from their home when Cenelia and George were in Berlin. But Clara also found out that the nanny did not act alone.

“Was it a man with the nanny?” Clara asked. And when Helen replied yes, she went on. “Was it anyone you knew?”

“Tsip,” said Helen.

“No? Was he ever found?”

“Tsip,” said Helen again; and the thought chilled Clara that this man might still be alive.

Sometimes the results were more confusing and hard to follow up:

“Do you know what happened to Elliot?”

“Tsip!” said Helen. And then, “Tsip-tsip!”

“Yes
and
no?” Clara asked. “Oh, Helen, how I wish you could just speak.”

Frequently, Helen would answer neither yes nor no. This made Clara wonder if Helen simply didn’t know the answer, or if she was refusing to reply for some private reason of her own. After all, Clara reminded herself, Helen was just a little girl—and children wearied easily.

And so she collected all the information she could on
her own, sure that if Daphne were here to help, her friend would have cut to the quick of all these mysteries in half the time.

Therefore, it was with a sense of particular desperation that Clara watched Ruby and her mother leave unexpectedly late one Thursday afternoon for errands in town. It was nearly time for school to let out, and Daphne would be passing right by. She must speak to her! But their signal room was locked.

Clara checked the hall clock. She had ten minutes until the children passed, and the sound of the ticking clock taunted her. After pacing in front of the door and muttering to herself, she stopped.

“I’m going out!” she announced to the empty foyer. Clara marched to her mother’s room and flung open the chifforobe. There hung her mother’s winter cloak, which she put on, throwing up the hood.

“What a sight I must be,” Clara said, “swimming in this unseasonable green tweed.” But when she caught her reflection, she was satisfied with the shadow that the oversize hood made around her face. She was so well hidden, even the aviary birds did not scream as she made her way past them to the alley in back of the house.

As Clara closed the gate behind her and entered the alley, her perceptions felt weirdly off-kilter. She had seen the place where she now stood only from Mrs. Glendoveer’s window upstairs; and now here she was in the great wide open. The blue infinity of the sky towered above her,
making her fear that she might float away. A few steps ahead lay the street in full sunlight, and the sight terrified her.

Even when she had taken the carriage to Mrs. Glendoveer’s funeral, she had not felt this shaken being outside. But she had been with her mother and Ruby, and was suffering from the shock of grief. And the crêpe veil! Wearing that dark funeral headdress had blunted the vastness of the unfamiliar view.

With her shoes now seemingly stuck to the ground, Clara reminded herself of all the days she had sat, shut up and yearning for adventure outside the walls of the Glendoveer mansion. “Get on with it,” she told herself, and stumbled out onto the sidewalk just as the trolley came over the hill.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

The sudden noise made her dizzy with fear. She felt the street vibrating beneath her feet and hugged the nearest lamppost to keep from fainting. She waited for the trolley to streak past and leave her in silence, but instead, she heard the squeal of the brakes and closed her eyes.
Great merciful heavens …

“Step on, miss!”

Clara forced herself to peek. There was the conductor, leaning out of the cab, scowling. Behind the rows of windows, people sat and stood inside the car. Some had turned their faces, and Clara wanted to melt into the pavement.

“No, s-sir,” she stammered. “I’m staying.”

“Then what you standin’ at the trolley stop for?” he growled, giving the bell a violent clang before driving off.

Clara looked up to see that, sure enough, she was standing beneath an enameled sign reading trolley; and now the clock struck three. Her original idea had been to wait around the corner from the street where all the schoolchildren passed and to get Daphne’s attention as she walked by. But now she began to have doubts. What would the other children make of her, this odd girl in winter clothing loitering on the corner when she should have been in school?

When at last the sound of footsteps and children’s laughter came closer down the main street, Clara simply decided to plunge in.

Off she strode around the corner as the mob of children approached. Searching for Daphne, she deftly avoided two boys running in circles trying to steal each other’s caps, a woman pushing a baby carriage, and a small dog on the loose. One older girl with braids crisscrossing her head looked into Clara’s face and nudged a friend, but Clara did not slow down to see what followed.

When she spotted a knot of three girls giggling, she struggled hard to keep her composure. The one in the middle was wearing a red hat! Could it be?
Yes, yes, that’s Daphne!

With a sinking heart, Clara could see that Daphne was
not looking up. If only Clara could shout her name! Perspiring madly, she thrust her hands into the pocket of her cloak and grasped the only thing to be found there: an embroidered handkerchief.

Clara pulled it out and pretended to sneeze into it before letting it fall to the sidewalk directly in front of the preoccupied girls.

“Excuse me,” said Clara in a strangled voice, bending over to retrieve the hankie. When she stood up, however, she was face to face with Daphne Aspinal. Seconds crawled by before she managed to pull a random question from her addled brain. “Where’s the … cat and dog hospital?”

Daphne’s mouth made a little O as the other two girls regarded her quizzically.

“My grandmother’s cat,” said Clara, feeling completely ridiculous. “It’s sick. I am from, uh, another town.”

The redheaded girl on Daphne’s left put her hand on her hip. “I don’t see a cat. Where you keeping it?”

“Keeping it?” Clara echoed dumbly.

Daphne, now recovered, smiled warmly. “I think she means she needs to pick it up for her grandmother. Am I right?”

Clara said, “Uh-huh,” and felt Daphne tuck her arm in hers.

