14 The Birdless Cage

The Birdless Cage Ebenezer led Bethany into the bird shop. They were soon greeted by the large and pleasant bird-keeper. "Hello, hello, welcome to the finest and most specialest bird shop in the world!" said the bird-keeper. It was a sentence that he used to greet all new customers. "Don't you recognize us? I've been here several times, and you sold Bethany some worms," said Ebenezer. The bird-keeper peered into Ebenezer's face, as if he were inspecting the plumage of a rare bird. Eventually, it dawned on him.

"Oh, it's Mr. Tweezer!" he said. "Sorry for not recognising you sooner, but you don't look like you usually do. Have you had a haircut?" "No, I've just lost control of my body. Don't worry, I'll soon have a potion for it." "Ri-ight," said the bird-keeper, not quite sure how to respond. He turned his attention to Bethany. "You owe me ten worms, miss. That backpack you gave me was useless." "So were those worms. They kept wriggling out of Geoffrey's nostrils," said Bethany. "I'd like five new ones, please." "And I'd like a brand-new backpack!" "I'll settle for two and a half." "You'll settle for nothing!" The bird-keeper wondered why Ebenezer had picked such an argumentative child. He

was sure that the orphanage would have had some far nicer ones to choose from. "Sorry to interrupt," said Ebenezer, as Bethany was about to lower her offer to one and three quarters of a worm, "but we're on a bit of a tight schedule. Do you mind if we cut straight to business?" "Of course," said the bird-keeper. "But if you've come about the society finches, then I'm afraid to say that I ain't got any left. Mr. and Mrs. Cussock got the last ones this morning." "No, no, no—it's not about that. In fact, it's not about a specific bird at all. We're not looking to buy anything," said Ebenezer. The bird-keeper's face fell. His favorite thing about Ebenezer's visits was always the money he got at the end of them.

"My friend Bethany here wants to see some animals, and we're looking for something a bit more personal than the zoo. We were wondering whether you would perhaps be able to give us a little bird tour?" asked Ebenezer. It was a most unusual request. The bird-keeper had never been asked to do such a thing before. "I'd love to help, Mr. Tweezer, I really would, but I have a business to run. If you're not looking to buy anything today, then I'm afraid I ain't gonna be able to help you. Bird tours are not something that I—" Ebenezer silenced the bird-keeper by laying a pile of notes on the counter. "But as you're such a good customer, I'd be happy to help, Mr. Tweezer!" said the bird-keeper, beaming. "Come on through!"

"Did you just call me your friend?" Bethany asked Ebenezer as they were led through to the back of the shop. "Yes. I suppose I did," he answered. "It's funny, I don't remember the last time I referred to anyone as a friend." "What a loser," she laughed. Then, a few moments later, she added, "Don't think I've ever had a real friend either. You can be my first, if you like." Ebenezer stopped as a most unusual warm feeling filled him from top to toe. "Hurry UP, loser!" Bethany called over her shoulder. The first bird on the tour was the hoatzin, a rare, extremely smelly bird with claws on its wings and a spiky hairdo of feathers at the top of its head.

"Would you like to feed it?" asked the bird- keeper. Bethany nodded determinedly. "Go and fetch those flowers by the till for me then." "I don't think flowers are going to make it smell any better. Wouldn't it be more useful if we fetched some perfume?" suggested Ebenezer. Bethany returned with the flowers—a delightful bouquet of lilacs, daffodils, and sweet peas. The bird-keeper opened the hoatzin's cage and motioned for Bethany to put them in. The hoatzin's eyes widened and its nostrils flared with excitement. It took one or two sniffs of the flowers, then opened its beak and