Stories: All-New Tales

OH MY GOD! I have six geese now. As well as another tree, another partridge, further pigeons, more hens and four extra parrots (making twelve of them and bedlam). I couldn’t believe these geese. I got to the door just as a whole team of men finished handing them indoors. The last one rode in on top of Housebot. They are big birds and not friendly. At least they are too large to attack the partridges under the sofa, but five of them went out onto the patio and started subduing the hens at once. The shrieks and cackling out there actually drowned out the yells from the parrots. But one goose stayed indoors and seems to have gone broody on the sofa cushions. She stretched out a long, angry neck and tried to peck me when I made an effort to persuade her to join the rest outside. So there she sits, large, boat shaped and white, with her yellow beak swivelling about to make sure I don’t disturb her and her shoe-button eyes glaring unnervingly.

The only good thing about this morning was that the same courier turned up with another parcel of rings. He is a nice young man. He seems awed by me. He said hesitantly while I was signing for the delivery, “Excuse me, miss, but aren’t you on that media clothes show? Catwalk?” I said yes, I was, but we weren’t filming at the moment. He sort of staggered away, thoroughly impressed.

The rings today are all antique fancy gold. With the same message as yesterday. Liam couldn’t have afforded any of this, even if he mortgaged his flat, his pay and his soul. I forgive him.

And I supposed I should feed the geese. I got on to Avian Foodstuffs again and they sent round a waterproof sack of slimy green nibbles. The geese don’t seem to care for them. They ate all the hen food instead. The hens protested and got gone for again. To shut them all up, I tipped out one whole sack of hen food in the corner of the patio and this just caused another furious battle. Then it rained and the geese all came indoors. The beam that opens and shuts the sliding doors to the patio is set low so that Housebot can get out there to clean the pool, and it turns out to be just goose height.

I then discovered that geese are the most incontinent creatures in the universe. My living space is now covered with lumps of excrement, and the geese waddle through it, tramping it about with their large triangular feet. You interfere with them at your peril. I cracked and phoned Liam.

He said, “Don’t call me. Your phone is probably bugged, if your Housebot is. Meet me at the café on the corner.”

How unwelcoming can you get? To make it worse, that cafe is the one where we always used to meet when we were together. But I ground my teeth, got into rainwear and went.

He was sitting outside in the rain. He looks rather good in rainwear. He had even got me the right kind of coffee. He said, “What is it now? Geese?”

I was flabbergasted. “How did you know?”

“And five gold rings yesterday and today?” he said.

“Yes, but all too small,” I said.

“Ah,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “Then you have an admirer who is not only rich hut mindlessly romantic. He is sending you items from an old song—it used to be very popular two hundred years ago—called ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas.’”

“Then whoever he is, he hasn’t a notion how angry he’s making me!” I said.

“The idiot thinks he’s wooing you,” Liam said. “He probably belongs to one of those societies where they trail about in medieval clothes, or armour and so forth. But he’s also up to date enough to tamper with your Housebot and probably bug your phone. So think of any of the rich men you know who fits this description and then you’ll have him. Come on. Think.”

I had been trying to think. But you try thinking with a row of parrots sitting on the rail of your bed and the rest swooping about shouting that they love you. I had made no progress. I sat and watched raindrops plop into my coffee and thought hard. I do know a lot of rich men. You do, in my trade. But they were all mostly media men and those are not romantic. A more cynical lot you can’t imagine. Unless I had annoyed one of them of course…And most of the clothes designers are gay.

“Oh,” said Liam. “My other conjecture is that he’s thoroughly unattractive. I suspect he’s used to having to pay a lot to get women interested. Rather pathetic really.”

I instantly thought of the truly unattractive set of fellows Mother had introduced me to on Christmas Eve. “That’s it!” I cried out. “Bless you, Liam! I’ll phone Mother this evening.”

“I don’t think it’s your mother doing it,” he said.

“No, no,” I said and explained. He agreed that I might be on the right track and we talked it over for a while. Then he said, “By the way, the trees will be pear trees,” and handed me a list. “So you’ll know what to expect next,” he told me and got up and left. Just like that.

I was too angry to look at the list. I wish I had.

December 31, 2233, New Year’s Eve