Only the Cat Knows

by Marian Babson

‘What is she doing here?’ Yvonne demanded as she saw me.

  ‘Remembering, I think.’ Amanda met her eyes. ‘If not now, then soon.’

  And why should that bother them so much?

  ‘If only I could remember,’ I said. I keep trying — but there’s nothing there.’ Tears would be excessive, I decided, but I allowed my voice to quaver. ‘Nothing at all!’

  ‘You poor dear.’ Yvonne’s sympathy was as false as her eyelashes. ‘We must take you back to your rooms where you can rest.’

  ‘Yes.’ Amanda closed in on me from the other side. ‘You need to lie down and sleep. This is all too much for you.’

  Hands like iron bands snapped around my wrists on either side, and they turned me relentlessly towards the door.

  ‘Just a minute,’ Everett Oversall intervened before they could lead me away. ‘If there’s a chance she might remember some of her past by being here, I think it’s a chance worth taking.’ His mouth stretched in a semblance of a smile. ‘After all, we want our Vanessa back again, don’t we?’

  In the instant before they rearranged them into agreement, their frozen faces said they didn’t want Vanessa back, they didn’t want the other women who were cluttering up the place — and they could do without each other, too.

  ‘Yes —’ I twisted my arms suddenly, breaking free of their grip. ‘Yes, that might help. It’s worth trying.’

  ‘I’d hoped you’d think so.’ His eyes met mine grimly before flicking away to indicate a door on the far side of the room. I had the disconcerting feeling that I had just been sent a subliminal instruction.

  It was obviously the only clue I was going to get, so I followed it — not forgetting to rub my wrists with an accusing look towards the ladies so anxious to get me out of there.

  I began to wander around the opulent office, aware of Oversall’s almost imperceptible nod of approval as I started off in the opposite direction, peering vaguely into shadowy corners and pausing to admire paintings.

  When I finally reached the door he had indicated and put my hand on the knob, tension flashed through the room behind me like a bolt of lightning.

  Without looking back, I opened the door and stepped inside. I heard a muffled gasp as I switched on the lights — but most light switches were just inside the door; that didn’t prove my memory was returning.

  It was a warm and inviting room, the deep blue of the blue-and-silver-grey carpet matched by the window curtains, a polished rosewood desk glowing, logs waiting to be ignited in the fireplace, more paintings, a bookcase filled with tempting volumes — and a faint nostalgic fragrance in the air.

  And not one damned envelope in sight.

  I had found Vanessa’s domain. I knew it even before I saw the parade of foreign souvenirs trailing across the mantelpiece — every one of them sent to her from me on my travels.

  I had picked up the paperweight of the pyramids and upended it to start the unlikely snowstorm fluttering down when I became aware that they were all standing in the doorway watching me.

  ‘Oh …’ I replaced the paperweight, the swirling snow now almost completely obscuring the pyramids. I’d thought it would amuse Vanessa and it had. But there was nothing funny about it now, nor about anything else.

  ‘Oh …’ I turned to face them; the tears blurring my eyes were genuine, they weren’t to know the true cause. ‘I thought… just for a moment… but it’s gone again. It’s … all gone …’

  ‘Sleep!’ Amanda started towards me purposefully. ‘That’s what you need. A good night’s sleep. I have some pills, if you don’t —’

  ‘She must rest,’ Yvonne concurred. ‘She is still weak and frail.’ She moved forward. ‘Come now, you need —’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Oversall’s raised hand stopped them in their tracks. ‘I’ve rung for Monica. She’ll be here in a minute — and she’ll take care of Vanessa.’

  So he didn’t really trust them, either.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The phone rang before I had dressed for work in the morning. Half-expecting Anderson, I was surprised to find it was Candy with my marching, or rather, non-marching orders for the day.

  ‘There’s another dreary crisis this morning,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it and the rest of us are going to be frantically busy sorting it out, so it might be better if you just skipped work today.’

  Keep out from underfoot, I translated.

  ‘You’re sure there’s nothing I can do to help?’ I made the obligatory offer to show willing.

