Authors: Marian Babson

To Catch a Cat (7 page)

BOOK: To Catch a Cat

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Especially if they caught him in possession of the cat â¦ and the ruby bracelet.

Overhead, the footsteps had begun again. Back and forth, back and forth, pacing the floor so heavily that the chandelier shook in the living-room below.

âPoor old chap,' Edward said. âRough on him. Wish there was something more we could do.'

âIt's terrible for him,' Edith agreed, âbut I can't help thinking about Ingrid. There's nothing we can do for her and â and it was such an awful way to â ' Tears brimmed her eyes. She'd never cared much for Nils, but Ingrid had been her friend.

Back and forth â¦ back and forth â¦

âDo you think I should invite him down for a drink?' Edward glanced upwards uneasily. âOr do you think he'd rather be alone?'

âWhat about dinner?' Edith had her own preoccupations. âWe were just going to have soup and sandwiches while we watched the last episode of that TV thriller. There's nothing else in the house. I was going shopping tomorrow â¦'

âI don't expect he'll be hungry but, yes, I see what you mean. We'll have to eat out, I suppose.' Another problem immediately arose. âBut where? Even if we could get reservations this late? The Inland Pier, erm â¦'

âNot there!' Edith confirmed his suspicion immediately. âThat's the last place we all four had dinner together. It would be too â¦ poignant.'

âQuite. Erm, same applies to most restaurants in town. I
mean, the four of us have eaten together practically everywhere. Everywhere decent, that is.'

âAnd for miles around,' Edith pointed out.

âErm, I suppose a pub wouldn't be suitable? Perhaps not very respectful â¦ at a time like this.'

âAgain, we've eaten in all the ones with restaurant rooms. The others don't offer enough privacy. Everyone crowding around the bar ordering drinks. Someone might recognise Nils and try to offer sympathy. Or worse â¦ start asking questions.'

âWouldn't do at all. Quite see that. Erm â¦ everyone does know by now, I suppose?'

âThe local radio station broke into its music programme with the bulletin. Nothing like that has ever happened here before. They were appealing for anyone who might have seen anything suspicious to come forward.'

âThere you are, then.' Edward nodded glumly. âBound to be some drunken yobbo in a pub who'll pounce on him and want to know all the gory details.'

Edith winced.

âRight, pubs are out.' Out â¦ Edward brightened. âHow about ordering something take-out? They deliver all sorts of things, don't they? Chinese meals â¦ Indian â¦ pizza â¦'

âNot for Nils. He doesn't like ethnic food, don't you remember? When we went to ethnic restaurants, he always ordered steak and chips or something bland. Ingrid is in despair sometimes, she says he has a Nordic stomach â that is, she was â¦ she used to say â¦' Edith's voice cracked and she fumbled for a paper handkerchief.

âYou'll miss her.' Edward patted Edith's bowed head awkwardly. âYou were good friends â¦'

They hadn't heard the footsteps cease overhead, there had been no sound on the stairs, but, suddenly, he was there.

Edith looked up and gasped, startled. Nils stood in the doorway watching them, a curious expression on his face. How long had he been standing there?

âSorry to intrude.' His mouth twitched, but his eyes were
unsmiling. The look he gave Edith was resentful, as though he thought she had no right to grieve for Ingrid, as though he alone could be permitted sorrow, not that he looked particularly sorrowful right now.

She was right; she had never really liked him, only tolerated him because he was Ingrid's husband. And now that he was Ingrid's widower, it was clear that bereavement was not going to improve his nature.

âQuite all right, old man.' Edward moved away from Edith as though they had been caught in an illicit moment. âWe were just talking about us all going out for a meal â '

âI'm not hungry!' Even Nils seemed to notice that he had been too abrupt. âSorry,' he said again, forcing a smile. âI mean, you two go right ahead. I thought I'd go out for a walk, a long walk.'

