He shook his head to banish the painful thoughts.
But what should he do with this bird?
It was looking rather bedraggled and one of its tail feathers was broken and bent sideways.
He opened the window and then the parrot climbed clumsily in. It flew across the room and sat on the back of the chair by his desk.
“Is it time for tea?” the bird asked him in a polite tone and then added, “may I have a nut?”
Lyndon found himself smiling for the first time since the morning after the ball.
“I shall have some sent up for us, if you like,” he joked. “English tea and a plate of walnuts, what do you say?”
“Good afternoon, Pickle!” the bird replied and flew across to sit on his shoulder.
Now Lyndon was laughing.
Pickle! That was the bird’s name, he remembered.
He reached up to stroke the bir
