the beginning of things

it was really most extraordinary.

there was philip mannering, doing his best to puzzle out algebraproblems, lying full-length under a tree with nobody near him at all – andyet he could hear a voice speaking to him most distinctly.

‘can’t you shut the door, idiot?’ said the voice, in a most impatient tone.

‘and how many times have i told you to wipe your feet?’

philip sat up straight and took a good look round for the third time – butthe hillside stretched above and below him, completely empty of any boy,girl, man or woman.

‘it’s so silly,’ said philip to himself. ‘because there is no door to shut,and no mat to wipe my feet on. whoever is speaking must be perfectly mad.

anyway, i don’t like it. a voice without a body is too odd for anything.’

a small brown nose poked up out of philip’s jersey collar. it belonged toa little brown mouse, one of the boy’s many pets. philip put up a gentlehand and rubbed the tiny creature’s head. its nose twitched in delight.

‘shut the door, idiot!’ roared the voice from nowhere, ‘and don’t sniff.

where’s your handkerchief?’

this was too much for philip. he roared back.

‘shut up! i’m not sniffing. who are you, anyway?’

there was no answer. philip felt very puzzled. it was uncanny andpeculiar. where did that extraordinary voice with its rude commands comefrom, on this bright, sunny but completely empty hillside? he shoutedagain.

‘i’m working. if you want to talk, come out and show yourself.’

‘all right, uncle,’ said the voice, speaking unexpectedly in a verydifferent tone, apologetic and quiet.

‘gosh!’ said philip. ‘i can’t stand this. i’ll have to solve the mystery. if ican find out where the voice comes from, i may find its owner.’ he shoutedagain. ‘where are you? come out and let me see you.’

‘if i’ve told you once i’ve told you a dozen times not to whistle,’

answered the voice fiercely. philip was silent with astonishment. he hadn’tbeen whistling. evidently the owner of the voice must be completely mad.

philip suddenly felt that he didn’t want to meet this strange person. hewould rather go home without seeing him.

he looked carefully round. he had no idea at all where the voice camefrom, but he rather thought it must be somewhere to the left of him. allright, he would go quietly down the hill to the right, keeping to the trees ifhe could, so that they might hide him a little.

he picked up his books, put his pencil into his pocket and stood upcautiously. he almost jumped out of his skin as the voice broke out intocackles of laughter. philip forgot to be cautious and darted down the hillsideto the shelter of a clump of trees. the laughter stopped suddenly.

philip stood under a big tree and listened. his heart beat fast. he wishedhe was back at the house with the others. then, just above his head, thevoice spoke again.

‘how many times have i told you to wipe your feet?’

then there came a most unearthly screech that made poor philip drop hisbooks in terror. he looked up into the tree near by, and saw a beautifulwhite parrot, with a yellow crest on its head that it worked up and down. itgazed at philip with bright black eyes, its head on one side, its curved beakmaking a grating noise.

philip stared at the parrot and the parrot stared back. then the bird liftedup a clawed foot and scratched its head very thoughtfully, still raising andlowering its crest. then it spoke.

‘don’t sniff,’ it said, in a conversational tone. ‘can’t you shut the door,idiot? where are your manners?’

‘golly!’ said philip, in amazement. ‘so it was you talking and shoutingand laughing! well – you gave me an awful fright.’

the parrot gave a most realistic sneeze. ‘where’s your handkerchief?’ itsaid.

philip laughed. ‘you really are a most extraordinary bird,’ he said. ‘thecleverest i ever saw. where have you escaped from?’

‘wipe your feet,’ answered the parrot sternly. philip laughed again. thenhe heard the sound of a boy’s voice, calling loudly from the bottom of thehill.

‘kiki, kiki, kiki! where have you got to?’

the parrot spread out its wings, gave a hideous screech, and sailed awaydown the hillside towards a house set at the foot. philip watched it go.

‘that was a boy calling it,’ he thought. ‘and he was in the garden ofhillfoot house, where i’m staying. i wonder if he’s come there to becrammed too. i jolly well hope he has. it would be fine to have a parrot likethat living with us. it’s dull enough having to do lessons in the hols – aparrot would liven things up a bit.’

philip had had scarlet fever the term before, and measles immediatelyafterwards, so that he had missed most of his school-work. his headmasterhad written to his uncle and aunt suggesting that he should go and stay atthe home of one of the teachers for a few weeks, to make up a little of whathe had missed. and, much to philip’s disgust, his uncle had at once agreed– so there was philip, in the summer holidays, having to work at algebraand geography and history, instead of having a fine time with his sisterdinah at his home, craggy-tops, by the sea.

he liked the master, mr roy, but he was bored with the other two boysthere, who, also owing to illness, were being crammed or coached by mrroy. one was much older than philip, and the other was a poor whiningcreature who was simply terrified of the various insects and animals thatphilip always seemed to be collecting or rescuing. the boy was intenselyfond of all creatures and had an amazing knack of making them trust him.

now he hurried down the hillside, eager to see if another pupil had joinedthe little holiday collection of boys to be coached. if the new boy owned theparrot, he would be somebody interesting – more interesting than that biglout of a sam, and better fun than poor whining oliver.

he opened the garden gate and then stared in surprise. a girl was in thegarden, not a very big girl – perhaps about eleven. she had red hair, rathercurly, and green eyes, a fair skin and hundreds of freckles. she stared atphilip.

