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top. She had brushed her dark shoulder
length hair into two bunches and already
had her trainers on. She and Mr and Mrs
Bizkit and Harry (Billie’s baby brother) were
sitting at the kitchen table waiting for the
toaster to pop up two more slices of burnt
toast.
Chunck! There they were.
“Not for me, thanks dear!” said Mr
Bizkit. “One slice was lovely. Besides, I’ve
got all that tasting to do this morning.”
“Of course,” said Mrs Bizkit. “What about
you children?”
“Nah! Nah! Nah! Nah!” said Harry from
his highchair, which might well have meant
‘No thank you’ except Mrs Bizkit decided it
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