To Catch a Cat

by Marian Babson

  ‘No need for you to try.’ Edward moved into his take-charge mode, sure of himself now. ‘I’ll ring Edith and have her get the spare room ready. You can do what you have to do with the police and then come straight to us.’

  ‘I – I – Thank you.’ Perhaps that would be best. It would show the police that he had friends, that he was a respected, integrated member of the community.

  ‘The office …?’ he remembered suddenly, looking at his watch. Eleven o’clock already. Where had the intervening hours gone? He had returned to discover Ingrid’s body at the latest he dared. The latest that would be commensurate with his story of a late-running meeting in London, then getting lost on the way home and pulling over for a little nap when tiredness threatened to overcome him.

  Had they believed him? Did it matter? They had the burglar to worry about. He could hear them working in the guest room – another sealed-off room – fingerprinting the frame and sill of the open window. Measuring, checking, guessing …

  ‘Don’t worry about the office. I’ll ring them and explain.’

  ‘No!’ The reaction was instinctive. ‘Not now … not yet.’

  ‘They’re going to have to know, you know. This isn’t the sort of … problem … you can keep to yourself. The evening newspaper will carry the story, the nationals are bound to leap on it for the morning. It might be a fairly small shipping company in the scheme of things, but there aren’t that many women who own a company. Ingrid’s … passing … will be big news. Better that your office should hear it first from you … via me, if you like.’

  ‘Then … yes. I suppose you’re right.’ He hadn’t really considered the publicity that was bound to ensue. It had been enough to get through the ordeal this far. Enough to know that Ingrid was out of his way at last. He hadn’t thought of the aftermath, all the things to take care of, the lies to be told, the details to remember … A deep bone-weary exhaustion swamped him suddenly; he leaned back and closed his eyes.

  ‘Leave it to me, old chap. I’ll take care of everything.’ Edward patted him on the shoulder, visibly expanding under the cloak of authority he had assumed.

  ‘Thanks and didn’t I hear you offer me a drink a minute ago?’ If he didn’t get this pompous bore away from him for a few minutes, he might lose his temper with him. ‘I think I could use one now.’

  ‘Coming right up.’ Edward started for the drinks cabinet, then hesitated. ‘Erm … I suppose it’s all right? I mean, the police don’t need to go over it first, or anything? The burglar didn’t raid it? Usually do, you know.’

  He hadn’t thought of that. Should he have thrown a couple of bottles in with the other loot?

  ‘No … no, he was interrupted – remember? Ingrid discovered him taking her jewellery. That was when – when he – ’

  ‘Easy, old chap. Don’t distress yourself. I quite see the fella wouldn’t have loitered about after that.’ Edward made short work of pouring the drinks, including a generous one for himself.

  ‘Thanks.’ After a long swallow, Nils abruptly wondered whether this was wise. But surely it was a natural reaction. The police would not be surprised to find that a deeply shocked man had accepted a drink from a sympathetic friend; they might be more surprised if he didn’t. How would a normal innocent man react? Was there a norm for these occasions?

  ‘Actually – ’ He took another swallow and a faintly amusing vision of Edward, flustered and dabbing at ink-smeared fingertips, rose in his mind. ‘They might want to take your fingerprints, now that you’ve smeared them all over the bar.’ His lips twitched, the picture was really quite amusing. ‘For purposes of elimination, of course.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ There was a trace of relief in Edward’s answering smile. ‘Glad to see you’re getting your sense of humour back, old chap. You just keep working on that drink and I’ll see to everything. Erm … just tell me where you keep the carrier and I’ll deal with that next.’

  ‘Carrier?’ Nils looked at him blankly.

  ‘For the beastie,’ Edward said patiently. ‘You know, the cat. Old Erikssson. I’ll take him with me now and you won’t have to bother later. Where have you shut him away?’

