Deena knew it was five o'clock by the slant of the shadow on her bedroom door. That, and the cacophony of birds settling for the night on the huge oak outside, told her that yet another day was coming to an end. She had lain in bed for three weeks now; with a crushed ankle and fractured ribs – the result of a bicycle accident still fresh in her mind. Exactly three weeks earlier she had gone bike riding. The ground had been slippery from the heavy downpour of the previous night, and she'd slid on a grassy slope and tumbled into a tree trunk, the handle bars digging into her ribs, her foot caught between her and the wheel. It had been hours before her parents had found her, and their relief had quickly turned to anger. She was supposed to be studying, not riding her bike.

The doctor had warned her, "Six weeks bed rest, if you don't want to end up with a permanent limp." Now she was missing out on school, swimming and netball, but more than anything, she missed her friends. At fifteen, she had better things to do than lay in bed all day… and six weeks was a long time.

Her parents both worked full time, and since she didn't care much for TV, her only companions had been the radio and magazines.

She knew all the hits by heart, and began humming a tune, trying to ignore the excitement she sensed out in the hall – the laughter, the subtle smell of perfume, and chatter as her parents and sister prepared for the evening ahead.

They had all been invited to her cousin's, Peter's, twenty first birthday party at the other side of town, but, of course, she wouldn't be going. She liked birthday parties and had hoped that one day she could have one of her own, but right now she was feeling fed-up and a little angry.

Her mother, Sophia, poked her head round the door. "Deena," she said, "we're leaving now – you'll be Okay ... right?"

"It's not fair mum!" Deena burst out. "Why can't you stay with me?"

"We'll be home early sweetie. Please stay in bed," Sophia reassured her, and blowing her a kiss promptly left the room.

"But ..." Deena protested, then she heard the front door close, and all was quiet.

Feeling bored, she decided to write to her pen pal in England, but first she cut out a picture of a young model in a teen magazine, a model with long blonde hair, tanned, and wearing a cheeky bikini, advertising a new brand of swimwear. Then she wrote:

"Dear Sarah,

I hope you are well. I am having the most amazing time. You'll never guess what happened. I got chosen for the cheerleading team, and met a really spunky photographer, all in one week. His name is Matt, he's twenty one and so good looking. He wants to take me to a dance, but I have so much to do. There's practice with the team, rehearsals for the school play, modelling assignments ... oh, and heaps of homework (yuk!). Also, I have to help mum. I guess I'll just have to make time.

Anyway, I'm sending you a picture of me on a shoot at the beach. Please write back soon, and tell me what you've been doing.

Bye for now, Deena."

She closed her eyes and drifted off. At first it sounded as if someone was humming a tune outside, then she blinked open her eyes to see a hazy figure of a young man, leaning, arms folded, against the open window.

"Who are you?" she sat up, wide- eyed. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed he had some sort of wings attached to his back. He was wearing a loose, grey sweatshirt, black gym pants, and had the presence of a majestic eagle. He had strong, manly features, warm brown eyes, the colour of melted chocolate, and dark, wavy hair. Wow, she thought, unreal!

"Hello, Deena," the young man said. "How're you feeling?"

"Who are you?" she repeated.

"I'm ... a friend," he smiled. "How would you like to go for a little tour?"

"Are you serious? How do you know my name? H -how did you get in here? Did my parents hire you?"

"No, I know you from way back, and I thought you might need some company, so here I am."

"Whaat?" Deena shrieked.

"I'm a baby sitter of sorts," he went on, "so let's go."

"I don't know what you've heard," Deena protested," but I don't need a baby sitter, and I'm not allowed to get out of bed – my parents will freak out! Besides, it's too painful to walk."

"Who said anything about walking? We're flying, and I promise to have you back before they return."

"You know my name," Deena said, "but I don't know yours."

He jumped down from the window sill, and offered his hand. "Call me anything you like," he shrugged, "but please, no insults."

"What's with the wings then? Are we off to a costume party?"

"I said- no insults. I can't help the wings; that's how I arrived on this planet."

Deena studied him for a few minutes. "You know; you look a bit like ... an angel, or an eagle… or, something," she stammered.

"Okay, me 'Eagle' - you 'Deena'. Shall we go then? Anywhere you like." Deena considered the situation- she'd been cooped up in that house for what seemed like eternity. Stuck in bed for another three weeks; alone, day after day! Who knew when she'd be allowed out again.

"Let's go then," she said.

He wrapped his arms around her, swooped her up, and in an instant they were through the window and airborne. They rose high above the ground, above her house, the trees, her school and all the neighbourhood. Dusk was creeping in now, as they flew over the sparkling city skyline; the airport, the Harbour Bridge, and the sails of the Opera House, aglow against the night. Everything was so Alive and yet so calm.

