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‘Yeah, I know.’ He sighed heavily, still looking miserable. ‘And it’s the best thing for her. I know that. But . . . do you think she seemed a bit reluctant to go? I felt like I was having to really shove her into that cage.’

‘Would you want to be pushed in a little travelling box when you didn’t know where you were going?’ Angela reasoned. ‘It doesn’t look nice, but it really is the safest way for her to travel.’

‘I suppose so. And Paul was very highly recommended by Jake’s colleague.’

‘Just still feels a bit miserable, doesn’t it?’

‘Yeah.’ Rick shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

‘The good thing about this, over other rescues, is you can always call Paul in a few days and see how she’s getting on. We don’t get that when it’s hedgehogs or moorhens being released.’

‘No, I guess not.’

‘And, maybe when she’s settled, we could go visit.’ Angela didn’t know why she’d made the offer, but the way Rick’s eyes lit up, she knew it was the right thing.

‘Really?’

‘Sure. Fifty miles isn’t that far, and I’d quite like to see these aviaries Paul mentioned. Maybe I’ll get some ideas to improve the ones here.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’ Rick had gone back to being quiet and pensive again.

‘Hey, this really is a good outcome for her,’ Angela promised, wanting to see Rick’s smile again, but not fully understanding why it meant so much to her.

‘Yeah.’ Rick was still looking at the floor.

‘Hey.’ Angela rested her hand on his shoulder. ‘This really is for the best.’

‘I just never expected to get so attached to that bald chicken-butt so fast.’ He looked at her hand on his shoulder, then up at her. When his dark eyes locked on hers, a shock of heat flared through Angela. What on earth was that about?

Thankfully, Rick didn’t seem to notice, shrugging and heading towards Ernie’s pen.

* * *

Three days later, Rick looked up as Angela joined him in the food prep room, a solemn look on her face that worried him. He’d seen her happy, angry, sad, scared and when she was concentrating — focussing all of her attention and efforts on an animal — but he’d never seen her looking quite so . . . defeated.

‘Rick, can I have a word?’

‘Sure, what’s up?’ He washed his hands, skipped around Ruby, who was trying to wrap herself around his ankles like a cat, and headed over to where Angela was standing. The closer he got, the more his stomach churned with worry. The way she held herself, the look on her face . . . worry flooded him. ‘Seriously, Angela, what’s wrong?’

‘I’ve had a call from Paul at the parrot rescue. It’s not good, Rick.’

‘My little cockatoo mate? What happened?’

‘Paul and his team aren’t really sure. But she’s refusing food. Their vet can’t find anything wrong to explain it. They’ve crop-tubed her twice — force feeding her — and they’re going to try that for a couple more days, but if she doesn’t start feeding herself soon . . .’ She shrugged sadly.

‘If she doesn’t start feeding herself soon then what?’

Angela took a deep breath. ‘Then they’ll let her go.’

‘What does that mean?’ He had a good idea, but surely it couldn’t be what he dreaded to think.

‘It means they’ll put her to sleep. I’m sorry, Rick.’ Her hand was warm on his forearm, but he yanked away, not wanting comfort right then. ‘You have to understand, if she can’t or won’t eat, she won’t have any quality of life. It’s kinder just to let her go gently.’

‘She was eating fine when she was here with us,’ he argued, wanting there to be some sort of mistake. ‘Hell, you saw her stealing the biscuits off my plate.’

‘She ate with you. Me she just bit. It could be that shock and infection set in, or something like that,’ Angela guessed. ‘It just happens sometimes.’

‘Right. Thanks for letting me know.’ That seemed the polite thing to say. ‘I’ll go finish off with the donkeys.’ He didn’t wait for her reply before storming away. It was so bloody unfair. The little bird had been so sweet — with him, at least — and lively and funny. She’d been through so much, and finally found somewhere that she should be safe and loved, only to give up and die. It was just so fucking stupid.