âErm, right. Yes, that might be best. Fresh air. Walk until you're exhausted â ' He felt the tip of Edith's shoe nudge his ankle and stopped abruptly.

âThat's it. A long, long walk.' Nils paused and looked at them expectantly.

âErm â¦' Edward wasn't sure what was expected of him; it appeared something was. âYes â¦ very wise, I'm sure.'

âI might be quite late getting back.' There was a curious edge to Nils's voice. âI wouldn't want to think you were waiting up for me â¦'

âErm. Yes. Right. Thank you for telling us. We won't.' Edward nodded several times for emphasis.

âAlso â¦' Exasperation radiated out from Nils; it was not the answer he had sought. âThere are the mornings. I don't expect to sleep much; I'll go for early morning runs. I don't want to disturb you â¦'

âOh, don't worry about that.' Edward tried for a hearty reassuring laugh. âSleep like a log myself and it would take an earthquake to disturb Edith. You won't bother us.'

âYou don't understand.' Nils exhaled audibly, something nasty flashed in his eyes. âI mean, I'll need a key, so that I can come and go without bothering you at odd hours. You do have a spare key?'

âOh! Oh, sorry. Of course. I'll just go and â ' Another, sharper, nudge from Edith's toe stopped him. He understood and quite agreed. He wouldn't want to be left alone with Nils himself right at this moment.

âTake mine.' He wrenched the house key off his key chain. âI'll get myself the spare one later.' He handed it over.

âThanks. I'm sorry to be such a nuisance. You'll probably be asleep when I get back, so I'll say good-night now.'

âErm, yes, good-night. Sleep tight. I mean â¦' But the front door had already shut behind Nils. With any luck, he hadn't heard Edward's
faux pas.

There was a long thoughtful silence before Edith spoke.

âEdward, for heaven's sake, what did you say when you invited him? How long does he expect to stay here?'

Mags stared down at the dishes neatly stacked in the sink, at first unable to identify what was bothering her. It had been very thoughtful of Robin to undertake the little chore of carrying the dishes into the kitchen for her. He had even offered to wash and dry them all by himself. An offer gratefully received, but prudently refused. They were her best dishes and she needed to know a little more about Robin's domestic training before she turned him loose on them. Apart from which, there was the danger that he might be willing â but clumsy. They were really just getting to know each other.

Mags lifted each dish and scanned it anxiously for chips. Robin had been awfully anxious to get back to his room, once he had dumped the dishes in the kitchen. Guilty conscience? Had he wanted to get out of the way before she discovered any damage he had done?

But the dishes were clean and undamaged. Eva had trained him well. He had even rinsed them, in the way one
would do before stacking them in the dishwasher. Dishwasher! Mags sniffed. That clapped-out old wreck must have been one of the first manufactured and, naturally, it no longer worked. They should have checked it before they moved in and perhaps arranged some sort of discount on the rent. That was the trouble with all these rented places â at least, the ones they could afford â there was always something wrong. Appliances that didn't work, furniture that collapsed unless treated like fragile porcelain, heavy peasant pottery dishes riddled with cracks and chips where germs could lurk, threadbare carpets with revolting designs. Sometimes she wondered how much longer she could stand it.

For an instant, a vision of home rose up before her: the beautifully proportioned, well-lit rooms, the faint scent of furniture polish and pot-pourri, spotless net curtains veiling windows that looked out on to green lawn and colourful floral borders, furniture that mixed the antique with the best-of-its-kind modern. For another instant, she couldn't imagine why she had ever left.

Oh, yes. Josh, of course. At least, it had been âof course' then. He'd been so different from any of the boys she knew, so exciting, with a world before him that he was offering to share with her. The fact that he also offered an escape from, and rebellion against, her mother was an added bonus. Or so it had seemed.

That world had run out of excitement and promise pretty quickly. There had been those first two exciting jobs Josh had been contracted for, then everything had gone wrong and life had been downwardly mobile ever since. An embittered Josh was even more difficult to live with than a cock-a-hoop one. His colleagues didn't like his behaviour or his attitude, either; it wasn't their fault that he had made a mess of things.

