“What about Rico?” he asked Gwen. “Is he speaking more than at the beginning, when you first met him?”

“Yes, he is. And no matter what he says, I’m always astonished to hear human sounds coming from his hooked beak. What I actually know, language or not, is that Rico and I communicate.”

“When first I entered house, I watched to see how he would react. I think he is comfortable with you, so he gave me permission to be there also,” Allam said. “And when you let him out, he travelled first to arm, then to wrist, to table—and then floor? I saw part of that from the window outside. Many unnecessary steps along the way.”

“He might have those particular quirks. There have been so many changes in his behaviour since September,” Gwen said. “He’s more relaxed now. At the beginning, I couldn’t help but be aware of filling the room, of filling the whole house with my presence. He was wary of me for days.”

“Your presence maybe does fill the house when you are alone with a parrot, but when you are in a room with people, Gwendo-leen-ah, you disappear,” Allam replied. “This I have seen with my two eyes. I understand, because I also know how to disappear. How to let myself in and out of places silently. With steelth. But I can fill a room with my presence. Maybe not a whole house, but a room. When I am choosing to do this.”

It was her turn to listen. To understand that he had his own ways of knowing things about her.

LATE IN THE EVENING, after he left, she considered how it had come about that they had travelled up the stairs of her house together. How she had allowed herself to let down her guard.

They’d finished their tea and stood to gather the dishes. She had faced him, surprised and not surprised. He took her by the hand. Both waited a few moments in silence. Weighing what was to come. She wasn’t exactly certain about what happened next. Maybe she leaned in. For certain, he maintained his grip on her hand. And led her up the stairs, where he had never been. She took the lead then and brought him to her room.

After they made love, they talked for a long time.

“Why did you come here? Why to me?”

“A foot steps where it loves,” he answered. “Where it desires to love. And to be loved in return.” That was all.

Why did she trust him? The way he behaved, the formalities, the way he listened carefully. It had been a long time since she had trusted. She found herself telling him about Brigg, about sewing up all the pockets before taking his clothes to the funeral parlour. She told Allam the reasons why. She had never before discussed the true nature of her marriage, the kind of man her husband had been. The bullying that had gone on for decades.