Oh, Max, I’m so miserable.’ Lucy sniffed and buried her face in the pillow, so all I could do was gently pat her shoulder to show I knew how she felt.
I snuggled up to her and she turned to me, gathered me into her arms and began to sob.
‘Just give me five minutes with that rat Oliver,’ I thought. ‘Just five minutes and he’d be in a heap on the floor, howling for mercy.’
Finally though, Lucy blew her nose and gave me a watery smile.
‘Well, Max, it’s just you and me from now on, fella.’
I patted her again, but I must admit the idea was appealing. Just us two, living happily ever after, as that story goes – you know, the one about Dick Whittington and his wonderful cat, which Lucy used to read to me when I was little.
But looking at her unhappy face, I decided I couldn’t be selfish. Somehow, I’d fix her up.
She yawned several times, and soon
