a good result
THE GANG TOLD me all about it afterwards.
‘Didn’t go round by the pavement. Simply jumped over the fence.’
‘Amazing! No doubt about it, it was an Olympic-standard leap.’
‘He practically bust his truss doing it.’
I was sorry to have missed the show. But I was too busy being cuddled and praised by sweet little Ellie. ‘Oh, Tuffy! You’re the cleverest, most wonderful cat in the whole wide world. You found the ticket! Just in time. And now we’re going to have a brand-new car. I love you, Tuffy. I love you. You’re a sweetie, peetie, weetie –’
Okay, okay! Enough! I can’t take too much of the soppy stuff. I shook her off and I went out. I wanted to be alone. I had a thing or two to think about up on my wall. After all, I’d had to make a giant sacrifice. I’d had to do what Ellie’s father wanted all along, and break the pot.
I hate doing things for that man. Normally I’d rather tear off my own left ear than try to please him. But it was for the best. Bella was right. Now they had a better car, they’d go out a whole lot more. I might have lost the battle, but at least, in doing so, I had won the battleground.
It was an honourable defeat.
A moral victory and a good result.