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Anna made her excuses and disappeared to the toilet. She had a quick word with herself. She needed to focus on the big issues; getting caught up in petty power struggles was a waste of time and energy. At the end of the day, Roberta was going to judge them both on what they delivered. She redid her lipstick, pulled back her shoulders and went back to the group.
‘… cacky pants,’ said Sophie through hysterical giggles.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Anna, feeling left out already.
‘It’s a quirk of American pronunciation,’ said Hudson, changing into an English accent. ‘You’d say everyone at the programme board meeting wore khaki trousers but to us they’re—’
‘Cacky pants,’ repeated Sophie and she doubled up again.
‘In my experience people often leave board meetings with cacky pants even if they didn’t arrive wearing them,’ said Anna. ‘Apart from me.’
Hudson’s eyebrows twitched. ‘I don’t doubt that for a second.’
A few days later, with approval from the cat rescue in the bag following their home visit, Anna drove her beloved Mini to the rescue centre. It had been a difficult decision choosing a pet and she hoped she’d made the right one. For the first time in her life she was going to be a pet owner, assuming the time she briefly had a goldfish didn’t count. She’d built him a lovely Lego home, but unsurprisingly the house move didn’t go well for the goldfish. Anna had only been four at the time.
She followed the volunteer past the many cats and tried hard to ignore their sad faces and the guilt she felt for not being able to choose all of them. All the cats at the rescue needed homes but she knew the older ones would always find it harder than the cute mewing kittens. The volunteer stopped at a cage with a sign covering the bio, which read: ‘I’m going to my forever home.’ The cat inside glanced up.
‘Hello, Maurice,’ said Anna. ‘I’ve come to take you home.’ Maurice became very interested when his pen was opened but less so when he was bundled into a cardboard cat carrier scarcely big enough for him.
‘Is that secure?’ asked Anna, as the carrier lurched about.
‘They’re very sturdy. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to escape. Here’s all his paperwork,’ said the volunteer, handing a bundle of papers to Anna. ‘His last owner usually calls once a week. It’ll be nice to tell him that Maurice has a new home.’
Up until then Anna hadn’t thought much about Maurice’s previous owner and she didn’t have time now either as the heavy cat carrier was starting to bounce around worryingly.
Anna put it on the front seat of the car and set off. It was twenty-five minutes to home. She started talking to the box each time it began to jiggle or meow. The meows got more desperate and the box’s movement got more vigorous. He didn’t have much room inside. She was expecting to see a leg burst from each corner, cartoon style, and start marauding around the car. Anna stopped at the traffic lights and pulled on the handbrake.
‘Now listen, Maurice, we’re nearly home. It’s not far away and when we get there I’ll let you out.’ But Maurice had other ideas and, with a startling bang, the top of the carrier burst open and out jumped Maurice. Anna squealed involuntarily and the traffic lights changed. She crunched the gears and the car lurched forward as she set off again gripping the steering wheel tightly. Maurice disappeared over the passenger seat and Anna tried to keep an eye on his manoeuvres through the rear-view mirror.
‘Maurice!’ She was trying to keep one eye on the cat and the other on the road.
Maurice appeared at her headrest on cue but after a brief sniff he quickly disappeared. At the next set of lights Anna turned around to see what he was doing. Inside the small car it was even more apparent that Maurice was a lot bigger than the average cat. He had his paws on the glass and was rubbernecking at the cars queued next to them, in a similar way to how he was at the rescue centre. The people in the car next to them did a double take when they saw the cat staring at them. The lights changed and they were off again. Maurice was keen to investigate the front of the car and slid down Anna’s side and became particularly interested in the pedals. Anna had to push him gently to the side for fear of an accident, but his response was to jump onto her lap, filling the space between her and the steering wheel. Anna could barely see over him and had to drive the last few minutes with a furry head checking the road ahead for her.
She pulled up into her designated parking space and once the engine was switched off she could hear Maurice purring; he was almost as loud as the engine had been. At least one of us is happy, she thought.
