‘HEY, YOU TWO. Rise and shine,’ said Dad, putting his head round our bedroom door. ‘It’s Saturday, and we’re going up to London for a special treat.’

My big sister Melissa merely grunted and burrowed further under her pink flowery duvet in the bottom bunk bed. I sat bolt upright, still wrapped like a cocoon in my Wilma the Whale duvet. I have a pink flowery one too, to match Melissa’s, but I always kick it right off my bunk bed. I hate pink and I hate flowery. I love whales, especially Wilma. I don’t have favourites out of all my pretend pets, but if I did, it would definitely be Wilma. I also have Jumper, a black and white Dalmatian dog (Dad won him for me at a fair), Basil the boa constrictor (I made him out of Mum’s old tights), Polly the Parrot (she’s cardboard and getting a bit bent now), Percy the Porcupine (though he’s lost his hairbrush prickles) and a whole stable of plastic ponies.

Melissa thinks I’m seriously weird having all these toy animals. Mum thinks so too. I think even Dad does. But I don’t think I’m one bit weird. If I can’t have a real pet, then pretend ones are the next best thing.

‘Where are we going for our treat, Dad?’ I said, disentangling Wilma so I could bounce up and down on my bunk bed.

We don’t often go on days out up to London on account of the fact we haven’t got much money.

‘Hey, can we go to the zoo?’ I asked. ‘Oh, please, I want to see what a real porcupine looks like. Or perhaps we could go to the aquarium? Maybe they’ve got real whales?’

‘You are so mad, Marty,’ Melissa muttered, even though she hadn’t surfaced yet. ‘How could you possibly fit a whale inside an aquarium? Dad, can we go shopping? We could go along Oxford Street – or I’ve always wanted to go to Camden Market. Oh, please, let’s go there, it would be so cool.’

‘Sorry, girls. We’re not going to the zoo or the aquarium or Oxford Street or Camden Market – thank goodness! We’re going to a special show at Olympia.’

‘A show!’ we said in unison.

‘Like a pop concert?’ Melissa asked, poking her head out at last. ‘Can we go and see Lady Gaga?’

‘You’re the one who’s ga-ga. I want to see a musical, with a proper story, like Wicked or The Wizard of Oz. My friend Jaydene’s been to both and she says they’re brilliant,’ I said.

‘No concert, no musical. This is a special animal show,’ said Dad.

‘Real animals?’ I gasped.

‘I think so. Cats, dogs, rabbits, mice, snakes—’

‘Oh, wow!’ I said, hurtling down the bunk-bed ladder and dancing around in my Spider-man pyjamas. ‘Will there be boa constrictors?’

‘I doubt it. It’s a show for people wanting pets. Mum and I thought it would be a good idea to take you girls and then maybe we could all agree on a good family pet.’

‘Oh, double, triple wow! But Mum’s always said we can’t have pets because of the mess and the fuss!’ I said.

‘Yes, I know, but Mum’s allowed to change her mind sometimes,’ said Dad, grinning.

‘I bet you changed it for her! You’re the best dad in the whole world,’ I said, giving him a big hug.

‘Is this pet going to just be for Marty?’ Melissa asked. ‘Because that’s not the slightest bit fair.’

‘It’s going to be a pet for all of us,’ said Dad. ‘Now, get ready, girls. Breakfast in ten minutes, OK?’

‘I can’t believe Mum’s weakened at long long last!’ I said as we got ready.

‘I think it’s because they’re worried about you,’ said Melissa, giving me a poke. ‘Because you play with those tatty old toy animals all the time. They’ve probably consulted a child psychologist because you’re so deluded.’

‘Cheek! I’m not the one who’s written To my darling Melissa, I love you so much, love from Justin Bieber all over that tatty photo you cut out of a magazine. That’s deluded,’ I said. ‘Anyway, who cares why Mum’s changed her mind? What kind of pet shall we have?’

‘I think a little cat would be lovely,’ said Melissa, brushing her hair. It always annoys her that her hair is brown and straight, whereas mine is blonde and curly, even though she’s the girlie girl and I’m the tomboy.

