by Jo Victor
“Well, darling, I must say this wasn’t one of your better ideas.” She said it with a smile but the tone made Alex wince. “I think perhaps you should try making it up to me.”
Her voice was slightly more pleasant, and maybe she intended to sound flirtatious, but it came across a lot more like a demand. Alex sighed and looked away, trying to remind herself that Rosamund had doubtless been looking forward to this date as much as she had, and must be really disappointed that their evening had so far featured more discomfort than romance. After all, she was pretty disappointed herself.
However, if Rosamund had managed to roll with the punches a bit more, this all could have turned into a shared adventure instead of a source of misery and friction. Alex thought about standing in the pouring rain, absolutely soaked to the skin, while Cam made jokes about predatory elves, her hazel eyes twinkling.
Oh, so not good thinking about Cam right now.
She felt a touch and looked down at Rosamund’s hand on her arm. Not so long ago, the excitement of the contact would have shot right through her, but just at the moment she didn’t feel anything at all.
“I’m sorry, darling.” Alex looked up. Rosamund did look contrite. “I really didn’t mean to be sharp with you. It’s just that I’ve been looking forward to this evening for so long. Say you’ll forgive me.”
“Of course, Rosamund. Let’s just go upstairs.”
“Oh yes, darling. Please.”
Alex took Rosamund by the hand and led her to the staircase. As they reached the top of the stairs, Rosamund paused and shuddered. “Ooh, what a simply ghastly draft! I swear, darling, I don’t know how you can stand living in this place. It’s positively medieval.”
Alex didn’t bother to reply. When they reached the doorway of her bedroom, she stopped and turned to face Rosamund. “Kiss me. Maybe that will help.”
Rosamund didn’t waste any time on subtlety. In an instant her mouth was on Alex’s, her tongue probing and demanding. Her hands roamed over Alex’s back and shoulders, then lower to clasp her bottom, holding her in place while she ground her pelvis against Alex’s.
And it was working. Alex felt her excitement rising as Rosamund stepped forward, moving them both backward into the room. Alex felt the back of her knees hit the edge of her bed. She let herself slip backward as Rosamund leaned forward, easing them both down.
As Rosamund’s weight pressed her flat, Alex’s back came down squarely on top of a large lump. A screeching, squalling, fur-covered lump. Rosamund instantly let go of her and sprang away, screaming, as Alex rolled to one side and leaped up.
Rosamund was out in the hall now, still screaming. And Grace was still on the bed, howling and hissing, her claws fully extended. Her back was arched and all her fur stood out. Her ears were pressed flat to her skull and her mouth was wide open, her lips drawn back and all her teeth on full display. In the dim light from the hallway, her eyes glowed like something out of a cheap horror movie.
At first Alex was too terrified to move, afraid that the moment she did, Grace would attack her. But then she realized that Grace wasn’t even looking at her. All her attention was focused on Rosamund.
And Rosamund knew it. Her screams had degenerated into whimpering as she slowly backed away, her arms wrapped around her shaking body.
Keeping a wary eye on Grace, Alex eased her way out of the room, pulling the door closed as she did so. She rushed over to Rosamund and tried to put her arms around her, but Rosamund pushed her away. Before Alex could do or say anything else, Rosamund raced down the stairs. Alex heard the front door slam behind her as she ran out.
For a moment, Alex just stood there stunned. She had never seen Grace act like this. Hell, she had never seen any cat act like this, ever. Maybe she was sick. Oh my God, maybe it was rabies. But they didn’t have rabies in England, did they?
She walked over and put her ear to the door. Grace had stopped howling. In fact, she could hear nothing at all—no sounds, no movement.
She turned around, leaning her back against the door as she tried to think. What was she going to do? She should call someone. There was probably some kind of animal control service she could call, but she had no idea what they’d do to Grace. Maybe a vet?
She knew who she really wanted to call. The one person she couldn’t, because she wasn’t here. Cam was in Scarborough.
