Rose of Tralee (25 page)

‘Sorry, missus,’ Rose said humbly, as the old woman told her she ought to know better, a neat-looking lass like her. ‘It ain’t me, though, it’s this blamed parrot I’m carryin’ home for ... for a friend. I never knowed a bird could ... hey up, off we goes!’ For a large wagon had trundled past at last, leaving a clear road behind him for herself and her bothersome burden. She smiled placatingly at the woman and marched off thinking with some amusement that Mr Garnett must have been quite a lad, once – fancy teaching a bird to say things like that!

She reached the office and plodded up the stairs. A glance at the clock in the outer office confirmed that it was just on six o’clock but she would have known anyway since the typists were issuing forth from their room like a swarm of ants, eager to return to their own homes as speedily as possible.

Mr Garnett, however, true to his promise, was still in his room. He jumped to his feet as she entered and smiled hopefully. ‘Ah ... did all go well, Ryder? I take it you saw Mr Simpson? Is he able to find space for ... oh my God, what on earth ...?’

For Rose had crossed his office – two steps – and thumped the cage, still baize-covered, down upon his desk. ‘From Mr Simpson,’ she said firmly. I’ve got to go now, Mr Garnett ... oh, an’ there’s a note. Here.’

She thrust the square of paper at him and would have left the room, except that he seized her arm and prevented her from moving a step. ‘No you don’t, Ryder,’ he said firmly. ‘Not till I’ve read the note and you’ve explained just what you mean by banging objects down on my desk and trying to run off! What
is
it, for God’s sweet sake? It looks like ...’

With his free hand he pulled off the baize, blinked incredulously, then groaned, staring first at the bird and then at Rose whilst his long face paled. ‘My God, it’s Gulliver! I
told
Stinker Simpson that my mama wouldn’t hear of my keeping the bird at home, I
told
him to give it to one of the seamen if the old man wouldn’t hear of the bird going to a pet shop or suchlike but not to try to hand it back to me. Well, I won’t have it – you can just turn round and take it back.’

‘I can’t ... but read the note, sir,’ Rose urged. ‘Mebbe it says somethin’ to the purpose. Only he seemed sure, Mr Garnett, that you’d want the ole feller.’

‘Want it? Me, want Gulliver, after all the trouble the wretched bird caused when I took it home the first time?’ Mr Garnett laughed grimly. ‘No, no, he knew very well I wouldn’t want it! This is his idea of a joke and a very poor one at that.’ However, as he spoke he let go of Rose and unfolded the note, then gave a shout. ‘Ha! He says the bird makes such a racket that even the captain’s got tired of it and since I bought it in the first place they thought it ought to come back to me.’

‘Well, that seems fair, sir, if you bought it,’ Rose said in the pause which followed. ‘Besides, you could always sell it again ... there are pet shops all over the Pool, you know, there’s a lovely one on Heyworth Street, they’d probably give you a bob or two for this feller.’

‘Ye-es. But I’d not like to think of him being ill-treated,’ Mr Garnett said slowly. ‘To tell the truth, Rose, I’d have him like a shot if it wasn’t for Mama. But she won’t stand for it and says so. I keep meaning to move out, get a place of my own, but until I do I have to abide by her rules, don’t you know.’

‘I didn’t know you still lived at home, sir,’ Rose put in, since some comment from her seemed expected. ‘Doesn’t your mam like birds then?’

‘No, she has an aversion to feathers,’ Mr Garnett said quickly. A little too quickly, Rose thought suspiciously. ‘And there are other reasons ... she has a very active social life ... but what about your mother, Ryder? You live at home, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do. Me mam’s a busy woman too, she takes in lodgers,’ Rose said quickly. ‘There’s no way she could give a home to a bleed ... I mean a perishin’ parrot. Well, Mr Garnett, I’d best be off, I’ve an evenin’ class tonight an’ if I don’t get on me way soon I’ll not have time for a bite o’ tea afore I leave.’

‘Don’t go!’ Mr Garnett said sharply. ‘Look, you say your mother takes in lodgers and couldn’t give the parrot a home. Well, how much would she charge me to have the parrot as a lodger?’

‘The
parrot
?’ Rose squeaked. ‘You want to know what she’d charge for a
parrot
?’

‘That’s right,’ Mr Garnett said patiently. ‘Look, Ryder, I’ve tried to explain that my mama won’t let me take the parrot home and from what it says in this
note, if I try to take it back to Stinker Simpson he’ll see to it that I can’t send any more shipments aboard his craft, which could be tricky, particularly at the moment. On the other hand, your mother’s a businesswoman. I provide this nice, roomy cage and a sum to cover his keep and whatever space he takes up. After all, it’s not for ever, just until I get a place of my own or find a friend who’ll hang on to him for me. What about it?’

