The couple were clearly from out of town, and looking for somewhere to stop. A foot away from Salem’s café, one of them stopped to exclaim, and pointed to the café with the glorious wall of birds in the window. The birds preened themselves, and sang as sweetly as they could. After a moment’s discussion, the couple went inside. Max poked her head in after them, and saw that the room was already two-thirds full, and the waiter was busy running from table to table.

“Imagine when I have filled my whole café with birds,” said Salem, removing the last thread of onyx from the tiny creature in his hands. “Imagine how beautiful it will be.” And Max could, and it made her so pleased that she had to turn a couple of cartwheels down the pavement just to work the jumpy feeling off.

Max and Marguerite were being flown home the next day, so everyone had dinner at Salem’s café that night – even Ester, although she made up for it by keeping up a constant stream of complaints about the food. Near their table a shabby old parrot watched them, shouting “Meddlers!” at intervals with great satisfaction.

Max handed Rupert his suitcase.

“Crikey,” he said, “quick work, Max. Gosh. Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“That was the deal,” said Max. “And we couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I don’t notice us getting cases of cash,” grumbled Ester.

“Ester Rosenkrantz,” said Sister Marguerite. “You have enough cash already to build yourself a house out of it.”

Ester pouted. “It’s expensive, being an old woman,” she creaked. “I’ve just agreed to hire this idiot permanently, for a start.” And she stole some stuffed vine leaves from Klaus’s plate, to indicate who she was talking about.

Klaus beamed. “I’m Ester’s new personal assistant.”

“Heaven help me,” added Ester. But Klaus just laughed.

Max never wanted dinner to end, but it had to end sometime. The food was finished, the candle on their table was almost used up and starting to gutter, and the café had slowly emptied out around them. Even the parrot was asleep under its wing. However hard she tried to hide her yawns, Max could not fool Sister Marguerite, and all too soon everything was suddenly rushing to a close.

“Don’t look so glum, Max,” said Salem. “You can come and visit. Any time.”

“I’ll write, Max,” promised Klaus.

“Me too,” said Rupert.

They all looked at Ester.

“What?” she said. “What?” She chucked a pear drop in her mouth. “Oh. Bye, Max.”

Which would have to do.

16. Home