She gave him a tickle around his ear and he pushed his head hard into her hand. ‘Welcome home, Maurice.’ All she had to do now was work out how to get the large fluffy cat from the car to the flat.
Maurice was more relaxed on her lap so with one hand she manoeuvred the cardboard cat carrier nearer to her and opened the lid wide. She lifted Maurice up but as soon as he sussed what was happening he appeared to expand in all directions and started to wave his legs about wildly. Getting a large star-formation cat through the broken box lid was not going to happen.
A quick call to Sophie with a request for something she could use prompted Sophie’s arrival at the driver’s window a few minutes later with a sling-style baby carrier.
Anna buzzed the window down a fraction: she daren’t let it open fully in case he escaped. ‘Seriously?’ She nodded at the baby sling.
‘I figured transporting kids and pets was kind of similar.’ Sophie studied the harness and glanced inside at the large cat filling up more than half of the back seat. ‘He’s huge. You didn’t say it was a baby sabre-tooth.’
Anna shot a glance over her shoulder. ‘One of the volunteers thinks he’s a Maine Coon.’ Another American who’s got one over on me, she thought, uncharitably.
‘He looks like he’s mainlining steroids,’ said Sophie, waving the baby sling at her.
‘I couldn’t get him in a box, so I have no hope with that,’ said Anna. She didn’t want to distress Maurice any further. As if sensing something was afoot he retreated to the back parcel shelf and hunkered down.
‘Try this,’ said Sophie, feeding a large pillowcase through the gap in the window.
Anna held up the pillowcase; it had a giant picture of a pug’s face on it. The inappropriateness seemed lost on Sophie. Anna turned the picture of the dog away from Maurice.
‘Here,’ said Anna, passing Sophie her door keys. ‘You open up and I’ll …’ she lowered her voice ‘… bundle him up and make a dash inside.’
Anna needed to get in the back of the car but didn’t want to risk Maurice escaping so she daren’t get out of the car. Instead she squeezed herself slowly between the seats all the while uttering what she hoped were reassurances. Maurice watched her intently from the relative safety of the parcel shelf. She took a deep breath and, gripping the edge of the pillowcase, firmly swooped upon him and tried to scoop up the cat like a fisherman trapping his catch.
Maurice began to yowl and tried to reverse out of the pillowcase but Anna was already gathering up the ends and gripping them tightly together. She opened the car door and scrambled out holding up the squirming protesting bundle. Anna made a dash for the flats as Mrs Nowakowski came out wearing fluffy orange slippers. Maurice let out an ear-splitting cry and the older woman’s eyes pinged wide open like a bush baby.
‘Hello again,’ said Anna, holding on tight to the wriggling pillowcase as the pug face on the front distorted and bulged. ‘Sorry, I have to dash.’ She didn’t want to appear rude.
Mrs Nowakowski’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s but nothing came out. Sophie held the door open and Anna and the dissenting pillowcase shot inside.
Chapter Five (#ulink_48525291-1753-5ff4-af24-e7bcf8d90124)
The next morning Anna left Maurice curled up on her most expensive cushion. He seemed to have claimed it during the night and she hadn’t had the heart to take it from him. He had spent most of the previous evening hiding under furniture, which probably wasn’t surprising given his pillowcase ordeal, but this morning he seemed calmer, if still a little wary. She’d left him food, water and a clean litter tray and locked him in. The rescue centre said he had to stay inside for at least three weeks – and preferably longer – so he knew where to return to when he was let out. Maurice was on her mind as she walked through the office, and up ahead she could see Sophie. Anna checked her watch, as it was unusually early for Sophie to be in.
‘Morning,’ said Anna, scanning the holiday chart on the wall and trying to work out whose desk might be free for her to squat at today.
‘Hi,’ said Sophie, giving her a shifty glance.
Anna paid attention to what Sophie was doing. ‘Are you moving desks?’
‘It’s temporary so Hudson and I can be together. Sit together,’ she hastily corrected.
‘Just be careful, Sophe,’ said Anna. She didn’t trust Hudson and Sophie seemed to be getting hooked in very fast.
Anna settled herself down in a nearby desk and moved the usual occupant’s clutter to one side. Really, who kept a potato clock and a pink toy troll on their desk? She had a friendly email from a member of her old team, which she replied to, and told her about Maurice. Anna opened up a new email and added in the names for the board and all senior people on the programme. She and Karl had made good headway on the project scope and she wanted to share that work ahead of the big meeting they had later. Her friend sent a message demanding a picture of Maurice. Anna was happy to oblige as she’d already taken quite a few of him looking rather handsome curled up on that cushion. She sent them from her phone to her work email address, copied the pictures over and pressed paste as she was interrupted by Hudson.
‘Anna, did you say you were issuing the deliverables paper first thing?’ he asked, his tone reasonable but the words instantly making Anna feel defensive.
‘I’m literally sending it now,’ she said, as she huffily stabbed at the send button. In the very same millisecond her brain registered what she was sending and where. ‘Nooooo!’
She had attached the many pictures of Maurice to the deliverables email and now it was zapping its way through the ether to all the great and the good on the programme.
‘What’s up?’ asked Hudson.
‘I’ve sent …’ Anna couldn’t believe what she’d done. It felt like her stomach had dropped to her toes and bounced back up again. She ran her palms down her face. ‘Wrong email …’ Her fingers jabbed at the keyboard; embarrassment swamped her. She’d never live this down. She tried to remember how to recall messages. ‘Nightmare …’
‘Anna? What is it?’ His voice was surprisingly gentle.
He would think she was a total idiot but there was no point in lying – he was on the distribution list too. She swallowed hard. ‘I’ve sent pictures of my cat to almost everyone on the programme.’
His eyebrows jumped but he recovered his expression quickly. ‘Budge up,’ he said, shoving her wheelie chair and making her collide with Sophie like an errant bumper car. His fingers whizzed across the keys as her heart thumped at an unnatural speed. She’d never done anything quite so stupid before. There was the time she left her egg salad on a sunny windowsill and went to a workshop, stinking out the office … but this beat that hands down.
Hudson stood up straight. ‘Okay. Recalled successfully—’
‘Thank you so much,’ said Anna, relief swamping her.
‘—with the exception of Roberta. She’s already opened the email,’ he added, wincing and scrunching up his shoulders as if waiting to be thumped.
‘Bugger,’ said Anna, with feeling. That was going to be a fun one to explain. Anna twisted around. Roberta’s office was empty and her laptop wasn’t there – she liked to take it to meetings to make herself look extremely important.
‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ said Sophie, ‘I mean Catwoman was a feminist right? And so is Roberta so …’ She gave Anna’s arm a pat whilst she and Hudson exchanged knowing looks.
A meeting reminder popped up, jerking her back into action. She had precisely five minutes until the big meeting. She dashed to the printer to collect her hand-outs but the printer was lit up like Las Vegas with warning lights and had not printed anything. She checked all its paper trays, she rummaged around in the middle bit and nothing appeared to have been chewed up, and as a last resort she switched it off and on again. She was now ready to give it a thorough kicking.
‘Is there a problem?’ asked Hudson, who must have crept up behind her.
Anna spun around and leaned back against the printer to put a little space between them. ‘No, I’m fine.’ She tucked a piece of stray hair behind her right ear in a jerky movement. She wasn’t fine but having him see that wasn’t going to improve things.
‘Can I help at all?’ he asked, peering past her to the myriad flashing lights on the printer’s panel.
‘I doubt it,’ said Anna, before running him through all the things she had tried. She checked her watch – she needed to leave or she’d be late. Hudson leaned towards her and she wondered for a second what he was going to do. He pushed the toner door slightly and it clicked shut. The whole machine whirred into life and Hudson gave her a nonchalant rise of his shoulders. She hated it when that happened.
