‘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.
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
