to calm down and go back to sleep. Harry nodded and started to walk back home with his mum. He cried with the sky and felt dizzy. He remembers the cat, still as a statue, and the smell that’s like the fruit his mum had to throw away last week because it had gone bad, but worse. Has the cat gone bad, too? Does his mum need to throw it away? When they got home, Harry had stopped crying, but his nose was running and he wanted to hug his mum again. His mum looked at him. ‘I promise we’ll go to the park tomorrow.’ ‘Can we go a different way?’ he said, as he sniffled into his mum’s handkerchief. ‘Of course we can; we’ll play football near the paddling pool if you want.’ But the ball was still in the rosebush.
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