She let herself slide down until she was sitting on the floor, her back against the door. She started to cry. After a while she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and tried to pull herself together. This wasn’t helping.
All of a sudden she felt something poking at her butt and she shifted away, squealing in alarm. She looked down and sure enough, there was a paw sticking under the door, sliding around as if trying to find her again. If Alex hadn’t known better, she would have assumed Grace was playing. Then the paw pulled back inside and she heard what sounded a lot like Grace scratching the floorboards, the way she did when she ended up on the wrong side of a closed door and she wanted you to do your job and open it for her.
A heart-rending meow rang out, proclaiming its piteous tale of a pathetic, suffering creature heartlessly neglected by cruel, uncaring humans. In other words, Grace sounded absolutely fine. And 100 percent normal.
Alex knew she shouldn’t open the door. She should do things the way you were supposed to, let them take Grace away to be caged up and poked and prodded and maybe even put down. But she just couldn’t do that. Not to Grace.
Muttering “What’s a little rabies between friends?” she eased the door open a fraction, prepared to slam it shut at the first sign of Satan Was a Feline. But Grace just sniffed delicately at the opening and looked up at her, as if puzzled. Alex opened the door all the way and Grace strolled calmly out into the hallway.
Alex walked into her room and flopped down on the bed. She’d just take a minute to recover before she went downstairs to call Rosamund and make sure she was okay. Alex rolled over and curled up on her side. A moment later, Grace leaped up onto the bed and lay down next to her, kneading Alex’s belly a few times before she settled. Alex stroked Grace’s head, listening to her purr. Within minutes, she was asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Friday was pretty much a lost cause. Fortunately Alex woke up early enough to clean up the kitchen before Mrs. Tate arrived, but that was about the only thing that went well. She made several attempts to contact Rosamund, none of them successful, so she left messages at all her numbers, hoping at least one would get through.
Then she called Nicola, whose response to Alex’s tale of woe was rather disconcerting. She seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, and although at first she made appropriately sympathetic noises when Alex tried to explain how upset she had been about Grace, Nicola proceeded to spoil it by interrupting.
“Wait, you let Rosamund leave, and you didn’t go after her, because you had to stay and take care of Grace?”
“She ran out so fast I couldn’t possibly have caught up with her. And Grace really did need me.”
“Oh, my goodness. The lady or the tiger? My cat—or my girlfriend!” She dissolved into a fit of the giggles.
“That’s not fair. I was concerned about Rosamund as well,” said Alex.
“Oh, obviously as well. That’s my point.” Another giggle.
“You know what I mean. It’s just that Grace was an emergency and I was so worried and…oh, never mind.”
Nicola then informed Alex that Rosamund had called in sick that morning but had not sounded particularly traumatized—if anything, she sounded angry. She had also left strict instructions not to be disturbed by anyone for any reason and had mentioned Alex specifically, which had puzzled Nicola at the time but now made perfect sense.
After finally getting Nicola off the phone, Alex went in search of the other person she needed to talk to. As she neared the kitchen, she heard Mrs. Tate say to someone, “It’s no good, you know. She isn’t back yet. Best to save your antics for another time and let me
get on with my work.”
But when she walked in, Mrs. Tate was alone.
“Who were you talking to just now?”
“Oh, nobody. The oven wasn’t heating properly. But it’s fine now.”
“You know, I find it helps to talk to machines as well. For me it usually works best on printers and photocopiers. It seems to keep them from jamming.”
Unlike Nicola, Mrs. Tate did not find her heavily edited account of the events of the previous evening in the least amusing, if her expression was anything to go by. She made no comment, however, beyond tersely thanking Alex for letting her know about Grace.
“I’ve always said that animal is far more trouble than she’s worth. Still, I can’t bear to see any creature suffer if it can be helped. I’ll keep my eye on her.” She concluded by looking pointedly at the mantel clock, so Alex left her to her work and tried to get something accomplished herself.
