Mimi the Mynah Bird

“Mr Nugent’s eaten Mimi!” cries Rachel.

Celine Heatherington bit her lip as her daughter charged into the sitting room.

“I’m sure I closed the apartment door,” she says, catching her breath. 

“Slow down, Rachel.” 

“He must’ve skulked up the staircase behind me.”

“You let Mimi out of the cage and…”

“… Yes, just like you told me to,” she says. “I changed the water and…” 

“… It’s fine, take your time, poppet.”

“I was on top of the wobbly stool fetching the pellet mix from the top shelf.”

“Right, so you were in the kitchen?”

“I heard a squawk,” she catches her mother’s eye. “It came from the front room.” 

“Did you see Mimi?”

“Mr Nugent was surrounded by feathers,” she says, shaking her head. “I shouted, ‘bad cat, bad cat!’ and he just stared up at me.”

“Where is he now?”

“I yelled, ‘naughty cat, Mr Nugent!’ and he raced out of the front door.”

#

In Alan Heatherington’s opinion, it’s always a mistake to volunteer to look after someone’s pet, especially when children are involved. As a child, he had a personal disaster involving his best friend Ian’s collection of xenopus toads. Ian entrusted him to mind his precious knot of clawed amphibians. Alas, the lot expired over a two-week period. Alan performed every instruction to the letter, but it made no difference. He fed them chopped liver, changed the water every three days and positioned the tank out of direct sunlight. No one in the household could understand why they kept dying. Every morning they were greeted by yet another bloated body bobbing upside down in the glass tank. Alan’s parents were stoic about the calamity, but when the family returned to retrieve the aquarium, there were bitter tears. The lads’ friendship never recovered. Alan often cited his misadventure as a reason for not allowing Rachel to have a pet of her own, despite her annual birthday requests. 

#

The prospect of caring for the “wretched” bird was something that displeased Alan, even if he had no direct responsibility. The night before Mrs Thompson departed 4A Eton Rise, Mimi heard her parents quarrelling about the arrangement. Rachel was now worried about her father discovering the truth because she was sure he’d be furious. He’d slam the front door, grump about the flat for the rest of the holiday and grumble, “I told you so,” from behind his newspaper every day. Her mother would purse her lips and glare at him, resigned to the fact that he was right once again.

#

Mrs Thompson had mentioned going to her son’s house over the festive period and hinted to Rachel that Mimi would need feeding. When Rachel reported the conversation to her parents, it was a week before the end of school term. Alan was reticent when the matter was discussed. He let his wife react to the suggestion, preferring to keep his counsel. He reckoned if he were vague about the issue, the problem would go away, assuring a peaceful Christmas holiday. In keeping his distance, however, he misjudged just how excited his daughter was at the prospect of being left in charge. In Rachel’s mind, it was a fun thing to do every day of the holiday and she was thrilled to have the responsibility. To Alan’s surprise, Celine was more than happy to help their neighbour. She’d be on hand to supervise Rachel every day and argued that it was straightforward. Mrs Thompson was going away, it was only upstairs and Mimi was a well-behaved mynah bird with an established routine. What could go wrong?

#

Mr Nugent was a lovable old rogue who lived at number 4B Eton Rise, next door to Mrs Thompson. He strolled around the corridors of the Eton Rise apartments as though he owned the entire property. His “keeper” was Mr Earnest Snellgrove, and he was one of the original tenants in the mansion block. He’d arrived with his parents from Eastern Europe, during the Second World War. They’d escaped persecution and found a sanctuary of comparative calm amongst the literati of North London. The family weathered the blitz here and established a reputable grocery business amongst the restaurants and café’s of Primrose Hill.

Earnest retired ten years ago and spends most of his daytime hours at the Haverstock Hill Library. Mr Nugent has become an ideal companion for the old man, since his partner’s demise. They observe their own daily routines, but share suppertimes together and appreciate each other’s camaraderie during the long evenings. 

#

Alan was still at work when Rachel and her mother ventured out to find Earnest. Celine decided that they needed to keep quiet about the disaster and repair the damage before he got home. A word with Mr Snellgrove was required; he’d know what to do. Besides, he had some responsibility in the matter, being Mr Nugent’s keeper.

The mother and daughter discover Mr Snellgrove’s front door left ajar and call his name from the threshold. He’s on his balcony in the company of a pigeon who’s nibbling seeds from a dish. 

“Come on through,” he calls. “I’m tending to my succulents.”

“Mr Snellgrove, I’m so glad I caught you.”

“Ladies, how are we today?”

“It’s about Mr Nugent.”  

“Ah,” he says, lowering his watering can. “That sounds serious.”

“He’s eaten Mimi and we need your help,” says Rachel, her mouth drooping at the edges. “What can we do?”

