Sally and the Sign People

Sally and the Sign People

  Rosemary Bach-Holzer

  Copyright © 2013 Rosemary Bach-Holzer

  For Lauren G in Berkshire.

  May your adventures be as exciting as Sally’s but preferably without the worms and stale Cornish pasties.

  Short Stories Volume One

  Short Stories Volume Two

  Short Stories Volume Three

  Musings Amusing

  Cat Tales

  Sid in Space

  Enigma - Wolf Black

  Chapters

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter One

  My name is Sally and I live by the sea.

  It’s my home. And by the way, I’m a seagull. Although, science bit coming up... are you concentrating?

  What do you mean, no! Tough. Here it comes.

  Officially there is no such thing as a seagull. It’s a commonly used name to describe all the different types of gulls who live near the sea.

  Lesson over.

  Where am I supposed to live? London? And catch the tube every morning while carrying my little briefcase under one wing.

  Or, perhaps I should move to the North Pole? Be a bit cold with only my feathers to keep me warm.

  Do I sound a little angry? That’s probably because I am.

  It all began the other day.

  I was on the seafront waiting for Mrs Harris and her sardine sandwiches. My absolute favourite! They were meant for me.

  Mrs Harris had made that very plain.

  ‘Come here my feathered friends,’ she called out. ‘Let’s be having you.’

  You don’t have to tell me twice. I was about to pick up a tasty-looking piece when a dog sprinted past me so fast I spun round on the spot.

  I looked like my baby brother’s spinning top.

  And whoever heard of a dog eating sardine sandwiches anyway? What kind of strange dog was that? Whatever next… pear drops and ice cream sundaes? And where did he come from in such a hurry?

  Had he been hiding up a palm tree?

  ‘Hey!’ I said. ‘What were you doing? Hiding up a palm tree?’

  I glared at him not that he took any notice. He was too busy gulping down my sandwiches. I squawked and fluttered above him. He didn’t so much as wag his tail in reply.

  Too busy enjoying what was now left of my sandwiches.

  It’s hard enough with all those signs along the seafront asking people to: Kindly refrain from feeding the seagulls as they are a nuisance.

  Nuisance! Charming, that is. I like that. Who’s a nuisance?

  And what does refrain mean?

  I asked my grandad when I got home and he told me it’s a human way of saying stop.

  Sometimes, it’s hard being a seagull.

  The fishermen don’t want us near them and their catch of the day and the Sign People don’t want us mingling with the tourists along the seafront.

  Where else should we go to get a decent meal? It’s not as if we can ring up on our mobile phones and book a table at the local fish and chip restaurant or pop out for a takeaway.

  We’d end up on the menu.

  What does a seagull have to do?

  The other day, I found myself a big juicy worm... what do you mean, poor thing. A seagull has to eat.

  Anyway, it was dead when I found it. Even worms get old and die… all right, I admit the sight of my open beak flying in his direction might have brought on a heart attack… when a cheeky robin flew by and grabbed it from my mouth.

  We nearly had a tug of war going on. Most undignified it was.

  He only got away with it because he caught me unawares.

  I mean, when you sit down to enjoy a spot of breakfast you don’t expect it to be seized by some bird that gets his picture on cards and wrapping paper once a year.

  He thinks he’s a supermodel or something.

  It’s all right to feed robins. Of course it is they’re dinky and sweet.

  The Sign People will happily share a meal or two with a supermodel… but when it comes to a seagull that’s a different story.

  What am I supposed to do? Shrink myself and paint my feathers red?

  All right, I agree, he is kind of cute.

  Talking of cute, I met a gorgeous gull the other day.

  I found out his name is Saxon Seagull. Get that for a name. Is that chic or what?

  He’s named after a famous rock group. No, not like Stonehenge or Land’s End! I mean a musical rock group.

  His uncle, on his mum’s side, used to play in a heavy metal band. He’s a doctor now, Doctor Sigmund Seagull… although, what’s so interesting about tractors and bits of rusty iron and what’s that got to do with music... I do not know.

  Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked from telling you how I met my dream gull, Saxon.

  I was sitting on my favourite rock over at Sennen Cove keeping an eye open for a fish or two, when all of a sudden this good-looking gull flies right past me.

  Fascinated, I watched as he dive-bombed into the water and flew out again with a fish clasped within his beak without so much as a feather ruffled.

  What did he do then?

  He only hops over to where I’m hovering with my beak hanging wide open (that was cool, Sally) winks at me and drops the fish inside my mouth!

  Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. It was so romantic. And he was wearing one of those portable CD players, a waterproof one of course.

  Lucky bird! I’ve always wanted one of those. If I had a CD player I could listen to all my favourite pop groups whenever I wanted.

  I could even listen to that group from the eighties called A Flock of Seagulls.

  I know that’s like a million years ago, but my great, great, great, great (I don’t know how many greats… lots and lots I know that much) grandparents were around when the group was big and famous and performed all over the world.