That, of course, turned out to be a total waste of time. The events of the previous night kept chasing each other around and around in her head. Finally she gave up and went for a good long hike across the moors, which didn’t provide any solutions but at least left her with a bit of appetite for supper and enough restored calm to get some sleep afterward.
Saturday started out as mostly a repeat of Friday, except that Alex left a message only at Rosamund’s office number and didn’t try Nicola at all. She went for another long walk between breakfast and lunch, and in the afternoon found she was able to focus on her work for the first time in days, even when Grace turned up to help her by walking all over her desk. She seemed to be perfectly fine but didn’t stay long—almost as if Alex was the one who had needed checking on.
In fact, as the hours went by, Alex grew so absorbed in what she was doing that she almost didn’t register the knocking at the front door. She was overwhelmed with a sense of dread. It had to be Rosamund, come to yell at her—although showing up on the doorstep didn’t quite seem her style.
The knocking sounded again. Well, no sense trying to put it off. Rosamund’s temper wasn’t going to get any better by her being made to wait.
Just before she pulled the door open, Alex stiffened her spine and drew a deep breath in, only to let it out in a gasp of joy when she saw who it actually was.
Cam stood there on the doorstep holding a grocery bag in her arms, the early evening light touching her hair with a golden glow. She was smiling, a little tentatively—almost shyly.
Alex gave her a big hug, grocery bag and all, and dragged her inside. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
The front door swung closed with a decided clank.
Cam was gratified by the big welcome, but so surprised that she didn’t even get a chance to properly enjoy the hug before Alex dropped her arms and took a step back—though only a little one, she was pleased to note. Just seeing Alex standing there, eyes alight with happiness, made her feel warm inside. For the first time in far too long, Cam felt herself settle. Everything was all right now.
“I’ve only been gone three days. What would you do if I were away for a week?”
“Pine away and die, of course.” Alex grinned at her.
Cam knew she was joking, but that didn’t stop the little zing in her stomach. “Then let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’d hate to be responsible.” Cam spoke lightly, but as she said the words she realized she meant them absolutely. Never, never did she want any harm to come to Alex, least of all through anything to do with Cam herself. Of course she never would hurt anyone if she could help it, but this felt different—something deep and lasting, like a vow.
Alex led the way back to the kitchen. Cam had come prepared with what she hoped was a plausible excuse for dropping by—several, in fact—but found she didn’t need one. Alex seemed to accept her presence as perfectly natural, and in the bustle of dealing with the food Cam had brought they fell into easy conversation. So far, so good.
“Why did you bring all this over?” Alex had both hands in the sack, doing more rummaging than unpacking. “Did Mrs. Tate ask you to go shopping?”
Anxious not to have her surprise spoiled by overeager exploration, Cam held out a hand. “No, she didn’t.” Just as she hoped, Alex responded to the unspoken request by getting down to business, pulling things out and passing them to her, starting with the milk bottle.
“I had a fancy for some proper Yorkshire grub, is all. You know how it is, cooking for yourself—you always make too much, and end up eating whatever it is for days on end until you’re sick of the sight of it.”
Alex paused, an onion in each hand. “Wait—you cook?”
“I think I ought to be slightly offended by that remark. You know, just because I’m beautiful doesn’t mean I can’t boil water.”
Alex threw first one onion at her, then the other, both of which she caught easily. When Alex followed with a third, she bobbled all of them for a moment before getting them under control. She juggled for a while, grinning at Alex before tossing all three of them back at her, one right after the other.
Alex caught them, but just barely, dropping them onto the counter with more speed than grace. “Quite the Renaissance woman, aren’t you? You juggle, you cook, you dance, you recite poetry, you can fix things, you’re really good at scattering random objects all over the place—”
“Ooh, now I’m blushing.”
“Quiet, you.” Alex kept unpacking as she talked, and Cam started getting out mixing bowls and pans. “You sing like an angel. You really do, you know. How did you learn?”
“Mum taught me. Said she’d learned the songs from her gran, and I should keep them safe and pass them on.”
