And then there were none.

 Fiona combed out the last curl of her hair. She wished it was straight. Just like all the other pretty girls. She looked in the mirror and sighed.

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
Will I be rich
Will I be pretty
Here's what she said to me:
"que sera, sera"
(whatever will be, will be)
"The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera"

Fiona felt Tubbles glide across her shin.
Fat cat.
She picked him up, folded him so he curled up to her chest.
She looked at her reflection again, holding Tumbles.
Somehow, she didn't feel so hideous anymore.
Maybe it was because Tubbles was so..... tubby.
Tubbles pointed his nose towards her chin, and she met his cold, wet nose. He smelt of cat food.

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
Will I be rich
Will I be pretty
Here's what she said to me:
"que sera, sera"
(whatever will be, will be)
"The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera"

There were days she ran home in tears, and there Tubbles would be. He pretended to be all cat-like and not understand her tears, but she knew he did. He would pretend he was snuggling for purr-ly cat-fish reasons, but she knew.

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
Will I be rich
Will I be pretty
Here's what she said to me:
"que sera, sera"
(whatever will be, will be)
"The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera"

She loved cupping her hand and tapping it onto Tubbles' meaty drumstick. It gave her comfort. He gave her warmth. Just by being there, he gave her comfort.

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
Will I be rich
Will I be pretty
Here's what she said to me:
"que sera, sera"
(whatever will be, will be)
"The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera"