The Budding Roses

The Birdie Song

Sunday 15th June

I really don't know how Natasha gets herself involved in these escapades, and more annoyingly I don't understand how I always manage to be implicated too.

We're going to get in to so much trouble if anyone ever finds out about what has happened, and if Harry Styles blabs then I'll smack him even harder than I did when he told everyone that I fancied David.

We've lost Natasha's grandma's neighbour's pet parrot. A bird of paradise has left the safety of its coal shed and is flying wild amongst the mean streets of Brighouse. It doesn't stand a chance. I mean, even if it manages to survive these still chilly June nights, how is it ever going to integrate amongst the local avian community? For all the other birds will be thinking, "why does she get to be so fancy, with that fan of feathers on her head, when all we are is a bunch of boring brown starlings?"

I'm reassuring myself that Mrs Woodhouse can't have loved it that much since it was living in her coal shed, but still we have lost possession of something, no not something, a pet, a companion, a best friend, which was not ours to lose.

Natasha had the kind spirited idea of tending to Mrs Woodhouse's garden. You know pulling up some weeds and mowing the lawn, helping out an old lady who can no longer attend to such activities for herself. But I'm not fooled by her altruism one bit. I know that all she wanted was to earn a few quid to buy some cigarettes.

'Simone, will you get me the hoe?' She ordered, 'it's in the shed.'

Uncertain of what this mysterious implement might be, I scrambled about, trying to find the un-findable, when I was distracted from my task by a tinny screech of "Hello". Now I know that spiders can't speak, and they were the only living creatures in residence in the shed, but there it was again, and this time a whistle too.

'Natasha, there are some really strange noises in here. Will you come help me please?'

'Argh, watch out! Run, it's a UFO!' Natasha screamed.

'A UFO? Let me out!' I banged at the door which had now slammed shut in my face, leaving me trapped with the alien creature. At last the door swung open and I fled, closely followed by a blurring mass of grey and white feathers.

'It's the budgie. Mrs Woodhouse's pet budgie!'

'Don't be stupid, that's not a budgie, it looks more like a parrot to me.'

'Never mind what breed it is, where's it gone?' We hurriedly searched the locality, but there was no point, the bird had escaped.

'It must have flown off somewhere.'

I dragged Natasha back in to the shed and hurriedly closed the door. 'What are we going to do now?'

'I don't know,' she shook her head flustered. If Natasha was worried then it must be serious, 'we're going to have to make a run for it.'

'What do you mean, make a run for it? We can't just leave.'

'What choice do we have? Or do you want to tell Mrs Woodhouse that you've lost her budgie?'

'Don't blame me. This is categorically not my fault. And may I remind you that it's you who made me go in to the shed, that it's you who opened the door, and that it's you who volunteered us for this whole rotten job in the first place.'

'Shut up Simone. Anyway, it dive bombed me. It's happened now, there's no bringing it back, and so we might as well make our exit before Mrs Woodhouse notices that it's gone. The garden's nearly finished, so we should just pack up and tell her that we're done for the day. By the time she realises we'll be long gone.'