A SIREN IN SPRING

As sea oats and lovegrasses changed from tranquil greens to vibrant red, so did the dregs of the harsh summer disperse under the cool breeze of autumn. I always made a show of how well I had recovered in front of Mr Silvan. I had been snobbish during summer and, at the risk of sounding crass, an extra burden to Mr Silvan. So when I felt the first rush of energy from the new season I made sure I was as helpful as could be. I washed and spread the cloths on the line in our backyard, gave the house a full sweep, scrubbed Mr Silvan's fishing net and carried a bucket full of bait to his boat. Mr Silvan, of course, tried his very best to unyoke me but I persisted in helping. We spent the whole day in Mr Silvan's fishing boat. It was a simple, buoyant piece of metal, worn out with age and rusty at the edges. But Mr Silvan adored it, I could tell. He touched everything on it with care from the wheels to the gears to the anchor ropes. There were number of boats spread out from us also laboring for their catch. Mr Silvan would cast the net while I assisted him in bringing the catch on board. Carle would probably rail if he saw me helping in this endeavour but in the moment I couldn't care less. Evening came and we retired back home to freeze the fishes for selling the next day. However, Mr Silvan had cause to return to his boat that evening.

"Why?" I asked him.

"I forgot my knife."

"We have other knives in the kitchen?" I suggested.

"It's the fillet knife. I need to prepare the fish for tomorrow. You see, I can't just use any ordinary one."

"Okay. Let me go then." I stood up from my seat and started buckling my overalls.

"No, no, Yara. It's not my first time." He brushed off my worry with a smile. "I'll be back in no time. Don't worry. It's not my first time." He assured me again. "You just rest and eat."

"Okay. Are you with a torch?"

He flashed his torchlight before me.

"Be safe," I called out as he trotted outdoors.

I ate till I was satisfied. Then, I snatched a magazine from the counter and slumped on a couch with the intention to wait up for Mr Silvan. I didn't know when I let myself relax and give in to sleep. I only recalled waking up to the buzz of Mr Silvan's phone on the dining table. I didn't answer the phone yet. I ran to check Mr Silvan's room; he wasn't there. Also, his bed wasn't always arranged so I wasn't certain whether he had slept on it. I checked our backyard and he wasn't there either. In fact everything was still intact. His fishing gear had been exactly where he left them last night. I reckoned he had gone to the tent without me for the sake of giving me more time to unwind after my sickness. However, the fish were still uncut in the freezer; and no way Mr Silvan would see me sleeping on the couch without either posturing me well or convincing me to go to my room. My heartbeat began to rise. Mr Silvan hadn't returned from last night.

Finally, I picked the phone to see who had been calling. There were seven missed calls from a number I did not recognized. I could feel the blood rushing now to the roof of my mouth. What had happened to Mr Silvan overnight? Did he drown or was it even something worse?

I dialled the number on the phone and called back.

"Hello."

I knew the voice but still had to ask, "Who is this?"

"Sorry for disturbing you this early morning, dear. It's Miss Millcrest."

Miss Millcrest? Why was she calling? How did she even obtain Mr Silvan's number.

"The woman on the wheelchair," Miss Millcrest seemed to clarify.

"Yes. I know who this is. Can I help you with anything?"

"Sorry again dear. But I have some dire news about your grandfather. You must take heart."

I gripped a chair with one hand in an effort to support my weight for the words I thought were coming next. Mr Silvan was dead? I didn't even know if sirens cried. I had never caught myself crying since my banishment from the underworld.

"Mr Tomestrano is in Mon Lagho General Clinic. He was critically wounded. He has a black eye. I even think he broke some bones."

"Is Mr Silvan dead?"

"Oh no. Oh no. He's alive. I spend some nights in the hospital because of my condition and I happened to see the nurses carting him in. He was in a critical condition before but I think he has been stabilised." She lowered her voice. "Don't tell anyone I told you this but I think he was beaten up."

"By whom?"

"I don't know. But he looked pretty bashed up."

"Thank you, Miss Millcrest." I ended the call. I was furious. My mind went straight to that Oadaker boy and his friends—the ones who had threatened me at the beach. They were not going to go scot free. For a moment, I thought of pulling up to his father's motel and roughing him up there but I needed to see Mr Silvan first. I cleaned my mouth and rushed out of the house. The clinic was not too far away. It needed to be close by the beach in case of emergencies. Lucky for me, a run there would be five minutes tops.

The Mon Lagho General Clinic wasn't so full that morning. There was a smattering of cars parked around and no crowd of persons moved in and out of the place. The name of the clinic was printed in a banner under and image of two palms clasped together. The doors parted for me as I hurried in. I went over to the receptionist's desk and in a panting voice announced that I was Mr Silvan's granddaughter and needed to see him.

The receptionist urged me to sit on a bench while she went to consult with whomever. A different nurse came out to call the pregnant lady who had been waiting beside me while the receptionist who had asked me to wait hadn't returned in what felt like hours but was actually just over ten minutes. I would have been compelled to use my siren if she hadn't returned when she did. She took down my name, Yara Tomestrano, and led me to Mr Silvan's room.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Carle was there, sitting beside an awoken Mr Silvan and crossing his legs unabashedly, like he was meant to be there. Mr Silvan had a collar around his neck and one of his legs was heavily bandaged, suspended in traction.

