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He pulled his coat sleeve as far over his hand as he could, and tucked his fingers into a tight fist, hoping it would make it harder for the bald devil to get hold of him. ‘Come on, you ungrateful brat.’ He channelled his sternest former teachers. ‘Up you get, and no more of your nonsense.’ Don’t bite me, please don’t bite me. He repeated the mantra in his head while offering his wrist to the hellion hen.

Much to his amazement, and slight horror, one scaley foot followed the other to step onto his wrist. He stood up slowly, gingerly, not wanting to disturb what had to be the ugliest living creature he’d ever seen. And, judging by the way Angela was still cradling her hand, one of the meanest. ‘Are you all right?’

‘It’s not bleeding too badly, but I’m not sure I can bend my thumb. Hardly surprising as someone here—’ she leaned closer, giving him a whiff of that oddly compelling sweet-hay scent that she seemed to carry with her ‘—tried to crack my knuckle like it was a walnut.’

As soon as she was close enough, the featherless heathen lunged for her again, beak wide and hissing like an angry snake, and Rick had to fumble to keep it from crashing to the floor. Not that he wasn’t sure it would have been deserved. Angela was one of the nicest people he knew, and this . . . goblin of a thing . . . was attacking her, dancing up and down and lunging and cackling.

If he’d stopped to think, he would never have done it — it was utterly stupid — but as usual he didn’t think, instead acting on the instincts that had so often led to him doing stupid things. He tapped it hard on the beak. ‘Stop it, you. We’re trying to save your ungrateful, naked butt. If you keep biting I’ll put you back in the box to freeze or drown. I mean it.’ The fugly thing froze, its head tilted to one side as it looked at him, appearing to think. After a moment it wriggled its creepy wings and edged along his arm to sit in the crook of his elbow, looking up at him.

‘Right, looks like it’s decided it likes you. Let’s get back inside where we can all dry off and warm up. And hopefully we can find something to feed it other than my hand.’

* * *

Angela eyed the parrot warily. She needed to examine it, but had the feeling it wasn’t going to be an easy task. It seemed quite content sitting on Rick’s elbow, mouthing — or beaking — his jacket. She didn’t know all that much about parrots — a visit to Jake would definitely be in order — but she did know birds, and knew this one needed help. She needed to check it over for injuries, warm it up and find something to feed it to start with.

‘Right, let’s be having a look at you.’ She approached the bird slowly, one hand tucked behind her back and the other stretched out, palm up so her fingers couldn’t be mistaken for claws or talons. After all, parrots were prey animals. As soon as she was within range, the bird lunged at her, hissing and snapping at her fingers. ‘OK, towel it is. Sorry, but I need to look you over properly.’

With a deftness brought on by years of practice, she dropped the towel over the hissing, bobbing head and soon had the bird swaddled up, pinning the wings gently so as to avoid injury. The bird was a lot stronger than the ones Angela commonly dealt with, and it put up more of a fight than the moorhen — wriggling, squawking and muttering dark, rude words.

‘Can I help?’ Rick reached out for the angry bundle and snuggled it back against him, laying it against his arm as if it was a baby. ‘Now come on, you, stop your silliness. Angela’s just going to take a quick look at you and make sure you’re OK, then we’ll find you something nice to eat. And besides, you’re soaking wet. We need the towel to dry you off. I might not know what you are, but I’m pretty sure you’re not a duck!’

To Angela’s utter shock the bundle stopped swearing and started making happy clucking noises. ‘What did you do?’

‘Don’t know.’ Rick chuckled. ‘But it seems to have worked.’

‘Right, as you seem to be the chosen one, want to help?’

She watched as Rick thought about it, staring at the bird before looking up at her and nodding slowly. ‘Tell me what to do.’

‘All right.’ He followed her instructions, carefully unwrapping bits of the bird, keeping it happy and calm while she examined its feet, wings and head. The poor thing looked skinny to her, but she wasn’t sure how an almost-naked parrot should look. But she did know the bloody red hole under one wing was wrong in any bird.

‘Do you think she’d been attacked by something? Do we need to take her to your vet friend?’

Angela wasn’t sure when Rick had decided the bird was a hen, but she wasn’t going to argue. He’d been right about the cat. ‘I think she does need a visit to Jake, but I don’t think it was a cat or predator that’s had a go. I think this is self-inflicted, sadly.’

‘She’s done this to herself?’ His eyes were wide and pained. ‘Animals can self-harm?’

‘Yeah, they can. It’s not uncommon with parrots, sadly. Especially if they’ve been abused or neglected.’

‘You mean someone made her so miserable she attacked her own skin?’ Rick’s voice had dropped to a low, dangerous level.

‘Sadly, yes. She probably pulled her own feathers out too.’

‘If ever I meet the person responsible for causing her so much pain, I’m probably going to end up with a lot more than community service.’ He carefully unwrapped the towel, and grinned when the parrot walked up his arm and snuggled back against his chest.

‘Can’t say I don’t share the sentiment, but let’s not tell Harry, OK?’ She winked at him. ‘I think the local constabulary have enough to worry about without telling them things like that!’

Rick laughed with her, and once again Angela found herself pondering on how much he’d changed.

‘Guess I should give Jake a call, see if he can fit her in today.’

‘When you take her, do you think I could come too? I mean, I understand if you don’t want me there, but . . .’ He peered down at the parrot who had stuck her head inside his jacket. ‘I know it sounds stupid, but I think she might want me there.’

Angela laughed. ‘I think you might be right. And I’m not going to argue with anything with a beak that big!’

* * *

‘Parrots are not my speciality.’ Jake popped the bird back in the carry crate they’d transported her in, and she immediately waddled to the corner nearest Rick, climbed up and hung off the bars nearest him, demanding his attention with clucks and whistles.