Arthur wasn’t the first to wake that morning. His stepfather, who worked shifts for the emergency services, had already left to go to work. In the summer, when they were all at the cottage, that always meant a very early start in order to stay ahead of the traffic.
Not wanting to get up, but finding that he’d forgotten to charge his phone, he lay watching his baby sister taking little side steps along the edge of her cot. She hadn’t started to walk yet but seeing that she was barely having to hold on to the edges at all, he understood that it wouldn’t be long now.
All of a sudden, the words ‘liquorice sticks’ filtered through his mind, and with them, the weirdest feeling that he and the cat might really have been talking to each other the previous night. Deciding that he was going to have to go and find out once and for all, he got up quietly and crept out into the garden. The cat was stretched out on his favourite patch of sunny grass near the rose climbers.
‘Alright, Cat,’ said Arthur, perching himself on the swing.
The cat didn’t react.
‘Hey?’ he called out. ‘Earth to Cat!’
‘Whaat!?’ meowed the cat unhappily, making him jump. ‘Can’t you see I was sleeping? I was having the greatest dream ever. I was able to fly! And, if you really must know, I’d be a lot more all right if breakfast wasn’t always those same dreadful, dry biscuits. And now that you bring it up, I need you to have a little word with your mum for me. You know, ask her to come up with something a bit more exciting for a change. What d’ya say?’
‘So, it’s really true, then. We can talk!’ Arthur said, mouth agape.
‘Oh Lord, didn’t we go through all of this last night?’
‘Well, yeah we did, but…’
‘But you woke up thinking that maybe you’d dreamt it?’
‘Well, actually yeah, but…’
‘But, as you can see, you didn’t, and yes, we can.’
‘Well, yeah, but…’
But before he could finish, a screeching sound made them both look towards the porch door. His sister’s head had just appeared in the doorway, and she was looking very pleased with herself.
‘Anna!’ puffed his mother, seconds later, looking decidedly flustered. ‘You can’t run away before breakfast—how far do you think you’ll get on an empty stomach? Arthur, come and eat, and don’t leave the door open to the porch. How many times have I told you?’
‘But, Mama! It wasn’t me!’
‘Of course it wasn’t. It never is,’ she said, making a point of stepping outside and looking around.
‘Ugh!’ he groaned. But it was pointless to argue. And in any case, what did it matter? He was always in trouble for just about everything that went wrong, especially where it concerned his baby sister. His mother went back inside, closing the door with a bang.
