The Panacea Programme

Chapter Three - Tabatha

Tabatha sits on the sill of her bedroom window cushioned underneath by an arrangement of pillows, a pack of frozen peas resting on the flushed skin of her forehead. She's in her pyjamas reading her favourite book for the seventh time and dreaming of what it would be like to be the heroine. 

She's a shy girl. An introvert. Doesn't have many friends except her neighbour Michael, but she doesn't mind. She figures it's better not to draw attention to herself anyway. The other kids at school had shown her that. It's an overcast day, and the light that filters through the clouds and down to her bedroom window is just perfect for reading. Not too bright and not too dim. A constant cacophony of traffic and the bustle of pedestrians' rise from the streets below, animating the world beyond the glass. She lives in the heart of the city.

Tabatha turns the pea pack around to the colder side, re-places it on her head and lifts her eyes from her book to gaze out at the quaint narrow streets skirting the city park. She fiddles with her chameleon necklace that she got from her father on her tenth birthday. She's seventeen now and its opalescent belly still glints brilliantly, shifting colour in the light as it tumbles between her fingers. 

Her mind is lost in thought as the cars pass by. Out of nowhere, an urban woodpigeon flutters down and lands softly on the outer window ledge. It stares curiously with small, glassy marble eyes at the human across the pane. "Hey there little one." Tabatha grins, surprised by the unexpected company and slowly lowers herself to kneel on the floor, so as not to scare the little creature away.

The pigeon inches closer. Cocking its head to each side it investigates before tapping the window lightly with its beak. Tabatha beams, astonished by the courage of the little creature. "Would you like some food?" she whispers and stops for a moment to ponder what she has to offer. Tabatha marches stiffly and aching to the kitchen and tears a chunk of bread from the fresh loaf in the bread bin. She soaks it in water to soften it and trots back to her bedroom hoping her new pigeon acquaintance hasn't since left. 

Upon reaching the window again, there's now two of them, sitting patiently and preening their feathers. "You have a companion!" she exclaims and very gently unlatches the window at the base, cautiously raising it. A cool, fresh breeze flows in and swirls around the room carrying a subtle fragrance of coffee from nearby cafés. The two little birds shuffle backwards to the edge of the ledge. The girl breaks the soggy bread down into several bite sized pieces and tosses the lot along the sill. The pigeons get to work and hastily pluck up piece by piece waddling around on little claw feet.

Just then, there's a loud knock on the front door. "Who is it?" Tabatha calls and leaves the birds to enjoy their feast. "It's Michael." Tabatha ambles to the door and unlocks the bolts. "Hey Tab. How are you feeling?" he asks as the door creaks open. The boy is clammy and appears just as feverish as Tabatha. "I'm doing fine, thank you. Just resting," she replies softly.

"Not getting sick anymore?" "No. Not since yesterday," she confirms. "Same." He shuffles his feet. "I've been thinking, and I have an idea." A hint of excitement in his voice intrigues her. "Yes? Go on then." "Why don't we go to the park and get an ice-cream from that stall outside the zoo? I haven't been out of the apartment all day. I'm so bored I think I'm slowly going insane." He looks at Tabatha hopeful. Met with the briefest musings of deliberation, she doesn't appear entirely convinced by his idea. "I'm not at all hungry if I'm to be honest. My legs ache quite a great deal. Besides, my father will be back from work in an hour, and he told me that I'm not meant to be in contact with other sick people. The CDCP advised it so."

"Hmm. I see. Well as it happens, I'm not hungry either. But we could get small cones and it'll be great for the fever. It'll rehydrate you. Cool you down. We'll be back in thirty minutes, maximum, well before your dad is home. Also, don't you think some fresh air would do you good?" he insists, erupting in a brief fit of rapid-fire sneezes.