"Mr Silvan," I whispered as I walked over to him.

He held my hand in a loose grip and said, "Yara. I am fine."

"You are not fine. What happened? Who did this? Was it that Oadaker boy?"

"Just some silly boys," Mr Silvan tried to chuckle but instead devolved into coughing.

"Take your time." I brought him water.

"Your friend, Carle, helped me get to the hospital."

My friend? Did Carle tell Mr Silvan about what we were?

"It's okay, Mr Silvan. Don't say much just rest. I'll bring you your newspapers so that you can read when you are bored. Is that fine by you?"

"Totally."

I pecked him on the forehead and turned over to Carle. "Can I see you for a second Carle?"

Carle bounced up from his position and followed me rather eagerly.

"What the hell is this?" I asked as he shut the door behind him.

"I don't know what led to this. But yesternight, I happened to be passing by the docks. I saw some boys all over Mr Silvan. Hitting him here and there. The old man is tough; he was fighting back but they still had the advantage being young and all. I stepped in then to help him, chased the boys away and now,"—he gestured with two hands—"here we are."

"Is this a joke to you?"

"Do I look like I am joking?"

"Who were the boys?"

"I didn't really see them. It was too dark but if I had seen them, I'd definitely join you to mess them up. It wasn't the Oadaker boy though. I see the brat around; he is not coward enough to attack an old man. So don't go knocking on the wrong doors."

I couldn't help the suspicion with which I glared at him.

"Frankly, I didn't want to help the old man but I did... because of you."

"Why did you tell him that we are friends?"

"Small talk? I don't know." He shrugged. "It just slipped out."

"I told you I didn't want him seeing you. Ever."

"So I should have left him to die?"

I shook my head. "It's not time for this. I have to get some things from the house for Mr Silvan."

With that, I was gone from the clinic. I didn't trust a word out of Carle's lips. I didn't know his endgame but I was sure he had a hand in this somehow. I put clean clothes in a duffel bag along with some newspapers and magazines. It was common sentiment that hospital food was one of the worst, so I got something out of the freezer and set it on the table. Initially I planned to let it melt on its own before I packed it up with the rest of Mr Silvan's other things but that would take up so much time. So I paced before the gas, tinkled with the match box for a while till I braved striking it and lighting a fire. I put some water in a pot and emptied the rice inside it. I kept a good distance away, waiting for it to finish steaming up before serving it in a plastic plate. My palms were already mildly irritated from the little cooking. I carried the duffel back to the clinic where Carle still waited. Mr Silvan was dozing now. I did not wake him, so I just put the bag under his bed and slipped out again.

The thought of leaving Mr Silvan there with only Carle made me a tad uncomfortable but I had some things I wanted to make certain of. I would be back once I was done to take over watching Mr Silvan.

First, I went to the docks where they had attacked him. I checked the road and the grass for any signs of blood but found none. I trudged along the pier to observe Mr Silvan's boat for clues of anything. Maybe one of those worthless boys had dropped something I could use to find them. Still nothing. It was almost as if there had been no tussle there. I gave up on that front and went back to the clinic again. However, not for Mr Silvan this time but for Miss Millcrest. The receptionist wasn't just going to let me through to her, given that she had wasted so much time in allowing me see Mr Silvan who I had a connection with.

So, I barged in, walked straight to the receptionist's desk, not diverting my gaze from hers. My first words echoed softly as usual and entranced her. "I want to see Miss..."

"Yara dear?" Someone called me from behind interrupting my hypnosis on the receptionist. It was Miss Millcrest.

The reception placed a hand on her forehead and rubbed her head in confusion. I left her in her stupor and went over to Miss Millcrest.

"Have you seen your grandpa?"

I nodded.

"Poor thing. How is he faring?"

"He's better now," I blurted. "Miss Millcrest, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure sure. What is it?"

"Outside if you don't mind?"

"Not at all."

I took her wheelchair by the handles and helped her outside, towards the gardens.

"I know you wouldn't want to implicate yourself," I started. "But please... please... Miss Millcrest..." I did my voice like I was about to cry. "Can I know who hurt my grandpa?"

"Oh dear. Don't cry. Don't cry," she consoled me. "I'll tell you everything I know."

"Thank you."

"Early this morning, I saw one boy outside my window. He was speaking to three other boys in very hushed tones. Saw him later entering your grandpa's ward. Something seemed so off. I told the staff but they said he is a family friend. Do you perhaps know him?"

"I do. Do you know the boys he was talking to?"

"Not their names exactly. But there was one fat one with very notable front teeth."

I knew exactly who she meant. "Thank you so much Miss Millcrest."

She took my hand gently in hers. "Oh Yara dear. You are so welcome." She pulled me in closer. "I am in support of you calling the authorities, just so you know."

"Thank you," I said and departed. I was sure then. Carle had sirened those boys, ordering them to go after Mr Silvan.