I give O the message and then cross the roof to let her read it privately, and that’s when I spot the new bird walking around near the chimney pipe, pecking at the roof tiles. It’s speckled white and brown, but there’s something funny about its back. There’s a big brown splodge between its wings. A lump. I squat down and squint at it, yawning. There’s something strapped to it, like a tiny little backpack. It looks like brown felt.

I’m so excited! I want to tell O. But she’s staring down at the message, frowning deeply. I see her take a little swig of schnapps from the flask. I wish she wouldn’t drink. If I am honest, schnapps in particular makes her a bit crazy, but I try not to be judgy.

I put out some corn for the new bird that it pecks right up, unafraid of me. I am a little afraid of it. I know O’s birds pretty well, but this one is larger. Different species? I want to catch it so I can take off the backpack, but it feels really rude to just, you know, grab without asking.

‘I think you’ve got the wrong address, mate,’ I say.

‘Who are you talking to?’

O comes gliding over, her pupils slightly dilated with gathering darkness, plus schnapps.

‘Carrier pigeon! Look, he has a tiddly backpack and everything!’

‘Tiddly what—?’ She comes closer. ‘Oh my.

Sidney.’ Sidney?

‘See if you can catch him and hold him for me. We’ll take off his harness.’

‘Wait . . . you know this bird?’

‘Of course I know him. He’s my bird. I haven’t seen him since . . . Just catch him, Charlie!’

It takes me a fair few tries, but in the end I get hold of Sidney without hurting him and hold him steady while O undoes his backpack straps with trembling hands.

‘You’re a good bird,’ she tells him. ‘Charlie, put him in the small coop with plenty of grain. He must be exhausted.’

O has more than one coop. The main one has seventeen adult birds and mostly they are free to come and go as they please. The second cage is larger and has a wire ceiling and several perches, and the four birds in there are her specials that she mostly keeps in. She says they used to race. There’s also a separate cage that we use if we have to isolate a sick or injured bird. I open this last one and pop Sidney inside with a few handfuls of corn for good measure. Then I feed the other birds. Sydney struts around the cage, exploring.

I turn to O. ‘Where’s he been, then? Has someone sent him to you?’