  The humans named the group after my great, great, great, great (lots and lots of greats) grandparents, so I’m sort of related to the group, in a funny sort of way.

  It’s my small claim to fame. That is… and Grandad.

  Chapter Two

  Saxon Seagull is way cool.

  Now I always make sure I’m looking my best in case I bump into Saxon again.

  Not that I would dream of setting one webbed foot outside our nest without my favourite choker or my beak stud. It’s only a clip on. The beak stud. Grandad would go mad if I went and had a hole punched through my beak… wouldn’t much fancy it myself to be honest.

  Makes my stomach go all wobbly just thinking about it.

  Saffron, she’s my best friend, she said she’s going to get her beak pierced but I think she’s bluffing.

  I think she said that to impress the gulls from the other side of the cliffs.

  They think they’re cool. As cool as any kingfisher. They wear sunglasses and anklets made out of seaweed and hang out at all the coves along the west side of Cornwall.

  They’re okay, I guess. Although, not as cool as Saxon.

  No one’s as cool as Saxon… except my grandad.

  Grandad’s not only the number one flier round these parts but he’s also an actor!

  Or, he was. He’s retired now.

  He used to perform at the Minack Theatre - the famous open-air theatre here in Cornwall.

  He’s starred with some of the biggest names in show business… such as Merle Ostrich in Wuthering Heights, Kestrel Winslet in Titanic and he performed in a pop video with Kittiwake Minogue.

  He thought she was very nice but spent far
too much time fluffing up her tail feathers.

  He doesn’t let anything get in his way. Grandad’s really brave.

  Many years ago, he found himself trapped in an old and forgotten fishing net. It can be very dangerous for the creatures that live in the sea never mind gulls. Anyway, Grandad was stuck fast like in a steel trap but he wasn’t about to give up. Using all his strength and lots of wriggling he managed to escape with his life but lost his foot in the process.

  Not that it matters one little bit.

  Nobody needs legs when they’re flying, just ask World War II hero, humanitarian and animal supporter, Duck Bader.

  Except perhaps when they land. The landings can get a bit bumpy.

  Sometimes he looks more like a rabbit hopping along than a seagull coming in to land.

  It was Grandad who taught me how to tap dance on the grass. We do it to fool the worms to make them think it’s raining… and when they pop their heads up from out of the ground… well… you can guess the rest.

  Not such a happy ending for the worm, but a seagull has to eat.

  I’m not sure what I want to do when I grow up.

  I might take up acting or become an explorer like my mum and dad.

  That’s why Grandad looks after George, my younger brother, and me. My parents are away exploring different territories along the coast in case we have to move on.

  Like I said, it’s hard being a seagull.

  I’m glad not everyone thinks like the Sign People.

  The tourists love us!

  Only the other day I overheard a nice lady talking to Mr Trewellan in his shop.

  ‘I love to hear the screech of a seagull because then I know I’m near to the sea,’ she said to Mr Trewellan, who was busy wrapping up two strawberry crumble cakes I’d had my eye on all morning.

  At least the tourists appreciate us and Penzance depends on tourists and not only Penzance but all the other seaside towns too.

  And that’s when I got my idea... a brilliant idea!

  Well, at least I thought it was brilliant.

  Chapter Three

  I told Saffron all about it.

  We were sitting on the granite rocks out at Land’s End.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Sally,’ she said while preening her feathers. ‘Isn’t it a little bit dangerous?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I replied.

  ‘What does your grandad say?’

  ‘I haven’t told him yet,’ I replied as I fiddled with my headscarf. It’s exactly like the one that Spice Bird wears, Vulture Beckham.

  ‘Won’t he find out about it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Soon,’ I added.

  In fact, he found out a lot sooner than that - the very next day.

  Grandad was hopping mad. Literally. He looked like a pneumatic drill.

  ‘Sally Seagull,’ he spluttered. ‘I don’t know where you get your hare-brained ideas from, I really don’t.’

  I looked down as I traced my foot in the sand. ‘George didn’t mind,’ I answered.

  ‘George is too young to know what he wants.’

  ‘Nothing happened.’

  ‘It could have though, all sorts of things could have happened.’

  Why are adults always concerned about what could have happened. It didn’t, so where’s the problem.

  Humans could get run over crossing the road but they still cross it, don’t they? They cross it but they’re careful while they’re doing it.

  ‘I’m responsible for you and George, you should have told me about your plans, Sally.’

  ‘I was being careful, Grandad,’ I said, while standing there looking suitably told off and sorry and I promised never to do anything like it again. ‘I promise, Grandad.’

  What was it that I’d done? I’d put on a show of fancy flying and aerobatics in front of the tourists.

  Whoosh! I flew in low over George and then whoosh! Together we weaved in and out of the palm leaves, called fronds, on one of the many palm trees found standing along the seafront like soldiers on parade.

  And guess what we did for the big finale?

  I climbed up high in the sky to free-fall all the way back down to Earth again. The tourists loved it. They clapped and cheered and we were having a great time until the Sign People arrived.

