by Karen King
Buddy gave her a scornful look and turned his back on her.
He really was a character, Hattie thought, remembering that she still hadn’t googled what parrots liked to eat. She grabbed her phone and pulled up a search on feeding parrots. Ah! They liked fresh fruit, veg, cooked eggs, chicken and turkey. She’d get him some broccoli, a good source of vitamin D. And a corn on the cob to peck at. That should cheer him up. As soon as she’d had a bite to eat, she’d clean out the fridge and then go to the local supermarket for a shop. She wanted to spend tomorrow morning cleaning and sorting out the two bedrooms and bathroom, before going to Gwel Teg to meet Sue’s daughter and fiancé. Then she planned on taking a walk along the beach. She was going to make the most of the glorious late-May weather and beautiful location. The day after, Monday, she would take a trip to Truro and leave a poster in some of the shops there too.
It was still warm, too warm to traipse around the supermarket in her bike leathers, so she changed into crops and a T-shirt, then took the cover off the bike and wheeled it out of the back yard – just as the gate to next door opened and Marcus came out. His gaze went to the bike, then back to her. She guessed he was surprised that she rode a motorbike instead of driving a car; a lot of people were. She loved motorbikes: the feel of the wind against her face, the convenience of being able to weave in and out of the traffic, of not having a problem parking. She fastened her helmet and straddled the bike, giving him a smile and a wave before she zoomed off.
Marcus watched her ride away. It was a nice bike, an electric-blue Harley, and she had good control of it although he thought she was pretty stupid to ride without her leathers, even if it was hot. Marcus could see why people liked motorbikes; he’d had one himself when he was younger, although he preferred his Volkswagen camper now, so he had somewhere to put his surfboard and other gear. Plus, it was far warmer than a motorbike in the cold and rain. He often took off in his camper van for the weekend if he wasn’t working, and liked not having to worry about booking accommodation.
He watched as Hattie turned the corner, her crops showing off an enticing expanse of tanned legs. She really was gorgeous.
He swatted his last thought away. Looks weren’t everything. Kaylee had taught him that. He would never again be turned by a pretty face and a hot body. It was personality, character, and loyalty that mattered. And this Hattie seemed to be lacking all three.
He wondered how Buddy was doing. He must wonder why Marcus wasn’t coming around anymore, and who Hattie was. He hoped she had remembered to give the parrot some fresh water and food, and to clean out the cage. Buddy hated a messy cage, so Marcus always changed the paper in the bottom every day, and gave the whole cage a good clean every week. He’d mention it to Hattie next time he saw her – if he could manage to get a few words out without them arguing, that was! He’d tell her the treats Buddy liked, too. She would probably think he was interfering, but he had a responsibility to Buddy – he’d promised Albert he’d look after his beloved bird.
Right now, though, he had to go to work. He enjoyed his evening shifts at Gwel Teg, it gave him time to paint during the day and meant he earned a living doing his two favourite things: cooking and painting. Most people assumed that he was waiting for his big break so that he could quit his job and spend his days painting instead, but he didn’t want to give up his job. Painting could be a solitary occupation, and Marcus enjoyed company far too much to be on his own every day. Also, not having to earn his living by painting meant he didn’t have any pressure to paint. If he didn’t feel like painting one day, fine, he would go surfing, or out for a ride in his camper. Unless he had a commission, like now. He frowned. This current job paid well but it wasn’t really his cup of tea; he’d be glad to be finished it. Lady Felicity Thomwell was nice enough, but her daughter Estelle made no bones about the fact that she had designs on Marcus, which made the job difficult. How did you turn down a client’s daughter without upsetting her and without losing the work?
Hattie parked her bike in the supermarket car park then grabbed a trolley and went inside, taking the short list she’d scribbled out of her back pocket. She’d love to get a treat for Buddy but – as she’d thought – there wasn’t much of a pet-food section, so she got him some fresh fruit and vegetables.
