“If it was just a little package, yer could’ve stuck it through the bloody door instead of wakin’ me up, yer bastard.”“I need yer to sign fo... it, otherwise I ‘affter take it back to the depot, an’ I don’t get paid if I takes it back. Bein’ self-employed I only gets paid for delivering, not for bringin’ the buggers back, sunshine.”“Alright, Ed, g’us it ‘ere,” I gave in, wondering what this bloody thing could be.“Sign first!” He thrust a thick sort-of mobile phone at me with a stylus, pointing at. Sometime in the night he apparently made his own way up the stairs, because he was curled up on my bed, his tail—it really was easier to think of it that way—just touching me, when I awoke. I was oddly pleased he'd joined me. For a moment, in the middle of my morning toilette, I abruptly wondered if he'd come up to work on my mind some more while I slept defenseless, but soon dismissed the thought. It wasn't anything really rational, it was simply that I didn't feel any different. And the. More

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