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its big beak against his nose. It was Monty the parrot.
    Sunny’s eyes had quickly become accustomed to the sunlight, and he could see that the face of the man in the doorway was covered with tiny little crosses of sticking plaster.
    “Who the blazes are you?” demanded Lord Bigg. He sounded far from friendly.

Chapter Six
The Fall
    L ord Bigg wasn’t a big fan of children. He and Lady “La-La” Bigg had once had a boy, but they’d mislaid him, which had rather pleased His Lordship and rather upset Her Ladyship. (It was one of the reasons why they were both happy with the arrangement of his living in the house and her living in the pigsty.)
    There were many reasons why Lord Bigg didn’t particularly like children. Firstly, they cost money. You had to feed and clothe and maybe even educate them. Then there wasthe fact that they didn’t behave like adults. They charged round pretending to be kings or queens or aeroplanes, and had imaginary friends. They asked stupid questions, such as, “How many beans make five?” or difficult questions, such as, “Why’s the sky blue?” Or stupid, difficult questions, such as, “Why aren’t carrots called oranges when they’re as orange as oranges are, and got here first?”

    At meal times, they spent as much time under the table as at it, or they curled up in a ball and squirmed on their chair. More food ended up on the table, the floor and themselvesthan in their mouths.
    They somehow managed to get their clothes dirty within thirty seconds of putting them on. They collected bugs and mud and little scraps of paper with “important” squiggles on them.
    They talked when you wanted them to be quiet and were quiet when you wanted them to say something. They gave off strange smells and said embarrassing things, such as “Why isn’t Mr Morris dead yet?” when Mr Morris was standing right next to them; or “How come you have big sweat patches under your arms, Mrs Sawyer?”; or “Are you really as dumb as my daddy says you are?”. And that was just for starters …
    So no, Lord Bigg wasn’t one of those lordships who wanted a son and heir who would one day take over Bigg Manor from him and keep the family name alive.
    It wasn’t as if he had a fortune to pass on, like in the old days when the Bigg family was still making railings. If Lord and Lady Bigg hadn’t mislaid their son somewhere – and neither of them could remember which one of them had been supposed to have been looking after him when they did – he’d have inherited an empty house, some beautifully gardened gardens, a handful of servants and, probably by then, some serious debts. So it had all worked out rather well really.
    Lord Bigg eyed the strange child sitting before him now. “I said, who the blazes are you?”
    Sack and Mimi had jumped to their feet, and Sunny now did the same. “My name is Sunny,” he said.
    “And what are you doing on my land?” demanded His Lordship.
    “I – er—”
    “You’re not with Smalls, are you?” Monty had landed on Bigg’s shoulder and they both leaned forward as one, their two pairs of beady eyes boring into Sunny’s. “You do look somehow familiar.”
    “S-S-S-malls, sir?” asked Sunny.
    “An odious little man with a BIGG IS BAD T-shirt,” said Bigg.
    “AIN’T BEST,” Sunny corrected him. “BIGG AIN’T BEST.”
    Lord Bigg’s eyes widened and flickered with rage. “So you are part of his little circus.”
    “No!” said Sunny. “I’ve read the T-shirt, that’s all.”
    Bigg looked far from convinced, and Monty was itching to bite the boy’s nose. “Then who are you?”
    “He saved me from the bees, Your Lordship,”said Mimi.
    “It’s true, Your Lordship,” said Sack. “Young Sunny here was only trying to help your boot boy, at great personal risk to himself.”
    “Personal risk?” Lord Bigg snorted. “I was stung by a wasp once and didn’t even cry.”
    “But there was a whole swarm of them,” Mimi protested.
    “A whole