…THE ISLAND OF STOGHARE AND THE SCOONBOB.
Arlo Twittle part 5.
Although Mrs. Butcher’s house was old and smelly, and a little dusty, the place was still homely. He often wished his home were like hers. Well, except for the smell. He looked around the kitchen at the mismatched cabinet doors. The flowers and herbs on the windowsill. The tiny crystals that hung from string from the curtain-pole. Those he loved the most. When the afternoon sun flooded through the window, the whole room shone like a rainbow, and this, for Arlo, was the best time of all. Because colour—of any description—wasn’t allowed at home. Except on his mother, who dressed in the most shocking of colours.
One of the cats, whose name he couldn’t remember, jumped on his lap, patted his legs a few times then made itself comfortable and fell asleep. He brushed a hand across the soft, white fur and tried hard to think of its name. Nevertheless, there were so many of them, he could never work out which one was which.
The sound of Mrs. Butcher’s slippers shuffling along the corridor disturbed the cat. Its eyes opened and stared up at him and Arlo was sure he saw it smile, before it settled back down and went to sleep again.