She finished her shopping and went home, preparing herself for Buddy’s usual greeting as she walked through the door. To her surprise, not a peep came from the parrot’s cage. Putting her shopping down on the table she walked over. ‘Hello, Buddy, how are you?’ she asked. The parrot glared at her, but didn’t reply. Hattie glanced in the cage. It didn’t look as though he’d touched any of his food, and his water dish was still half full. That was worrying. ‘I’ve got some tasty treats for you. I just need to unpack first. I won’t be long.’
She hurriedly put her shopping away, then took the corn on the cob over to the parrot’s cage. She was a bit worried that Buddy might fly out when she opened the cage and that she wouldn’t be able to get him back in again, so she opened the door very warily. ‘Here you are, Buddy.’ Buddy watched her from his perch, but didn’t move. Hattie opened the door a little wider so she could get the corn on the cob inside. She placed it carefully on the floor of the cage. ‘You’ll like this, Buddy,’ she said. ‘Very tasty.’
Buddy flew down to the corn on the cob and sniffed it. Hattie watched him with relief. Thank goodness, now he was going to start eating – but suddenly she yelled as Buddy climbed up the cage bars and pecked her hand.
‘Ouch!’ she yelled, instinctively letting go of the door, and then Buddy was out.
‘Oh no! Buddy, come back!’ Hattie shouted in panic as the parrot flew across the room and perched on the dresser. She looked around frantically to see if any windows were open. No, thank goodness. So at least Buddy was confined to the cottage. Now all she had to do was coax him back into the cage again – which she was pretty sure wasn’t going to be easy. The only way she could think of doing it was to tempt him by putting some food in the cage, which wasn’t going to be simple as he didn’t seem to be interested in the corn on the cob. If only she knew what his favourite treat was! Well, she’d have to hope that the broccoli would entice him. She washed a chunk and pushed the stalk through the bars of the cage, near the perch.
‘Here you are, Buddy. Come and get a tasty treat,’ she called.
Buddy looked down from the top of the dresser but didn’t move.
Then Hattie remembered that Uncle Albert used to let the parrot out of his cage in the evenings and that Buddy would run along the top of the sofa screeching – and sometimes pecking the hair of anyone who was sitting on the sofa. She couldn’t remember how Uncle Albert got Buddy back in the cage again, but every morning when she came down for breakfast he was back inside, so she guessed he went in when he was ready. Providing she didn’t open any doors and windows, he ought to be safe enough. She didn’t want him getting out, or that black cat getting in and chasing him. Perhaps that’s what’s the matter with him, she thought. Maybe he was fed up of being locked in the cage. If she left him out for a while, he might go back in by himself and start eating.
She made herself a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa with her laptop. A couple of hours passed as she sorted out photographs to add to her Facebook page then used her phone to reply to emails. When she’d finished, she sent a message to Mali. Lou was with her father, Ricki, at the moment but she would be back home on Tuesday, so they were coming down then – only three days away - and going back Friday evening, travelling after dinner so Mali could avoid the heaviest traffic. Hattie was looking forward to seeing her friend again and having some company. Maybe she would be able to persuade Mali and Lou to come and stay with her for the six-week summer holidays, she thought.
Suddenly aware that she hadn’t heard a sound from Buddy for a while, she looked over at the cage, hoping he had flown inside. No sign of him. She got up and looked around. ‘Buddy? Where are you?’ she called, looking around in panic.
&
nbsp; Oh no, the kitchen door was ajar, she realised in panic. Had Buddy flown upstairs? Suddenly remembering that she had left the attic window open to air the room, and that she wasn’t sure she’d closed the bedroom door, she raced up the stairs.
Please don’t let Buddy have flown out!
As she hurried past Uncle Albert’s bedroom, she heard a familiar squark. ‘Get up, lazy sod. Get up!’
Buddy? She stopped. The door to the bedroom was open so she looked inside. ‘Buddy!’ she called, walking into the room. Uncle Albert’s bed looked as if he had just got out of it, the bedspread thrown back, a dent in the pillow. Buddy was hopping along the pillow, squawking. ‘Get up, lazy sod.’
Hattie swallowed the lump in her throat. He was looking for Uncle Albert.
She walked as softly as she could over to the bed. ‘He isn’t here, Buddy,’ she said gently. ‘I’m looking after you now.’