"Having fun?" Eagle asked.

"This is soooo good!" Deena exclaimed, "also a bit scary".

"Naah," Eagle reassured her, "you'll be fine."

Suddenly, Deena realised she was actually floating on a fluffy white cloud. Soft, and very comfortable. And Eagle was cruising on a cloud of his own alongside her. Above the earth they rose, slowly, higher and higher; the ocean below glistening in the moonlight. It was a warm summer's evening and the gentle breeze against her face was most welcome.

"This is unreal!" Deena exclaimed again. All she could see now were tiny specs beneath her and a big, dark velvet sky above. The cloud stopped briefly, as if it knew instinctively that she wanted to gaze at the earth, then it began to lift her higher and higher again away from the earth's atmosphere.

Now Deena realized she was in outer space. She noticed how bright and colourful the stars and planets were. She'd learnt about these in Science and tried to name them. The cloud stopped again and she decided to hop off and explore her surroundings. Effortlessly, she stepped off her cloud and marvelled that she could float in any direction she fancied.

"Care to dance?" Eagle held out his hand, and Deena happily obliged.

They danced palm to palm, swaying to and fro, and she found herself humming to the tune of "The Dancing Queen."

One of her secret desires had been to learn to dance, but her father, had never approved of such frivolous activities. Even at friends' birthday parties, he'd bring her home at ten p.m. sharp.

Here, now, she had no concept of time. No rules. She let go of Eagle's hands and floated off to dance by herself, amazed at the ease and grace she possessed. Her pale, round face was now beaming with joy, and her mass of brown curls swayed along with her movements.

"Deena," Eagle was beside her again. "I'd like you to have this," he said, offering her a large, pink and white flower. A lotus. She'd never seen a flower so perfectly formed. Symmetrical, delicate yet strong and upright.

"Wow, thank you; it's really beautiful!"

"Just like you," he smiled.

"Me? I'm not beautiful," she blushed. "My sister's the pretty one. She's quite amazing."

"How so?"

"Well, my sister Alexis, is only ten and already the most popular girl in her class. Her teachers say she's an excellent student, mum and dad are thrilled that she loves to cook and draw and she's so cute that soon all the boys will be chasing her."

"Bit envious eh?" Eagle said. "You must feel a little resentful towards her".

"Oh no, I love her; it's just that she gets away with everything." Deena continued. "Like when she broke mum's best vase, and all they said was 'Never mind darling; it was an accident.' I spill a bit of soup on the tablecloth and dad calls me a 'clumsy clutz', It's like ... the three of them; and me."

"Hmm, that doesn't seem fair," Eagle sympathised, "but you know what? It all starts with you. It seems to me, you don't like Deena much either."

Eagle was right. Ever since Deena could remember she'd wanted to be someone else. The talented dancer on TV. the prettiest girl in fifth grade, teacher's pet or dux of the school. She was never quite happy in her own skin, and although not an unattractive child, had always been shy, and especially uncomfortable around handsome young men. With Eagle though, she'd felt at ease and was having such a fun evening.

"Come on Deena, time to get you home," he said after a while.

"Must we go?" she pleaded.

"Well, I did promise," Eagle reminded her, "but, don't worry; we'll be seeing each other again."

There, beside her, the soft fluffy cloud reappeared. Deena floated towards it, perched herself on, and began descending towards the earth. Above her the stars became smaller and smaller and her eyelids became heavier and heavier, until gently they closed.

* * *

Sixty kilometres away, in a suburban bungalow, a birthday party was in full swing. Laughter and music spilled out onto the street as Sophia and George Spyliakos mingled with the crowd admiring their daughter, Alexis. She was dancing with her cousins, having the time of her life.

"Delightful, isn't she?" George cooed proudly to his relatives. "I'm counting on her going to university; she's a smart girl, this one ..." he continued, between Scotch and potato chips ...

George, heavyset, with a good head of hair and a moustache to match, was born in Greece.

His family had emigrated to Alexandria, in Egypt, in his formative years.

There, he'd gone on to college and later, had held a prestigious position as accountant and interpreter for the Bank of Cairo, working five hours a day, six days a week.

His wife, a gentle fair-haired beauty, had never worked outside the family home, not even in the garden - they'd had a gardener for that.

Deena remembered the gardener well. He was a lean, cheeky, young boy, named 'Ahmed,' and the one time she'd dared to say hello to him her father had dragged her inside the house,

"I won't have you getting friendly with the peasants Deena," he'd reprimanded her, "remember your place!"

