It was nothing. It didn't even matter, wasn't important. It was never meant to get out of hand like this. One moment we were talking normally and the next we were yelling at each other and the tension crackled in the air between us. We were shouting insults at each other, trying to hurt and all I could think was 'please don't let this be happening'. But I couldn't stop myself. I still had a chance, I could have let it go and said how sorry I was but I didn't. I was angry. It came down like a red curtain disconnecting my brain from my body, I had no control over what I was saying or doing. And then I found myself storming away, leaving her standing there with tears streaming down her cheeks. Worst of all, I didn't even care enough to stop and go back. I just kept walking. She ran after me and grabbed at my arm but I pulled roughly out of her grip. She stumbled and fell, sobbing. I could see she was hurt but I did nothing. I just walked on.

Now I am sat all alone, left to think over what I have done. What sort of a person am I that will leave someone they love lying hurt on the floor crying and do nothing? I don't deserve her, I don't deserve any of this.

I hear footsteps behind me but I don't bother to turn around. I can tell from the sound that whoever it is, it isn't Victoria. But why should it be? If I was her, I'd never want to see me again. If she never speaks to me again, I won't blame her. It'll be more than I deserve.

The footsteps stop next to me and still I refuse to look up. I just want to be left alone to think, I don't want to talk to anyone. Why can people never just leave you alone in this place? Why is there always someone trying to make you feel better but only actually making things worse? Can't they see I want to be by myself?

In the silence, Munkustrap's voice sounds louder than it actually is when he finally decides to speak. "Plato, we need to talk." It is the voice he uses on Jemima when she has been naughty but is upset about it and regrets what she has done. That disappointed yet supportive tone that really lets you know that you've let him down but he is willing to forgive you. It instantly rekindles my anger. I'm not a kitten any more, I don't need his help or his forgiveness. What does he have to do with this anyway? It is none of his business.

"I don't want to talk", I spit, "Why can't you just leave me alone?" I realise that I probably sound childish and rude but I don't care. All I want is for him to go away so I can work things out in my head.

Of course I should have known that that would never work. He doesn't go away, he just sits down next to me and fixes me with one of his most patronising looks. I am still refusing to look at him but I can see it out of the corner of my eye. "Plato, Victoria told me what happened. I don't like the way you are behaving so I need you to talk to me."

I don't like the way you are behaving. I see where this is going now. He never wanted me here in the first place, ever since Demeter told him who my father is. And this is the perfect way to get rid of me. He knows what I am like, maybe he's always known. I am Macavity's son after all. "Fine," I snarl getting to my feet, "Just give me a minute to pack my things and I'll be gone." The red haze has come down again and I just want to rage at the world but I don't. I just stride off in the direction of my den.

Behind me I hear him getting to his feet and then he follows me. A paw gently takes hold of my shoulder but I brush it off angrily. "Wait!" His voice is commanding now and despite myself I slow down slightly. "What makes you think I want you to go anywhere?"

At that I stop and for the first time turn to look at him. His face is gentle and kind but there is a firmness to it and a strength hidden just below the surface. All the anger goes out of me and I feel tired all of a sudden. Tired and sad. "I'm Macavity's son," I say quietly, my voice barely carrying over the wind, "you have never wanted me here and no one else would if you told them the truth but you thought it might be alright. I might not turn out to be as bad as him. And now your worst fears have been confirmed. I am a monster just like my father." My shoulders sag and I lean against the nearest pile of rubbish for support, suddenly I feel weak and shivery. "Whatever I do, I'll never be any better than him so why bother trying?" Even in my own ears I sound bitter and my words sound hollow and defeated.

Munkustrap reaches out for me again and this time I allow him to leave his paw on my shoulder. I haven't the energy any more to shrug it off. When he speaks his voice is soft and calming, like he is talking to a frightened kitten. I don't even care. "What makes you think that?", he asks softly.

"I heard you talking when I got here. You said that I wasn't safe because I was his son." My voice cracks slightly as I remember the old hurt that has plagued me since I first arrived here.

His deep green eyes are filled with what I think is compassion and sadness as he replies. "Oh, Plato, I am sorry. I have failed you if you thought for a moment that I didn't want you here." He gives my shoulder a slight squeeze and I stare down at the junk at my feet, unable to look him in the eye. "It was not the safety of the Junkyard I was thinking about that night, it was your safety. I was worried that Macavity would come after you to get you back again." He can see from my body language that I am not convinced. "If I thought for a moment that you would be a danger to anyone here, do you think I would have let you stay?"

The question hangs in the air between us but slowly I shake my head, still unable to look at him. "But look at what I did to Victoria," I whisper, "I hurt her and I didn't even care. Why does that make me any less of a monster than him? I love her and I left her crying on the ground and walked away. She must hate me." Saying it out loud makes my chest physically ache and I have to swallow hard several times to try and relieve the pain.