‘Thank you.’ She managed to say it without gritting her teeth. She gathered up her papers and scuttled off.
Anna’s day proceeded to go from bad to worse; Roberta was not impressed with the photos of Maurice and had a rant at her in front of everybody over an entry on the risk log, which she clearly didn’t understand, only to apologise later in private and explain away her behaviour as a result of her imminent period. Karl was stressing about lack of data – he really did put the anal in analyst, and Hudson was being perfectly efficient, which was always irritating. She was glad to escape at the end of the day, even if the sight that greeted her was perplexing … Maurice was still asleep on her expensive cushion and appeared to have not moved all day, but the entire contents of a man-size box of tissues had been shredded and liberally scattered around the living room making it look like an indoor snowdrift.
The fact Maurice had slept all day unfortunately meant that he was awake and meowing for most of the night; evidently he didn’t feel quite at home yet. Anna went for a jog first thing, though after very little sleep, it was like sticking her head in a washing machine during spin cycle – neither was a great idea, but at least she was out in the fresh air and enjoying the park. It was Saturday morning and she was keen to leave her work frustrations behind her. The steady rhythm of trainer on path consumed her body while her brain could focus on what was troubling her.
Anna realised what had started out as a jog had been speeding up and her lungs were burning with effort. She slowed down and stopped near a bench, holding on to the back of it while she caught her breath, admiring the row of grand houses that circled the park. They all had gardens that gave them exclusive access to the park on their doorstep, and she could see Sophie’s house from here – or rather, her back gate. Sophie’s house had a very long garden, which led to a lovely family home, and without even realising what she was doing, Anna had given up on her run and was walking towards it. It was time for a cuppa and a serious bitching session.
Anna wasn’t surprised to find the gate was locked but a quick phone call to Sophie had Dave sent down to let her in.
‘Welcome to the madhouse! You okay?’ He was his usual upbeat self. Nothing seemed to faze Dave, he bobbed along happily as the rest of life’s shit flew around him. Sometimes literally, if Petal was in a nappy-diving mood.
‘I’m good, thanks. Settling in to the neighbourhood.’ She felt the need to pre-empt the next question.
‘We knew you’d love it here. Sophie’s in the utility wrestling with sheets. Arlo was sick last night. He’d sneaked a box of Maltesers and eaten the lot.’
As they neared the house the noise of shouting children increased. Arlo was running around the kitchen wearing a sieve on his head and waving a pirate sword, his latest obsession.
‘Hiya, Arlo,’ said Anna, intercepting him and the plastic sword neatly. ‘How’s school going?’
‘Rubbish. Willoughby Newell keeps getting me into trouble.’
Anna mouthed the name at Dave and he shook his head. Kids who were given names like that were always going to have problems, thought Anna. ‘What does he do to get you in trouble?’ she asked.
‘He cries when I hit him,’ said Arlo, a deep frown burrowing across his perfect skin.
‘Do you think maybe if you didn’t hit him, that might help?’
Arlo pondered this for a moment, his wavy baby blond hair swinging about his head as he shook it vehemently.
‘Shitake!’ Sophie’s voice came from the utility. Anna left Dave to explain the laws of cause and effect to his son.
Anna popped her head round the door. ‘Mushrooms as swear words – that’s a new one. What’s up?’
Sophie hugged Petal to her hip. She was surrounded by a rainbow of laundry; brightly coloured baskets overflowed with clothes all around her. ‘This,’ she said, waving her one free arm in a chaotic fashion. ‘I swear the kids get through three outfits each a day. It’s like painting the Forth Bridge but at least doing that you’d get some fresh air rather than being stuck inside all the time. Why isn’t being naked socially acceptable?’ Her eyes told Anna this was a genuine question.
Anna studied the piles of dirty clothes. ‘How do they wear this much?’
‘These people are experts. They train hard. They’re at the peak of their performance. I have bred Olympic mess makers.’
