‘The time is currently twelve-oh-three a.m., the day is Saturday the twenty-third of February. Owen Michael Pick, I am placing you under arrest for the abduction of Saffyre Maddox. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence ifyou do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Do you understand?’
Owen looks at Barry as if there is something he should be saying or doing that could make this go away.
But Barry just closes his eyes and nods.
37
SAFFYRE
A few days before New Year’s Eve, I found Aaron standing at the door of our flat looking edgy and bouncy. I’d just got out of the lift. I said, ‘What’s up with you?’
‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’
I smiled suspiciously at him. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘Take your coat off,’ he said. He took it from me as I slipped my arms out of the sleeves and hung it up for me. ‘Come. But be quiet. OK? Take your shoes off.’
I kicked off my trainers and looked at him questioningly.
Then I followed him into the living room. He led me towards the Christmas tree and said, ‘Oh look! There’s another presentunder the tree! Santa must have come back because you have been such a good girl!’
I frowned at him and then knelt down next to the parcel. It was more of a box than a parcel, a shiny red box with a lid and a golden bow.
‘You’d better open it, don’t you think?’
I slowly pulled the lid up. I looked in the box. And then I gasped. My hands went straight to my mouth. I looked at Aaron and I said, ‘No!’
‘Actually, yes.’ He smiled hard.
Inside the box was a tiny cream kitten. It was like the sort of kitten you see on Instagram: big blue eyes, so much fluff. It opened its mouth like a lion about to roar, and made a tiny, pathetic mewling sound. I laughed and put my hands into the box to scoop it out. It barely weighed anything; it was all fluff and no physical mass, just a tiny breath of a thing. ‘Is it ours?’ I asked Aaron.
He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘He’s yours. He’s your cat.’
I made some weird noise, like a squeal mixed with a groan. All my life, all my life I’d been asking for a pet and all my life I’d been told no, that it was too much work, we didn’t have enough space, that Granddad had allergies, too expensive, too much. And I’d finally given up asking a couple of years back and now here was my pet. Here he was. In my hands. I kissed his head and said, ‘For real?’
And Aaron said, ‘Yes. For real.’
‘Oh my God. Oh my actual God. I can’t believe it. I really can’t believe it.’
I put the kitten down on the floor and let him explore. He stood on his back legs and pawed at a low-hanging bauble. Aaron and I looked at each other and laughed.
He said, ‘What are you going to call him?’
‘Gosh, I don’t know. What do you think?’
‘I dunno. I mean, the blue eyes – Frank Sinatra?’
‘Who?’
‘Frank Sinatra. He’s a singer from the old days. Called ’Ol Blue Eyes. Because of his blue eyes. How do you not know this?’
‘Why should I know this? I’m young. I’m not old like you.’
‘But Frank would be a cool name for him, don’t you think?’
I picked up the kitten and looked at his big blue eyes. He did the tiny noise thing again. I thought, No, he doesn’t look like a Frank. He looks like an angel. I said, ‘Angelo. I’m going to call him Angelo.’
I know why Aaron bought me the kitten. I’m not stupid and it was pretty obvious. He bought me the kitten to make me want to stay home. I knew he was uncomfortable about the amount of time I was spending outside the flat, and he’s not stupid either. It was kind of genius. Because how could I want to be hanging around outside on my own in the dark and the cold and the wet when I could be cuddled up with Angelo, the kitten of my dreams?
