Ratburger. David Walliams

      It was agonising to see it empty. The little girl closed her eyes but couldn’t sleep. Her heart was aching, her brain was spinning. She was sad, she was angry, she was sad, she was angry, she was sad. She turned on to her left side. Maybe it would be easier to sleep facing the grimy wall rather than staring at the empty cage. She closed her eyes again, but all she could think about was Gingernut.

      Not that it was easy to think, what with the noise coming from the neighbouring flat. Zoe didn’t know who lived there – people in the tower block weren’t exactly close – but most evenings she heard shouting. It seemed like a man screaming at his daughter, who would often cry, and Zoe felt sorry for her, whoever she was. However bad Zoe thought her life was, this girl’s sounded worse.

      But Zoe blocked out the shouting, and soon fell asleep, dreaming of Gingernut, breakdancing in heaven …

       5

       Droppings

      Zoe trudged even more reluctantly than usual to school the next morning. Gingernut was dead, and with that her dreams had died too. As Zoe walked out of the estate, Tina flobbed on the little girl’s head as she always did. As she was wiping the flob out of her frizzy hair with a page ripped from one of her exercise books, Zoe saw Dad crouched over by the tiniest patch of grass.

      He appeared to be digging with his hands.

      He turned around quickly, as if in shock. “Oh, hello, my love …”

      “What are you doing?” said Zoe. She leaned over him, to see what he was up to, and saw that the little package containing Gingernut was laid on the ground, next to a small mound of earth.

      “Don’t tell your mum …”

      “Stepmum!”

      “Don’t tell your stepmum, but I fished the little fella out of the bin …”

      “Oh, Dad!”

      “Sheila’s still asleep, snoring away. I don’t think she heard anything. Gingernut meant so much to you and I just wanted to give him, you know, a proper burial.”

      Zoe smiled for a moment, but somehow she found herself crying too.

      “Oh, Dad, thank you so much …”

      “No word of this to her though, or she’ll murder me.”

      “Of course not.”

      Zoe knelt down beside him, picked up the little package and lowered Gingernut into the small hole her father had dug.

      “I even got one of these for a headstone. One of the old lolly sticks from the factory.”

      Zoe took out her chewed biro from her pocket, and scribbled ‘Gingernut’ on the stick, though there wasn’t really room for the ‘t’, so it just read:

      GINGERNU

      Dad filled in the hole, and they stood back and looked at the little grave.

      “Thanks, Dad. You are the best …”

      Now Dad was crying.

      “What’s the matter?” asked Zoe.

      “I am not the best. I am so sorry, Zoe. But I will get another job one day. I know I will …”

      “Dad, a job doesn’t matter. I just want you to be happy.”

      “I don’t want you to see me like this …”

      Dad started walking away. Zoe pulled on his arm, but he shook it out of her grasp, and walked off back to the tower block.

      “Come and meet me at the school gates later, Dad. We can go to the park, and you can put me on your shoulders. I used to love that. It don’t cost a thing.”

      “Sorry, I’ll be in the pub. Have a good day at school,” he shouted, without looking back. He was hiding his sadness from his daughter, like he always did.

      Zoe could feel her stomach screaming in hunger. There had been no dinner last night as Sheila had spent all the benefit money on fags, and there was no food in the house. Zoe hadn’t eaten for a very long time. So she stopped off at Raj’s Newsagent.

      All the kids from school went to his shop before or after school. As Zoe never received pocket money, she would only come in to the shop and gaze longingly at the sweets. Being exceptionally kind-hearted, Raj often took pity on the girl and gave her free ones. Only the out-of-date ones though, or those with a hint of mould, but she was still grateful. Sometimes she would be allowed a quick suck on a mint before Raj asked her to spit it out so he could put it back in the packet to sell it to another customer.

      This morning Zoe was especially hungry, and was hoping Raj would help …

      TING went the bell as the door opened.

      “Aaah! Miss Zoe. My favourite customer.” Raj was a big jolly man, who always had a smile on his face, even if you told him his shop was on fire.

      “Hello, Raj,” said Zoe sheepishly. “I don’t have any money again today I am afraid.”

      “Not a penny?”

      “Nothing. Sorry.”

      “Oh dear. But you do look hungry. A quick nibble on one of these chocolate bars perhaps?”

      He picked up a bar and unwrapped it for her.

      “Just try and eat around the edge please. Then I can put it in the wrapper and back on sale. The next customer will never know!”

      Zoe nibbled greedily on the chocolate bar, her front teeth munching off the edges like a little rodent.

      “You look very sad, child,” said Raj. He was always good at spotting when things were wrong, and could be a lot more caring than some parents or teachers. “Have you been crying?”

      Zoe looked up from her nibbling for a moment. Her eyes still stung with tears.

      “No, I’m fine, Raj. Just hungry.”

      “No, Miss Zoe, I can see something is wrong.” He leaned on the counter, and smiled supportively at her.

      Zoe took a deep breath. “My hamster died.”

      “Oh, Miss Zoe, I am so so sorry.”

      “Thank you.”

      “You poor thing. A few years ago I had a pet tadpole and it died, so I know how you feel.”

      Zoe looked surprised. “A pet tadpole?” She had never heard of anyone having one as a pet.

      “Yes, I called him Poppadom. One night I left him swimming around in his little fish bowl, and when I woke up in the morning there was this naughty frog there. He must have eaten Poppadom!”

      Zoe couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

      “Raj …”

      “Yes …?” The newsagent wiped a tear from his eye with the sleeve of his cardigan. “Sorry, I always get quite emotional when I think about Poppadom.”

      “Raj, tadpoles turn into frogs.”

      “Don’t be so stupid, child!”

      “They do. So that frog was Poppadom.”

      “I know you are just making me feel better, but I know it’s not true.”

      Zoe rolled her eyes.

      “Now tell me about your hamster …”

      “He is, I mean, was, so special. I trained him to breakdance.”

      “Wow!