The Girl Who Didn't Know What To Believe

The next day Meritxell went shopping. When she’d
got up, she found Aunt Dora rooting through
the cupboard of pots and pans, discarding every
lid, wok and frying pan, letting them clunk loudly
onto the hard granite kitchen surface. Hume was keeping
a keen eye on her, just in case she decided to put something
more edible onto the floor. “Auntie, what is going
on?” exclaimed Meritxell. “Well dear, the first problem is
that we seem to have run out of food, we only have some
porridge oats and a dribble of olive oil left in the larder, and
secondly where is my favourite non-stick perfect-size cookanything-in-it
pan?”
Meritxell had no idea what her Aunt was talking about,
but a little later, all three of them were outside. Dora was
striding purposefully, and just in front of her Meritxell skipped
along the pavement, singing softly to herself, a basket
in one hand, and Hume’s lead in the other. She was looking
forward to seeing who she would meet today, and Hume
was happy just being out amongst all the smells in the street.
Dora was one of the most sensible people Meritxell
knew, except when it came to her health. This was a passion
of hers, and constant vigilance meant that she was always
finding problems with her digestion, joints, weight, energy
levels, or general well-being. She was convinced that any
health problem was caused by what she ate, and therefore
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