Page 63 of Pyg

“Are you a bird?” Laughter crested in my throat, and I hiccupped.

She peered into my face and frowned. “What?”

“You’re a big bird and I’m a little worm.” I laughed again, hiccupping as my limp arms flopped at my sides.

“George, stop fooling around. Bernard?”

Bernard stepped out from behind the bird-woman, his soot-smeared face rumpled in concern. Tears had tracked white lines down his cheeks, and he looked like a clown. I giggled.

“Can you help me get George to the tub?”

“Shouldn’t we call for a doctor, miss?”

“No.” Her shrill voice pecked the word into the air.

“But miss, he seems to think you’re a bird. I think he might’ve hit his head or something.”

The bird-woman fixed her bug-eyed gaze back on me for a moment. “No need for a fuss. I can handle this.” She muttered something under her breath. “Come on, or the water will be cold.”

She pulled me into a standing position and tugged off my remaining clothes, but thankfully leaving my underpants in place. Even though she was a bird, and I was a worm, I didn’t want her to see me in the nude.What if she pecks off my little pecker?I giggled again.

With my head still whooshing, I eased my weight onto their shoulders, and they guided me into the small utility room off the kitchen, which doubled as a washroom.

Steam rose from the tarnished copper tub in the centre of the room. Rarely did I get fresh hot water for myself — I was usually second or third in line, after Grandmother and Bernard. Mum would top the tub up with a fresh pan of hot, but the water was always slick with soap and grime and, at best, tepid.

At first, the hot water stung my bare feet and ankles and jolted me back to myself.I’m not a worm because worms don’t have feet.But the water soon soothed me, and I wanted to immerse myself to feel the relief all over my body.

“George, now that you’re in, I’m going to leave. Take off your underpants. Bernard will help you.” She left, and soon enough, I submerged my entire body. A gentle, muffled silence enveloped me as the water revived my numb flesh. The heat warmed me through to my bones, because I had bones and was most definitely not a worm.

I held my breath and opened my eyes under the clear water. A bare lightbulb shimmered overhead.

“George?” came the sound of Mum’s voice, crystal clear. I turned my head and tiny bubbles floated up, catching the light like miniature silver beads. Then the blackened face of Bernard came into view.

“George?” The sound bubbled into my ears. I yearned to stay submerged in this tranquil realm where I could still hear Mum, but Bernard’s worried face tugged me through the surface, and I gasped for air.

* * *

Consciousness trickled into my mind,along with an uncomfortable awareness of my very full bladder. Hushed and hurried voices whispered on the landing, and daylight shone through the gap in the curtains. The blankets on Bernard’s bed had been tidied, and there was no indication of when he’d last been in the room. Turning to the wall, I gathered my own musty blankets around myself. I curled into a tight ball, hoping my bladder might settle for a while longer and the voices would grow mute.

Seconds later, the door creaked open. Someone entered and stepped on all the wrong floorboards, clearly untrained in stealth, thus not Bernard. Or Pyg. And, therefore, I wasn’t interested in speaking to them.

A hand pressed on my blanketed shoulder.

“George,” a woman’s voice said softly.

I held my breath and lay as still as possible.

She said my name again and her hand gently pulled at my shoulder, trying to tug me out of my cocoon. If I resisted too much, it would give the game away, but if I didn’t resist at all, she would see I was awake anyway. I groaned, and it came out as a rasp. I tried to swallow, but my throat felt dusty.

“George, come on now.” The soft voice grew stern. “You’ve been in bed for nearly two days. You need to eat and drink something.”

The persistent pressure of my bladder suddenly overwhelmed everything else.

“I need to pee.” I whipped around, fighting my way out of the blankets and clambering to my feet, which weren’t fully working. Holding my groin, I stumbled like a drunken sailor to the toilet at the end of the landing. After the pain subsided, relief flooded through me.

But now to face that woman… and everything else.

She waited for me, blocking the entrance to my room, and my chances of climbing back into bed. At only thirteen, I already stood taller than her, but despite her bird-like appearance, she didn’t seem intimidated.

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