The bus stopped and more passengers got on. A woman asked if I was reading the paper on the seat next to me. I shook my head and she picked it up and sat down and opened it and started leafing through, her elbow digging softly in my ribs. Dog of the Day! 162 die in factory blaze in Bangladesh! Girl, 13, dies of ruptured stomach! I could hear Ginny meowing behind the front door, before I’d even got it open. She wound around my legs, almost tripping me up as I went through to the kitchen and opened the cupboard and found there were no packets of food left, just a box of those dry things she always turned her nose up at. So I took the rest of the lasagne out of the fridge, spooned some into her dish and then slid the rest onto a microwavable plate. ‘There you go, Garfield,’ I said, putting her portion down on the floor. She sniffed it, looked at me confused, sniffed it again, then began to lick the top of it. I set ten minutes on the microwave, then went through to the living room and sat down on the sofa, turned on the TV, flicked through the channels, and fiddled with my phone.
