It was a dangerous thing to still have the bird in the house. She’d grown into some sort of crow, or perhaps raven, with sleek navy-black feathers, round black eyes, and raptor-like claws. I figured it was cruel to keep her in a box all the time so I cordoned off a corner of the playroom with heavy curtains attached to the ceiling and held together with clothes pegs, both to keep her contained and to prevent Tom from seeing her. I propped a big branch against the wall for her to perch on and put bed pads on the floor for all the poop. She was very tame. She even responded to her name, which Gaia loved. She liked being held and stroked, particularly under her chin, and she’d cheekily decided that mashed up chocolate biscuits were her favourite food. What was it Ibsen said? A forest bird never wants a cage? This one did. She had zero intention of flying away. I’d taken her out to the back porch and tried to fling her towards the forest a handful of times, but each time she merely hopped back and followed me into the house with her little gangsta waddle as if to say, this my crib, yo.

I went into the playroom, placed Dora in her box, and brought it through. Gaia sat upright and whispered for me to get her some pine nuts. The soft-hearted creature I am, I obeyed. She put the nuts in her mouth, scooped Dora up in cupped hands, and let her peck the nuts from between her lips.

Side note: I’m aware that this was not very hygienic, and while I’d tried hard to think of a way I might circle this back to some kind of Montessori methodology, I was sure it would be perceived by both Tom and Maren as completely unsanitary, not to mention indulgent, because it was. I tried not to think of what would happen if Tom walked in. But Dora clearly made Gaia feel better. She laughed when she played with her, as did Coco – though Coco was always laughing – and her face looked brighter. In the grand scheme of things, I believed anything that brought a little sunshine back into Gaia’s life was to be embraced.

‘Look!’ she said happily as Dora snuggled beneath Gaia’s chin for a snooze. ‘She loves me. I love you too, Dora girl.’

I went out to the woods that night with a torch to look for Gaia’s teddy, Louis, but there was no sign of him. It was still snowing on and off, great swirling flakes sugaring the branches and outbuildings. I spotted plenty of tracks and scat in the snow indicating that we were having quite a few visits from foxes and possibly wolverine. A toy like Louis – bathed as he was in Gaia’s scent – would probably be snatched up by a predator and torn to pieces. Poor Gaia.