by Emily Selby
"And so? What do you think?" Josephine asked when they were both in the kitchen.
"About what?" she asked back.
"How did you find them?"
“The Archers?"
A brief nod.
"Friendly and welcoming, but a tad ... I don't know..." Heather replied, truthfully. Apart from Gordon's uncanny resemblance to her ex, there was something in the way the older couple interacted with each other that made her cringe. Just a little too sweet to each other, too smiley, too ... unreal.
Maybe she shouldn't...
"You watch him. He can be quite nasty behind your back," Josephine whispered and went to the fridge.
Heather grabbed the tray with the drinks and carried it outside. Josephine followed with the pitcher.
"Here you are," Heather announced, handing over tall glasses, filled with golden liquid, decorated with a wedge of lemon, and a different color straw in each. "Long Island Iced Tea. To be drunk in moderation."
Heather picked up her glass and raised it. "I'd like to propose a toast," she said.
A desperate sound cut through the softly darkening world around them.
"What was that?" Helen asked.
"The cat, probably," Josephine replied.
"I never knew you had a cat," Gordon observed, his cold blue eyes piercing though the gathering night.
Josephine shrugged. "He's not mine. A feral. Has been visiting for a while."
The sound echoed in the distance once more.
"Where is it coming from?" Heather asked. "Whatever animal it is, it sounds like it's in distress."
"Probably got stuck somewhere," Josephine replied and stood. "I'd better go and find him, or he'll scream all night."
Heather touched Josephine's elbow.
"I'll help. I think it's coming from over there," she pointed towards the trees opposite Heather's new bedroom.
If the poor cat was indeed, somewhere in that direction, Heather had a vested interest in making sure whatever was causing the distress ended before she went to bed.
Josephine shuffled towards the trees, with Heather following.
"He's stuck in the tree, we need a ladder and a torch," Josephine called.
"Gordon, the ladder is in the shed,” Helen said. “I'll get a torch from the kitchen."
The Archers disappeared into the darkness.
Heather joined Josephine under one of the trees. She strained her eyes but couldn't see an animal. The cat mewed again, but quieter.
"You'll be right, petal," Josephine said soothingly. "Just a couple of minutes."
A moment later Helen was with them, shining the light onto the scared-looking little black cat.
Josephine tried to coax the animal down the tree, but he wasn't keen. He snorted at her.
"Where's Gordon?" Helen asked. "He should be here by now."
"It's probably too dark to find the ladder," Heather replied.
"But we keep it in the shed. We have light in there," Helen said, a note of irritation creeping into her voice.
"Gordon, do you need any help?" Helen shouted into the darkness.
"Coming," he yelled, emerging onto the path carrying the ladder. And a minute or so later, he was up, and dealing with the distressed cat.
He descended the ladder and lowered the animal gently to the ground.
"Off you go, little fella, you're very welcome," he said.
The cat brushed against his legs and then did the same with Josephine.
"Thank you," Josephine said gruffly. "Now, let's go and have those fritters. They've got cold by now."
They returned to the terrace.
"Excuse me everyone," Heather said before they even reached the table. "I know we're all keen to tuck in, but I'd like to make a toast. Is that okay?"
A choir of murmurs, which she interpreted as approval followed and, once at the table, she grabbed her drink, grateful for different color straws.
"I just wanted to say this is a symbolic drink. I'm from Long Island, but I wanted to raise a toast to a new life in this beautiful place."
"To many more happy moments," Helen added.
"Hear-hear," Gordon chimed in.
Josephine just nodded.
They all had a sip. The Archers praised the cocktail. Josephine remained her silent self. Actually, if not for the Archers there would have been no conversation at all. They blabbered about the weather’s daily improvement, their hopes for a good summer, which was where Josephine might have said a few words expressing her wishes for a summer better than last year. The ended with comments regarding Josephine’s excellent cooking skills. At this point, Heather chimed in with probably a little more enthusiasm than the locals were accustomed to. Not to worry, they'd probably blame it on her gregarious American nature.
About eight o’clock, Gordon stood.
"It's late. We need to get back to our guests," he said, putting his hand on Helen's shoulder. "You're both quite tired, I bet."
Heather tried to protest, but one glance at Josephine whose head jerked up made her realize that the silence on her employee's side might have not been driven by her antisocial attitude. Josephine had actually been nodding off!
"A little," Heather replied.
Josephine raised her eyebrows.
"Thank you for welcoming me. It's been lovely meeting you," Heather said.
"It was delicious, thank you for the cocktail and the food," Helen replied, getting up. "We know Josephine's food is delicious, but your skills at mixing drinks are awesome, too.”
"It may be hard to reciprocate in terms of the quality of food and drink, but we'll do our best to accommodate you as warmly as we can," Gordon added.
They both left promptly.
"I'm really sleepy," Josephine mumbled, climbing to her feet. "I don't usually have sleep problems, but right now, I feel as if I haven't slept in ages."
"You've been busy today," Heather observed.
