Mrs. Swanson gives a lazy nod as she pokes her head through our new kitchen window, trying to steal biscuits off the tray that dad’s passing around. The Grand Vizier is on my shoulder, rubbing his head around my neck and cooing as I feed him a bit of custard cream.
It’s been three weeks since we got back from Egypt; enough time for the builders and decorators that Nan and Grandpa Stephano hired for us to repair the damage from the fire. We were lucky, really, as dad’s bookcase won first prize in the competition he’d entered it in, and the prize money came in handy to help pay them back. The decorators are practically finished now, all that’s left for them to do is lay the new carpet in the lounge.
The house feels empty without Brennan, but at least the other animals have accepted it now.
