LITMIR.BIZ

      “James!” she said. “Was this you?”

      Slowly, watching his mum from under his eyelashes, James nodded.

      “How did it happen?”

      “Don’t know,” said James.

      “You must know! Were you playing?”

      James frowned, as he thought about it. He scuffed his feet on the grass.

      “I won’t be angry with you,” said his mum, “if you just tell me the truth. Was it an accident?”

      James drew a breath. Deep, and quivering. He shook his head.

      “You mean, you did it on purpose?”

      There was a long silence.

      “Did you?” said his mum.

      “Couldn’t help it,” mumbled James.

      “What do you mean, you couldn’t help it?”

      “It just happened.”

      “You mean, you walked into the garden and you thought, ‘I’ll break down all Mum’s lovely flowers’. Is that what you’re saying?”

      James rubbed a finger over his forehead.

      “Well!” His mum looked at him, reproachfully. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, was it? To break my flowers? It seems to me the sort of thing a four-year-old might do… not an eight-year-old! I would have thought an eight-year-old would have known better. I would have thought an eight-year-old would enjoy seeing beautiful flowers.”

      Eight-year-olds were big boys. They did what they had to do. Breaking flowers was nothing to a big boy!

      “I haven’t yet heard you say a certain little word,” said Mum. She tipped the big boy’s face towards her. “Sorry?” she said.

      “I couldn’t help it!” roared James. “It just happened!”

      And he went racing back into the house and up to his bedroom. The bedroom door slammed shut behind him.

      His mum was left standing there, with all her broken flowers. The big boy watched her, from behind his bedroom curtain. Why didn’t she come upstairs and wallop him? He was a big boy. He could take it!

      But his mum just sighed and put the poor broken flowers on the compost heap. Then she went back to the shop, where Dad was serving customers with newspapers and sweets and the baby was being admired in his carry cot.

      “I don’t know what we’re going to do about James,” she said.

      “Been naughty again, has he?” said Dad.

      “I think he’s feeling a bit insecure. He thinks we love the baby more than we love him.”

      “Well, we don’t!” said Dad. “We love them both the same. We’ve told him over and over!”

      “Yes, I know.” James’s mum sighed. “But he asked me the other day if he could have a puppy and I said not until the baby’s older. So naturally he blames Alexander.”

      “It’s hardly Alexander’s fault,” said Dad. “James will have to learn… he can’t always have everything just when he wants it.”

      “He’s only little,” pleaded James’s mum.

      “He’s big enough! He’ll learn. Don’t worry, it’ll be Christmas soon… his gran will sort him out!”

      There wasn’t anyone to sort the puppies out, now that they were in the pet shop. No Mum to tell them off, no big furry cat to bop them one if they got a bit too playful. They had to be on their best behaviour if they wanted someone to give them a home!

      Ginger had felt a bit anxious, just at first, but not really frightened. Nothing bad had ever happened to him in his short life and he still had his brother and sisters. It was a bit of an adventure!

      Even though they were shut up in a cage, life was not boring. There were lots of new sights and sounds in the pet shop. For instance, there was a strange squawking creature, with brightly coloured feathers, that sat on a perch and kept shrieking, “Pretty Polly, pretty Polly!”

      Ginger was fascinated. He had never seen anything like it before.

      Then there were some funny soft things with long floppy ears and stumpy tails, and some little red-and-gold things that flickered about in a glass case full of water.

      And there were people! Lots and lots of people.