  ‘It’s all in hand. Just a matter of tracing and finding some publicity material that went missing on its way to various media people. It happens every now and again. We have dealing with it down to a fine art — but it’s hectic here while we do. We’ll have it all sorted out by tomorrow.’

  We don’t want you in the way today.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure I can’t —’

  ‘Consider it a day’s holiday. Of course —’ her tone became arch, signalling a joke — ‘if you’re really determined to work, we can always send some envelopes over!’

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ I gave the expected little laugh. ‘Actually —’ I fell back on what seemed to be the standard excuse around here — ‘I have a bit of a headache. Not to mention a touch of writer’s cramp. I’d appreciate the chance to catch up on my rest.’

  ‘That’s settled then.’ She was pleased. Had she expected more of a protest? ‘You just take it easy today. You’ve worked so hard you deserve a day off. See you in the morning.’ She rang off.

  In the morning? Which one of us wasn’t expected at dinner tonight?

  As for the rest of the day: take it easy — Hah! I had my full maintenance routine to catch up with.

  I slept so late the next morning that I found my fruit and muesli breakfast tray had been joined by another tray filled with a well-wrapped and extensive selection of sandwiches — a clear indication that I was not expected to appear in the Staff Canteen for lunch.

  I considered what might happen if I were to appear in Everett Oversall’s office instead. The idea was tempting, but I was fairly certain that I would be intercepted before I got anywhere near Oversall. They would be expecting a move like that. But there were more promising leads I wanted to investigate first.

  I poured the milk into the muesli and the coffee cream into the cat’s bowl. Then, in response to her imperious look, I prised apart some of the dainty crustless triangles that had been supplied for lunch and, perhaps, dinner.

  The cat had been in a strange mood earlier, but was happily grazing through the prawn cocktail, egg-and-cress, roast beef, tuna-and-sweetcorn, and chicken salad by the time I was ready to leave.

  ‘I’m just popping round to see Madame.’ For a moment, I felt this proved they were succeeding in driving me mad. Discussing my plans with the cat like that.

  But she raised her head and gave me what seemed to be an approving look as she clawed aside an almost transparent slice of cucumber to get at the smoked salmon beneath it, leaving me to wonder whether she had actually understood what I had told her.

  T shouldn’t be long.’ I slipped out and locked the door securely behind me.

  The late afternoon was mild, but damp, grey and foggy. Not actually raining — that was a bonus. I had almost reached Madame’s cottage when I realized I was being followed.

  Not very subtly, either. There was a rustling, brushing noise behind me. I turned to find a dispirited peacock dragging his folded clump of tail feathers along the path. He stared at me bleakly, waiting to see what I was going to do.

  ‘You must be Petruchio.’ It was an easy guess; he had made no move to challenge me, as Percy would have done. He hadn’t been very aptly named.

  ‘What’s the matter, fella? Life getting you down?’ Then I heard why.

  ‘Petruchio …? Petruchio …?’ Nina’s voice called seductively. ‘Where are you?’

  I nearly tripped over him as we both dived for the shelter of the boxwo
od hedge. Once we were cowering behind it, he shot me a look of unmistakable complicity. We were companions in adversity.

  ‘Petruchio …? Where are you?’ Footsteps crunched past on the gravel path. ‘I have a lovely handful of corn for you … Come to Nina.’

  Not bloody likely! We hunched down until the footsteps and the insistent voice faded away.

  ‘That was close.’ I was talking to the fauna again, but no longer felt awkward about it as he blinked in distinct agreement before creeping back on to the path and heading in the opposite direction.

  ‘Mind how you go,’ I advised. ‘And if I run into her, I’ll keep her busy until you have time to get clear.’

  Another acknowledging blink and he made off through the shrubbery and vanished.

  Being in no hurry to encounter Nina myself, I slowed down and kept a wary lookout.

  The path ahead was clear; no sight nor sound of Nina. Nor of anyone else. Good.

  Then the hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I froze halfway down the path to the cottage as the faint strains of music reached my ears.