Buddy tipped his head on to one side and eyed her quizzically. ‘Bugger off!’ he screeched and flew to the top of the wardrobe, where he perched, staring at her with disdain.
Now what am I going to do?
‘He’s got to eat,’ she told herself. ‘He’ll come down when he’s hungry.’ She left the bedroom door ajar, went up and closed the attic window and door, then went back downstairs. She cooked a lasagne, leaving the door open so that the smell would waft up the stairs, but Buddy remained where he was. No amount of coaxing and cajoling would persuade him to come down, and eventually Hattie had to go to bed and leave him there. She left the lounge door open, hoping he would come down in the night and eat the broccoli or corn on the cob that she had left in the cage to entice him. And she prayed that he wouldn’t injure himself in any way. She could just imagine Marcus’s reaction if any harm came to Buddy.
Chapter Six
When Hattie got up the following morning, she found Buddy was fast asleep on the pillow of Uncle Albert’s bed. As soon as she stepped into the room, he squawked ‘Bugger off!’ and flew to the top of the wardrobe again.
Hattie sighed. There was nothing else for it. She would have to enlist Marcus’s help. Apart from the fact that she was worried about Buddy not eating, Mali and Lou were coming Tuesday night – just two days away – and would have to sleep in Uncle Albert’s room, so Hattie needed to change the sheets, freshen it up, and clean out all the parrot poo Buddy was leaving everywhere.
She frowned. She certainly wasn’t relishing the idea of asking for his help. It had to be done though. She’d have a shower and breakfast first, then go and see him.
Marcus opened the door, still towelling his hair dry, and stared in surprise at Hattie standing on the doorstep. He’d just stepped out of the shower when the doorbell rang, so had hastily pulled his shorts on.
‘Sorry to bother you,’ she said, looking awkward. ‘It’s just that Buddy has escaped from his cage and—’
‘What? How has he got out? You didn’t have a window open, did you?’ Marcus jumped in, annoyance and alarm in his voice.
‘No, of course not!’ she snapped. ‘I was putting some fresh food in his cage and he bit me, then flew out.’ Hattie showed him the red mark on her hand. ‘The – er – door was open a bit and he flew up the stairs into Uncle Albert’s room. He’s been there all night and won’t come out. I’ve tried to tempt him with broccoli and corn on the cob but he won’t budge. Actually, he doesn’t seem to be eating or drinking,’ she confessed. ‘I was wondering—’
‘He’s upset, that’s why. You’re a complete stranger to him, and all of his routine is shattered.’ He knew that the parrot was still grieving for Albert, and he was probably also wondering where Marcus had gone and what the hell a strange woman was doing in his house, and that’s why he wasn’t eating.
Her eyes sparkled with anger. ‘I realise that. I’m doing my best here. I came to ask if you could help me get him back into his cage. Sorry I troubled you.’ She turned and started to walk away.
He felt a bit bad for snapping at her like that. It wasn’t her fault. Buddy was really crafty and had managed to sneak out of the cage a few times when Marcus had been cleaning him out.
‘Look, he’s done that a couple of times with me. He’s missing Albert,’ he said, softening his tone. ‘That’s why I left the sheets on Albert’s bed. I usually let him out for a bit so he can go into Albert’s old room. He can smell Albert on the bedding and it comforts him a bit. He usually flies back to his cage in the night though; he’s always there when I check on him in the morning. So, maybe if you leave it a little while, he’ll fly back.’
‘The thing is, I really need him out of there. I’ve got a friend and her daughter coming to stay in a couple of days, so I need to change the bedding and clean the room for them.’ She pushed a lock of white-blond hair out of her eyes. ‘And I’m really worried that Buddy’s not eating.’
Just as he’d thought: she wanted rid of the parrot. Well, it was only what he’d expected. He’d have to offer to take Buddy off her hands, and make sure he put him somewhere safe, away from Mr Tibbs. Maybe he could keep him in his studio in the attic and make sure the door was always closed. ‘Give me a few minutes to put a top on and comb my hair, and I’ll come and get him,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring my carry cage. I bought it when Albert was ill because he wanted Buddy to keep him company and it was easier to take him upstairs in a little cage.’ Marcus had let Buddy out for an hour to keep the old man company in the evening, then come back after his shift to coax the bird back inside again and take him downstairs for the night so Albert could sleep in peace.