‘hallo,’ said philip, rather liking the look of the girl, who was dressed inshorts and a jersey. ‘have you come here?’

‘looks like it,’ said the girl, with a grin. ‘but i haven’t come to work.

only to be with jack.’

‘who’s jack?’ asked philip.

‘my brother,’ said the girl. ‘he’s got to be coached. you should have seenhis report last term. he was bottom in everything. he’s very clever really,but he just doesn’t bother. he says he’s going to be an ornithologist, sowhat’s the good of learning dates and capes and poems and things?’

‘what’s an— an— whatever it was you said?’ said philip, wonderinghow anyone could possibly have so many freckles on her nose as this girlhad.

‘ornithologist? oh, it’s someone who loves and studies birds,’ said thegirl. ‘didn’t you know that? jack’s mad on birds.’

‘he ought to come and live where i live then,’ said philip at once. ‘i liveon a very wild, lonely part of the sea-coast, and there are heaps of rare sea?birds there. i like birds too, but i don’t know much about them. i say – doesthat parrot belong to jack?’

‘yes,’ said the girl. ‘he’s had her for four years. her name is kiki.’

‘did he teach it to say all those things?’ said philip, thinking that thoughjack might be bottom in all school subjects he would certainly get topmarks for teaching parrots to talk!

‘oh no,’ said the girl, smiling, so that her green eyes twinkled andcrinkled. ‘kiki just picked up those sayings of hers – picked them up fromour old uncle, who is the crossest old man in the world, i should think. ourmother and father are dead, so uncle geoffrey has us in the hols, anddoesn’t he just hate it! his housekeeper hates us too, so we don’t have muchof a time, but so long as i have jack, and so long as jack has his belovedbirds, we are happy enough.’

‘i suppose jack got sent here to learn a few things, like me,’ said philip.

‘you’ll be lucky – you’ll be able to play, go for walks, do what you like,whilst we are stewing in lessons.’

‘no, i shan’t,’ said the girl. ‘i shall be with jack. i don’t have him in theschool term, so i’m jolly well going to have him in the hols. i think he’smarvellous.’

‘well, that’s more than my sister, dinah, thinks of me,’ said philip.

‘we’re always quarrelling. hallo – is this jack?’

a boy came up the path towards philip. on his left shoulder sat theparrot, kiki, rubbing her beak softly against jack’s ear, and sayingsomething in a low voice. the boy scratched the parrot’s head and gazed atphilip with the same green eyes as his sister had. his hair was even redder,and his face so freckled that it would have been impossible to find a clearspace anywhere, for there seemed to be freckles on top of freckles.

‘hallo, freckles,’ said philip, and grinned.

‘hallo, tufty,’ said jack, and grinned too. philip put up his hand and felthis front bit of hair, which always rose up in a sort of tuft. no amount ofwater and brushing would make it lie down for long.

‘wipe your feet,’ said kiki severely.

‘i’m glad you found kiki all right,’ said the girl. ‘she didn’t like comingto a strange place, and that’s why she flew off, i expect.’

‘she wasn’t far away, lucy-ann,’ said jack. ‘i bet old tufty here got afright if he heard her up on the hillside.’

‘i did,’ said philip, and began telling the two what had happened. theylaughed loudly, and kiki joined in, cackling in a most human manner.

‘golly, i’m glad you and lucy-ann have come here,’ said philip, feelingmuch happier than he had felt for some days. he liked the look of the redhaired, green-eyed brother and sister very much. they would be friends. hewould show them the animals he had as pets. they could go for walkstogether. jack was some years older than lucy-ann, about fourteen, philipthought, just a little older than he himself was. it was a pity dinah wasn’tthere too, then there would be four of them. dinah was twelve. she wouldfit in nicely – only, perhaps, with her quick impatience and quarrelsomenature, it might not be peaceful!

‘how different lucy-ann and jack are from me and dinah,’ thoughtphilip. it was quite plain that lucy-ann adored jack, and philip could notimagine dinah hanging on to his words, eager to do his bidding, fetchingand carrying for him, as lucy-ann did for jack.

‘oh, well – people are different,’ thought the boy. ‘dinah’s a good sort,even if we do quarrel and fight. she must be having a pretty awful time atcraggy-tops without me. i bet aunt polly is working her hard.’

it was pleasant at tea-time that day to sit and watch jack’s parrot on hisshoulder, making remarks from time to time. it was good to see the glint inlucy-ann’s green eyes as she teased big, slow sam, and ticked off thesmaller, peevish oliver. things would liven up a bit now.

they certainly did. holiday coaching was much more fun with jack andlucy-ann there too.