Munkustrap raises my head, forcing me to look him in the eye. "Plato, your father is not a monster and neither are you. You do care about Victoria or why would you be upset now. It was a petty row that got out of hand, no more. There is no reason to hate yourself for it. Victoria doesn't hate you, she is worried about you. That's why she sent me to look for you. She was afraid that she had hurt you." I can feel him studying my face to see what effect his words have had on me.

I feel anger welling up inside me again but this time it is aimed inwards at myself. When I open my mouth to reply my voice is dripping with self-loathing. "I was angry and I couldn't control myself. I wanted to stop but I couldn't. And it's not the first time. Every day, I have to fight to make sure I don't become like him. I saw what he did, he killed and robbed and people feared and hated him and I don't want to become like that. I want to be more than that. But what hope do I have, in the end? If I can't even control myself in a petty argument? How could I ever think to be more than my father? I am just like him." My words are biting and they hurt as I say them but for the first time I realise that they are true and that I have fought against him every day of my life. "He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, to join him as a criminal. I was delighted when Demeter took me away from him. I thought I had escaped but I can never escape from him. I never will." I realise I am probably starting to sound utterly mad by this point but I can't bring myself to care. Never have I mention this to anyone before but now I have started I can't seem to stop, the words are just pouring out of me. "He's in my head. He made me what I am. Sooner or later I will become a monster like him. That's why he didn't come after me. Because he knew I would come back to him anyway. He's always known that I couldn't escape him." I meet Munkustrap's eye, willing him to understand. I know I am not very eloquent but I hope he can work out what I mean.

He is still looking at me with the same unruffled, calm expression on his face. After what I have just told him I can't understand why he isn't running a mile. Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head a fraction. "Plato, your father is a criminal, not a monster, whatever people might say," he says calmly, "You made a choice to not follow in his footsteps which makes you nothing like him. That alone make you a better person than Macavity."

I don't believe him. I can't believe him. Every cell in my body is screaming that what he is saying cannot be, however much I want it to be true. Silently, I let myself fall onto the nearest cardboard box and put my head in my hands. I feel drained and exhausted and I don't understand why. Even lifting my head seems like too much of an effort.

Munkustrap sits down beside me and wraps an arm around me like he used to do when I was a kitten. "Being angry does not make you a monster, it makes you normal. Everyone gets angry and I know", he holds up a paw to stop me when he sees that I am about to object, "I know that you say you couldn't control your anger but a lot of people have that problem, not just ones with a criminal father." The Jellicle protector, my protector, smiles at me. I realise to my surprise that I do not even rebel at the thought of needing a protector. Normally I would think that I was too grown up too need protecting and not hesitate to tell him so. I must have changed already.

"He let you go, Plato," Munkustrap says softly, "Macavity could have come after you and dragged you back but he let you go. And Demeter and Jemima. He knew Demeter was planning on leaving him and taking you with her but he did nothing to stop it even though it broke his heart. He wanted you to chose for yourself what sort of life you wanted. Now does that sound like a fiend to you?"

I look up at him in shock. "He knew?", I ask, "Demeter said we would have to be careful to get away without him noticing. And he knew all that time?" I can't quite believe my ears. He let me go and wanted me to chose my own path in life. All this time I have believed I was slowly becoming like him and have fought against it when all alongI was completely free of him.

Clouds have come out and are covering the sun, a chill breeze is ruffling our fur and it looks like it is about to rain but Munkustrap pays the weather no attention. "Yes, he knew, but he wanted you to be free. He loves you, Plato, whatever you think of him." I find myself wondering if Munkustrap is somehow psychic, he seems to have read my thoughts.

A pressing question is burning in my mind and I turn to face him. "How do you know so much about it? How do you know what he knew and how he feels? And you said he let Demeter and Jemima go, but Jemima hadn't even been born then. What did you mean?" I give him a quizzical glance and feel the despair and exhaustion lift slightly. Somehow it feels better to talk to someone about it; like a weight being lifted off my chest, I can breath more freely again.

"He sent me a letter," Munkustrap answers simply, staring out across the Junkyard, "He asked me to take care of Demeter and of you and threatened to kill me if I ever let anyone harm you. I took it from that that he cared about you." Again I am confused but Munkustrap gives me no time to process this information, he just carries on talking. "As for Jemima, no one except Demeter and myself know this, so you must keep what I am about to tell you to yourself." He stops and looks at me and I nod, so he continues: "Demeter told everyone she left Macavity because he hurt her. The actual reason she left him was because she found out she was pregnant with Jemima. She saw what it was doing to you and didn't want that kind of life for her kitten so she left him, taking you with her." He shrugs and gazes earnestly at me. "It is important that you keep it to yourself. Not even Jemima knows."