  But it was all right. Nothing monkish, not even vaguely liturgical. I started forward again. Just a good honest classical concerto, soothing background music for an afternoon nap, perhaps. I hoped Madame wouldn’t be in too bad a mood if I disturbed her.

  I tapped on the door and it swung open. I hesitated only a moment before stepping inside; it wouldn’t do to be caught lurking on the doorstep.

  This time I was willing to follow the music — into the dark parlour where Madame lay motionless on her chaise longue, a cashmere throw covering her.

  Was she too still? I could discern no sign of breathing. The sense of desolation that swept over me surprised me. It was not just that she might have taken the key to Nessa’s life here with her — I had been growing genuinely fond of the old girl.

  I stood there, indecisive and helpless, looking down at her. Should I charge through the cottage shouting for Richie? Should I ring Monica and tell her to call Anderson? Should I —?

  I became aware that her eyes had opened and she was staring back at me.

  ‘So, Vanessa,’ she breathed. ‘I have been expecting you. You are late.’

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked. ‘Really all right?’

  ‘Why should I not be?’ She was irritated. ‘What do you think I —e?’

  ‘Madame —’ I knelt beside her, my face close to hers. She almost smiled.

  ‘Ah, yes, we are Old Souls, you and I, Vanessa. Older than Lilith … older than Cain …’

  ‘Madame —?’ Was she rambling? That was all I needed.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Richie was back — if he had ever been away.

  ‘She gets in everywhere!’ Shadow was with him, staring at me with utter loathing.

  Nessa, Nessa, what did you ever do to him?

  ‘Madame is too tired for visitors today,’ Richie said. ‘You’d better leave.’

  ‘I will decide —’ Madame began.

  ‘Now!’ Richie was at my side, looming over me ominously.

  I stumbled to my feet before he could drag me to them ignominiously.

  ‘I’ll take her back where she belongs.’ Shadow was glowering at me, he looked as though he’d enjoy yanking me to the door and frogmarching me out of there.

  Whatever happened to chivalry?

  ‘Vanessa is my guest —’ Madame tried again, but she was outnumbered. Against Richie or Shadow alone, she might have prevailed, but united they were going to win.

  For the moment, the dangerous flash of her eyes threatened.

  ‘This isn’t one of your better days,’ Richie insisted.

  ‘Vanessa has other things to do right now.’ Shadow crowded closer, one hand reaching out for my upper arm. A grim satisfaction appeared in his eyes as I shrank away.

  He thought I was afraid of him. He wasn’t to know it was because I didn’t want that domineering hand to discover a stronger muscular structure than Nessa possessed.

  ‘Another time, Vanessa,’ Madame promised. ‘We will speak again — when there is no one to disturb us.’

  ‘That’s right, Madame.’ Richie gently rearranged her cashmere throw. ‘Plenty of time. Vanessa will come again.’

  But not if they had anything to say about it. I could almost hear the clang of iron bars closing around Madame.

  ‘Come on!’ Shadow opened the door and crowded me through, not quite touching me, but with his constant slow advance forcing me forward to avoid it.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be looking after Mr Oversall?’ I snapped.

  ‘There’s more than one way of looking after him,’ he said. Keeping me out of the way was clearly one of them.

  ‘Why don’t you like me?’ I didn’t expect an honest answer, but it was worth trying.

  ‘Why should I? Does everyone have to like you?’

  ‘It would help.’

  ‘So you think you need help, do you?’ He edged closer. I moved away. ‘You may be right.’

  The sudden darkness of the long grey November night had engulfed the world while I was in the cottage. There were no lights along the paths. In the distance, I heard a dog bark.

  How long would it take Bud to get here if I screamed?

  ‘Do I? I don’t know.’ I kept my voice even, but increased speed. Unobtrusively, I hoped. ‘I can’t remember anything.’

  ‘No?’ He was disbelieving. ‘You think you’re so bloody clever! You —’ He broke off, choking on his hatred.

  The far end of the cloister was just discernible. I broke into a sprint, hauling up the hem of the kaftan and without looking back. I didn’t know what Shadow’s problem was, but he wasn’t going to take it out on me. Not here, not now, in the darkness with no witnesses.