“Hmm,” he says, twisting his pursed lips to one side. “Are you sure about that, he’s not blessed with many teeth nowadays?”

#

They all venture next door to the scene of the crime and examine the evidence together. Rachel outlines the hideous event and introduces the exhibits: the birdcage lying on its side and the feathers next to it on the carpet. Mr Snellgrove concurs; these are the firm indications of a recent kerfuffle, and there’s no sign of Mimi. However, Earnest observed that the balcony door is ajar. He also noticed that the floor is free from unsightly bloodstains. As he listened to Rachel’s tale, he can’t help but wonder if the lack of visceral remains suggests Mr Nugent’s participation was less involved than they imagined.

Earnest purses his lips and crosses his arms.

“So, Mr Snellgrove,” says Celine, “what do you suggest?”

“It’s a question of time, my dear.”

“She’ll be back in two days.”

“So we only have this afternoon.”

“But Mrs Thompson will be here on Monday,” says Rachel.

“Exactly, young lady,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Exotic Pets closes early on a Saturday and isn’t open tomorrow.”

#

Gaynor Honeycutt has managed the Camden based animal emporium for over two decades and she is an old friend of Earnest’s family. Her involvement with animal welfare goes back thirty years, and she is known and trusted for her love, knowledge and responsible pet ownership. The shop door opens and clangs an old brass bell suspended above the lintel. The strident jangle reverberates throughout the interior and triggers a cascade of whoops and chirrups from the surrounding cages and baskets on display.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she says. 

“Gaynor, it’s always a pleasure.”

“Here comes trouble.”

“You’re looking gorgeous as ever, my dear.”

“You old charmer,” she smiles, “you’re not after a freebie, I hope?”

“No, I’m after a Balinese mynah,” he sniffs. “If it’s going cheap, that’d be a bonus.”

Rachel clutches her companion’s hand and smiles at last.

“Going cheap?” Gaynor says, shaking her head. “Where did you get him from, love?” Rachel blushes and grins at the wild haired shopkeeper. “We don’t do part exchange if that’s what you’re after, Earnest.”

“We require a replacement as soon as possible,” he says, winking at Rachel.

“It’s going to cost you,” she says, scratching her chin.

“White foliage, with black wing tips and tail…”

“… a blue ring around its eyes…”

“… and a yellow bill, if I remember?”

“Exactly,” says Rachel and Gaynor together.

“Are you two a double act now?”

“I have just the thing you’re looking for, however,” she says, drawing a breath.

“What’s the damage?”

#

When they arrive back at Eton Rise, Mr Snellgrove is still aghast at the expense of the rare beauty. Nevertheless, he refuses to accept any payment from Rachel’s mother, who is forever indebted and more than grateful. Now she has nothing awkward to explain to her husband and can chalk this down as a success for the ladies’ team on the second floor. While her daughter has been sourcing rare birds, Celine has cleared up the debris and repositioned the birdcage on the wooden panelled cabinet by the balcony’s sliding doors. She had expunged any telltale signs of a massacre from the apartment and prepared a tidy home for Mrs Thompson’s new houseguest. The last thing Celine remembers doing before leaving flat 4A was feeding the new mynah bird. She closed the little wire-framed door and emptied the packet of pellet mix into a dish, next to the cage.

#

When Alan returned from work later in the afternoon, he was in a good frame of mind. Celine commented about how well Rachel had looked after their neighbour’s pride and joy and wondered if he had any thoughts about upcoming birthday gifts. Rachel’s father lowered his newspaper and looked from his wife’s pleasant face to his daughter’s sweet smile. He paused and returned his gaze to Celine again. He remarked that Rachel had surprised him with her maturity and raising his newspaper, he said that he’d look into it. In Alan’s language, that was as close to a “yes” as it was possible to be, without saying it. Rachel squeezed her mother’s leg and Celine raised a forefinger to her lips. In Celine and Rachel’s special language that was, “mum’s the word.”

#

It was a week after Mrs Thompson’s homecoming when Alan bumped into his neighbour. He wished her a late happy new year and enquired about her holiday. She was glad to be back after a stressful time with her son’s young family in Norfolk. The youngsters had worn her out with their boundless energy and she was missing her peaceful home. On her return, she was overjoyed to discover that she was now the owner of two rare and exotic Balinese mynah birds. Further to this, she commented that one bird had displayed its remarkable powers of speech. Alan had been concerned about Mrs Thompson’s mental health for a year now, however he feigned interest and asked if the new guest had said anything memorable. Mrs Thompson said he kept repeating the same couple of phrases.

“Bad cat, bad cat!” and “Naughty Mr Nugent!”

Alan shook his head and wandered back home.

He concluded the poor lady had lost her marbles.

The End