Before Another War

Some Years Ago

They'd been here for six months now, which was far longer than normal. Typically, the two of them would stay in the same place for maybe a month or two before they had to move on. The group was just too organised, too powerful for them to stay hidden. 

Sarah was beginning to wonder if she'd ever stay anywhere long enough to settle down. She hated it. At school, she'd stopped bothering to make friends. It's not like she'd be able to talk to them after she left anyway. At this point, Sarah had had so many different names, she couldn't keep track. 

Now, she was called Margaret. She didn't like that name either, it sounded too old-fashioned for a thirteen-year-old.

Sarah, or Margaret, was sat in the garden, not knowing where her mother was. In all likelihood, she was locked up in the house trying to think of yet another scheme to get them out of this. It never worked. They were currently in the southernmost part of England. Before, they'd been in Yorkshire, London, Suffolk, and Staffordshire. But Sarah like the warmer places the most. 

As she looked to the sky, she heard a faint cawing. Glancing around, she checked the trees lining the garden for birds. There was rarely anything more interesting than a pigeon here. But it didn't sound like a pigeon. She jumped off the chair and searched around the garden, peering into the trees and smelling the dew. Without warning, there was a rustle of leaves, and in the corner of her eye, she saw it.

The bird flew right at her. It was aiming for her face. Sarah braced herself for the impact, screwing up her eyes. However, all she felt was a thud on her shoulder as the bird landed neatly upon it. She froze, not wanting it to flap away. 

Gradually, she opened her eyes, not turning her head to look at the bird, and crept back inside. It stayed on her shoulder while she walked. It must have been trained to do that. Sarah held her hand up to her shoulder, and it stepped on, its feet wobbling as it tried to balance. Finally, she could get a good look.

It was a parrot. Blue and tiny, but definitely a parrot. Maybe a parrot-let. She stared, perplexed. Had it escaped from somewhere? It let out a chirp. He must be from a zoo, she decided. 

Then, the parrot managed to speak.

'Hello,' it croaked. Sarah's face broke out into a smile. Its voice was clear.

'Hello,' She whispered, stroking its head.

Ecstatic, she dashed up to her mum's room, not able to wait to tell her. The bird jumped off her hand and fluttered behind her.

'Mum!' She cried, running into the office. 

As always, Sandra looked severe, working on the computer at her desk. 'What is it, darling?' her mother turned her head, seeing the parrot. 'Oh,' she said, stunned.

Sarah gave her a big grin and hoped she'd let her keep it.

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A few weeks later, they'd been found again. They had to leave.

Much to her disappointment, Sarah's time in the sunny South had drawn to an end. 

Just months ago, her mother had been told that after the trial, the gang would begin to lose interest. However, it was beginning to seem that the price above their heads was just too tempting to let go. Even after the guilty verdict, many members still saw their deaths as an opportunity to enact vengeance.

The bird in the corner of the room had woken Sarah up again. She'd named him Ernie, after her grandfather. He was a sweet little thing and was never too much trouble. Already, Ernie was speaking in full sentences. Something that was apparently exceedingly rare in his species.

Luckily, Sarah was allowed to take him with her when they moved. And hopefully, she'd get to keep him for many years to come. Parrots could live past twenty if they were well looked after, yet Ernie already seemed old. He had to be if he knew so many words.

Her mother had desperately tried to find his original owners, primarily because she didn't want a noisy, smell bird cramping up the house. But they were nowhere to be found. Sandra guessed that the owner must have died, and no one had thought to try and find his missing pet.

Sarah crawled out of bed and began to pack. Every time, to make sure she didn't leave anything behind, she drew up a long list of her belongings, from her favourite book to the last sock. She hadn't bothered to look into where they were going. It was somewhere North. 

However, her mother was adamant that this would be the last time. She always said that.

Sarah hoped she could go back to London one day. They had some family there at least. People she hadn't seen in years. She hardly remembered what they looked like now. The memories of those days were fuzzy. Of course, they'd cut all ties to her dad's side of the family. They were the ones that had gotten them into this mess.

Sarah's dad came from a family of crooks. Pretty much all of them were involved in one type of unsavoury scheme or another. But when money had gotten tight, his sister had used him as a scapegoat. 

She got away scot-free, while her father got a bullet to the head.