Page 64 of The Grand Rise

FOURTEEN

Lance

Idid, in fact, see. Mingo is a tiny little thing, likely a newborn swallow if what Waverley has told me is true. He’s pink and featherless with a long neck and a head that he can barely hold up.

“He fell from the nest. Ellis thinks he was pushed, but look at this thing. His brothers and sisters wouldn’t have the muscles if they’re anything like him.”

“And he’s called Mingo because…”

“He looks like a baby flamingo,” she confirms. “I need to find him some worms.”

“I don’t think you should be feeding it, Waverley.” I watch as she stands, the small bird limp in her hand. “Or touching it.”

“We can’t just leave it to die.” She continues on, lifting the chipped, broken plant pots to peer under them. “Ahh! This one. It’s a little worm.” She turns her head to look at me, at my leg. “Can you help?”

I make my way to her, my crutches catching in the overgrown grass. My leg is throbbing, and I know I’ve well and truly overdone it for the day.

When I reach Waverley, I lean down, taking hold of the tilted plant pot.

“Mingo, look at this baby!”

My eyes widen in mortification as she picks up the worm. “Waverley, put that down.”

She dangles it near the bird’s large yellow beak, and before I can reach for her to knock it from her hand, the little thing opens its mouth and takes it from her.

“Good god.”

“He loves them,” Waverley says, watching the baby bird with intense fascination. “I watched for an entire hour after finding him on the ground, but his mother never came back. I put him in his nest, but it was empty and cold when I came out the next morning.”

“How long have you been coming out here and feeding it?”

“Three days. Please don’t tell Mum. She’ll call someone to come take care of it.”

I contemplate whether that would be the right thing to do.

“I googled it. If the parents don’t come back, I can hand raise him until he can fly. I’ll just need a cage to keep him in.”

“I think your mum might notice a cage.”

“You’re going to tell her?” she says sadly, her happiness fizzling out.

“No,” I counter quickly, watching as her eyes light back up. “I won’t tell her.”

She hugs my waist one-handed, careful not to hurt the bird in her hand. “Thank you!”

I sigh in relief, the idea of upsetting her spearing me right in the chest. I wait as she climbs the small hedge to place the bird back into its nest that’s wedged in the depths of a low but thick tree branch.

“A couple more days, and I’ll bring him in,” she says resolutely, dusting her hands together to clean them.

“You need to wash those properly when we get in.” I grimace as I look down at her hands, the underside of her fingernails filled with dirt. “You’re as wild as your mother.”

She grins at that.

So do I.

We walk side by side as we round the side of the house, past Ellis and Anthony’s graves, and toward the terrace.

“Where have you two been?” Scarlet asks, appearing at the top of the steps.

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