"Maybe," Josephine said. "I'd better go to bed earlier. You, too."
"I'm not that sleepy now. I'll clear the table. I need to tire myself a little more."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," Heather replied, grabbing the tray.
"Do you need anything?"
"No thanks, I have all I need," Heather replied. Even if she didn't, she would have to make do.
Josephine yawned wide and shuffled heavily towards the back entrance.
When Heather came back outside to confirm she'd cleared everything, she saw the light flicking on in the window behind the terrace, in Josephine's apartment.
It was time for Heather to turn in, too. She'd wash up tomorrow.
3
Heather woke shortly after midnight. She sat up in bed, wide awake.
Blooming jetlag!
It was early morning in New York. Should she try to get back to sleep or just get up?
A sound caught her ear.
Scratching?
She listened for a while.
More scratching.
The cat?
She slipped out of bed, grabbed the little torch she always kept on her bedside table and crept downstairs.
The kitchen and the hallway were dark and quiet, with very little light coming through the windows, but even in the dim glow passing through the windows, Heather could see the door to Josephine's apartment was slightly ajar.
Had Josephine risen to let the cat out?
Heather stood and listened for her employee’s footsteps, or those of the cat, but the house remained silent.
She flicked the torch on and swept its beam across the floor and walls.
Nothing special.
"Meow."
Heather redirected her torch towards the door leading outside. Two large round spots appeared about a foot above the floor.
"Ah, there you are, moggy," Heather whispered. "What are you doing here?"
The cat scratched at the door.
"Want to go outside? I'll let you out," she said quietly and unlocked the door.
The black cat disappeared into the darkness of the night.
Heather locked the door and returned to her bedroom. Maybe, a hot bath would help her sleep. She'd have to do it quietly though, to avoid waking Josephine.
After a hot bath and a few chapters of The Long Goodbye, Heather managed to get off to sleep again. But not for long. As soon as the sky started to brighten she was alert and ready to start the day again.
"Not even half past five," she mumbled. Her head was muddied, she needed caffeine. Not because she wasn't awake, but because she was well overdue for her morning espresso. Heather knew from the past experience that her body could not cope without coffee for much longer.
She descended the stairs quietly and headed straight for Josephine’s door. Not wanting to wake the woman too early, she grabbed the handle and pulled gently on the door .
A waft of fresh, morning breeze hit her face.
A draught?
She'd heard from her mother and read a few blog posts about Kiwi houses being a little on the draughty side, but this bad?
Perhaps Josephine had been so sleepy after dinner she'd forgotten to close the window.
Heather hesitated for a second but decided against entering. Josephine had looked very tired the previous night, and she needed her sleep.
Heather closed the door, needing to attend to her own throbbing head.
Back in the kitchen area, she fired up the coffee maker and sat on the stool, waiting impatiently for the first drops of the headache-effacing brew to dribble into the jug.
Screw social norms, she was at the point of putting her mouth open right under the filter, and she would have done if she didn’t mind boiling her lips.
The machine started gurgling. Heather drummed her fingers on the table. The glasses and dishes were still where she'd left them last night.
She'd load them into the dishwasher as soon as the caffeine was buzzing in her system.
Something tapped lightly in the distance.
Heather winced and glanced at the carafe. The first golden drops appeared at the bottom. A few more minutes and she’d be saved from a long, torturous death in caffeine withdrawal.
Another tap and a soft thud.
The cat again, or was she already hallucinating?
Heather drummed her fingers on the smooth wooden surface again. Animal welfare or not, she’d be dangerous and frankly useless without a coffee.
She jumped to her feet, filled a mug with whatever had dropped into the jug, and drained it.
At least, now she had some antidote in her system. She grabbed the big torch from the kitchen counter–the one they’d used to rescue the cat from the tree.
The noise was probably the window in Josephine's apartment. To avoid waking her, she was going to try closing it from the outside.
Heather unlocked the front door and swept the beam of light across the terrace.
"Hush," a low-pitched whisper came from the corner by Josephine's bedroom. "No light please, I'm coming out," the voice added.
Heather froze with her mouth open and ready to scream. But something soft brushed against her legs and distracted her.
The cat again?
The momentary delay was enough for her to collect her thoughts. Or maybe for the caffeine to kick in.
"Who on earth are you?”
"Liam Barry, Josephine's nephew," the deep voice replied, from somewhere closer. "I'm a local cop."
A tall, broad-shouldered, slightly hunched figure appeared at the terrace line. A younger, male version of Josephine, in fact.
Apparently in his late twenties, he wore a dark pair of pants and a dark, long sleeve t-shirt.
Perfect for disappearing into the night.
"A cop? What are you doing here?" Heather asked, suspicion rising in her still-muddy head.
"I received a strange phone call from Aunt Josie, so I came over. I was just trying to check on her through the window of her sleep-out."
Heather shook her head as if it could help disperse the thick brain fog. "Her sleep-out?"
"Where she lives. We call it a sleep-out."