  ‘The cat …’ He hadn’t thought of that bloody nuisance in hours, not since the police had taken over the house. ‘I … I haven’t seen him since … since yesterday. He wasn’t here when I … I found Ingrid. He must have gone out … run away … I don’t know …’

  ‘You don’t mean he’s lost!’ Edward set down his drink, looking shocked. ‘I say, old chap, we’ve got to do something! That’s a very valuable animal. Erm, apart from the sentimental value, that is. Belonged to poor old Ingrid, and all that. Got to try to find him. Organise an advert in the weekly newspaper, contact the local radio station, offer a reward – ’

  ‘No, no!’ Leave it to that fool to complicate matters. Get everyone looking for the cat and he’d never have a chance of finding it himself – rather, of doing anything about it quietly when he did find it. ‘No, I’m sure it will come back. When it’s hungry. Wait a day or two and see.’

  ‘Yes, quite. I’m sure you’re right, old chap. They never go far from home and mother, eh?’ Edward seemed to pause and listen to what he had just said. His face flushed so deep a red it verged on purple. ‘I mean … I mean … they never stray far from food.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Nils said dully. ‘I know what you mean. Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing tactful anyone can say at a time like this.’ He added fervently, ‘Everything seems to go wrong.’

  ‘Quite, quite. Mustn’t blame yourself. Time like this, it seems nothing can ever go right again. But it will. Got to hang on to that. Of course the cat will come back. Where else could it go?’

  8

  Someone was watching him. Robin knew it without turning around to look. He could feel the stare prickling the skin between his shoulder blades, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

  He moved slowly along the shelves, no longer taking in the titles, clutching the already-selected books to his chest. When he got to the end of this bookcase, he could turn slowly and naturally and discover who was taking such an interest in his movements. He hoped it wasn’t who he thought it was.

  He turned casually, letting his gaze sweep the farthest corners of the room, the queue waiting to check out books at the desk, the little swots sitting at tables devouring the reference books they weren’t allowed to remove from the library. The little swots … He met the dark watchful eyes and felt a sensation of relief.

  It was only Jamie Patel.

  Coolly, he inclined his head, not quite a nod, not quite a greeting, more a neutral acknowledgement that they were both occupying the same territory at the same moment.

  Jamie Patel bobbed his head with equal indifference and returned to the thick volume he was studying. He turned a page and appeared to become immersed in the text.

  Robin turned back to the shelves, his momentary relief dissipating into a formless dread. It was all right this time – but what about next time?

  Someone giggled in a corner of the room and Robin turned, sending the gaggle of girls a nasty look. They didn’t even notice.

  Jamie Patel did. He met Robin’s eyes with an expression conveying agreement and sympathy. If a person couldn’t find some peace and quiet in a library, where could they? Robin gave him another nod, adding a slight shrug of the shoulders. What else could you expect from a bunch of silly females?

  Feeling obscurely cheered, he took another book from the shelf and riffled through the pages. It wasn’t just about cats, but about an assortment of small mammals, and it looked interesting. Besides, he already had two books exclusively about cats.

  He frowned uneasily. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to pin-point his interest like that. Someone might notice and wonder why he had this sudden interest in cats.

  He took the small mammals books, then added another book to his pile, one on birds. Should he discard one of the cat books? He didn’t want to.
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  Jamie Patel was staring at him again; he half turned to make sure it was only Jamie. If we were dogs, we’d be circling each other, sniffing. The thought made him smile and Jamie gave an answering smile.

  He put the bird book back on the shelf and chose one about obedience training for dogs. Maybe it would work for cats, too. Anyway, he wasn’t very interested in birds.

  He had enough books, he decided. He’d better get back to the house. Suppose Auntie Mags took a sudden domestic fit and decided to clean his room? No, that wasn’t likely. When he arrived, Josh had told him he’d have to take care of his own room – his aunt had enough to do. But suppose Leif Eriksson got restless and began meowing? Or leaping around the room and perhaps knocking something over? Auntie Mags knew he’d gone out to the library, she’d go upstairs to investigate …

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He was at the desk now and the librarian was frowning gently at him. ‘You can’t use that card here. It’s for Kensington and Chelsea libraries. Don’t you have one of our cards?’

  Robin looked up at her, stricken, and she interpreted his look correctly.

