I said, “Yes, cos it’s real lemon and real sugar and real cream.”
“What else could it be?” said Em.
“Could be soya cream.”
“Oh! I never thought of that. Maybe next time—”
“No.” Dad snatched a couple of pots and handed one to Caroline. “Don’t go and ruin a good thing.”
“I just thought—”
“Not now,” said Cass. “Let Caroline enjoy her pudding.”
As soon as I started on my posset, Bella appeared. With one bound she was up beside me, nearly pulling the tablecloth off in the process.
“Good gracious,” said Caroline. “A cat on the table?”
Dad frowned. “Bitsy, put her down.”
“Dad!” Em looked at him reproachfully. “You know we don’t say that. She’ll think we’re taking her to the vet to be …”
“Murdered,” I said.
“Euthanised,” said Dad.
“It means the same thing!” Em was getting quite worked up. “Just don’t say it.”
Em is very protective where Bella is concerned. Well, with all animals, really. She is going to be a vet when she grows up.
Dad shook his head, like, What can you do? “Just put her on the floor,” he said. “We don’t have cats up here while we’re eating.”
I opened my mouth to object cos, I mean, Bella is used to joining us on the table no matter what Dad said, but Cass, sitting next to me, gave me a warning jab.
“Just do what your dad says.”
I set Bella on the ground. She immediately jumped back up again.
Dad said, “Bitsy …”
I said, “Yes, all right! She just wants a bit of posset.” I dug out a blob with my finger and gave it to her to lick. She purred appreciatively. “Lemon possets are one of her favourites,” I said. “She’d live on them if she could!”
Caroline said, “Really? It surely can’t be good for her.”
“It’s the cream,” I said. “Cats love cream.”
“But it’s so fattening! No wonder she has a bit of a tum.”
It was true, I suppose. Bella’s tummy does sometimes wobble slightly as she walks.
“She’s not fat,” I said earnestly. “It’s mostly fur. Feel!” I held Bella out to her, but Dad intervened.
“I did tell you, Bitsy, to put her on the floor.”
“I’ll put her on the sofa,” I said. “She’ll be happy there. When we first had her,” I told Caroline, “we called her Belle o’ the Ball. Now Dad says she’s Bella the Ball! But she does have very thick fur.” I added this quickly before Em could give me another of her looks. Bella is mainly her cat and she won’t let anyone say anything bad about her.
“Well, now,” said Cass, “if everyone’s eaten enough I’ll go and put the coffee on. Bits, do you want to give me a hand?”
“Caroline hasn’t finished!” I said. She’d only eaten half her posset.
“No, no, I’m through.” Caroline pushed her plate away from her. “It was lovely, but I’m just too full up after all that pie.”
“I don’t think she liked it,” I whispered to Cass as we went through to the kitchen.
“Oh, she’s just worried about putting on a few extra kilos,” said Cass. “She’d probably have been far happier with a glass of water and a couple of grapes. Peeled.”
I gazed at Cass doubtfully, not sure whether she was being serious or just joking.
“Stop looking so woebegone!” Cass gave me a hug. “She’s a very figure-conscious lady … I bet she won’t take either milk or sugar in her coffee! Go and check with her.”
I skipped back into the sitting room to see Caroline lowering herself into one of the armchairs. As she did so, she gave a little squeak.
“Ooh, what’s this?”
Gingerly she slid her hand down the side and held something up.
“Oh!” I said. “My dividers! From my geometry set. I wondered where they’d gone.”
Dad, rather crossly, said, “For goodness’ sake, Bitsy! You really must be more careful. That could have caused a nasty accident.”
Embarrassed, I muttered that I was very sorry.
“Not to worry,” said Caroline. “No harm done. Tell me, as a matter of interest, why does everyone call you Bitsy when your name is Flora?”
Em said, “Hah!”
“You can tell her,” I said, “if you want.” She was obviously bursting to.
“OK! It’s cos once when she was little,” explained Em, “Dad asked Cass if we had any bitter chocolate. He said he really fancied some bitter chocolate. So Cass said we didn’t have any cos, like, nobody had ever asked for it before, so Flora goes toddling off and comes back all triumphant with two squares of Cadbury’s milk saying, ‘Look, Dad, bit o’ chocolate!’”
“And she’s been Bitsy ever since,” said Dad fondly.
“Well, it’s a sweet story,” said Caroline, “but I’m going to call her Flora. I think it’s a pity to have such a pretty name and not use it! Like Emily. That’s another pretty name.” She smiled at us. “Emily and Flora! How about it?”
“You can always try,” said Cass.
“I intend to!”
I wondered how I would feel about being called Flora after being Bitsy for so long. Everyone called me Bitsy! Well, not teachers, of course, but everyone in my class. Maybe if I was Flora I would have a bit more dignity, instead of just being a small round person that no one took any notice of.
After Dad had left to take Caroline home, we all sat round discussing how the evening had gone. Had it been a success? Sadly, we came to the conclusion that it hadn’t.
“I know she didn’t like her pudding,” I said. “Anyone that really enjoyed it would have gobbled up the whole pot. They wouldn’t be able to help it!”
Cass sighed and said she probably hadn’t enjoyed her mock pie, either. “It was a big mistake. I should have given her real meat.”
“But this is a meat-free zone,” said Em.
“But she was our guest!”
“I just don’t see how anyone could tell that it wasn’t real meat,” I said. “Not if they hadn’t been told.”
“Course, you know what really didn’t help?” said Em. “Someone going and leaving half their geometry set down the side of the chair. Imagine if she’d got stabbed in an artery!”
“Well, but she didn’t,” I said.
“She could have done.”
“Well, but she didn’t.”
“To think we spent all that time tidying up,” sighed Cass. “How did we manage to miss it? And then letting that cat jump on the table!”
Em immediately sprang to Bella’s defence. “You can’t blame Bella! She always jumps on the table.”
“You didn’t