Cosmic Love

I drop my toast and run to the back door, my heart leaping into my throat. I had glanced out of the window while I was scraping off the burnt bits and spotted a glint of light at the far end of the garden.

It’s a foggy day and the grass crunches frostily under my bare feet. I nearly slip as I approach the trees and mud seeps between my toes. I reach the bottom of the garden, my feet frozen and my back sweating. My eyes travel hungrily over the ground, willing the glint to reappear. I crouch down, my eyes scan the area so fast I feel dizzy. Then I see it - a piece of silver two feet away. I blink and my heart sinks into my stomach. It’s the inside of a chocolate wrapper. I swallow and stare at my feet. Of course it is.

When I was 11, I was the only one in my class who still believed in fairies. One day at lunchtime, I was wandering through the trees that bordered the edge of the playing fields. There was a glimmer in the bushes. I knelt down and the light moved, dancing across the leaves. I followed it and spotted two more little lights twinkling beneath the trees, dancing over the roots. Warmth spread across my chest and tingled down my arms to my fingertips. I held my breath, my heart pounded against my ribs. Then I turned and ran.

Phoebe, Ella and Richa were on the monkey bars. Red in the face, my forehead sweating, I ran up to the playground. “Quick!” I shouted at the girls. They looked at me.

“What is it, Nora?”

“You’ve got to see this. Hurry!” The girls looked at each other. Then Ella let go of the monkey bars and dropped to the ground. The other two followed her. I grinned at them. “Follow me!” I turned on my heel and ran back towards the trees.

My heart racing, I reached the bushes and crouched down. I squinted and looked around. It was shadowy. And dark.

“Er, Nora, what are we looking at? A tree?”

“No, there were these sparks. Fairies. They were all flickering and flying around.”

Phoebe coughed. “Fairies?” she said. “Nora, you know fairies aren’t real, right?”

“But I saw-” I looked around wildly, crawling through the bushes on my hands and knees. Sharp twigs dug into my kneecaps. “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

“Maybe the light was from the sun,” Richa said. Phoebe snorted. “Like when light bounces off your watch or your glasses.” Richa pushed her glasses up her nose.

“I’m not wearing a watch or glasses,” I said sharply.

“Don’t get cross with Richa, Nora, she was only trying to help,” Ella crossed her arms over her chest.

“Come on, let’s go,” Phoebe nodded to the other two. “Bye, Nora,” she said in a sickly sweet voice. It was cold and chemically, like medicine. “Have fun with your fairies.” A giggle bubbled out of Ella and she turned after Phoebe. My eyes stung.

Richa frowned at me. “You don’t really think fairies are real, do you, Nora?” I swallowed, my throat burned and I sucked in a deep breath of damp air. Richa bit her lip, looking down at me, then she turned and ran away.

I stood up. My knees were a congealed mess of mud and blood. There were scratches along my shins and up my wrists. I looked back at the bushes, willing the light to come back. But there was only thick shadow. I shivered in the darkness.

I walk back to the cottage with aching feet. There’s mud on the knees of my dungarees and a twig is sticking through the knit of my cardigan. Back in the kitchen, I wipe my feet on a towel and glower out the window at the row of trees. My piece of charcoal toast is on the floor. I pick it up and blow on it. A chunk crumbles off and falls like ash. I take a bite and it instantly absorbs all the moisture in my mouth. I grab my mug of tea off the counter and gulp it down. It’s roughly the same temperature as an ice bath.

I grimace as I swallow, then pad into the living room and flop onto the sofa, pulling a blanket up to my chin. There’s a book splayed on the cushion next to me: Cosmic Love and the Magic of the Universe. I take another sip of tea, shivering, and pick up the book, rifling through to find my page. Then I begin to read, “There is magic around all of us, but many have forgotten how to see it. The secret is that the real-”

CRASH! I leap off the sofa, spilling what’s left of my tea down my front. There’s something in my fireplace. I stand there, frozen. The thing is a flapping blur of brown and white.

“What the-” I whisper.

It’s a bird. It beats its wings awkwardly, raises a few inches off the ground, then drops back down in a cloud of ash.

“What are you-? How did you-?”

Two black eyes stare up at me. A round heart-shaped face. An owl.

I press my hands into my forehead and glance around the living room. What are you meant to do when an owl falls down your chimney?

“I’m just going to google,” I tell the owl, tossing sofa cushions onto the floor. I peer under the sofa: several dusty books, a digestive biscuit, a capless pen. I straighten up and turn towards the fireplace. “I can’t find my phone.” The owl blinks. “Don’t move.” I reach a hand out towards it as I run out of the room.

