40.

One glorious golden Wednesday, Terri and Biddy walked to the end of the headland, the furthest they had ever ventured. The late spring sunshine and the sound of the waves gently stroking the rocks had lulled them along. Biddy was in good spirits and very excited by the large number of seagulls swooping above them, and the groups of guillemots dotted around the rocks. But as they reached the old wooden stile which led through to an uneven section of the coastal path, Terri noticed that Biddy’s pace was slowing. Her limp was suddenly very visible, much more pronounced than usual.

‘Are you OK, Biddy?’ asked Terri, concerned.

‘Oh, yes, I’m fine,’ Biddy smiled, subconsciously rubbing her hip. ‘Why?’

‘Your leg,’ Terri gestured towards Biddy’s stick. ‘Are you in pain?’ She had only heard Biddy complain about her leg once or twice before – and then only fleetingly – but it was obviously giving her gyp today.

‘Oh, it’s a wee bit sore. But not too bad. Really.’

‘I’m so sorry, Biddy, my fault. I didn’t realise how far we had gone. I was enjoying the walk too much, and didn’t think.’

‘Oh, no. No, really, it’s OK. It’s not that bad. And I was enjoying the walk too. I probably haven’t walked this far in years. We used to walk everywhere, Papa and me, when I was little. But then, after, well,’ she hesitated, ‘after I hurt my leg, I didn’t walk anywhere for a long time. Later, when I was able, we used to walk through the park once a week until Papa couldn’t manage it. So honestly, I’ve enjoyed it. Please don’t apologise.’

‘Well, let’s take a break for a while anyway, sit on the rocks,’ Terri smiled. She felt a bit breathless herself. ‘I could do with a little rest. Not as fit as I used to be. Actually,’ she chortled, ‘I haven’t been as fit as I used to be for about thirty years.’

Terri looked on as Biddy propped her stick against a large smooth rock and sat on it, pushing her body up with her hands until she found a comfortable position. She watched her staring at two gulls swooping and diving into the sea a few yards away. The breeze had ruffled her unruly curls so much that her hair looked a bit like something they might nest in. Terri wondered, not for the first time, what a good hairdresser would do to Biddy’s locks. With a little bit of TLC, her hair could be beautiful. And a touch of make-up too; just a little. Some day she would venture the suggestion. But not now. Not yet.

‘They are fabulous, aren’t they?’ Terri said, nodding towards the gulls. ‘Have you always been fascinated by them?’

Biddy nodded. ‘Always. Well, for as long as I can remember. I love all birds, actually, but seagulls are definitely my favourites.’

‘Tell me, Biddy, why birds?’ Terri asked, as she sat down beside her on the rock. ‘I am a cat person, myself. Utterly love them. Adore them. Always have. The way they move, the way they sleep so blooming much, and most of all,’ she chuckled, ‘the way they have total control over us humans. So, what is it you love so much about birds?’

Biddy gazed at two seagulls who were proudly strutting along a rock close by. One looked up and appeared to hold her gaze. ‘I love them because they are my friends,’ she said, quietly, shrugging her shoulders. ‘And they always have been. My only friends.’

‘Didn’t you have any friends at school at all?’ asked Terri, carefully. ‘There must have been someone you were a little bit chummy with?’ Biddy shook her head. ‘What about family friends?’

Another shake of the head. ‘We didn’t have any.’

‘Well, neighbours then? Weren’t there any girls in your street around the same age as you?’

This time, Biddy nodded. ‘There were. Once, when I was really young – about five or six – I remember I was standing by the gate, watching a group of them playing in the road. They were skipping and singing rhymes. One girl, I can’t remember her name – she was a bit older, I think – came over and asked me if I wanted to join in. So I went and stood beside them, but as I didn’t know how to skip, or didn’t know the rhymes, I just stood and watched.’ She picked at the grass growing around the rock. ‘I remember the girl who invited me to play smiling over at me a couple of times. Nobody else did. Then the funniest thing happened. Well,’ she looked at Terri and half laughed, ‘I thought it was funny, but they didn’t. A seagull pooed on one of the girl’s heads. A really big, runny one. She put her hand up to her scalp to see what it was, and then it was all dripping off her fingers. She started to scream, then all the others started to scream and one of them, I think it was the bird-poo girl’s sister, ran into a house to get her mother.’ She breathed in deeply, ‘But I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen. I actually wished that it had been me the bird had pooed on. But then the other girls stopped screaming and looked at me, and one of them asked me why I was laughing. Then the mother came out and put her arm around the poo girl and told her to come inside and she would clean her up. “She thinks it’s funny,” the girl sobbed, pointing at me. The mother glared at me. She looked me up and down, an expression of utter disgust on her face. Then she said to the others while still glaring at me, “I told you not to play with her, girls. She’s strange and she smells. I told you.” So that was it. My brief friendship was over before it even started.’

‘What a bitch,’ spat Terri, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘The mother, I mean.’

‘Well,’ Biddy smiled, ‘one good thing did come out of that day.’

Terri looked at her, quizzically.

‘That’s when my fascination with bird poo started, which was a great distraction for me when I was at school. Maybe my love of seagulls goes back to that day too.’

She laughed, lightly, but Terri’s heart lurched. The very notion of growing up totally alone, without a single friend to share the simple pleasures of childhood with, was devastating to her. Once again Biddy reminded her of a caged bird, the very antithesis of the creatures she so dearly loved. Looking at her now, as she watched her beloved seagulls circle above the water and dive deep into the waves, Terri shivered slightly, despite the warmth of the breeze.

‘How is your leg doing, Biddy?’ she asked, shaking herself.

‘OK,’ said Biddy.

‘Feel up to the walk back now?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘OK, let’s make a move then. I’m in need of a nice strong cuppa, and a snack too. Fancy some of my own wheaten bread with cheese and pickle?’

‘Oh,’ Biddy gasped as she looked at her watch.

‘What time is it?’ asked Terri, sensing the flicker of panic.

‘Ten past three.’

‘That’s fine. You’ve got loads of time. We’ll be back in twenty minutes. You can have a quick cuppa and a bite to eat, then get the twenty past four bus, can’t you?’

Biddy nodded, obviously calculating in her head.

‘Come on then,’ Terri smiled, helping her up.