“Jeanette?”
“Yes mummy?”
“Why does my blackberry pie have a hole in it?”
“I don’t know…”
Jeanette held her hands tightly behind her back.
“Daddy’s at work, so who does that leave?”
“Me and you.” Jeanette looked up at her mother, unaware of her mother’s knowledge on the matter.
“I wouldn’t stick a finger into my own pie, would I?”
“I don’t know mummy. Maybe you needed to check how hot it was?”
“Well, my fingers aren’t sticky.” Jeanette’s mother flashed her hands clearly for her daughter to see; berry free. “So, who does that leave?”
“Me.” The girl lowered her head so her fringe protected her from her mother’s stare.
“Can I see your hands, Jeanette?”
“… No.”
“Why not?”
“Because… Because…” Jeanette fidgeted on the spot, her young mind desperate to find a way out of this predicament. “Because Freddie told me to do it. If you see my sticky fingers, it’ll look like my fault. It’s not fair that I get in trouble instead of Freddie.”
The feline in question was fast asleep on a barstool tucked under the kitchen counter. Jeanette’s mother looked over at the cat before turning back to her daughter.
“Go and wash your hands.”
“But mummy-“
“Don’t do it again Jeanette. That’s all I’m going to say.”
Skipping cautiously to the kitchen door while keeping her hands in front of her, Jeanette left the room, dumbfounded by how her mother had figured her out so easily.
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