‘What about a big cat? A tiger or a leopard or a panther,’ I said, leaping around the bathroom and pouncing on Melissa.

‘Ow! Stop it, you idiot. No, a little cat with fluffy fur – one that will sit on my lap and purr,’ said Melissa.

‘You just like cute and cuddly animals. I want a really exciting pet,’ I said.

My head felt like a Noah’s Ark as animals of all shapes and sizes trumpeted and roared and whinnied in my mind. I dressed hurriedly in my comfy jeans and my Pow! T-shirt and my tartan Converse boots. Melissa dressed in her pink glittery heart top and her shortest skirt and her silly shoes with tiny heels. These are our favourite outfits.

Dad pretended to be dazzled by our gorgeousness when we came down for breakfast. Mum was less enthusiastic, but didn’t make either of us go and change. She was in an unusually good mood.

‘Can we really really really have a pet, Mum?’ I asked.

‘We’re not making any promises. Your dad has twisted my arm about going to this Pet Show. We’ll see. But I do know just how much it would mean to you, Martina – and if you had a real animal it might help you grow out of all those tatty toys you trail around.’

‘See!’ said Melissa. ‘I was right. Mum, can we have a cat?’

‘We’re going to have a good look at all the pets at the Show – I just think a cat would be a very sensible choice,’ said Mum. ‘They’re very clean and you don’t have to take them for walks.’

‘Couldn’t we have a tiger, Mum, just a baby one, and then I could train it so it wouldn’t be too fierce and would only bite people I don’t like? Or what about a tarantula? They’re fluffy, Melissa, and I’m sure it would sit on your lap,’ I said.

‘Try not to be silly, Martina, or I might just change my mind altogether,’ said Mum.

I sometimes find it very hard not to be silly when I’m all excited, but I managed to keep my lips buttoned on the tube to Olympia. There were crowds and crowds all flocking into the big exhibition centre. It took ages to queue up and get inside – and then there we were, in this absolutely enormous hall, chock full of animals.

‘Oh, brilliant!’ I said, rushing off headlong – but Dad caught hold of me by the back of my T-shirt.

‘Calm down now, Marty! Don’t you dare go charging off like that – we’ll lose you in this crowd,’ he said.

‘Good idea!’ said Melissa, who can never resist a wise-crack. ‘Let’s go and see the cats!’

‘We’d better do this methodically, aisle by aisle,’ said Mum – but the cats happened to be on the nearest aisle.

I was all set to find them boring, simply because they were Melissa’s choice – but the moment I stood in front of the first big padded cage I fell totally in love with the most beautiful Russian Blue cat called Anastasia. She wasn’t really blue, just a soft grey colour, but her eyes were a bright sapphire blue. She was clearly a very special cat, because her cage was covered with red and yellow rosettes. She lay back modestly enough, her paws neatly crossed, her great blue eyes staring at me.

‘Oh, I want this one! Oh, please, she’s so beautiful!’ I said. ‘Can we have her?’

‘Oh, yes, I love her! She’s just so cute!’ said Melissa. ‘Let’s have her, please!’

The lady sitting beside her cage smiled. ‘Yes, she is very beautiful and very cute,’ she said proudly. ‘I’m afraid she’s my cat though, and I wouldn’t part with her for the world.’

‘The animals here aren’t for sale, girls. This is just to show you all these different pets, so you can see which sort you want,’ said Dad.

‘We know already, Dad! We want a Russian Blue cat!’ we said.

‘If you like, I’ll get Anastasia out of her cage and you can stroke her,’ said the lady.

‘Oh, yes please!’

Melissa and I washed our hands with this special liquid and then very carefully stroked Anastasia. She stretched out luxuriously, and purred when I gently tickled under her chin.

‘Could we have a cat like this one?’ I asked.

‘Well, we have another Russian Blue at home who’s going to have kittens soon,’ said her owner. ‘You can give us your name and address if you like, and we’ll put you on our waiting list.’

‘Oh, WOW! Mum, Dad, can we have a Russian Blue kitten?’ we begged.

