Where Cuckoos Call (14 page)

I took the long route from Ward 35 to Ward 21. I needed food and time to think. I called into the shop in the foyer and bought a chocolate bar. I then wandered around the gardens trying to get my thoughts in order.

For days, my life had been a roller coaster of highs and lows. One minute I’d be miserable, the next I’d be ecstatic. I couldn’t take much more of it. Within the next half-hour I would hear whether Mansfield Bay had been sold. If it had been sold, then there would be years of legal battles. If it hadn’t been, then sooner or later someone like Wiltshire would make a bigger offer and the whole thing would start again. I just wanted it all to end.

Mum was still there when I opened the door to Dad’s room. I hardly noticed her. My eyes locked onto the bed where Dad was, surrounded by machines with tubes connected to several parts of his body. There were flashing lights, TV monitors, and the dull hum of cooling fans.

‘Hi, Ben,’ he said. ‘Come on in.’

‘I’ll go now,’ said Mum, quickly. She leaned over Dad, giving him a peck on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She turned to me, ‘And I’ll see you back at the hotel, Ben.’

I might have nodded—I don’t really know. I was still trying to cope with the scene in front of me. The bed was much higher than normal and it was tilted so that Dad was half-sitting, facing me. He was wearing a pyjama top open at the front. Pads with wires were stuck to his chest, and a clear plastic tube was poked up his nose. Another tube was stuck into his neck, with purple liquid flowing out of a plastic bag. It was all scary, but the worst was a bundle of legal-looking papers lying on the bed beside him. They could only be the things he and Mum had just signed.

‘Ignore the tubes, Ben,’ he said. ‘It’s nowhere near as bad as it looks.’

I didn’t know what to say.

‘Pull that chair in here, and I’ll show you something.’ The chair was one of those long-legged ones that people use to sit at a bar. I placed it where he pointed and climbed aboard. Dad picked up a remote control that was lying on the bed.

‘Are we going to watch some movies?’ I asked, laughing nervously.

‘Yeah, sort of,’ he chuckled. He pressed a button and an image appeared on the TV screen.

The picture was a shock. It was like somebody had cut the top off a head and photographed it. You could see all the insides of the eyes and behind the nose and the bones of the skull. Plus, of course, the brain. It was brightly coloured, looking like something from the coral reefs I’d seen in Vanuatu.

‘Is that you?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, fascinating, isn’t it? It gave me a bit of a jolt when I first saw it too. But I’m told it’s a perfectly normal brain with a couple of exceptions.’ He fiddled with a track ball on the remote and a green arrow started moving around the screen. ‘That scan was taken the day I came in. See that bit there?’ The arrow pointed to a bright red bit. ‘That’s bleeding from a burst blood vessel. That’s what caused my problems during the storm.’

He then moved the pointer to a yellow part in the middle of the brain. ‘That’s the leptospirosis. It’s been living there all this time and the antibiotics haven’t been able to get to it. If the bacteria got out of that patch they were dead, but inside they were safe.’

I stared at the screen. That patch of yellow had created Bacteria Dad. I had imagined his whole brain filled with them. But this was so small; it was hard to see how it could have such a big effect.

He pressed a button and the image changed. Now, there was no red bit and the yellow patch was hardly visible. ‘This one was taken this morning. See, the bacteria have almost gone.’ He stretched up and touched the tube going into his neck. ‘That’s because of this. They’re feeding me a special antibiotic that is used only in hospitals. It goes straight to my brain. The doctor reckons in another week the leptospirosis will be dead. And not before time, I have to say.’

‘Will you be back to normal?’ I asked softly.

He stretched out a hand to touch my arm.

‘Yeah, Ben, I’ll be back to the way I was before. In fact I feel I am already. What do you think?’

I nodded my head, but how could I tell yet? He’d been like this several times over the past three years.

He must have sensed my thoughts, because he squeezed my arm. ‘I’ll be all right. And that’s mainly thanks to you.’

‘What did I do?’

‘Well, if you hadn’t had that crazy idea of building that wall I would never have ended up in here.’ He squeezed my arm again. ‘Thanks for looking after me.’

There was nothing I could say. We sat in silence for a minute or two.

‘You know, there’s an old saying I’ve been thinking about ever since I came in here.
It’s an ill wind that blows no good
. It means that whenever there’s a disaster, something good usually comes out of it. And it’s true,’ he added. ‘A whole lot of good has come out of this one for me.’ He squeezed my arm again.

