There is no milk. Anyone could have seen this coming and yet, evidently, no one did. It’s the reason the kitchen is empty at 8.15am: both my sons will have come downstairs for coffee, discovered the lack of milk, and returned to their rooms to sit, arms folded, until somebody does something.
The cat comes through the flap, walks to the cupboard, and miaows. It is difficult to know whether anyone else has bothered to feed the cat, and the cat is no help in the matter. The cat is a practised liar.