‘Mam won’t like it,’ Rose said cautiously. ‘How much was you thinkin’ of, sir?’

‘Two bob a week,’ Mr Garnett said. ‘Just to keep a parrot, a bird which would cost you a fiver at least from a pet shop. It’s money for old rope, Ryder, money for old rope.’

‘There’s a snag here somewhere,’ Rose remarked, though without rancour. Two bob for looking after a bird did seem like money for jam. ‘That bird talks, it said a few things when I was crossing the road. Is it that your mam don’t like?’

‘We-ell, he’s lived aboard ship for most of his life so he can be a trifle coarse,’ Mr Garnett admitted. ‘Come on, Ryder, say you will! Look, I’ll make it three bob, I can’t say fairer than that, can I? I can’t just abandon the poor old fellow to some wretched pet shop. He has all sorts of odd likes and dislikes ... tell you what, I’ll come as far as the shops with you, in a taxi, and I’ll buy his first week’s food so’s you know what to get.’

‘No need for that,’ Rose said hastily. She had no desire to be shut in a taxi with her spider-like boss, nor to have folk seeing them walking along the street together and drawing all the wrong conclusions. ‘Gi’ me a list, sir, an’ I’ll shop on me way home. Only I really must get a move on, or I’ll be so late mam’ll throw me out, parrot or no parrot.’

So it was agreed. Mr Garnett gave Rose five bob on account and a list of Gulliver’s likes and dislikes. He enjoyed grapes, peanuts and a handful of little pink shrimps as a special treat, and was very fond indeed of sunflower seeds, but for the most part he lived on the seed which pet shops sell especially for parrots.

‘Buy some cuttlefish bone, he likes that, and let him out of his cage for at least half an hour each day,’ Mr Garnett instructed her as he walked beside her down the stairs and out of the now deserted offices. ‘Don’t worry that he’ll attack you or try to escape, but don’t leave windows open or he might get out by mistake. He’s a fine fellow, you’ll have no trouble with him.’

‘I hope not. But if me mam won’t have him, he’ll be back tomorrow, I’m warnin’ you, Mr Garnett,’ Rose said frankly. ‘Me mam wants a nice little kitten to keep the mice down, not a perishin’ parrot!’

‘But a kitten won’t bring in any rent,’ Mr Garnett said craftily as they reached the roadway. ‘And a parrot which chatters away can be quite an attraction in a lodging house, I should think. Are you sure you won’t come part of the way in my cab? I don’t want to get you into trouble with your mama.’

‘It’s all right, I’ll walk fast,’ Rose said. ‘G’night, Mr Garnett.’

Rose walked along the crowded pavements, trying not to swing the cage too much and gazing hopefully ahead. In fact the collision, when it occurred, was as much her fault as anyone’s, since she was trying to spot the pet shop and thus walked slap-bang into a heavily built man with a ditty bag over one shoulder and a suitcase in his hand. The disaster occurred because the suitcase struck the cage, which flew out of Rose’s hand and landed against the wall with a
crack which caused the cage door to fly open.

‘Oh Gawd, look what you done,’ Rose squeaked distractedly as the parrot sidled out of its cage and flew to the lintel above the nearest shop. ‘Come down here, Gulliver ... oh, you bad bird, whatever will Mr Garnett say if I lose you?’

Gulliver, peering down at her, did not seem particularly interested in her fate and, when Rose held up her hands imploringly, showed no disposition to descend. The man who had collided with her said, ‘That your bird? Give ’im a call, gal, that’ll fetch ’im, they’ll usually come to the sound of a voice they knows.’

Rose turned on him, eyes flashing. ‘If you’d been lookin’ where you was goin’ this wouldn’t have happened – and I’m ... I’m lookin’ after the bird for me boss, he don’t know me voice. Oh Gawd, what’ll I do if he flies further off?’

‘Who owned ’im last?’ the man asked, and Rose turned and looked at him properly for the first time. She could not guess his age, though his dark hair was streaked with grey at the temples, for his skin was smooth and tanned and his light-blue eyes were steady, though creased at the corners. He was wearing navy trousers and a seaman’s jersey, and despite the fact that he had been the cause of Gulliver’s escape, he did not look like a troublemaker or an unreliable person. But looks, Rose thought, were not everything.

‘What the devil does it matter who owned him last?’ she said impatiently and turned back to the bird, who promptly deserted the lintel and made for the nearest gas-lamp, where he sidled up and down on the cross-piece, turning his head to look at her with one bright, wicked eye. ‘Come on down, Gully,’
she begged. ‘Come to Rosie an’ she’ll give you ... give you ...’

The man beside her dug a hand into his pocket, then addressed the bird in a calm, conversational voice. ‘What’s in me pocket, Gully? What d’you think I’ve got for a good feller, eh? Come on, Gully, come an’ see what’s in me pocket.’ He drew his clenched fist from his pocket and held it out, palm uppermost, curling and uncurling his fingers in a way which clearly intrigued the bird. ‘Wharrav I got, then? Good bird, who’s a good old feller, then? Give us a kiss, Gully, then you’ll get your bit o’ summat nice.’

