Free Where Cuckoos Call by Des Hunt Page B

showed her how to edit them and print them at the size she wanted. After that, things settled down a bit,except she seemed to be smiling a lot more than usual.
    A week or so later, I asked her again about getting Dad into hospital. She looked at me with a silly, happy look and said, ‘It’s all under control, Ben. Just be patient and everything will be revealed.’ That’s when I worked out what all the Internet stuff had been about—she had been arranging something for Dad. I could see why she would be happy about it. I’m sure she wanted her old husband back as much as I wanted Real Dad.
    Down at the estuary, Tiny-M was still around. By then it was almost winter and she should have been thousands of kilometres to the north. It didn’t seem to worry her, though. She spent her days poking around the estuary or, if the tide was in, swimming in circles after fish. She would be swimming gracefully along and then suddenly she would tear around in circles with her beak in the water. The stuff that she caught must have been small to fit in her mouth.
    Nothing much else was happening around the place except that the trees down the drive lost their leaves, the seas got rougher, the temperature got colder, and I discovered fantasy fiction.
    I had always borrowed library books through school—mainly kids’ books—but few of them had really grabbed my attention. Then we had a Digital Talk with a hip-hop singer who had just won some music award. As a kid he’d lived in a remote area just like us. When things started getting him down, he’d read fantasy. He reckoned that a big, thick fantasy book would solve even the worst of problems. I had written down some of the authors he mentioned, and ordered a couple of their books. He was right. The first one I’d read had nine hundred and thirty-six pages. I’d sat in Treetops and finished it in four days. I’d become so engrossed in wizards, dragons, beautifulmaidens and wonderful heroes that I never once thought of the problems with Dad and the bay. Plus, in the books there was always some miracle that would make things right in the end. That gave me hope that we might have a miracle sometime: Dad would be cured, the bay would be saved, and the birds would live in peace for ever.
    It was on the night of the first fire of the winter that Mum finally gave us her news. Dad must have known already, because he was wearing a stupid grin as well. That surprised me a little, as I didn’t think he’d want to go into hospital.
    ‘We’ve got a surprise for you,’ said Mum. I sat and waited. ‘Do you know what I’ve been doing on the Internet?’
    I shrugged. ‘Yeah, I’ve got some idea.’
    ‘Bet you haven’t,’ she said.
    I waited some more—she could have her bit of glory if she wanted.
    ‘I’ve been exchanging emails with Sarah-Lee’s mother, Lucy.’
    ‘What?’
    She laughed. ‘Lucy wrote to me to check that we were OK with what you and Sarah-Lee were doing. I replied and then we started exchanging emails. And,’ she paused for effect, ‘a couple of weeks ago she asked if we would like to come and visit them on the island, so you could see the cuckoo again.’
    By then she had my total attention.
    ‘Graham and I have discussed it and we’ve decided we can afford it, and that you and I should go.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘I’ll come to that.’ This was her big moment—she wasn’t going to let me interrupt. ‘Anyway, Graham mentioned it to Bill Wiltshire, and he insisted that his office would make allthe bookings and organise the passports and everything. So they did—and we go on Saturday.’
    ‘This Saturday?’ I was stunned.
    She nodded. ‘Yes. I know it’s very soon, but the school holidays come after that and everything is booked out.’
    I looked over at Dad. ‘What are you going to do?’
    He gave me a half-grin and started to answer when Mum butted in. ‘He’s going into a private hospital. Aren’t you, Graham?’
    He gave a little shrug. ‘Yeah,’