Chapter 39

Imagining my immediate problems solved with Camilla going home and me getting a reward I waited but instead of a phone call from the television station the front door bell rang. Dad left us in the lounge to answer it only to return a minute later introducing two plain clothed policemen.

Camilla's owner wasn't the only viewer to phone the television studio that night, the second caller being a police specialist in exotic pet smuggling. The owner wanted my address or phone number so he could pick up Camilla and present me with a £1,000 reward but when the television station explained they couldn't give those details but would act as go-between, the owner only left a pay-as-you-go mobile phone number not his address.

This was enough to concern the police specialist when he phoned the station to check which quickly resulted in local detectives wanting me to phone the number and arrange a meeting somewhere away from our home yet safe for me. I wanted £1,000; the police wanted the owner in possession of Camilla whose DNA they hoped in time would prove her to be smuggled and my Da didn't want me anywhere near suspected smugglers!

"Hello. I'm so glad you recognised Camilla with me on the television - that's what I call her,do you like it? Anyway I can be at the entrance to the Mermaid Quay car park at 10 pm. You'll recognise me as I'll be the girl with the big macaw. Sorry I can't make it earlier but I'm with my disabled father and I can't leave him behind so I'll have to get him in the car first so see you at 10 then and thank you for the reward, you won't forget it will you? Bye."

"What?" I said looking around at bemused faces. "If he doesn't get time to talk he doesn't get time to object."

10 o' clock on the dot I opened the drivers door and got out lifting Camilla on a perch improvised from a walking stick. A few yards away at the same time two men got out of a car facing me so I waved as they approached.

"She's had her claws and beak trimmed and the vet gave me this spray bottle to do her feathers which you might like to have."

"Give me the bird you stupid girl!"

Why did he have to say that, which I suppose means I don't get my £1,000, when it could have been so easy? I gave him the bird, still on the stick, right in the face and sprayed the other man standing just behind his left shoulder straight in the eyes and ran.

By the time the police covered the 20 yards from behind the van which had been their cover, one man was screaming in agony from what appeared to be a broken leg and the second was unconscious on the ground being pecked by a very angry Camilla!

It was another 3 hours before we got home. I had been charged with assault with a parrot and spray bottle. My father had not been charged with anything for Mr Davis, our solicitor, pointed out that not even the injured parties could describe what had happened let alone the police from behind their van. It had to be presumed that the man with a parrot attacking his face stumbled into the one blinded by spray thus they injured each other

I of course was running away so saw nothing at the time the injuries occurred but I do remember my Uncle Jack's words the first evening I appeared as Venus,
“Just don't make Isaac angry."

Luckily by next morning Dad had decided if I was fit enough to catch parrots up trees and disable smugglers I was fit enough to sit at a work bench soldering tiny bits of electronics. It was either that or he was afraid to let me out of his sight.

Everything was set for a return to a nice quiet life but for the English. What is it with the English? Allowing for a little medical vagueness, I'm a nice, normal Afro-Hispanic Caribbean, Polynesian Welsh girl minding my own business but I have these neighbours over the River Severn, known as the English, who are fixated on animal stories, especially when the animals bite people, make politicians look even more foolish than usual or can be in any way linked to a dead parrot sketch. Americans may find this difficult to understand having a different attitude to animals but they like the rest of the world love a story where the British look weird.

I did have warning when my sister Litara phoned from London.

"Don't give any interviews to the press or television," she warned. "The media are picking up the parrot story. "Please don't tell me you still have the parrot!"

"No, the police have Camilla because she is evidence against the smugglers. They did want me to look after her for them but Mr Davis tried to use that to get the assault charges against me dropped as they couldn't both accuse me of using a parrot as a weapon then give it back to me."

I passed on the news to dad who in turn phoned mum to warn her but fortunately it seemed our address hadn't yet been found and Wednesday evening was uneventful with my biggest excitement a session with the zapping tweezers. Mum did call both Aunt Sophie and Grandma Tina to warn them which worked out well when as a result Bill came round to drop off the keys to his house which he offered to us for as long as we needed it, should we want a hiding place.

It was Thursday morning that the faecal matter impacted the oscillating rotating aerofoil.