‘Thanks. Can you come around the back? I’ll leave the gate and back door unlocked.’
Hattie walked away and Marcus went upstairs to grab a
T-shirt and give his hair a quick comb, then went into the spare bedroom for the small carry cage. He would bring the big cage around, too, later on; this one didn’t have enough room for Buddy to fly around. On the way out, he grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl, and his keys, then pulled the door shut behind him and went round to next door.
‘Only me!’ he called as he let himself in, closing the door behind him. Hattie walked through from the lounge, her eyes resting on the smaller cage and then flitting to the banana.
‘We’ll get him in this, then move him to the big cage.’ Marcus held up the banana. ‘Buddy’s favourite treat,’ he explained.
She looked disappointed. ‘I got him broccoli and corn on the cob,’ she said. ‘I did an Internet search and that’s what it said parrot’s like.’
‘Buddy likes carrots and apples, but he’s really mad for bananas.’
‘Ah, I’ve got a couple in the fruit bowl. They’re one of my favourite snacks,’ Hattie said. ‘I’ll show you the way.’ She set off up the hall to the staircase as if she thought that Marcus didn’t know the way, whereas he had climbed these stairs many a time, often with a hot meal in his hands when Albert had been bedridden with the flu.
Marcus tried not to notice Hattie’s cute bum in those clinging denim shorts and her long, long legs as she went up the narrow staircase ahead of him – he was way past the stage where looks were the most important thing to him – although, yes, he was a red-blooded male and a pretty face and gorgeous figure were appealing, but personality was what mattered most to him, and he wasn’t impressed with what he’d seen of Hattie’s character so far.
‘He’s in there.’ Hattie pushed the door of Albert’s bedroom right open, and Marcus stepped inside. He had to swallow and compose himself for a couple of minutes, as the memory of the old man lying desperately ill in bed came flooding back to him. Albert had been so weak and helpless and had had no one to depend on but him. Marcus’s anger at Albert’s selfish, absent, vulture family came flooding back.
‘Are you all right?’
Hattie’s question jerked him back to the present. He turned to her and, to his surprise, saw genuine concern in her brilliant-blue eyes.
‘Yes. It’s just . . . being in this room reminds me of when your uncle was ill,�
� he said gruffly.
‘You used to come up here, you mean? Was he ill in bed and you looked after him?’
‘Yep. Too ill to do anything for himself. It was me who called the doctor in to him. I tried to look after him, but he got worse and had to go into hospital. He never came out.’ Marcus knew that he sounded abrupt and cold, but he was actually fighting back the tears that sprang to his eyes as he remembered how ill and alone the old man had been.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’ Hattie’s voice was a whisper.
He didn’t dare look at her face. He was just about holding it together as it was. ‘You would have, if you’d have bothered to keep in touch with him!’ He snapped the words out, then glanced at her and felt a twinge of remorse at the hurt look on her face. The quicker he got Buddy and himself both out of there, the better. His anger at how callously Albert had been treated, and how quickly his family had turned up to claim their inheritance as soon as he had died, was eating into him and he felt that, any minute now, it would erupt into a furious outburst.
He put the travel cage down on the bed and opened the door.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Buddy screeched, peering down at Marcus from the top of the wardrobe.
‘Hello, mate,’ Marcus said. ‘Look what I’ve got for you.’ He sat down on the bed and unpeeled the banana. Then he took a bite out of the top of it.
There was a flutter of wings and then Buddy was on his shoulder, biting into the banana too. Marcus let Buddy nibble it for a while, then casually tossed the last piece of banana into the cage. Buddy squawked and flew in after it. Marcus closed the cage triumphantly.
‘Hey, well done!’ Hattie said, clapping. ‘I’m so pleased to see him eating.’
‘I’m used to looking after him. I know what he likes. And he’s used to me. I guess he’s been missing me.’ Marcus picked up the cage and carried it down the stairs, leaving Hattie to follow him.
