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“Oh.” Alfie nodded. “Sorry.” Then he shook his head, feeling as though good manners had just spoiled his attack. “Don’t tell me not to shout anyway!” he retorted, but in a sort of hoarse whisper. “I’m allowed to shout, you stole my cat.”

“I did not.” Grace sat down on an armchair by the window, and stroked Penguin, who was washing carelessly, close to her feet. “He came in the garden. I suppose he’s used to being in there, because you trespassed so much.”

Alfie flushed, his cheeks suddenly burning. She was so right he couldn’t even argue.

“You made him come in the house,” he muttered. He wasn’t entirely sure about this, but he didn’t think Penguin would have gone in on his own.

She shook her head virtuously, and he was almost certain she was lying. Her eyes changed, and she didn’t look at him, quite. “He followed me.” Then she looked up, shrugging. “You have to let him do what he wants. You can’t train a cat.” She looked down at Penguin, who bumped his head against her sandal affectionately. “I can’t help it that he likes me, can I? He wanted to explore, that’s all. It’s like the call of the wild.”

“No, it isn’t!” Alfie leaned over quickly and grabbed the shiny foil packet that he’d just spotted half-hidden by the cushions behind. “More like the call of the cat treats! You saw we had this kind at our house, and you went and bought some so you could bribe him into coming over here!”

Grace snatched them back, stuffing them down behind the cushions again, and Penguin stopped licking his paws and watched the progress of the foil packet with interest. He knew exactly what was in there.

“Those are mine,” Grace muttered.

“Oh, you eat them, do you? Tuna’s your favourite, then?”

“If Penguin wants to come over here, you can’t stop him,” Grace said fiercely. “He isn’t even yours. He was a stray. Your mum said so. He just turned up at your house. Well, now he’s turned up at mine, hasn’t he? Maybe he likes our house better.”

Alfie shook his head and looked down at Penguin, who’d given up on the hope of treats and was washing again. He couldn’t, could he? He wouldn’t abandon Alfie, who’d looked after him for two whole years? “Penguin,” he whispered. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Penguin glanced up at him but didn’t move.

“Penguin,” Alfie tried again, his voice rising to a frightened half-squeak. “Home. Let’s go.”

“He doesn’t have to go with you unless he wants to,” Grace started smugly, and Alfie stepped back towards the door, knowing he was about to cry and not wanting her to see. But Penguin got up and followed him, overtaking and trotting ahead out into the hallway. Alfie ran after him, his heart thudding and skipping in relief, and wrestled with the door catch.

He looked back as he flung it open and saw Grace standing in the door of the front room, clutching the cat treats and looking as miserable as he’d felt a minute before.

Alfie felt quite guilty– for about ten seconds. Then he decided it was all her own fault.

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But Alfie’s relief didn’t last. He told himself it was only because of the cat treats, but Penguin kept popping round to Grace’s house. He was starting to look even plumper than he had before, and he actually turned down breakfast once, which left even Mum looking shocked.

“Goodness, he must be getting food from somewhere else!” she commented, looking at the full bowl, and Penguin wedging himself into the cat flap. He really had to heave to get through now.

“Mum! I told you! Grace keeps feeding him treats. She’s trying to steal him.”

“Don’t be silly, Alfie.”

“It isn’t silly! She really is, Mum. She kept him at her house overnight last weekend. She wants him to be hers. She even said so! She said he wasn’t really ours because he was a stray.”

“Alfie…”

Alfie knew that tone. It was his mum’s sensible voice, and it meant she didn’t believe a word he said.

“Why don’t you ever believe me?” he yelled, all his worry about Penguin and his anger with Grace coming out in one furious shout. “You don’t love Penguin; you never have. You didn’t even want me to have him. You wouldn’t care if he went and lived at Grace’s house, even if it did make me miserable. You don’t even loveme!”

“Alfie!” Dad walked in from the living room, where he’d been reading to Jess. He looked really annoyed. “Don’t talk to your mum like that!”

“Oh, Alfie…” His mother folded her arms and stared down at him, shaking her head as if she thought he was just having a silly tantrum.

Alfie stamped his feet, and his throat felt rough, as if the words were tearing out of him. He glared at Mum and Dad.“You don’t love me or Penguin, Mum! You said he was a something nuisance, and that’s a word you told me I was never, ever, ever, ever allowed to say.”

Dad made a strange sort of snorting noise. He was laughing! Alfie felt like he was about to burst– it wasn’t funny!

His mother rolled her eyes.“Alfie, he had just torn a pigeon to pieces in my bathroom!” she hissed. “I think I’m allowed to be annoyed!”