When Annie was just four years old, her father walked out on the family for another woman. It happened right after New Years Dayhe muttered “sorry” to his little girl at the front door and left without looking back. Her mother took it quietly, as if shed always known it would happen. In her family, no woman had ever made a marriage last. But a few weeks later, in the dead of night, she swallowed every diazepam and paracetamol pill in the house and never woke up.
The next morning, Annie tried for hours to rouse her mother, shaking her and crying out. When nothing worked, she scavenged a makeshift breakfast from the fridge before returning to try again. Exhausted, she curled up beside her mother and fell asleep.
January days pass quickly, and dusk was already falling when the girl stirred awake. The cold had woken her, so she tugged the blanket closer and pressed herself against her motheronly to recoil. The freezing, unbearable chill was coming from her. Hot tears spilled down Annies face.
Then, the front door creaked open. Annie bolted toward the soundit was Auntie Claire, her mothers younger sister.
“Annie, love, youre home! Wheres your mum? Ive been calling all daywhy hasnt she answered? Im worried sick!”
Annie clutched Claires coat, pulling her frantically. She pointed toward the bedroom, her mouth moving in silent screams. Tears and snot streaked her face, but no sound came out.
Claire had never been able to have children, so her husband left her after five years of marriage. With no kids of her own, she adored her niece like a daughter. When tragedy struck, she didnt hesitate to take Annie in. For three years, she showered the girl with love, but no therapy or treatment could bring her voice back.
That winter, snow arrived on St. Swithins Dayreal, crunching snow. Annie and her friends spent hours sledging in Hyde Park, building snowmen, rolling in the powder, and making snow angels.
“Time to go home. Your clothes are frozen stiff, and your gloves are ice blocks. Come onwell stop at Tesco for milk and pasta,” Claire urged.
People bustled in and out of the supermarket as a ginger cat sat calmly by the entrance, eyes half-closed like he owned the place, only twitching his paws against the cold. Annie crouched beside him, then waved Claire off to shop alone.
“Fine, Ill be quickbut dont move from here!”
The girl stroked the cat gently. He arched his back, purring, until suddenly Annie hugged him tight, burying her face in his fur. Warm tears dripped onto his coat, and he licked them away, sneezed, then licked again.
“Ugh! What are you doing? Hes a filthy stray!” Claire grabbed Annies hand, dragging her toward the car. The girl fought, twisting free, but Claire bundled her into the backseat.
The cat followed, mewing at the car window.
“I cant leave himhes mine now,” Annie whispered, tracing her tears on the glass.
“Was that? Say it again!” Claires voice shook.
“We cant leave him! Hell die without me!” Annie shouted, clear as day.
Claire leapt out, scooped up the cat, and slid into the backseat beside her niece. The ginger tom, startled, dug his claws into her coatthen spotted Annie and leapt into her lap, curling up contentedly.
“You wanted this cat? You only had to askId have got you one years ago,” Claire laughed, her eyes shining.