The silence was longer this time.

Again it was Dad who broke it. ‘You know, Ben, when I was in Treetops, almost dying, I dreamed that someone was telling me stories. There were all sorts of stories, but one of them was about a girl who buried some special pieces of pottery because she thought she was helping her friend. But it got her friend
into a lot of trouble. Does that sound a familiar story?’

I nodded.

‘Is it true? Sarah-Lee put the pottery in the bank and not you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry. I accused you in front of everyone without giving you the chance to defend yourself. How can you forgive me?’

I thought for a while before answering. ‘I forgive you, Dad.’ I looked at the screen. ‘It wasn’t you who accused me, it was those bacteria in there. I’m glad they’re dead.’

‘I remember I also forced you to make a promise,’ he said. My body stiffened—this was the critical moment. This would tell me if Real Dad was back or not. I looked at him and saw that he was smiling. ‘I’m sorry about that, too,’ he added. ‘I now know that was the bacteria as well.’

I relaxed a little. ‘I broke that promise, Dad.’

‘I know and I’m glad you did, son. Otherwise the world wouldn’t know about those birds.’

‘So you know about the phalarope chicks?’

He laughed. ‘Oh, yes, I know all about them.’ He nodded at the screen. ‘That thing also gets TV and the nurses came in and turned it on as soon as Mansfield Bay was mentioned on the news. And then your mother got hold of a tape, so we watched it again.’ He chuckled some more. ‘She said you had told her what we wanted to call them.’

I smiled and nodded.

‘Well, she’s promised to leave us if she ever hears that name again.’ He paused for a moment. ‘She also said she would leave if I sold Mansfield Bay.’

‘So?’ I asked looking at the papers.

He picked them up before answering. ‘So,’ he said slowly, ‘we’re not.’

‘Then what did you sign?’ I blurted out.

‘Nothing to be upset about,’ he said gently. ‘Come a bit closer and I’ll show you.’

He spread a map out on the bedclothes. It was the same style as the earlier one, except there was no marina and no development on the ridge leading to the beach. The only buildings were behind the estuary, tucked discreetly into the hills.

‘We’re not selling the land,’ he said. ‘We’re going into partnership with Bill Wiltshire in an eco-venture.’ He looked at me. ‘I think it will be one you’ll like.’

I waited.

‘This building here,’ he said pointing at the smallest of the several buildings, ‘is a lodge for the Society for the Protection of Coastal Birds. It will have about twenty beds. Bill is giving it to them.’

‘To stop them taking him to court,’ I said.

Dad looked at me sideways. ‘Partly, but not entirely. See, we have an interest in keeping the birds alive, too. This set of buildings here is a hotel for rich bird lovers from around the world. That’s how we get the money to fund everything else, and give us some profit, of course.’

‘What’s everything else?’

‘Predator control, education programmes and the like.’ Then he gave a grin. ‘Oh, and it will also fund this thing over here.’ He pointed at a rectangular space that was labelled ‘PROPOSED FUTURE DEVELOPMENT’.

‘What’s that?’

‘Eventually it will be a bird research centre.’ His grin got bigger. ‘That’s if we can find somebody who wants to set one up.’

For a moment I couldn’t believe it. That rectangle said my dream could come true—not now, but sometime in the future:
when I’d been to school and passed the exams and got a degree and become a scientist. Then I’d be able to come back and create the Mansfield Research Centre—I would make it the best bird place in the world. That’s when I would know I had truly achieved my Goal.

I looked at Dad and he seemed as pleased as I was. ‘Thanks, Dad. Is it safe to give you a hug?’

‘Oh yes,’ he said, shifting the tubes to the side. ‘It’s as safe as it will ever be.’

So we hugged—long and hard—and it felt good.

After we separated, I picked up the remote control. ‘Are there any more home movies of you on this thing?’

‘Yeah, a couple. Press ECG.’

I did and the screen changed to the heartbeat signal that you see on TV hospital programmes. His heart seemed to be pumping away OK. ‘Any more pictures of your insides?’

‘Try PET.’

Another image of his brain showed. This time it was only the top part, and looked just a grey mess. ‘Hey, Dad,’ I said, ‘do you think these photos can show intelligence? Because your brain looks all thick.’