  ‘Here …’ She handed him a form. ‘Just fill this out and have your mother or father sign it. Then bring it back and we’ll give you a card and you can take out your books.’

  ‘I can’t have them now?’ His voice was perilously close to quavering. ‘But I need them.’

  ‘I’ll put them to one side and hold them for you.’ The librarian smiled, sure that she was solving his problem.

  ‘But my mother isn’t here. Or my father.’ He fought against tears. ‘There’s only Auntie Mags.’

  ‘That will do,’ she reassured him. ‘We simply need the signature of a responsible adult. One who appears on the Electoral Register. Have your aunt sign it and bring it back.’

  Still clutching the books, Robin turned away from the desk. Would Auntie Mags sign for his card? And was she on the Electoral Register? He wasn’t sure she had been living here that long.

  ‘I heard.’ Jamie Patel was at his side unexpectedly, looking over his shoulder to see if the librarian was watching them. ‘Give me the books. I can take them out on my card.’

  ‘You can?’ Hope fluttered uncertainly in Robin’s eyes. ‘Will she let you?’

  ‘She doesn’t have to know. Give me the books and go out. Wait for me outside.’

  ‘But won’t she notice they’re different to the books you usually take out?’ He could see the titles of the books Jamie had chosen. They were all to do with mathematics.

  ‘She doesn’t care about that. Only …’ Jamie hesitated. ‘Only there are too many. The limit is six. I have three and …’ He hesitated again.

  ‘I’ll put one back,’ Robin agreed. Now it was his turn to hesitate. Should he discard one of the cat books, in order to help disguise his real interests? But suppose the one he didn’t take was just the one that had the information he needed? Leif Eriksson needed help; he had to take the risk.

  With Jamie watching him, Robin carried the book on dogs back to its shelf and replaced it. He glanced over his shoulder, exchanged nods with Jamie, who was gathering up the other books, and left the library.

  Outside, he hovered nervously, still not confident that they could get away with it. But it was no time at all before Jamie Patel sauntered down the steps, all the books tucked safely under his arm. He met Robin’s eyes and jerked his head, signalling, ‘around the corner’.

  Robin waited until Jamie was out of sight before following slowly, still half expecting an indignant librarian to come charging down the steps to confront them and take the books away.

  It didn’t happen. They rounded another corner safely and paused while Jamie transferred the books to Robin.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You are getting a cat, are you?’

  ‘I might,’ Robin said cautiously, admitting nothing. ‘If my aunt lets me.’ He covered his tracks. ‘If she doesn’t, then my mother will, when she gets back.’

  ‘Your mother is in hospital?’ They fell into step together, heading in the same direction.

  ‘No.’ Robin’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to talk about it.

  ‘Mine is.’ Jamie ducked his head and stared at the pavement as they walked along. ‘She says she is going to give me a baby sister, but she is having problems and she must stay in hospital until the baby comes. So I am here, staying with my grandmother and grandfather, until she has the baby.’ He shot Robin a quick sideways glance. ‘I would rather have a cat.’

  ‘My mother said she was giving me a new father.’ Suddenly, the words spilled out. ‘But they went away on honeymoon and they should be back now, only they’re staying longer. So I have to stay with Auntie Mags and her boy friend. He doesn’t like me. And I don’t like him. I wish my mother would come back. I – ’ He broke off. He had come perilously close to saying, ‘I want my mother,’ just like a baby.

  Jamie nodded as though he had heard what Robin had so nearly said and did not despise him for it. ‘I, too.’ He turned his head and for a moment Robin caught the flash of pain in his eyes. ‘They would not keep her in hospital unless it was very serious. They are afraid the baby will die but …’ His voice faltered. ‘I … I am afraid my mother …’

  Will die. Now it was Robin who heard the unspoken words. A cold chill swept over him. It could happen. Nothing was going right for anybody these days.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ He tried to cheer Jamie. ‘She’ll be all right. They both will. That’s what hospitals are for. They’ve got all that equipment, technology, experts – ’

  ‘My other grandmother died in hospital.’ Jamie cut across his well-meaning attempt. They stared at each other bleakly, knowing that all was not for the best and this was not the best of all possible worlds, but unwilling to voice the bitter knowledge for fear of unleashing something even worse upon themselves.