‘Well, maybe,’ said Dad.

‘Could you give us some idea how much it would cost?’ said Mum.

‘About five hundred,’ said the lady.

Five hundred pounds for one tiny kitten! ‘Maybe not,’ said Dad.

‘Perhaps dogs are cheaper,’ I said.

We went to look at all the dogs next. We even saw a lady in a fancy costume doing a dance with her black and white collie.

‘Oh, how cool! I want a dog that can dance!’ I said. ‘I could train it to do all sorts of tricks!’

We looked along aisle after aisle, and saw tiny lapdogs and great big butch Rottweilers and fabulous snowy white huskies.

‘Oh, let’s have a husky! Let’s have lots of huskies, and then we can have a sledge and they can pull us along the road when it snows!’ I said.

‘We haven’t even got room for one dog in the house, let alone a team of huskies,’ said Mum. ‘Why don’t we go and look at the rabbits?’

So we cooed at the rabbits and stroked the guinea pigs and tickled the mice – but I loved the great big rats the most. Mum and Melissa went a bit squeaky themselves and backed away, but a nice man let me carry his best white rat on my shoulder. The rat peeped round at me and wriggled his little pink nose adorably.

‘Oh, he’s so lovely! Can we have a rat just like this one?’ I begged, but sadly Mum said absolutely no way.

She was a bit strange when we got to the snake section too, but I thought the snakes were beautiful. I couldn’t find a boa constrictor, but I held a very pretty red and white snake just like a great big living necklace.

‘What does he like to eat?’ I asked.

‘Mice, mostly,’ said the snake’s owner.

‘Oh dear,’ I said.

‘I think it’s time we had something to eat,’ said Dad.

We bought a big takeaway pizza and shared it between us.

‘Well, girls, what’s the verdict?’ said Dad. ‘What sort of pet would you like?’

‘I’d like a Russian Blue cat, and a dog that can dance, and a husky, and a rabbit with floppy ears, and a guinea pig that squeaks, and a white rat that’ll sit on my shoulder, and a whole cageful of mice – but I’d never ever feed them to anyone – and a vegetarian snake,’ I said.

‘I’d like a cat,’ said Melissa. ‘But they cost far too much money.’

‘These are mostly special pedigree cats at this show, and they do cost a fortune,’ said Dad. ‘But maybe we could get an ordinary moggy from a special rescue home? I don’t think a little rescue cat would cost too much money.’

‘Can we have a rescue husky too, Dad? And a rescue rabbit and a rescue guinea pig and a rescue white rat and rescue mice and a rescue snake?’

‘What did I say about being silly, Martina?’ said Mum. But she didn’t sound really cross. She was looking at Dad. ‘Have you got your tube map handy? Perhaps we could go to Battersea this afternoon?’

So we went to Battersea Dogs & Cats Home. We walked round their special cattery and saw many many many cats desperate for their own special homes. Some were big and some were small, some were fierce and hissed, some cowered and looked sad. There were black cats and ginger cats and white cats and tortoiseshell cats, and we dithered in front of each one.

‘I want them all!’ I said. ‘Couldn’t we at least have a cat each – one for me and one for Melissa and one for Dad and one for Mum?’

‘One cat for all of us!’ said Mum.

And then I saw him. He was in a cage right at the end. He was much smaller than the others, just a little kitten. He was a soft grey like the Russian Blue, but he had a beautiful white face and chest and neat white paws. He had the prettiest little anxious face with a pink nose and soft white whiskers. He opened his green eyes wide and looked straight at me imploringly.

‘Oh, this is our cat!’ I said.

Melissa came and looked. ‘Oh, yes! You’re right, Marty! Oh, he’s just so cute!’

‘I love him,’ said Dad.

We all looked at Mum.

‘He’s the sweetest little chap I’ve ever seen. Let’s see if we can have him!’ said Mum.

We had to be interviewed and have our home checked – but now we are a family of five! Mum and Dad and Melissa and me – and our new little kitten, Tiger.

If you want to find out more about Marty and Melissa, then read Jacqueline Wilson’s book