I find my phone in the kitchen sink. I remember now, my mum texted this morning: Got any plans today? Try to talk to someone. I found a lovely looking cafe in Bruton you could go to. I’d pushed my phone aside and it had clattered into the sink, landing face-down on top of a crumb-covered plate.

I hurry back into the living room, gripping my phone. The owl is still sitting amongst the ash.

“The RSPCA says people shouldn’t try to handle birds unless they’re trained. It says… to ring them.” My heart stutters. I swallow. “But there’s also an email option, which would be… fine?” I glance up. Black eyes meet mine. “I mean, I’m sure they check their email all the time. What’s the point of blocking up their phone line?” The owl tilts its head. My eyes flick between the phone number and the email address. My stomach twists. My thumb hovers over the phone number, trembling slightly. I bite my lip, then hit the email address. I read and reread the email before eventually pressing send.

“Okay, well that should do it.” I glance over at the fireplace. ”I’m sure we’ll hear back soon.” I chew the skin next to my thumbnail.

I sigh. “I know, it’s stupid. I just… I’m not good with phone calls.”

The owl shuffles, sending up a little puff of ash.

“So I suppose now we just… wait?”

I flop back onto the sofa with a thump. The owl flinches at the sound.

“Sorry.”

Bang bang bang. The noise cuts through the air like a gunshot. I leap to my feet again, the blood rushing to my head. The owl panics and makes another attempt at flying. Its wings flap wildly and it jerks out of the fireplace and makes a wonky path to the bookshelf, a shower of ash falling like snow in its wake.

“It’s okay,” I say, breathing heavily. “That’s just the door.” For a ridiculous second, I wonder if it’s the RSPCA and marvel at how quickly they responded to my email. Then I heave the door open and logic returns.

It’s a man. A youngish one. The man’s smile falters when he sees me. His eyes flick down to my feet and back. I look down at myself; dried mud is caked onto my bare feet, tea has soaked through the right thigh of my dungarees and there’s dirt smeared across the knees. I pluck a leaf out of the cuff of my cardigan and look back up at him.

He blinks back at me then clears his throat. “Hi there,” he says in a cheery voice. My heart pounds. Oh crap, have I forgotten an appointment? Has he got the wrong address? Is he going to try to sell me something? I swallow. “I’m from the farm,” he continues, “I’ve got the logs you ordered.”

I let out a breath. “Oh. Great. Thank you.”

There’s the sound of china smashing behind me. My head jerks around. The owl seems to have decided it preferred the fireplace and has knocked over the vase on the coffee table on its way back. Water is pooling across the tabletop and dripping over the edge in tiny waterfalls.

The man looks over my shoulder. “What’s-”

“An owl,” I say.

“An owl?”

I nod.

“You have a pet-”

“No, it fell down my chimney.”

There’s a scratching noise, I glance back again. The owl‘s talons have cut deep grooves into the mantlepiece. Crap. My heart pounds in my chest. I turn back to the log man. “Do you think you could- Would you mind- I just don’t really know what to…” The words taste like cardboard in my mouth.

“Are you asking for help?” Something in his eyes twinkles. He seems to be trying to hold back a grin.

Crash. I wince. “Er… please?”

“Sure,” he says and steps inside before I’ve had a chance to get out of the way. I press my back against the wall as he passes. He smells like grass and apples.

“Hi there,” he says in a soft voice as he approaches the fireplace. “I’m Gabe.”

The owl blinks at him. Gabe steps forward and the owl immediately tries to take flight, but its right wing doesn’t move properly and it topples off the mantelpiece. The owl flaps feebly then crumples onto the floor.

I hurry forward at the same time Gabe does and we bump shoulders. “Sorry,” we say in unison.

“Maybe we should wrap it in something, a towel or a banket, so it doesn’t keep trying to fly.”

I pull the blanket off the sofa and hand it to him.

“You want me to do it? I don’t think it likes me very much.”

“It’s fine. I don’t think it likes me very much either.”

“How do you know?”

“There’s something about its expression, the look it was giving me. Kind of withering.”

He nods. “I know what you mean. My sister looks at me like that.”

I snort. Gabe kneels down next to the bird, which seems to be trembling.

“It’s alright, little one,” he whispers. He folds the blanket in half, then in half again. He lays the blanket over the bird and scoops it up like a baby.

“Oh… well done,” I say.

“You sound surprised.”

“No, I’m just…. surprised.” I blink. Gabe grins, cradling the owl. “What now?”

“Have you called the RSPCA?”

It feels like something has gripped my insides. I swallow. “Yes,” I say quickly. “Well, I emailed.”

“You emailed?” Gabe looks down at the owl in his arms then back up at me. “Sorry, you emailed the RSPCA?”

“Yes,” I say a little more defensively. “It didn’t seem that urgent. And it says they respond to emails within 24 hours.”

“Oh, so you’re just going to let the owl sleep here overnight.”

“Owls are nocturnal, it won’t be sleeping.”

“You know what I mean.”

I twist my fingers around my wrist. “I’ll ring.”

Gabe nods and sits down on the sofa with the owl bundle. I grab my phone off the floor and dart into the kitchen.

I open my email and refresh it. Nothing. Except for an email offering a 25% discount on teabags. I refresh it again. My arms start to tingle and my palms are instantly slick with sweat. The phone slides slightly in my grip. I stare at the phone number. My breathing is shallow. I swallow but all the saliva has dried up. I stare out the window down the garden. I glance back at the phone number. Three, I count down, two, one… The phone light dims and then it shuts down. Out of battery. I exhale a gush of air, plug it in to charge and return to the living room.

“All good?” Gabe looks up from the sofa.

I hesitate, then nod.

“What did they say?”

“They said, er, that some will be here soon.” A tiny light bulb blinks on in my brain. “So you can go, actually. Thanks for your help, I really appreciate it.”

“Really? I don’t mind waiting with-”

“No, it’s all good, thank you. I don’t want to hold you up - I’m sure you’ve got a lot more logs to deliver.”

“Actually you were my last delivery.”

“Oh. Well then, I’m sure you have something you want to do.”

He shrugs. “Not really, I kind of want to make sure that this little thing’s okay. Plus now that I’m holding it, I’m not entirely sure how I’d put it down without dropping it; I feel like it might freak out again if I move.” He looks down at the owl. It stares back up at him.

“Really, that’s not necessary.” My heart picks up its pace. He can’t stay. He can’t wait indefinitely for the RSPCA to turn up. What if they really don’t reply to my email for 24 hours?

I rack my brain for a convincing argument. I come up with nothing.

“Are you sure?” I say feebly, mentally kicking myself.

“Yes, absolutely,” he nods.

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling slightly sick. The owl’s eyes fix on mine. I look away guiltily.

I walk around the sofa and perch on the edge of the armchair opposite, tapping my fingers on my knees.

“Do you want-” I say, at the same time he says, “You’ve got a lot of interesting books.”

“What?”

He points at my bookshelf. “Your books. Interesting collection.”

My cheeks burn and I look down at my lap. I force a laugh, “Yeah, I know. Pretty unusual.”

“I think they’re cool. Magic, divination, universal laws, spirit guides, fairies?”

The heat is spreading from my cheeks to my scalp. My whole head feels like it’s on fire. No one has been in my house since I moved here four months ago. I wasn’t expecting anyone to see them. I used to keep my books in a cupboard at uni.

“Well, actually, quite a few of them were a gift.” I splutter. That’s a lie.

“You know, I’m pretty sure I saw a fairy once,” Gabe says. My head whips up so fast something pings in my neck. I scan his face for signs of mockery - either he has an incredible poker face or he’s telling the truth.

“Yeah, in a hedgerow. There was this tiny twinkling light dancing along. I walked next to it for a while. I tried to get a better look, but it was too far into the hedge, too many branches in the way.”

I stare at him, my mouth hangs open like an actor’s in a soap opera. I quickly shut it again.

Gabe doesn’t seem to notice, he’s adjusting a corner of the blanket around the owl. The sun is setting and it’s casting a golden glow over him. His dark hair looks like copper.

“Do you believe in magic?” he says suddenly, looking up at me.

I blink. “I, um, I used to. Now… I don’t know what I think.” I pause, then decide to risk it, “Do you?”

He shrugs. “I think so. I definitely believe in something. The world is way too magical for this all to just be a coincidence.”

Something sparks inside my ribcage. I clear my throat.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” I say, remembering my original question.

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thanks.”

In the kitchen, my phone has turned itself back on. I pick it up and hastily check my email. Still nothing. My stomach clenches and I shove the phone into my pocket.

I carry two mugs of tea back into the living room and hand one to Gabe.

“Thank you,” he says, reaching out for it. The movement jostles the owl and it leaps into action, writing uncomfortably inside the blanket.

“I’ll just hold it for you,” I say, clutching the mug. I sit on the sofa cushion next to him, as far away as possible, my side pressed into the arm.

“I didn’t really think this through,” he grins.

“It’s fine,” I say. His smile is too bright, I look away, fixing my focus on the mugs in my hands.

“Could I have a sip?” he says.

“Oh, right yes. Should I take the owl?” I hesitate. He presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows. “It might be easier if you just held the mug for me.”