“With all those sterling qualities, it’s a wonder some woman hasn’t snapped you up long ago.” Her smile collapsed. “Oh.” She put down the carton of eggs she was holding. “Cam, I’m sorry. Listen, Nicola told me about…that is, I really didn’t know that you and Ro—”
“Nicola should keep her nose out of what doesn’t concern her.” Cam looked down at her hands, which were clenched on the edge of the counter, the knuckles white.
“She was only trying to help. I just wish…anyway, I’m sorry.” She put her hand on top of Cam’s fist and gently tugged at it. Cam loosened her grip and let Alex take hold of her hand. She turned to look at Alex. Her temper vanished in the shock of seeing Alex’s eyes swimming with tears.
“Cam, I never, ever meant to hurt you. When I see the pain on your face, it just kills me, knowing I’m the one that put it there.” Tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks.
“What’s all this, eh?” Cam carefully, tenderly, brushed away a tear. “We can’t have all this salt water about. It’ll ruin the food.”
It was a pathetically feeble attempt at a joke, but Alex smiled anyway. She let go of Cam’s hand and turned back to the sack of food, clearing her throat.
“So, what exactly are we having for dinner, anyway?”
“Don’t go all posh on me. Dinner’s what folk eat at midday.”
“Yeah, yeah. What exactly are we having for the evening meal?” She took out the flour and set it on the counter next to the milk. “Something good, I hope.”
“Only the best thing on the planet, Toad in the Hole.”
“Please tell me no amphibians will be harmed in the preparation of our meal,” Alex quipped. She’d seen it on menus but never tasted it herself.
“Ha-ha. Yorkshire pudding and sausages. Proper English ones, not that spicy rubbish.”
“Oh, I love Yorkshire pudding, but I’ve only ever had it with roast beef. Which goes in the pan first, the batter or the sausages?”
“Neither. The pan needs to be smoking hot when you clap in the sausages and pour the batter over, but first the batter needs to sit awhile.”
“How long?”
“At least thirty minutes or so, but the longer the better, Mum always said.”
“Okay, so what do we do while we wait? Make the gravy?”
“We can do that
while the pudding cooks.” She grinned mischievously. “I’ve something better in mind.”
Cam reached deep into the bottom of the bag and pulled out a DVD.
“You didn’t! Now, Voyager? I can’t believe it. I thought you said you couldn’t bear the thought of watching it.”
“I reckoned it was high time I faced up to a few things, and I thought I’d start with this.”
“All I can say is, I’m honored that you decided to share the moment with me. But where can we watch it? I don’t usually watch TV, but I think there’s one in Mrs. Tate’s room. I don’t know if there’s a DVD player, though.”
“There is—I set it up myself.”
There was only the one easy chair in Mrs. Tate’s room, not that Alex had ever seen Mrs. Tate using it, since taking it easy was apparently not something she believed in, and Cam insisted that Alex sit there. Cam brought in one of the kitchen chairs for herself and set it beside Alex’s seat, then started the movie and turned off the overhead light.
Two hours later, they were holding hands and Alex, at least, had to wipe her eyes. She cast a sidelong glance at Cam, whose own eyes were suspiciously moist.
“What are you looking at?” Cam said, letting go of Alex’s hand. “Only silly folk cry over soppy films.”
“Humph. It’s just as well you didn’t bring Dark Victory, then. You could have done an even better job of showing me how you don’t cry over sappy movies.” In a mock dudgeon, she got up and flounced into the kitchen.
Cam was right behind her, falling all over herself trying to apologize.
“I’m not really mad, silly. It’s just that you’re so funny when you try to act all tough. It’s really cute.” Cam looked a little stunned. Alex smiled at her. “Now, what do we need to do with this batter?”
Half an hour later, tea was ready. As they were dishing out the food, Cam cut a tiny piece of the main course and speared it with a fork. She blew on it carefully. When she finished, she stepped closer. Alex reached for the fork.