‘What the . . . ? Whose dog is that?’ she asked, before looking up and noticing Linda, who was still crouched in the middle of the floor, ashen-faced. ‘Oh, hi, Auntie Lin—’
‘Stop him, Soph!’ Debbie shouted, but it was too late. Beau had deftly swerved around the banisters in pursuit of Maisie. Linda jumped to her feet and barged past Sophie into the hallway. There were more yelps and scuffles in the stairwell, as Linda grabbed Beau and manhandled him back upstairs, finally depositing him in the kitchen and slamming the door shut. Seconds later, Linda reappeared at the living-room door. She smoothed her hair and arranged her face into a smile, before walking towards Sophie with her arms open.
‘Hi, Soph, how are you? Good day at college?’
‘I’m good, thanks,’ Sophie replied, nonplussed, allowing her aunt to embrace her. She shot her mother a questioning look over Linda’s shoulder.
‘Auntie Linda’s going to be staying here for . . . a few days,’ Debbie explained. ‘With her dog.’
‘Oh, right.’ Sophie smiled politely.
Linda released her from the hug, and I saw Sophie’s eyes land on the large suitcase under the window.
No one spoke as Debbie, Linda and Sophie stood awkwardly around the empty carrier. Purdy had jumped onto the sofa and, with a look of complacent victory, had begun to wash, while Abby and Bella remained huddled together nervously on the curtain pole. I sat in the shoebox next to Eddie, taking in the bizarre tableau. The silence was broken only by the sound of Beau pawing at the kitchen door, his claws grating against the wood.
‘I’m sure he’ll settle down soon,’ Linda murmured, at which Debbie tried to muster a smile.
‘Well, I’ve got work to do, so I might just go up to my room,’ Sophie said breezily, picking up her school bag.
‘Good idea, love,’ Debbie concurred. ‘We’ll order a takeaway later,’ she added, in an artificially upbeat tone.
‘Mmm, great,’ Sophie replied, her phony enthusiasm not fooling anyone.
Debbie sank onto a dining chair, looking drained.
I would have liked nothing more than to restore my equanimity with a calming wash, followed by a long nap, but the dog’s persistent scraping at the kitchen door, now accompanied by pitiful howling, ruled out the possibility of any rest.
Sensing tension in the atmosphere, Linda took it upon herself to tidy the mess caused by Beau and Purdy’s stand-off, lifting the upturned mugs off the floor and straightening the disarrayed files on the dining table. She picked up the pet carrier and looked around for somewhere less obtrusive to put it, finally making space for it on the floor in the alcove next to the sofa.
The delivery of a Chinese takeaway later that evening went some way towards lifting spirits in the flat. Sophie shuffled down from her bedroom, wearing slippers and a onesie, her long blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail, to reveal the almond-shaped blue eyes that so closely resembled her mother’s.
‘How’s your homework going?’ Debbie asked, as she placed a bunch of cutlery on the table.
‘Okay,’ Sophie shrugged.
‘They work you hard at school these days, don’t they?’ Linda said, peeling the cardboard lids from the foil food trays at the table.
‘It’s not school, it’s college,’ Sophie corrected her. She had left school the previous summer to attend a local college, and was adamant that the distinction between the two should be recognized.
The three of them spooned out food onto their plates and began to eat, to the background accompaniment of Beau’s pitiful whimpering in the kitchen. Linda cheerfully fired a succession of questions at Sophie and Debbie about their lives, the café and Stourton. There was a relentless, interrogative quality to her questions and, when she finally took Beau for a walk after dinner, it felt as though everyone in the flat – human and feline – breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Debbie flopped onto the sofa and patted her lap, inviting me to jump up. Sophie sat down beside us and tapped at her phone, while Debbie stroked me and sipped her wine. Neither of them spoke, and I sensed we were all enjoying the peace and quiet.
Twenty minutes later, however, when we heard the café door open, I felt Debbie’s body tense underneath me. She inhaled sharply when Linda appeared in the living room with Beau tucked under her arm, although whether that had to do with Linda’s return or the fact that, upon seeing Beau, I involuntarily impaled her knees with my claws, I could not be sure. Debbie unpicked my embedded claws from her jeans, one by one, while Linda placed Beau inside his carrier in the alcove, ordering him, ‘Be a good boy and lie down.’ Worn out by his walk and, presumably, grateful not to be locked in the kitchen, Beau did as he was told and, within a few minutes, was fast asleep and snoring.
When Jasper sauntered into the room a little while later I realized that, in the chaos of Linda and Beau’s arrival, I had forgotten to meet him in the alleyway for our usual evening stroll. As I watched him slink silently between the table legs, it occurred to me that, having been outside all day, he would be unaware of the new arrivals. He did not break his stride when he noticed Linda sprawled sideways on the armchair, but a snuffly snort from the pet carrier in the alcove stopped Jasper in his tracks. He froze, glanced through the wire door at the sleeping dog, then lifted his eyes to shoot a look in my direction that seemed to say, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ His tail twitched and his amber eyes narrowed in distaste at the unconscious Beau, before he swiftly retraced his steps into the hall. A couple of moments later I heard the cat flap downstairs swinging and I knew he had headed back out, no doubt planning to sleep in the alley.
Everyone agreed that an early night was in order. Debbie explained, between yawns, that she needed to be up early, and Linda was full of understanding and gratitude, acknowledging that it had been a long day.
Debbie opened out the sofa-bed and I sat in the hallway as they all waited their turn for the bathroom, before saying goodnight and disappearing into their respective rooms. One by one, the shafts of light beneath their doors disappeared, and the flat was silent, but for the ticking of the cooling radiators. I padded downstairs to join the kittens in the café.
4
The next morning, I awoke on the window cushion with a start. The image of Beau’s snarling face had appeared in my dream, accompanied by a panicky concern for my kittens’ safety. Confused and alarmed, I scanned the café to check their whereabouts, and was relieved to see them all sound asleep in their various napping spots, their chests rising and falling with each breath. Jasper, however, was nowhere to be seen.
I slipped through the cat flap and padded down the side of the café, turning right into the narrow alleyway that ran along the back of the parade. This had been Jasper’s territory when he had lived on the streets, and he still considered it his domain. A drystone wall bordered one side, facing onto the vista of mismatched fire escapes, dustbins and air vents that made up the rear view of the café and its neighbours.
As I moved noiselessly along the tarmac, there was a flicker of movement beneath the iron steps of a fire escape, and a moment later Jasper’s bulky black-and-white form emerged. He gave his square head a perfunctory shake, before stretching out, his fur rippling as the muscles flexed beneath his skin. When I had first stumbled into this alleyway as a half-starved stray, I had been intimidated by Jasper’s imposing physical presence. The scars on his ears suggested he was an accomplished fighter, and my experience with another of the town’s alley-cats made me instinctively wary around him. Over time, however, I had come to realize that his street-cat looks and taciturn manner belied a sweet-natured, chivalrous disposition.