“You want me to feed it to you? Should I put it in a bottle? Do you want a straw?”

“No.” He smiles wider.

I rest my mug on the damp coffee table and turn towards him. My hands are shaking slightly and I inwardly curse myself. This is ridiculous. I hold the mug up to Gabe’s mouth. I clench my jaw in concentration, trying to hold the mug still. Gabe leans forward, then proceeds to snort mid-sip and sprays tea onto my hand.

I yelp. “Sorry!” he says quickly, but he’s laughing. “You were just- Your face was so… serious.” His shoulders shake.

“I was focused!”

The owl wriggles and Gabe makes shushing noises, adjusting his hold.

“I always wondered what you’d be like,” Gabe says, looking down at the owl. The sun is on the horizon now, a bright orange glow that makes it look like Gabe is blushing.

I freeze. “What?”

Gabe glances up at me for a second then back down at the owl. “I’ve seen you around. Walking and stuff. When you take the footpath through the farm… I’ve always wanted to talk to you.”

My heartbeat is in my ears. Gabe has seen me before? How have I not seen him? Actually, come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve seen any of my neighbours.

I always feel invisible - which I tend to like. But now I feel rather like a toddler who covers their face with their hands and thinks no one can see them.

Do people not see me or do I just not see them? I blink.

Gabe’s looking at me now. “Do you… want to go for a walk together sometime? I could show you the place where I saw the fairy.”

My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst through my ribcage. “I-” I falter. My vision goes blurry and there’s a ringing noise in my ears. It’s getting louder. I grip the edge of the sofa. “I can’t,” I say. “I don’t- I’m not-” Crap. I don’t know what to say. How are you supposed to tell someone they’re wrong? That they don’t really want to go out with you, and, if they did, they’d realise how weird you are and that it was all a big mistake?

“It’s okay!” Gabe says loudly. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.” He’s smiling wider than before but he won’t meet my eyes. I don’t think he does get it, but relief washes over me in a huge wave so I decide to let it go. We sit in silence. I shift awkwardly on the sofa and take a sip of tea.

The sun sinks lower, until finally, it disappears behind the hills on the horizon, leaving the sky a watery yellow. I watch the sky fade to a dusty violet. I can hear Gabe breathing next to me. Now I feel weird about breathing.

There’s a noise in the blanket. Gabe and I both look at the owl. It’s shaking. Its white face is glowing in the near darkness. Its eyes glint like marbles and, when it blinks, its eyes stay closed for way too long.

I stand up. “I’m going to go and look out for the RSPCA person. Maybe they can’t find the house,” I say quickly, hurrying to the front door.

“Right. Good idea.” Gabe says.

I shove my coat on so fast I put my arm in the wrong sleeve. I open the front door and rush out anyway. Standing in the driveway, I refresh my email again. Nothing. My heart races.

“Come on,” I whisper. “Email me back. What’s the point of having an email option if you’re not going to check it?” I clutch the phone tightly in my hand. I look back towards the house. I can’t kill an owl. With steely resolve, I return to the RSPCA website, find the phone number and then press it before I can stop myself. My hand shakes as I raise the phone to my ear.

My stomach churns as the phone rings, and rings, the sound is excruciating. Then, finally, a woman’s voice appears on the line. I stumble my way through telling her about the owl. I talk so fast she doesn’t hear me the first time and I have to repeat the whole thing again. Then she asks for my address and tells me someone will arrive in the next twenty minutes.

“Wow, okay. Thank you.”

Walking back up to the house, my legs feel wobbly and my head feels light.

“Someone’s going to be here in twenty minutes,” I tell Gabe.

He looks at his watch. “They must have had a busy day.”

“Hm, maybe. Although, I think it might also be because they hadn’t seen my email.”

“But you rang.”

“I tried to ring.”

“What does that mean?”

“I wanted to ring. I just also really… didn’t want to. I have this thing about phones. And people. I’m not great with either.”

“But you have actually rung now? You’re not just saying this, like when you said it before?”

“No.”

“No ‘yes’, or no ‘no’?”

“Whichever one means I have rung.”

“Okay, then.”

I’m still standing by the front door. I don’t know what to do so I pretend to read something on my phone until the screen goes dark and I blush. The room is almost pitch black now and I realise how odd that is so I turn on the lights and close the curtains.

Outside, there’s the sound of tires on gravel. Thank god.

I fling open the front door and a lady in a gilet approaches. Gabe stands up from the sofa, cradling the owl to his chest.

“Hi, I’m Joan. I’m here for an owl?”