"Ah, okay," Heather said, still not fully switched on. "Let's go inside, I need more coffee."
She sneaked back inside, ignoring the idea that inviting a total stranger into the house might have been somewhat dangerous, if not dead stupid.
But if he was a local cop and Josephine's nephew, and if there was something wrong with Josephine, a strong man might help.
Heather headed straight for the coffee maker and poured some of the brown liquid into her mug.
"Want some?" she asked a split-second before emptying the contents into her mug.
"It'd be grand, thanks."
Heather bit her lip. She had enough for now, there'd be some more soon, and the guy might have needed something too.
She reached for a second mug, poured in some coffee and handed to her visitor.
"Are you the new owner, Heather Hampton?" he asked, taking the steaming mug from her hands.
She sipped on her coffee. "I am. So, what was the strange phone call about?" she asked, feeling her body calm with every drop entering her system.
Liam leaned against the kitchen counter. His strawberry blond hair looked messy, exactly as if he’d been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.
"I don't know. It was one of those pocket calls.”
“Butt dialing?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I answered, but there was nothing, just silence. So, I disconnected."
"It happens, also with handbags," Heather replied, thinking back to all those moments when she discovered how many accidental phone calls she'd made to her ex-husband in recent months. To be fair, not all of them might have been courtesy of her messy handbag.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Liam replied, sipping on his drink. "But then I thought maybe something had happened with her. So, I called her back, but disconnected immediately. After all, it was in the middle of the night, she should have been asleep anyway."
"It was probably, the cat," Heather blurted, vaguely remembering the events from earlier. "The cat might have jumped on her cell phone and pressed the redial button."
"Ah, the cat," Liam's long nose twitched. "I think I heard it outside. Scratching. Maybe you'd better let him in."
Heather listened for a few seconds, but the only sound came from the humming of the big fridge in the corner.
"Can't hear anything," she replied.
"I thought it's outside. Swear I can hear it," Liam insisted, his eyes narrowing. "Positive."
Something tugged at Heather's gut.
"So, go and check," she fired back. "I'm not going out on my own. What if someone attacks me?"
A big smile appeared on Liam's face.
"All our local criminals are fast asleep. It's half past five in the morning. They're in bed after a hard night of thievery," he added with a grin.
Heather sighed. "Okay, but you go and check on Josephine. I'd rather make sure she's ok."
Liam's face froze. "I'm uncomfortable doing that. She may not be dressed. How about you go check on her while I'll let the cat in."
"Deal," Heather replied and crept towards the door. She pressed the handle and slowly pushed the door. It gave way without any squeak.
Thanks heavens!
She stepped into Josephine’s dark, cold room. The window tapped again.
That was the same noise she heard a few minutes earlier. In the light coming through the curtains lifted by the draught, she could see Josephine's tall body curled up on the unmade bed, one of her arms dangling down. She was still wearing the same clothes she had on during dinner. She must have just taken off the cardigan, which was lying on the floor by the bed. She heard breathing, like a soft snoring.
Okay, so Josephine was alive and breathing.
Heather crossed the floor on tiptoes and closed the window as quietly as she could. She glanced at Josephine face. Serene...
Or was it?
A jolt of
adrenaline spilled through Heather's body. In one skip she was kneeling by the bed.
She grabbed Josephine's wrist, searching for a pulse.
The elderly woman’s lips and her complexion seemed darker than usual.
Heather touched Josephine's cheek. It was cool. She moved her free hand over the woman's mouth.
No air movement?
She dropped the wrist and pressed two fingers against Josephine's neck, again, testing for the pulse.
Her hands were shaking, but she found it.
Josephine took in another breath.
Alive! Thank God.
Heather relaxed her shoulders.
But something wasn't quite right. Heather climbed to her feet and pulled open the curtains.
In the pale light she confirmed Josephine’s face was indeed, bluish, her lips purple, and her breathing–irregular.
"Josephine," Heather said out loud. "Can you hear me?"
No reaction.
Heather touched the woman's cheek and repeated the words.
Still no reaction.
A slight pinch on the shoulder, like she saw on some medical drama.
Still no response.
Shoots!
Something was wrong.
Heather dashed outside and spotted Liam half way between the table and the main entrance.
"No cat," Liam reported promptly. "Is she all right?"
"I don't think so. She's not breathing properly. I'm calling an ambulance," Heather said and rushed towards the stairs.
"The phone is in the hallway," Liam pointed. "I'll do it."
She watched him dial the number and listened to him recite all the details. She was grateful as she wouldn't have been able to give the complete address, let alone the directions.
"They'll be here soon," he said after replacing the handset. "Can we check on her? I'm trained in first aid, if needed..." he added hesitantly.
"Why don't you got in there yourself?"
"I-I'm... I may need your help, if it's breathing problems."
"Good point."
Heather followed him to Josephine's bedroom and watched Liam check on Josephine's pulse on her neck and the breathing. He tried to rouse her, but it didn’t work.
"We need to put her in the recovery position," he beckoned. "I'll keep her airways open in case."