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stuff.’
    ‘Oh no, you won’t,’ Dad said, barring the way. I looked up at him and realized that he was actually looking pretty grim-faced. ‘You’re not doing anything or going anywhere until you’ve cleaned up the mess downstairs.’
    ‘What?’ Bex and I cried in unison.
    Dad folded his arms and looked at us both, head on one side in a yeah-yeah-pull-the-other-one-why-don’t-you expression. ‘So you’re telling me you have no idea how the kitchen got into the state I’ve just found it in?’ he asked.
    Bex and I looked at each other, jaws hanging open.
    We followed him downstairs, Bex filling Dad in on what she had found when she’d come in from work earlier.
    ‘Well, it looks like she’s been up to even more tricks,’ Dad said, as we walked into the kitchen, to be met by a pretty impressive replica of the scene Bex had described earlier.
    ‘Oh my word, she has done it again!’ Bex’s voice rose in disbelief.
    Jaffa was crouched on the worktop under an open cupboard door, surrounded by what could only be described as a scene of devastation: ripped-up teabags, packets of crisps and peanuts, rice, pasta and cereals were tumbling off the surface on to the floor to join other shredded items of food and packaging, and yet more bits and pieces were falling out of the cupboard, as if Jaffa had, moments before, been rummaging about in there, throwing things over her shoulder in a frenzied hunt for something to eat.
    ‘Jaffa!’ I breathed.
    ‘I have to say that whoever left the cupboard door open was a bit daft,’ Dad said. I could tell he was trying to keep a lid on his temper for Bex’s benefit.
    ‘Well, it wasn’t me,’ said Bex, turning to me. ‘And I know it wasn’t Bertie because she was with me the whole time, weren’t you?’
    I nodded. ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Just had a cuddle with Jaffsie to warm her up and then we went upstairs to Google something.’
    ‘ Warm her up?’ Dad repeated incredulously. ‘It’s hardly the bleak midwinter out there.’
    ‘No, er, I haven’t had a chance to tell you that part,’ said Bex anxiously. ‘Jaffa got shut in the fridge.’
    Dad’s eyes bulged from his sockets and he let his hands fall to his sides. ‘Whatever next?!’ he exclaimed.
    ‘Miiiiaaaaow!’ Jaffa howled, backing into the wall, her forehead crumpled in fear, her hackles up along the back of her tiny neck. ‘Bertie’s dad not be cross with Jaffsie! Jaffsie not do it! Jaffsie frighted.’
    ‘It’s OK,’ I said softly, making a move towards her.
    ‘No, it’s not OK!’ said Dad firmly, stepping in front of me. ‘She looks as guilty as sin, and so she should. You are not to go picking her up and cuddling her after what she’s done or she’ll think she can get away with it again!’ Then he turned to Jaffa and shouted,’ You are a naughty girl!’
    ‘Miiiiiaaaaaow! Me is NOT naughty! Tell him, Bertie,’ Jaffa commanded. If she was a human I would have said she sounded tearful.
    ‘Nigel,’ said Bex in a measured tone of voice, ‘she’s only a kitten. It’s probably just a phase—’
    ‘I know she’s only a kitten!’ Dad cried in exasperation. ‘That’s what makes this so insane! If she can make this much mess when she’s only a few months old, what on earth is it going to be like when she’s older?’
    Uh-oh. I heard alarm bells ringing urgently in the back of my mind.
    ‘Oh, it’s not that bad!’ said Bex brightly. ‘I’ll have this lot cleared up in no time. Bertie – why don’t you stick the kettle on? Your dad looks a bit frazzled.’
    Even though I was thankful that Bex was speaking up for my little cat, I nevertheless couldn’t silence a nagging doubt: what if Jaffa was behaving in this bizarre way because she didn’t like ‘the Bexy lady’ that much after all? What if this was her way of showing me just how much she hated my leaving her alone all day?
    Dad sat down heavily, put his head in his hands and groaned quietly. ‘I always thought