‘Takeaway coffee and a walk round the park?’ suggested Anna with a weak smile.
Sophie decided to bring Arlo because Dave was complaining he couldn’t do what he needed to and watch both the children.
Arlo had found a giant stick and like an overenthusiastic Labrador was attempting to drag it along with him, but at least he’d tire himself out and Sophie might even be in for the rare treat of an undisturbed night’s sleep.
‘You okay?’ asked Anna, sounding tentative.
‘My eyes have more bags than a schoolkid with PE and Food Tech on the same day, my husband is as useful as go faster stripes on a tortoise, my children act like they’ve been raised by hyperactive wolves and I haven’t slept properly since the millennium.’
‘Same as usual then,’ said Anna.
‘You know, I actually fantasise about sleeping for a whole uninterrupted eight hours.’ Sophie stared off into the distance and sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘Sleep is my fantasy. It used to be Ryan Gosling, and before him it was Robert Pattinson.’
‘I thought it used to be David Beckham.’
Sophie nodded. ‘Him too. Oh, who am I kidding? I couldn’t be bothered even if he turned up on my doorstep. I’d end up getting him to play with the kids while I went for a nap. Victoria Beckham’s very lucky. Her David is a real family man, he’s loaded, has world-renowned dress sense and he’s gorgeous. In life’s lottery I got my David. He’s a real ale man, all his money goes on the mortgage and bills, most homeless guys are better dressed than he is and he has the kind of face that perfectly describes the word “gormless”.’
‘Ouch, that’s harsh.’
‘I don’t mean it to be. But when you step back and examine the decisions you made that brought you to where you are now. It makes you question and compare.’ She paused. ‘Arlo, the stick won’t go through that gap. It’s going to snap in half and hit you in the face if you’re not careful!’ Sophie threw her hands up in despair. ‘It’s non-stop. This week I’ve got loads to do at work for this big meeting. It’s Kraken’s birthday so Dave slipped into conversation that it’d be nice if the kids made her a card and Arlo needs some cakes for school because they’re celebrating VD Day.’
‘Blimey that’s fully inclusive for you.’ Anna laughed but Sophie didn’t join in. ‘Do you mean VE Day?’
‘Hmm?’ Sophie was deep in thought. ‘I don’t know if I can do this any more, Anna.’ Sophie stopped walking and Anna patted her arm.
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do. I really do.’
They walked in silence for a while. Sophie took in great lungfuls of fresh air. Sometimes it made things seem a bit better. She liked to imagine the park was all hers. It was looking a luscious green in the intermittent May sunshine. There were some welcome splashes of colour thanks to the pretty pink flowers of the red campion and the last of the blossom on the hawthorn. The bluebells were carpeting the small wooded area and she had to shout at Arlo not to destroy them. Instead, he started a solo game of fetch with his stick.
A bouncy Labrador joined Arlo and took hold of the other end of the stick. ‘Hey! That’s mine,’ protested Arlo, but the dog was already winning the tug of war.
‘Why is everything a battle?’ asked Sophie, with a deep sigh, and she went to intervene.
Chapter Six (#ulink_3204601d-c6fe-5ec3-a134-60d9e0b53ddd)
Anna was pleased with the letter she’d crafted. All she needed now was an address for Maurice’s previous owner and her good deed would be done. His old address, from Maurice’s vaccination records, was her starting point. Hopefully the new occupants would have a forwarding address, or at least know the name of the nursing home he was in, if it was local.
She pulled up in front of the neat row of terraced houses and went in search of number 55. She spotted the for sale sign before the house number. Anna rang the bell just in case, but there was no answer. Now what? Number 57 looked like number 55’s glamorous friend with its double glazing and shiny front door, so she decided to knock there. No answer. She was about to admit defeat when the door of number 53 opened and Paddington Bear reversed out. At least it looked like Paddington Bear from the back – the duffel coat and hat were spot on but if the wearer had hairy toes they were secreted inside a pair of sensible brogues.