He glanced at me with a twinkle. ‘You think so. OK, then let’s see how smart you are. See that button labelled VIQ. I’m told that measures visitor intelligence. Press that.’

A screen similar to the heartbeat appeared, except the graph line was stuck on zero. ‘Ha, ha! Very funny, Dad.’

He laughed.

I searched through the remote keys. ‘Ah, here’s one. HDID. How Dumb Is Dad?’ I pressed it and immediately a flashing red message appeared: SYSTEM OVERLOAD, SYSTEM OVERLOAD, SYSTEM OVERLOAD…

Oh, how we laughed. That’s when I knew it was all over. Real Dad was back, and this time he was here to stay.

I am now sitting in Treetops typing the last few words of this story using the laptop Dad gave me for Christmas. It is the Easter school holidays, and I have survived my first term of school. It wasn’t too bad—in fact, it was mostly good. I soon found some friends who are a lot like me. There’s a group of five of us that like reading fantasy. We stick together and that generally keeps the bullies away. So far we’ve been called geeks, mutants, nerds, freaks, weirdos, creeps, and aliens. Basically, all it means is that we’re different, and we’re proud of that.

Even though I like school, it is good to be home for a while. The building hasn’t started yet, though it will soon. However, there have been changes around the place. The main one is that Dad is farming the property again, and that means the animals are back: sheep, cattle and even a new pair of pigs. At present their house is spotless, as Aaron and Josh have just been in to clean it. (Darryl was let off because he still can’t walk.) I helped them by carting the muck away using the tractor. When we’d finished I taught them how to drive the tractor, and they showed me how to ride a trail bike—it was cool. I was amazed to find that I like them. So did Jake, especially when they played a game with him. There was none of the snarling and barking that he used to do with them. Somehow he sensed that they had changed and were no longer a threat.

Sadly, Peg is not around any more. I wrote most of this story over the summer, with her sitting at my feet. One of the first things Dad and I did when he got out of hospital was to build a staircase so that she could come into Treetops and be with me. Peg helped me write all but this chapter.

Near the end she got so weak that I would leave her here in
Treetops overnight. Two days before school started, I returned in the morning and found her dead—she had died in her sleep. At the time I was very sad. Yet it was for the best: without me around she would have spent most days in her cage, as Dad would be too busy to spend much time with her. Also I would have been devastated if she had died when I was not there to farewell her. I think she may have felt the same way. She now lies in the glade where we first saw the phalarope chicks. I miss her heaps.

Sarah-Lee sent me a stuffed dog that she made from a photo of Peg. It sits in front of me now and helps me have good memories. There’s a photo of Sarah-Lee as well, and that too gives me good thoughts.

Cole had an outstanding tour of Europe and is sure to remain an All Black for a long time to come. Aaron and Josh were talking about him when they were here. I was surprised to find that they now get regular emails, the same as I do. It made me wonder how many others there are. Each message I get makes me feel special, and no doubt that’s what the others feel too. I admire and respect the man.

Tiny-M, T-Boy and their offspring have left to spend winter in warmer waters. It was a surprise when they had a second nest, as it’s not common with phalaropes. The experts think it’s because our summer is longer than in the Arctic, and there aren’t the same pressures to leave. Everybody is hopeful that they’ll return in the spring. I’m certain they will: Bill Wiltshire is spending a lot of money on that expectation, and what Bill wants, Bill usually gets.

Bigmouth is still here. I think she’s waiting for me to type the final full stop before she takes off. She was there at the beginning of this story, and it looks like she’s determined to be here at the end.

She might be a nosey, squawking, demanding, little parasite,
but to me she is something special. I have no regrets about taking her from that nest way back on my twelfth birthday. At that time, I hated cuckoos. Now I think differently. For thousands of years cuckoos have travelled between here and the tropics. I believe Bigmouth’s ancestors helped bring
Homo sapiens
to Aotearoa—whether it was the Lapita people from Vanuatu or the Polynesians from Hawaiiki. Now—thanks mainly to her—New Zealand may someday have another new species:
Phalaropus mansfieldus
. By finding Tiny-M that morning after Cyclone Nellie, she started the chain of events that eventually led to the saving of Mansfield Bay and its birds. More than that, many New Zealanders have become aware of the problems faced by our coastal birds, and their future is now much brighter.