The parrot continued to stare suspiciously down at them and Rose was about to make a biting comment when he gave a brief squawk, flapped off the lamp standard and came down onto the man’s outstretched wrist. The stranger opened his hand, displaying a few peanut kernels, and whilst the parrot was investigating them the man’s other hand descended gently but firmly onto his back. He lifted the bird then popped him back into the cage, not forgetting to thrown in the peanuts first, then latched the little door securely once more and turned to Rose. ‘Awright now, Miss? Sorry I knocked into you, but you wasn’t lookin’ where you was goin’ either, you know.’

‘Nor I was, but that don’t matter, now he’s back in his cage. Thanks ever so much, mister,’ Rose said fervently. ‘How did you do it, though? You don’t know Gulliver, do you?’

‘Never met before this moment, but I know parrots; used to ’ave one of me own,’ the man said cheerfully. ‘That’s why I asked you who owned it last, because they respond to a voice, you know. I took a guess that the bird ‘ad been owned by a seaman – most of ‘em’s
brought back by sailors – an’ I hoped me voice might fetch ‘im down, which it did. As for the peanuts, a shipmate o’ mine’s gorra monkey an’ it’s mortal fond of peanuts. But look, I’m searchin’ for somewhere called Oakfield Road, you wouldn’t know where it is, woudl you? Someone telled me I should tek a turnin’ off St Domingo Road and it ud lead me through, but I misremember the name o’ the cut.’

‘Oh, so yo are a seaman,’ Rose said, satisfied that she had guessed right earlier. ‘An’ your pal’s got a monkey! I’d love to see a monkey, I’ve never seen one up close, ’cept in the pet shops now an’ then. An’ I do know Oakfield, I’m goin’ that way as it happens. Come along o’ me ... and thanks again, mister.’

‘Me name’s Pete Dawlish,’ the man said, falling into step beside her. ‘Here, let me tek the cage, you don’t want to carry it.’

‘I’m Rose Ryder and you’ve got quite enough wi’ that suitcase an’ the ditty bag,’ Rose said firmly, however. ‘Why d’you want Oakfield Road? D’you live there?’

Pete Dawlish laughed. ‘No, Miss Ryder, but I’m hopin’ to do so. The fact is, I’ve had enough o’ the sea, for the time bein’, at any rate, an’ a pal of mine – not the one wi’ the monkey, one o’ the other fellers – tipped me the wink that they was lookin’ for a clerk in the Ocean Line offices, so I went in there and they’ve took me on. I worked for the P&O shipping offices before I went to sea, so I know what I’m about. But when I lived in the pool afore I was wi’ me parents, an’ they moved on years ago, so now I’m searchin’ for lodgin’s, an’ there’s a woman in Oakfield Road what’s got a room. See?’

‘Well, there’s a coincidence,’ Rose said. ‘This here parrot’s a lodger in a manner o’ speakin’. He belongs
to me boss, but Mr Garnett can’t tek him home on account of his mother, who don’t like birds, so he’s comin’ to live wi’ Mam an’ me until Mr Garnett gets a place of his own.’

‘Oh? Does your mam take in lodgers, then?’

‘That’s right,’ Rose said. ‘We live in St Domingo Vale, that’s between Breckfield Road an’ Oakfield, so you’ll be passin’ me door to get where you’re goin’. But first I got to go into the pet shop an’ buy some grub for this feller.’ She jiggled the cage and the parrot muttered tetchily, ‘Mind me feet, you fool,’ which made Rose jump. ‘I’ve got a list,’ she added. ‘Peanuts is on it, an’ grapes, but for tonight I’ll just get ’im nuts an’ some bird seed.’

‘That’s the ticket,’ Mr Dawlish said heartily. ‘Sunflower seeds – my ole feller loved sunflower seeds. An’ you’ll need to fill ’is water jar as soon as you gerrin. Birds drink quite a lot, or my parrot did, anyroad, an’ your water spilled out o’ the pot when the cage overturned.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Rose said. ‘Could you hold the cage for me while I go in the shop please, Mr Dawlish? I’d be ever so grateful.’

Mr Dawlish complied and when she got back, complete with parrot provender, he was squatting on the pavement, conversing with the parrot through the bars whilst scratching the bird’s raised poll with a finger through the wicker bars.

‘Thanks, Mr Dawlish,’ Rose said, picking up the cage and starting off along the pavement once more. ‘Lor’, I’m goin’ to be late tonight. It’s me night for me evenin’ class but small chance I’ve got of makin’ it there, what wi’ Gully here, an’ Mr Garnett keepin’ me late.’