Who was the mysterious sender behind this unusual parcel?
BY TERESA ASHBY
LAUREN opened the door to see the back of a man retreating down her front path. “Thank you!” she said thinking it was a delivery, before realising he looked pretty old and rather too well dressed to be a delivery man.
“I’m sorry about this,” he called out. “I promised Maurice I would do it and I have done it. The rest is up to you.”
“Who’s Maurice?” Lauren asked.
The man laughed.
“He said you’d probably say that,” he replied. “Anyway, as I said, I’ve done what I came to do.
“His name is Baz. There’s a note with details of his food, routine and so forth. Ta ta!”
“Baz?” Lauren said. “Food?”
She looked down at the parcel only to see it wasn’t a parcel at all, but a dome-shaped object draped in a colourful fringed blanket.
“What? Wait!” she called.
“Sorry,” the man said, now out of the gate and heading towards a car. He sounded almost joyful as he got in and drove past.
“I don’t know anyone called Maurice,” Lauren whispered.
Or, at least, she didn’t think she did.
She lifted a corner of the blanket and a small face peered out at her.
“Let me out!” a voice demanded.
Lauren promptly dropped the blanket. This had to be a mistake. How could she have received a parrot?
Although reluctant, she couldn’t leave the bird outside and the man had mentioned a note.
She carried the cage indoors, put it on a table at the window and slowly removed the blanket.
“Phew!” the parrot said, his eyes no longer angry as they blinked in the light.
“Thank you.”
“You must be Baz?”
He gave a little bow.
“Hello,” he said in the sweetest voice.
“Hello,” she replied, bowing back.
The note was taped to the side of the cage and she opened the envelope.
“Oh, no!” Baz screeched and bobbed his head up and down. “Bills!”
He was rather pretty, bluey-grey with red tail feathers.
She slumped on the sofa to read the note.
“My dear girl,” she read out loud.
No clue there then as to whom the note was for.
She chewed on her lip and checked the rest of the letter.
There were no contact details on it at all.
She carried on reading, in her head this time, aware that Baz seemed to be listening intently.
You will have met Baz by now, the letter said.
He is a Congo African grey parrot and has been my c
