Falling Ashes by Kate Bloomfield
For Ashleigh Harriss
The Real R?ven
1990 – 2006
Chapter One
Birthday
‘Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,’ my family sang in unison, Jack loudest of all. ‘Happy birthday, dear Avalon. Happy birthday to you!’
‘Hip-hip!’ shouted Jack.
‘Hooray!’ my mother and father chorused.
They did this three times, despite my increasingly pink cheeks. Birthdays always made me feel awkward. I didn’t like being the centre of attention. Nevertheless, I blew out the candles to a chorus of cheers and applause.
‘What did you wish for?’ my mother asked.
I remained silent. Everyone knew what I would wish for because it was what we all wished for.
Clearing his throat loudly, my father handed me the knife to cut the first piece of cake.
Cutting it, and touching the bottom, my father leaned forward and pecked me on the cheek.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said as I gave a small smile.
When my father’s back was turned, I saw Jack give me a quick wink.
‘Now, I know it’s not much,’ my mother began, dipping down to pick up the small present wrapped in brown paper, ‘but you know things haven’t been easy …’ She trailed off.
Dad coughed loudly, before adding, ‘It’s from me and your mother.’
My mother placed the small parcel in front of me. Honestly, I hadn’t expected any presents today.
‘Thanks, Mum and Dad,’ I said sincerely.
I unwrapped the gift clumsily, and found a long, black, hand-sewn skirt made from a very heavy material. It was accompanied by a leather corset.
‘Your mother stitched the skirt, but I tanned the leather. Sorry,’ he added apologetically.
I thought the leather-work was decent. ‘I love it,’ I said honestly. This made them smile.
‘It’s fire-proof,’ my mother said. ‘I noticed a lot of burn marks in your clothes whilst doing the washing.’
‘How thoughtful.’
A scratch at the front-door indicated that Hawthorne, my animal-companion, was outside, waiting to come in.
My father’s jaw tensed. He disliked having Hawthorne inside the house because he dropped a lot of fur and feathers.
‘Can he come in?’ I asked.
‘You know I don’t like it. You know what it does to your sister,’ he said.
‘She’s asleep. She won’t even notice.’
My parents glanced at each other, before Jack chimed in, ‘It is her birthday.’
Beaten, my father waved a hand in defeat.
Jack went to the front door and opened it at once. Hawthorne, my winged-fox, who was larger than the door-frame, had to squeeze his way inside the house. The floor-boards creaked under his weight, and ornaments threatened to crash to the floor from his wagging tail. Despite his size, Hawthorne was extremely agile. Slinking to my side, he dropped something from his mouth onto the table.
My mother shrieked and jumped back. Looking down, I saw what Hawthorne had brought me.
Jack looked over my shoulder and laughed. ‘Avalon, he brought you a birthday present.’
I picked up the dead rabbit by the paw, inspecting it carefully.
‘Thanks, Hawthorne.’ I couldn’t help but grin for the first time in weeks. Hawthorne wagged his tail excitedly, sending a vase of flowers to the floor. Jack stooped just in time to catch it.
‘Looks like we’re having rabbit for dinner,’ Jack said, placing the vase back on the stand. ‘Well done, buddy.’
Hawthorne looked extremely pleased with himself.
My father picked the dead animal up from the table. ‘I’ll, um … take care of dinner, I guess.’
My mother, holding her chest, nodded quickly. ‘Oh yes, please, Dear. I don’t think I could skin a rabbit.’ She shuddered.
‘You eat rabbit all the time,’ I noted.
‘Not ones that still have fur, and eyes, and innards.’
My mother often bought pre-cleaned rabbits and pheasants from the marketplace, and since we didn’t have much money, this rabbit was a very nice gift indeed. That is what I thought anyway.
After stowing the rabbit out of sight, my father marched back into the room, arms folded across his chest. ‘Well, Jack,’ he said with raised eyebrows, ‘what did you get Avalon?’
Jack shifted his weight from foot to foot, hands buried deep in his pockets. I hadn’t expected any presents today, let alone from Jack. I knew he didn’t have much money, and I could tell by the expression on his face that he was embarrassed about it.
‘What? You didn’t get her anything?’ my father asked.
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted.
‘It’s fine, Dad.’
‘He could have made you something,’ he said. ‘A card. Anything. Isn’t he supposed to be your boyfriend?’
Jack’s ears turned pink, and I felt my face growing hot. Jack and I had not yet discussed our ‘relationship’ with one another, let alone with my parents.
‘Dad,’ I said in a warning tone, with a tiny shake of my head.