  ‘Damn you!’ He caught up with me at the cell. For a moment he pinned me against the bars. Neither of us gave even a fleeting glance inside.

  ‘Pushing your way in here! Sneaking around where you’re not wanted! Get out! Go back where you came from!’

  ‘I might,’ I said. ‘If I could remember where that was.’

  ‘You -!’ His face, mottled with a rage that was almost out of control, was too close to mine. His hand swung out to slap, then clenched into a fist, then fell to his side. ‘You —! Mother —’

  I waited for the remaining two syllables, trying to decide whether I should register shock, outrage or disdain.

  In the event, they didn’t come. He looked beyond me, bit down on what he had been going to say, and moved back.

  ‘Just go!’ he snarled. ‘Anywhere! Leave! Disappear!’ He stepped farther back and followed his own advice. Abruptly, he was gone.

  I turned to walk the remaining length of the cloister and saw why Shadow had left so suddenly. There was a witness waiting at my door, watching my approach. My unlikely saviour.

  Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

  Not that the most optimistic would call Ivor deep, but he was marginally better than Shadow. At least I had some inkling of what he wanted.

  He watched me for a long moment before obviously deciding that it would be politic to come to meet me. Or perhaps he was afraid I might get away.

  ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t home,’ he said.

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘But you are now.’ He watched greedily as I unlocked the door and moved in closer. I wasn’t going to get an opportunity to slip inside and close the door in his face.

  ‘And now we can have our little talk,’ he said.

  Must we? But I had to do it sometime and the events of the day so far had put me in a nasty mood. Just right for dealing with Ivor. Silently, I allowed him to follow me inside.

  The cat came to greet me, took one look at Ivor and walked away again. I know the feeling, Duchess.

  ‘There’s something different about this place,’ he declared, looking around. That ham-actor note was back in his voice. ‘Now, what can it be?’

  ‘Everything is
just the way it was when I got back from the hospital,’ I said.

  ‘No. No … something’s missing.’ He frowned.

  I waited.

  ‘I know!’ He tried to look triumphant, but succeeded in looking shifty. ‘You used to have a big silver-framed picture of me on your desk.’

  ‘Really?’ The hell I had.

  ‘Perhaps someone tidied it away while you were gone. Put it in one of the drawers …’ But the drawer he started to open was much too small to contain a framed picture — it had obviously been intended for stamps and sealing wax.

  ‘There’s no picture in there!’ I reached over and slammed the drawer shut before he had it fully open. ‘There’s no picture of you anywhere here. Believe me, I’d have noticed.’

  ‘Of course you would.’ He smirked, taking it as a compliment. ‘Never mind, I’ll give you another.’

  ‘Don’t bother!’ He was getting on my nerves even more than usual. I certainly didn’t want any reminders of him when he wasn’t actually present — and I was sure Nessa didn’t, either.

  ‘Oh, it’s no bother.’ He tried to move closer, but I moved first and settled myself in the armchair farthest from the sofa, leaving that for him.

  ‘Why don’t you come and sit over here?’ He patted the place beside him in what he seemed to consider an inviting manner.

  ‘I’m fine here.’ It was an offer easy to refuse.

  ‘But we always used to sit together here,’ he pouted. ‘With the lights low … It might help you to remember.’

  ‘Sorry, but I’m afraid you’re still a complete stranger to me. I don’t even know what you do around here.’

  ‘Ah, well … I don’t want to boast but …’ He shot a glance at me to see how I was taking this outbreak of modesty.

  With about a kilo of salt. ‘But…?’ I encouraged.

  ‘You might call me a talent scout. I maintain an overview of everyone coming up in our various fields of interest and work to acquire the brightest and best candidates for positions we have open.’ He spoke too glibly and avoided my eyes.

  ‘And does that entail hiring them away from other firms?’ I was beginning to get the picture: it was the purest form of industrial espionage. No creeping around photocopying secret formulas or hacking into rival computer files, just hire one of the head honchos away from your competitor and he’ll arrive quite legally with all the relevant information stored in his brain.