“You two go on,” Daphne told the girls. “And I’ll help our out-of-town visitor find her way.”

“Are you sure?” asked the redheaded girl. “We can come with you.”

“You have piano lessons, Gertie,” Daphne said. “I’ll be fine.”

Gertie and her friend left, but not without glancing over their shoulders several times. Clara, on the other hand, clung to Daphne like an octopus.

“Don’t dare let go of me,” Clara said.

“You’re going to have to let me look at you,” said Daphne, taking Clara’s hands in hers. She studied her face. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Clara said. “No. Everything.”

“Slow down,” Daphne said, “and tell me.”

Clara tried to obey. “My mother and Ruby left the house, but I couldn’t signal for you because they’ve taken the key to the room upstairs.”

“You mean they caught you nosing around up there?”

“Not caught, actually. It’s more that they detected something amiss. But that’s not the half of it.” Clara peeked down the street. “Do you think we could go back to my house? I can’t let myself be seen.”

Daphne agreed to follow Clara at a distance and meet her near the aviary in Clara’s backyard.

When the birds saw Clara coming, they fluttered from corner to corner.

“Hello!” Clara said.

“Hello, hello, hello!” said George the Cockatoo.

“I’ve got a guest coming,” Clara told them. “I know you are all very secretive, but I can promise you that Daphne is most trustworthy. Do you mind?”

Hearing this, the birds flew up to the highest perch and sat shoulder to shoulder—all except Frances, who remained in her nest of newspaper, shaking her head from side to side.

“But she is really a lovely girl,” Clara said. “And smart, like you, Frances. I do believe she can help.”

But Frances was not moved. And when Daphne crept into the yard behind Clara, the birds remained stoic and watched from their heights.

“Gracious. Have you tamed them?” asked Daphne.

“Not in any way,” said Clara.

“But they are awfully restrained. What’s come over them?”

Clara bit her lip. “Would you believe me if I told you that they speak to me?”

Daphne considered. “I can believe it. I heard one of them say something in Latin to you, remember?”

“But, Daphne, it’s more than that. They don’t simply repeat words. They speak. Converse. Like people.”

Daphne could not hide a gleam of alarm in her eyes.

“You must believe me,” Clara said. “Watch.” She wrapped her fingers around the iron bars and appealed to George. “Could you please say a word to my friend Daphne? She thinks I’ve gone mad.”

George stared down, opened his beak, and let out a squawk.

“Is that what you’re talking about?” asked Daphne.

“No! He speaks intelligently—although with a small vocabulary. And his sister here, the mynah—”

“His sister?” asked Daphne, incredulous.

“Yes,” Clara insisted. “She speaks two languages—one rather better than the other. Isn’t that right? Say something for Daphne. She’s heard you before.”

But the mynah just closed her eyes and dozed.

Daphne stepped forward and felt her friend’s forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”

Clara took the hand firmly and removed it. “I am fine.”

“Forgive me, Clara, but so much is out of order. First I see you floating down the street in a cloak like the grim reaper, and now you’re telling me that you are having mystical experiences with animals.” She put a hand to her own forehead now. “Don’t tell me that’s why you wanted to visit the dog and cat hospital!”

“Oh, honestly,” said Clara. “That was just a ruse I came up with.”

“I don’t mean to be insulting, but how am I to know? Dear, I’m worried.”

“Well, don’t worry,” said Clara, changing tone. “If you don’t believe me, you don’t have to. In fact, I insist you go home. My mother may be returning at any moment.”

Daphne’s eyes rounded. “I’ve made you angry? It’s not my intention.”

“Let me show you out.”

“Please, Clara, wait—”

Clara grabbed Daphne’s sleeve and took her out of sight to the alley gate. When Daphne began to protest, Clara softly covered her friend’s mouth.

“Wait here,” she whispered. “Don’t make a sound, and listen. I’ll get them to talk, you’ll see. After, go around to the front door and we’ll meet.”

Daphne’s worried eyebrows relaxed, and Clara knew she understood that her formerly cold manner was only for the birds’ benefit. “Oh! All right,” said Daphne. “Go on!”

Clara returned to the aviary and stood before the birds, who no longer regarded her in silence. Arthur the Grackle dressed her down from his corner with his rusty cackle while Peter the Kiskadee darted back and forth crowing his
bee-tee-WEE!
It almost seemed as if the two were laughing at her. They were so very much like real little boys in this, she could barely suppress a smile herself.

“Very funny,” Clara said. “I suppose it amuses you to see me being made a fool. And you, George. I expected more from a gentleman. I hope you’re a little sorry.”

“Sorry,” said George, bowing his head.

“I accept,” said Clara.

“Little fool!” screamed Frances the Mynah.

“Who is the fool?” Clara asked. “George, me, or both?”

“Both!” said Frances.

“Now, please!” George pleaded.

“I only wanted to help,” Clara said. “I promise to bring no one else to the aviary without your permission.”

Frances strutted to the front of the cage and looked Clara in the face. “No one,” she said.

“You have my word.”

Then the mynah went back to her paper nest, and
Clara said goodbye to the other birds. “Goodbye!” said George as Helen chirped beside him.

Apparently nonchalant, Clara walked back to the kitchen. But once inside, she skidded across the slippery wood floors to the front door of the house. Daphne stood, breathless, on the step, turning her hat around in her hands.