I am literally dumbfounded. Demeter was pregnant before she left Macavity? But that means that Jemima is Macavity's daughter and not Munkustrap's. And my half sister. I can't quite believe it. I always knew that Demeter's story about my father hurting her wasn't true, he never hurt either of us, but I have never understood why she lied. Not until now. "Jemima is Macavity's daughter." It is a statement, not a question and I can tell by Munkustrap's face that it is true. "But why did you raise us? Both of us. We're both Macavity's kittens and..." I trail off, unsure of how to continue.

Again, Munkustrap sighs. "It's complicated," he says eventually, "While I don't think of him as a monster, your father is not a very nice person to be around and would easily corrupt a kitten if he were left to raise one by himself. You know that from personal experience. He was already beginning to try and involve you in his criminal activities when you were very young. Demeter persuaded him not to involve you in anything serious, but even she couldn't convince him to leave you out of it altogether. She told me all this the night she first brought you here, which is why Old Deuteronomy, Alonzo and I decided to let you stay. We thought that Demeter had managed to shield you from the worst of his influence so with a stable home you would be able to make up your own mind what you wanted when you were older. I won't lie to you," Here he pauses and rests a paw on my shoulder, looking up into the cloudy sky. "I won't lie to you, there was always the possibility that you would turn out like your father, genetically or because of his early influence, or that when you were older you would decide to go back to him but we thought it worth the risk. What you would chose when you were an adult, none of us could possibly know and Demeter vouched for you, that you had never showed any criminal tendencies except when forced into it by your father. She wanted you to stay with her because she loved you like her own son, which we agreed to. I have loved Demeter for as long as I can remember and naturally we got engaged fairly soon after she got back. It was perfect. We had been together when we were younger, before she met Macavity and quickly fell in love with each other again. And it provided the home you needed, with a father-figure you could look up to, which Old Deuteronomy thought was very important. She told me about Jemima the night she got back and when she was born everyone assumed she was mine. We never told them otherwise."

I have never felt so relieved in all my life. I have thought for years that the tom I look up to like a father didn't want me here and to find out I was wrong is the most amazing feeling. Also, Demeter saying I showed no criminal tendencies and everyone else agreeing? How can I be like my father if I show no signs of criminality? I feel like dancing and rejoicing but I force myself to sit still. There are still more questions I need to ask him. "So you don't think I am like my father?", I ask. It is the most important of my questions so I put it first but can't resist adding a few others. "And why did you treat us like your own when you knew whose we were? Were you never scared we'd turn out like Macavity? Have I been wrong all this time fighting to be a better person than him?"

Typically he answers the questions in his own order, something which has annoyed me for as long as I have known him. "I adopted you because I thought you needed a proper family and I adopted Jemima because I loved her for being Demeter's daughter. Also," He smiles dryly, "I had to to make everyone think she was mine. I was never scared either of you would turn out like him because Jemima had never even met him, and nurture counts for more than nature in most cases, and once I got to know you I realised that you were not very like your father either, which also answers your other question. You have his quick temper, his intelligence and you look vaguely like him but that is all you have inherited from Macavity. That said, it is never a bad thing to try and be a better person. You are his son and nothing can change that but you can turn it into something positive. You can use that to drive you to be better." He looks at me affectionately and gently ruffles my fur. "Trust me, Plato, do not be afraid of being like him. I don't think you could be even if you wanted to be."

I am not sure whether to be flattered by this last comment or not so I decide to ignore it. "So why was I supposed to keep it a secret? If I am nothing like Macavity, why was I not supposed to tell anyone that he is my father?", I question.

"The time wasn't right and they weren't ready to know," Munkustrap answers, "now they know you, you can tell them if you want to. They will judge you now by your own actions and not by those of your father. I'll leave it to you who you want to tell, if anyone."

I look out over the Junkyard. In the distance I can see Tumblebrutus playing with a couple of the younger kittens. Munkustrap sees the direction of my gaze and laughs slightly. "Don't worry, Plato, you aren't the only one here with questionable parentage."

I open my mouth to ask him what he means but I catch a glimpse of his face and shut it again. He won't explain, I know he won't. Instead I ask: "But what about Vicki? I said things deliberately to hurt her and I left her lying on the floor. Surely that makes me..."

He interrupts before I can finish: "That means you were angry, nothing more. If everyone drove themselves mad with worry when they had a small quarrel, there wouldn't be any sane Jellicles left." As if to underline his point I see Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer in the distance. They appear to be arguing and Rumpleteazer shoves Mungojerrie before slamming into their den and throwing the door shut behind her. Maybe it is normal to fight with the people you love occasionally. I rest my chin in my hands and wonder.

By some coincidence, the sun comes out from behind a cloud at that moment and dapples the ground with warm golden light. I understand now what needs to be done. Slowly I get to my feet and make my way towards Victoria's den, leaving Munkustrap sat on the old box by himself smiling after me. I love Vicki more than life itself and for her I will fight every day to be a better person than my father. And somehow, I know I will succeed. I will succeed for Victoria because she is everything to me.