  The moment I saw them waving their arms about I made sure George was well out of the way. I’d never let anything happen to him.

  I wanted to show the Sign People how much the tourists love us.

  ‘I wanted to show them, Grandad,’ I said.

  ‘I know, Sally. You’re a good girl. It’s simply that I don’t trust those Sign People you don’t know what they’re capable of.’

  ‘Back to the drawing board then, Grandad?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, my lovely, I’m afraid so.’

  I stood there looking thoughtful for a moment and then said. ‘What’s for dinner tonight, Grandad? Can I help?’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he said, and smiled. ‘A bit of swordfish if I can find any unless,’ he paused as he looked up from polishing his glasses, ‘unless you’d like to catch a few mackerel over in Sennen Cove?’

  Sennen Cove? You mean, the same Sennen Cove where Saxon hangs out? Let me think about this… not. I was out of there in seconds flat.

  But only after I’d fixed and preened my feathers first, of course.

  A few minutes later, I was circling above looking down at the little cove nestled amongst the granite rocks and rows of cottages set further back. They looked tiny, barely big enough for a seagull to live in let alone a human.

  Of course they are much larger close up. They only look like they’re made from toy building blocks from the sky.

  The sea splashed against the rocks sending a shower of water high in the air and all over me. I wasn’t having much luck. It looked like the fishermen had beaten me to it, again, although I wasn’t about to give up.

  I knew a mackerel would swim along before too long.

  I flew up and away to land squarely on the roof of The Round House and Capstan Gallery (it sells such pretty things and I know because I’ve peeped in through their window).

  Anyway, shopping was not on my mind that day. I was too busy searching for our fish dinner and keeping a lookout for Saxon.

  I hopped about until I found a comfortable spot on which to perch and shook off the last few droplets of water. I sat there for what felt like forever. Dreaming of Saxon. Wondering what I would say to him when I accidentally on purpose bumped into him... when a sudden movement startled me out of my daydreams.

  I almost fell off the roof.

  Who do you think was gliding skillfully across the water towards me like a Red Arrow?

  Grandad.

  And guess who was with him?

  I felt myself blush as red as that cheeky worm stealing robin.

  It was Saxon.

  Chapter Four

  Grandad was shouting something, but what with the noise of the waves crashing against the rocks I could only make out the odd word.

  ‘… worked… success… famous.’

  Famous? What was he talking about? ‘What are you talking about, Grandad?’ I shouted across the water.

  ‘… fish and chips…’ I caught as he flew right past me.

  Fish and chips?

  With one swift movement Saxon landed beside me. ‘Come with us, Sally, we have something to show you.’

  ‘All right,’ I replied, and blushed.

  I didn’t know what all the excitement and fuss was about, but I didn’t much care. I was about to soar high in the sky with Saxon Seagull. Life didn’t get any better.

  I was about to find out how wrong I could be!

  We flew all the way to the seafront in Penzance before coming into land. I stood there panting like a dog as I tried to catch my breath. I wasn’t used to flying quite so fast.

  Saxon waddled over to where I was trying to hide the fact I was nearly passing out and gently
placed his wing on mine.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked with some concern.

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ I replied, blushing to the root of my quills.

  ‘Sally!’ Grandad called excitedly as he flew in tiny circles in preparation.

  It’s the only way he can land without bouncing halfway to Devon and back again.

  ‘It worked!’ he shouted as he hopped over to where I was standing next to Saxon.

  ‘What worked, Grandad?’

  ‘Your plan, it worked after all.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Look!’

  I did as I was told and looked in the direction his beak was pointing. I gasped as I stood there. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming.

  The pinch hurt. It was real. I wasn’t asleep and it wasn’t a dream.

  This was really happening.

  Chapter Five

  Saffron was there.

  So was the cool gang, you know the one I mean… seaweed anklets and wearing sunglasses when the sun isn’t even shining.

  George was there too, waving excitedly, along with all our neighbours and friends.

  It was the biggest flock of seagulls I had ever seen.

  ‘The Sign People will love this,’ I said, and giggled.

  ‘The Sign People don’t have any say in the matter,’ Grandad replied as he adjusted the cravat he always wore round his neck.

  Most actors wear them. It’s an actor thing.

  ‘Why? What’s going on?’

  ‘Sidney Seagull and his wife, Sophie,’ Grandad paused and nodded over to where George was nestled protectively in the wings of an older couple, ‘were strolling along the seafront, as they do every evening before turning in, and came across a newspaper in which were the remains of a portion of fish and chips.’

  I listened carefully wondering where this was going.

  ‘That’s when they saw it.’

  ‘Saw what?’ I asked.

  ‘Your story in the local newspaper - the tourists rebelled.’

  ‘The tourists did what?’

  ‘They rebelled. They said they wouldn’t come to Penzance any longer unless the Sign People took away their signs and allowed the seagulls to come and go as they pleased. They said it would be unreasonable even to think of having a seafront without any seagulls and they weren’t going to stand for it.’