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‘I’m not sure scolding her afterwards will work. She probably doesn’t realise what she’s done.’

‘Oh, if she’s smart enough to choose who she accepts food from, I think she’s smart enough to learn this concept. You—’ he tapped the bird on the beak ‘—do not bite people. Especially Angela, who’s here to help build your cage so you can stay with me. You should apologise to her.’ He glared at the bird, who waddled from side to side, clacking her beak as she shifted from foot to foot.

‘Rick, I don’t think she understands.’ Angela started to look a bit awkward.

‘I think she can. And if she doesn’t yet, then she can learn. Paul says they’re easily as smart as a three or four-year-old child. And kids are old enough to understand.’ At least, he thought they probably were. He stuck his hands on his hips, remembering what Nancy had said about birds fluffing up to look bigger when they were facing off for a fight. ‘Say you’re sorry to Angela.’

He felt like a complete idiot, standing off against a bird who didn’t have a clue what he was doing — if Angela was right, and she usually was about things like this. But something inside him told him he was right, and now he’d committed. He’d look a real tit if he backed down. So instead he glared at the bird, waiting for it to respond. After a few, painfully long moments in which he questioned his sanity, Chicken-butt tilted her head and let her crest fall back into its relaxed position. After a few moments more, she sidled up to Angela and whistled softly, then blew a couple of kisses and bowed her head for itches.

‘Wow, did that actually just happen?’ Angela reached out a slow, wary finger and gently ruffled a few feathers. ‘Oh! She’s so soft.’

‘There’s a good girl, Chicken-butt.’ She ran back towards him, fluffing her crest feathers and bobbing her head. He held out his hand and she ran up his arm to his shoulder.

‘I can’t believe that just happened.’ Angela laughed, stepping closer to look at the bird. So close that he could see flecks of blue deep in her eyes. ‘But are you really going to keep calling her Chicken-butt?’

‘I probably should think of something better,’ he mused, still distracted by that blue . . . or was it turquoise? . . . playing at the edge of her pupils. ‘I just hadn’t really thought about it.’ He was hit by another pang of guilt. No proper cage, no previous experience and not even a proper name. There was no way he was the right person for this animal.

‘Hey.’ Angela rested a hand on his arm, the warmth from her palm soaking straight through his jumper to his bare skin. ‘If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, you should stop right now.’

‘And what do you think I’m doing?’

‘Starting to panic. Maybe even feeling a little guilty. Thinking you’re in over your head.’ If she’d read his mind she couldn’t have been more accurate. ‘You might feel like you don’t know what you’re doing, but she does. I’ve seen it happen a lot with rehomes, when an animal picks their humans. There was one just a couple of months ago, a very sweet little Jack Russell who a friend offered to foster while I was recovering. I’m pretty sure he’s going to be staying with her and her family now. This bird . . . whatever you’re going to call her . . . has made it very clear that you’re her choice. She trusts you.’

‘But what if I fu— screw up?’

‘You probably will. You’re going to make mistakes. Just try not to make them terrible ones and she’ll probably forgive you. What do you think, pretty bird?’ She reached out her hand again, but backed off immediately when Chicken-butt hissed at her. ‘OK, so I’m only allowed to touch you on your terms. I can respect that.’ She laughed good naturedly, but Rick found himself staring at the spot where her hand had rested on his arm, already missing the contact.

‘I guess we should get on with madam’s cage,’ he said.

* * *

‘What about Rosie?’ Angela asked as she lifted the last panel into position — the cage was now nearly as tall as she was.

‘Well, she’s definitely got some thorns about her.’ Rick grinned as he started bolting the panel into place. ‘What do you think, are you a Rosie?’

The rude noise from the bird made Angela laugh. They’d been trying out different names, calling them out to the bird for most of the time they’d spent building the cage — although it was so big Angela thought an aviary might have been a better description. She was pretty sure she could lie down in it without braining herself — if she’d wanted to try.

‘Don’t think she likes that one.’ Rick laughed. ‘What about Nugget?’

Angela laughed. If a bird could have rolled her eyes, she was sure this one would have. ‘Peony?’

‘What’s that?’

‘Another flower. Usually pale pink with lots of fluffy petals.’

‘So you’re basically just naming after pink plants?’

‘Well, you said Paul and his team thought there was a good chance she’ll grow her feathers back, in which case she’ll be pink.’ It made sense to her.

‘I’m not sure I think she’s very floral though . . .’ Rick looked at the bird, who watched them with interest from the spot she’d claimed on the sofa in the large living room. ‘What do you think, Chicken-butt? Are you a pretty flower?’ The bird cackled in answer.

‘That sounded like a no to me.’ Angela laughed.

‘Yazoo?’

‘Like the milkshake?’ She screwed up her nose.

‘Yeah? Actually, maybe not. What about Floss, like candy floss?’ He pulled over a box filled with perches, ropes and toys, and Angela winced, mentally totting it up. It didn’t look like Rick had spared any expense in this setup. She was pleased he was taking things seriously, but part of her was a little jealous — she only wished she had these sorts of resources when it came to Bill’s.