There's a Hamster in my Pocket by Franzeska G. Ewart, Helen Bate

the gate was hearing lots of barking, and voices singing Happy Birthday, and then a loud cheer and a
pop!
Then I felt Kylie pulling at my hands, and screaming, “It’s OK, Yosser! It’s OK! You can look!”
    And when I did, I honestly,
honestly
, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
    There, in the middle of the cabbage patch, stood a small, very rickety building made out of long sticks, string and corrugated plastic. It was covered in red heart-shaped balloons, and there was a banner draped across it that said, ‘Happy 40th Brithday, Mum’, in big red letters.
    The plastic door was open, and inside you could see wooden shelves supported by empty lager cans. The shelves were stacked high with plant pots and bags of potting compost, and there was a fork, and a trowel, and a pair of cutters, all with pink flowery handles.

    On one side of the building, in floods of tears, stood Kylie’s mum, and a very embarrassed Sniper. On the other side stood Kylie’s dad, towered over by Germane and Twista. Germane was holding a foaming bottle of champagne.
    When she saw us, Kylie’s mum gave a big sniff and said, “Come on, boys – do your Birthday Rap again for Kylie and Yosser!” and Sniper and Twista and Germane clearedaway the Papillons, stood in a line, and, with appropriate movements, they sang:
    â€œIf you wanna grow a cabbage or a brussel sprout,
    Then you gorra keep the heat in and the greenflies out. . .
    So dis ‘ere is da way to make your veg’tables grow good –
    It’s da coolest little hothouse in da neighbourhood – Yay!”
    When they had finished, Kylie’s mum gave each of them a big kiss, and said it was the happiest day of her entire life. Then Kylie’s dad went and got the camera and took a photo of us all.
    Kylie stood beside Sniper for the photo, and I stood on tiptoe between Germane and Twista, and I honestly thought I would
burst
with happiness.

Auntie Shabnam
    The next day we all went to the airport to collect Auntie Shabnam, and by the time we’d squeezed ourselves and three big bouquets of flowers into the car, there was hardly room to breathe.
    On the journey, we were all a bit subdued. Nani sat beside me in the back with Bilal on her knee, watching him stick his thumb in his mouth and say “
In
”, then take it back out and say “
Out
”. But we hardly spoke.
    Now that the big day had finally come, I was nervous as anything. I kept wondering what Auntie Shabnam would be like, and whether she’d really be able to help with the business, and – most of all – whether we’d get on.
    I also wondered whether she would approve of her office, which now sported a smoked-glass desk, a state-of-the-art computer, and a day-bed covered in scarlet silk cushions and a deep brown faux-fur throw.
    It also sported the wildcat, because we’d fixed its leg and asked Nani if we could have it, and Nani had given asniff and said that we were welcome. In fact, she’d added, Auntie Shabnam could take it back to Lahore with her, for all
she
cared.
    So we put it on the shelf above the computer, and it looked great with the faux-fur throw.
    As for the puzzle box – after the birthday breakfast, Kylie and me finally opened it and (surprise, surprise!) there was no Deadly Curse of Samarkand inside.
    There was
something
inside, though. Something even more beautiful than the box itself. I put it in an envelope, and I put the envelope into my underwear drawer till the time was right to give it back to Nani, and I kept thinking about it.
    And the more I thought about it, and about the man who’d shot the wildcat, the more I understood why Nani didn’t like the box from Samarkand. . .
    ***
    The Lahore flight took forever to arrive, and the longer it took, the more nervous I felt. I kept thinking how incredibly clever and high-powered Auntie Shabnam was, and worrying that she might find
us
a bit dull.
    I also