Ironically, a month later, Egypt had declared ethnic cleansing. Any Europeans refusing to leave the country, had found it extremely difficult to get employment, and if they did, were paid a pittance for the most demeaning tasks.

With his career snatched from under him, a wife and two young girls to support, George was in a tight spot. He'd decided to leave the country he'd loved so much, and arranged to migrate to Australia. His sister and her family had established themselves there a few years earlier and encouraged him to join them.

So, he'd sold their grand old house, the house that Sophia's father had built for them in a fashionable part of Alexandria, bundled up their belongings and prepared to leave the country.

Deena would never forget that spring afternoon and how sad she'd felt waving goodbye to her grandma and grandpa as the ship pulled away from the dock. She'd always loved spending time with them. She and granny would bake treats together, and grandpa could tell the funniest stories. Deena would miss them both.

George and his family had boarded the huge ocean liner, 'Star of the Orient' and had been promised the experience of a lifetime. And so it was. The food had been divine, and the hospitality gracious, but it was the on-board activities that had really impressed Deena ball games, fancy dress parties, and swimming pools; she'd never been in a swimming pool before.

On the last night of the journey, during a banquet, Deena was fidgeting with her cutlery and accidently knocked over a glass of orange juice. It splashed over her pink taffeta dress, rolled along the tablecloth and onto the floor before she could jump to her feet.

"Oh, no!" she'd squealed, glancing up at her mother.

"Come along," Sophia had said, "let's get you cleaned up."

"I know where the bathroom is - down the hall and around the corner, you don' t have to come," Deena had reassured her mother.

"Well, hurry back then."

The girl, only too happy to leave the table, had strolled down the corridor, towards the bathrooms. She'd washed her hands and cleaned up as much of the stain as she could, but the front of her dress had become saturated, clinging to her body.

On the way back, she'd noticed two older girls, looking at her, giggling. Then one of them had remarked, "Hey chubby girl, I think you've been eating too many puddings, and drinking too much lemonade."

Then, pulling a funny face, they'd run away. Deena, hurt and embarrassed, had stopped short, then hurried back to her place at the dinner table, and struggled to finish her meal.

She remembered clearly the day the ship had docked at Circular Quay. They had been travelling steadily for seven weeks, stopping briefly at Colombo, known today as Sri Lanka, and finally arriving at their destination.

It was mid May, and freezing. She was standing on the pier in her red and green tartan skirt, and the white sweater that her grandma had knitted for her seventh birthday. She was wearing white socks and black patented leather shoes, her favourites.

Her mother was holding her hand on one side and her younger sister's on the other. Her father was fumbling for the correct dialogue, giving instructions to a porter regarding their luggage. Apprehensive and excited at the same time, Deena had momentarily drifted off, as usual, in a day-dream; fascinated by the pearly, swirls of colour floating on the surface of the water between the ship's hull and the pier. She'd wondered how deep the water was and what it would be like to dive into the deepest blue sea, and swim with the dolphins and the mermaids, and ...

The bustling crowds had jolted her back to reality. The whole place had been buzzing with strangers; rushing, shouting, embracing. Then, out of nowhere, appeared a group of people with anxious faces moving towards Deena's family, faces searching for a smile of recognition, and before long these people were throwing their arms around Deena and her parents and sister. There were hugs and kisses everywhere, laughter and tears together, and Deena loved it all.

* * *

Life in the new country meant George and his wife had to work hard. Their new home, a neglected, old, Federation style bungalow, was constantly crying for attention. A leaky roof, doors that wouldn't close, and Lantana in the backyard kept George and Sophia on their toes.

They scrubbed and hammered, and painted – mostly on weekends, sometimes after work.

Lace curtains and cushions, made by Sophia's clever hands, graced the interior, while George's passion for gardening provided the family with fresh vegetables.

With their mother working long hours at the linen factory, the girls had learnt to look after themselves, walking to and from school, making beds, and helping in the kitchen.

No time for after school recreation. Deena and Alexis amused themselves with drawings and practising to speak English. Mostly though, it was dinner, homework, bath and bed.

Occasionally, there'd be a train trip to the beach or a family get-together, times which were truly cherished.

Sophia missed the social gatherings of her homeland, and tonight she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Deeply engrossed in conversation now, with the women, it was only the niggling thought of her elder child at home that prompted her to approach George. She chose her words carefully so as not to upset her husband, who seemed happy and relaxed.

"George," she spoke softly, "we'd better get going - it's late. I'm very tired, and, remember - you're being picked up at six in the morning for fishing."

"Ah yes, it is late," he agreed, reluctantly ushering Sophia towards their old F.J. Holden.