and thin. If she was a bowling ball, he was the skittle, and of course bowling balls often knock over skittles.
So now Dad and Sheila were arguing in the kitchen about what to do with the little package Zoe had given to Dad. It was always awful hearing the two of them shouting at each other, but tonight was proving particularly unbearable.
“I suppose I could get the poor girl another hamster,” ventured Dad. “She was so good with it …”
Zoe’s face lit up for a moment.
“Are ya crazy?” sneered her stepmother. “Another ’amster! You are so useless, ya can’t even get a job to pay for one!”
“There are no jobs,” pleaded Dad.
“You’re just too lazy to get one. Ya useless git.”
“I could find a way, for Zoe. I love my girl so much. I could try to save up some of my benefit money—”
“Dat’s hardly enuff to keep me in prawn cocktail crisps, let alone feed a beast like dat.”
“We could feed it leftovers,” protested Dad.
“I am not havin’ another one of dose disgusting creatures in me flat!” said the woman.
“It’s not a disgusting creature. It’s a hamster!”
“’Amsters are no better dan rats,” Sheila continued. “Worse! I work all day on me ’ands and knees keepin’ dis flat spick and span.”
She does no such thing, thought Zoe. The flat is an absolute tip!
“And den the nasty little fing comes along and does its dirty business everywhere!” continued Sheila. “And while I am on the subject, your aim in de bog could be better!”
“Sorry.”
“Wot do ya do? Put a sprinkler on de end of it?”
“Keep your voice down, woman!”
The little girl was once again finding out the hard way that secretly listening to your parents talk could be a very dangerous game. You always ended up hearing things you wished you never had. Besides, Gingernut didn’t do his dirty business everywhere. Zoe always made sure she picked up any rogue droppings from his secret runs around her room with some loo paper and flushed them safely down the toilet.
“I’ll take the cage down the pawn shop then,” said Dad. “I might get a few quid for it.”
“I will take it down de pawn shop,” said his wife aggressively. “You’ll just spend the money down de pub.”
“But—”
“Now put de nasty little fing in de bin.”
“I promised Zoe I would give him a proper burial in the park. She loved Gingernut. Taught him tricks and everything.”
“Dey were pathetic. PATHETIC! A breakdancin’ ’amster?! Absolute rubbish!”
“That’s not fair!”
“And you’re not going out again tonight. I don’t trust ya. You’ll be back down de pub.”
“It’s shut now.”
“Knowing you, you’ll just wait outside until it opens tomorrow morning … Now come on, give it ’ere!”
Zoe heard the pedal bin open with the stamp of her stepmother’s chubby foot and the faint sound of a thud.
With tears streaming down her face, Zoe lay down in bed, and covered herself with her duvet. She turned to her right side. In the half-light she stared at the cage as she did every night.
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 …
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