  ‘She’ll be all right,’ Robin insisted stubbornly. ‘Your mum is younger.’

  Jamie nodded glumly.

  ‘Come on – ’ Robin gave him a quick friendly thump on the shoulder. ‘I’ll race you to that big oak tree!’

  Jamie leaped forward, Robin kept pace. They tore down the pavement, clutching their slipping books, invigorated by the sudden action, gasping for breath –

  They didn’t see him until he loomed in front of them, forcing a sudden stop. The books dropped to the ground, they nearly followed them.

  ‘So-o-o …’ Kerry sneered down at them. ‘Busy little swots, aren’t you? Books all over the place.’ He stirred the heap of books contemptuously with the toe of his shoe. ‘Doing homework all the time.’

  Robin bent swiftly to retrieve his books; Jamie was already on his knees, huddling protectively over his own selection. Kerry hovered over them, perhaps ready to kick out at their books again. Would the library make them pay for any damage?

  Shuffling his books together, cover to cover, Robin became aware that Jamie was also trying to conceal the titles of his books from Kerry’s probing gaze.

  ‘Don’t know why you lot want to join the gang,’ Kerry jeered. ‘We do real things, not just mess about with books.’

  There was no answer they dared make to that. Still crouching, they exchanged swift glances. Robin hadn’t known that Jamie had been trying to join the gang and it was obvious that Jamie hadn’t realised that Robin had. Another thing they had in common, along with worry about their mothers.

  Clutching their books, they straightened up slowly until they were face to face with Kerry and regarded him solemnly.

  ‘Right.’ Kerry suddenly seemed uneasy. He looked beyond and around them, as though searching for his gang. ‘We’re having a meeting Saturday night at the old tram shed. Seven o’clock. Be there – and you know what you’ve got to bring with you, don’t you?’ Without waiting for an answer, he nodded at them and walked away quickly.

  Robin took a deep breath of air that now seemed clearer and fresher. Jamie seemed more relaxed, too, but he was frowning.

  ‘Wh
at’s the matter?’ Robin asked. ‘Can’t you get out of the house on Saturday?’ He wasn’t worried himself; if Mags wouldn’t let him leave, he’d go up to his room and … it wouldn’t be hard to sneak out later.

  ‘It isn’t that.’ Jamie watched as Kerry turned a corner and disappeared from view. ‘It is … that I cannot get them what they want. I know they think my people know where to find these things, but most of us do not. I do not. My grandparents do not. I should never have asked to join. I cannot do the other that they require of me, either.’ He sighed and regarded Robin with sad elderly eyes. ‘I shall not go to their meeting. And then they will feel free to bully me for the rest of the time that I am here.’

  ‘No, they won’t!’ Robin glanced around quickly to make sure they could not be overheard. ‘You’re talking about the marijuana, aren’t you? ’

  ‘You know?’ Jamie’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension. ‘They asked for it from you, too?’

  ‘Yes – and don’t worry. My aunt’s live-in – ’ He broke off, realising it would not be wise to say too much. ‘I can get enough for both of us,’ he finished.

  ‘You can?’ Jamie was impressed.

  ‘No problem.’ In fact, it solved a problem. The meeting was not until Saturday night. Now he would not have to try to hide the purloined cigarettes in his room. He would be in enough trouble if anyone found the cat.

  ‘Here …’ He fished in the depths of his backpack and pulled out the envelope in which he had stored the cigarettes. ‘Take them now, in case I don’t see you before Saturday. I’ll pick up the ones for myself before the meeting.’ That tea caddy was crammed full, they’d never miss another three – or, if they did, they’d think they’d smoked them themselves and just lost track of how many were left. He hoped.

  ‘You are sure?’ Jamie took the envelope gingerly and looked inside. ‘Yes, three.’ He looked at Robin gravely. ‘You will do this for me?’

  ‘You took the books out for me, didn’t you?’

  They stared at each other for a moment, in a comfortable silence tinged with a delicate understanding, the beginning of an alliance.