***
Vicky struck gold at the charity shops, acquiring not only a soldier doll in combats and hoody, but also a bagful of dolls’ clothes that the lady at the till offered her for a pound.
True, the annoying Mrs Watkins had seen her buying the doll, and made barbed comments, but Vicky had thrown her off the scent by talking about an art project she was doing as a hobby, then claimed she didn’t like to discuss things until they were finished. Vagueness, she realised, was the key to successful lying. That and the fact she knew Mrs Watkins wasn’t that interested in anyone but herself anyway.
The house was quiet when she got home, but she still called out, ‘Anybody home?’ just in case. She made her way up the stairs to her room, watching where she trod – although she’d told Blackbird not to leave her dressing table, she didn’t trust him to pay attention, and scraping squashed fairy off the carpet was the last thing she needed. Gently she opened the bedroom door and slipped inside.
‘Blackbird? Where are you? Come and see what I’ve got.’
He emerged from a hiding place, still wrapped in silk. Vicky tipped the dolls clothes from the bag onto her dressing table, then undressed the soldier doll as Blackbird rummaged through the pile.
‘Oh, this is good. Beautiful!’ He was holding up a peacock blue T shirt with a pink, white and gold heart on it. Vicky handed him the soldier doll’s combats.
‘Try these. I can cut them down if you like.’ But he slipped back into his hiding place and emerged shortly with the hems rolled up, over and over. The T shirt was from a female doll, but one with a less exaggerated bust, so it fitted him a lot better. It was still a very feminine look, but when he checked his appearance in her mirror, that wasn’t what bothered him.
‘Need a tiny comb,’ he muttered pulling his fingers through his knotted and tangled hair.
‘Hang on, if I can find it – ah, yes, try this,’ Vicky located her eyebrow comb, and passed it over. It was still far too big for Blackbird, being nearly half his height, but it wasn’t totally useless, and he grimaced as he started to unpick the knots.
Vicky looked at the soldier doll, comparing its cropped hair, square jaw, and steely gaze with Blackbird’s tangled mane, pointy little face and wide green eyes. But although Blackbird was only as high as the doll’s chin, he was definitely the tougher of the two.
‘Do you want this?’ She offered Blackbird the khaki hoody. It was maybe a bit drab for his liking, but the bright blue of the T shirt would set it off nicely.
‘Mm-hmm.’ He was still engrossed in detangling his hair. ‘Keep me warm.’
‘I thought your bird cape did that?’ Vicky asked.
‘Yeah, but the wings is too big. Keep tripping over them.’ He smiled, and Vicky realised she’d never seen him smile before. So this was the Blackbird that Demi knew. In a good mood, he was utterly charming. He was also a lot cleaner. He’d splashed about in a sinkful of bubbles whilst Vicky had showered that morning, and his usual rather doglike aroma had been replaced with ‘Citrus Zing’.
‘When you’re ready we’ll go to Aelwen’s Grove,’ Vicky said. ‘I’ve got some food for you. I’ll come back there with Heledd when we’ve finished work.’
The comb had got stuck fast in Blackbird’s hair, and for a moment Vicky thought he’d lose his temper, but then he just started giggling.
‘Let me,’ she offered, and gently removed it. She was smiling, too, and felt relief at the tension which had dissipated. She got the feeling she’d passed a test the previous night, and earned Blackbird’s trust.
‘Okay, then,’ he said, pulling on the hoody, ‘Ready to go’.