‘I’ve called this one Violet and this one Vincent,’ he said. The two birds were tucked together on a wide shelf, and they regarded Mr Lawrence as he spoke, for all the world as if they were in on the conversation. They were pretty, like all his pigeons. Piebald, white with markings of dark and pale grey. ‘I’ve no idea why I chose them names, they just came to me, and I’ll tell you what, they suit ’em, because they’re a dignified little couple, Mr and Mrs. It’s only been two days, but they travelled well, and there’s been no bickering. They’ll be grand flyers when they’re ready. Back here like boomerangs, I expect.’

He lifted Violet carefully from her spot next to Vincent and handed her to Alison, who accepted her in cupped hands. She was used to this now; used to handling his birds, no longer worried about their beaks or the feel on her hands of their startling red feet. She held Violet aloft and looked her in the eyes, and let her fingers sink into the softness and warmth. It’s a bird’s life, she thought; oh, to be a cossetted pigeon under the care of a man such as Mr Lawrence. She could feel the calm of Violet’s heartbeat inside her fragile frame, and felt immensely privileged, and touched, by the bird’s quiet trust in her.

‘See that brightness in her eyes?’ Mr Lawrence said. ‘And her upright stance, that beautiful, gradual slope from the top of her head to her tail? That’s a winner’s stance, that is. See how she’s watching you? When I picked her out, it was more like she’d chosen me, she were watching me that intently, and that means she’s alert, not flighty. She’s grand, she is.’

He lifted Violet from Alison’s hands and placed her back, next to Vincent. ‘But you know, don’t you, it’s what you can’t see that’ll make her a champion,’ he said.

‘Her brain, her heart and her lungs,’ Alison said.

‘Aye, that’s it, them’s what she’ll be relying on when she flies five hundred miles back here.’ He smiled at her. ‘Folk say, “Oh, why do you bother, they’re just birds,” and I know I’ve told you before, Alison, but there’s nowt like the feeling when a bird comes back to me, nowt on earth. They use every last scrap of strength and intelligence to get back where they belong. My birds kept me sane when I was invalided out of work. They still do.’