**Diary Entry**
The day Dad left us for another woman, I was only four. It was just after New Years; he muttered sorry at the door, then shut it behind him. Mum handled it with eerie calm, as though it were an unavoidable fact of life. In her family, no woman had ever known a lasting marriage. But weeks later, in the dead of night, she swallowed every diazepam and paracetamol tablet in the house and slipped away forever.
That morning, I tried for ages to wake her, shaking her and shouting until my throat hurt. Eventually, I gave up, raided the fridge for a makeshift breakfast, then crawled back to try again. Exhausted, I fell asleep curled against her.
January days are short, and dusk was falling when I finally stirred. The cold woke meI tugged the blanket closer and pressed into her side, but that only made the chill worse. Then I realised the icy, unbearable cold was coming *from* her. Hot tears scalded my cheeks.
The front door creaked open. I sprinted down the hall like a whirlwindAunt Emily, Mums younger sister, stood there.
Lottie, youre home! Wheres your mum? Ive been calling all daywhy isnt she answering? Im frantic!
I grabbed her coat, yanking hard, my small face streaked with snot and tears. I pointed desperately toward the bedroom, mouth gaping in a soundless scream. No words camejust silent, suffocating grief.
Emily had never had children; her husband left her after five years, blaming her barrenness. So she poured all her love into me, as if I were her own. When tragedy struck, she fought to become my guardian. For three years, she tried everythingdoctors, therapistsbut nothing brought back my voice.
That winter, the cold arrived with St. Swithins Day, bringing proper, crunching snow. My friends and I spent hours sledging in Hyde Park, built an entire snowman family, rolled in the powder, and made snow angels.
Time to go home. Your clothes are frozen stiff, and your mittens are blocks of ice. Come onwell stop at Tesco for milk and pasta, Emily urged.
People bustled in and out of the supermarket, but a ginger cat sat perfectly still by the entrance, eyes half-lidded, as if it owned the place. Only its front paws twitched from the cold. I crouched beside it, waving Emily off to shop alone.
Fine, Ill be quick. *Dont move.*
I stroked the cat gently. It arched its back, purring, then nuzzled my cheek. Suddenly, tears spilled down my facethe cat licked them away, sneezing before trying again.
Ugh, thats revolting! Its a filthy stray, Emily snapped, dragging me toward the car. I fought, twisting free, but she bundled me into the backseat.
The cat followed, mewing pitifully at the window.
Hes *mine*we cant leave him, I whispered, tracing tears on the glass.
Emily froze. Was that *you*? Say it again*please*
Hell *die* without me! I shouted, clear as day.
She leapt out, scooped up the cat, and slid in beside me. The ginger thing hissed, claws snagging her coat, then leapt onto my lap and curled into a ball.
You *want* him? You shouldve saidId have gotten you a cat *years* ago, Emily breathed, her smile trembling with joy.