I let Joan in and she takes the blanket bundle from Gabe. She examines the owl (a barn owl, apparently), then informs us that it is in perfect health.

“Sorry, what?”

“She’s fine. Not a scratch on her as far as I can tell. Quite the miracle, really, considering the height she fell from, but there you are.”

“But it- I mean she- looked so ill,” I say.

“And she couldn’t fly properly,” Gabe adds.

“It’s possible she was just in shock. Nothing seems to be the matter now.”

“Are you sure?” I press.

“Yes, quite sure.”

“I don’t understand. How can she go from not being able to fly to being perfectly healthy in a matter of minutes?”

Joan chuckles. “Magic, I suppose. Although make sure you get a chimney cap installed, you wouldn’t want to put her good luck to the test a second time… Right, let’s go and release her then.”

Gabe and I follow Joan outside. The night is so cold my eyes water. I can see my breath in the moonlight. We follow Joan down the driveway. She stops at the edge of the lane and I hold my breath. Then, in a flap of wings, the owl is gone, swallowed by the inky blackness of the surrounding fields.

Gabe is standing next to me. I turn towards him. “Thank you for all of your help.”

He nods at the ground. “No problem.” He scratches the back of his neck.

“You know,” I swallow, feeling the words catch in my throat. Just say it. “You know, I’ve been thinking, and actually a walk sounds great.” My face is on fire. ”Maybe I could get your phone number?” My voice comes out high pitched.

Gabe looks at me and frowns. “Oh, er-” Oh no. He’s changed his mind. I can’t blame him. “I, um… don’t have a phone,” he says.

I want to disappear. Embarrassment pulls at my shoulders. Joan clears her throat. Oh god. She heard that. And what a lame excuse. He ‘doesn’t have a phone,’ seriously? He couldn’t think of something more realistic? At least then Joan might have believed him.

“Oh, okay.” I nod at my feet. “Of course. Right then, thank you. Bye.” I turn and hurry back up the driveway towards the house. I can hear footsteps crunching behind me. I really hope they’re Joan’s.

“Sorry, hun,” I sigh in relief and glance over my shoulder. Joan points towards the house. “I left my keys inside.”

Joan follows me in and plucks her keys off the sofa. Then she points at the bookshelf. “Interesting selection you’ve got there.”

I take a deep breath. “Yes, I’m really into magic,” I say in a rush. I squeeze my thumbs waiting for her to laugh, or worse, look sympathetic. But she does neither. She just nods, jingling her keys and heading for the door.

“I like that,” she says. “The world would probably be a better place if we all believed in magic a little more.” She waves and then steps outside, closing the front door behind her. I’m so shocked I forget to thank her.

There’s a tingly warmth spreading across my chest. That’s the second person today who’s talked to me about magic and hasn’t told me I’m insane. The warmth spreads down my arms and up my neck. Fighting back a smile, I walk over to my bookshelf, and, using the discarded blanket, gently wipe away a layer of dust from each row. The shiny spines wink at me.

My insides are fizzy. I walk through the kitchen and out the back door, stepping into the garden. I breathe in deep lungfuls of icy air. The night smells of earth and woodsmoke. I don’t realise I’m walking until I reach the bottom of the garden, the line of trees. Moonlight shines through the branches casting intricate shadows. There’s a soft whisper in the breeze. And then, a tiny flicker of light appears close to the ground. A shiver runs down my spine.

There are footsteps behind me. “Hey,” Gabe says, his voice low.

I turn to face him. “What are you still doing here?”

“You just ran off. I was coming to talk to you but then Joan started telling me about a cat she rescued this morning. It was a very detailed story.” He shakes his head. “Anyway. Why’d you run off?”

I blink at him. “Er, because you said no?”

“I didn’t say no. I said I don’t have a phone.”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean, I get it. And, don’t worry, I’m really bad at lying too. Once, instead of just saying bye to my old neighbour, I told them I was baking and had to go back inside before anything burnt.”

“That sounds like a good lie.”

“It was until they asked me what I was making and I ended up offering to bring them a whole tray of scones. I’d never even made scones before.”

Gabe chuckles. “But mine wasn’t a lie.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a lie. I don’t have a phone.”

“You…? Seriously?”

“Yep. I’m weird.”

I smile up at him. He smiles back down at me. His face is glowing gold. Then his eyes shift over my shoulder and his mouth falls open.

I turn round. At least twenty tiny, golden lights are dancing through the trees. I turn back to him, my eyes wide. “You can see that?” I whisper. He nods, transfixed.

I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him. Just for a second. When I pull away, he grins, tiny golden lights sparkle in his eyes.

“Well, that’s the mystery of the universe solved.”