Daisy stretched and rolled over, kicking Max in the chest as she did so. He pushed his sister away and got up, more interested in his breakfast than scoring points. Breakfast was always something tasty, often fish but on occasions a delicate piece of chicken. Yes, they’d fallen on their feet coming to live with Harriet Holland. Not that they called her Harriet to outsiders, just between themselves. She was Miss Holland to their friends. Max had heard the neighbours referring to her as a spinster, whatever that might mean. Daisy thought perhaps she’d been a dancer, spinning around but Max didn’t think that was likely. She didn’t seem the type somehow. He’d also heard her called ‘an old biddy’ but that didn’t make sense either. She was tall and skinny, not at all like those round prickly biddies that caught on his fur when he was in the woods. Harriet was coming down stairs now so breakfast wouldn’t be long. She always tended to their needs before she had her own but that was probably because Daisy wound herself round her legs nearly tripping her up. Daisy was very needy in Max’s opinion, always wanting attention. He preferred to sit quietly and wait until his food was in front of him. He was quite sure Harriet appreciated his thoughtfulness as she often showed her irritation with Daisy’s antics.
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