But sometimes he was still so sweet and thoughtful, the way he had been in the beginning. Poor Josh, it wasn't really his fault, either. He was caught up in a vicious circle. The worse his nerves were, the more obnoxious he became, and the more obnoxious he became, the worse his nerves got as
his co-workers reacted with resentment. And so, they had spiralled downwards, each job more obscure than the last, each living place worse than the previous one. The next step was a decaying caravan on the edge of a third-rate caravan park at the end of the world.

She couldn't leave him now, even if she'd wanted to. You can't quit on a losing streak, or hit a man below the belt when he is down. Such sentiments might be outdated, but they had been bred innto the bone of her â

Bone
! That was it! That was what had been bothering her.

She whirled and stamped down on the treadle of the garbage bin. The lid flew up, revealing once again what she had seen when she had tossed their paper napkins inside: nothing!

They had had lamb cutlets for dinner. What had Robin done with the bones?

Not the garbage disposal unit, she prayed. Please, no, not that! It was almost the only thing in this hell-hole that still worked properly. He hadn't wrecked it?

Wouldn't she have heard something? Some terrible grinding scream as bones and blades collided with disastrous results?

But she had gone to the bathroom and, when she had emerged, the table had already been cleared and Robin, with an evasive nervous smile, was already darting up the stairs to his room.

Almost, she could convince herself that she had heard a strange unearthly howl above the sound of flushing water. Or perhaps Josh had slammed the door behind him on his way out.

â
Robin!
' she screamed, rushing to the foot of the stairs. âRobin, come down here!'

At the sound of a woman's voice, Leif Eriksson lifted his head and looked towards the door hopefully. As the voice sounded again, he abandoned hope and returned to the pile of bones.

âIt isn't her.' Robin stroked the soft back gently. âIt can't ever be her again. It's only Auntie Mags. I'm sorry.'

â
Rob-biin
â¦' The voice was increasingly impatient. âAre you up there?'

âI'm coming!' he called, dashing through the door and closing it firmly behind him. He thundered down the stairs and came to an abrupt halt in front of Mags. âI'm here!'

âYou might answer sooner,' she grumbled. âI wasn't sure you were there. You're not to go out without telling me, you know.'

âI know. I don't.' He smiled tentatively, hoping he didn't look guilty. Had she heard the cat meowing while he was out? Had she discovered the missing cigarettes? He had never before had so much to feel guilty about. âWhat's the matter?'

âNothing, I hope.' Mags took a deep breath and tried to keep calm. âJust tell me you didn't put those bones through the waste disposal. You didn't, did you?'

âBones?' It had never occurred to him to feel guilty about them. Who'd want a pile of old bones? âWhat waste disposal?'

âAll right.' Mags exhaled and tried not to be too optimistic too soon. âI'm not angry. Just tell me what you did with them. They're not in the garbage bin.'

âYou mean those old chop bones we had for dinner? You want them?' And he'd thought Josh was weird. Now he was starting to think that maybe Josh and Auntie Mags were well matched.

âI don't want them. I just want to know what you did with them. You
did
take them, didn't you?' Who else would have? Certainly not Josh. âWhat did you do with them?'

âI, um, took them upstairs.'

â
Why
â ?' Mags took another deep breath and spoke with exaggerated patience. âWhy did you take those bones upstairs?'

âI, um â¦' Robin looked around for inspiration. âI wanted to make something with them.'

âMake something?' Mags closed her eyes against unimaginable horrors. What were they teaching kids on children's TV programmes these days? In her time, creativity had
centred largely on perpetrating grotesque constructions out of empty cardboard egg cartons. âWhat can you make with half a dozen greasy bones?'

âUm â¦' Robin's inventiveness failed him. âUm â¦ it was going to be a surprise.'

âNo! I don't want to be surprised! Not ever!' Her voice was shrill and she saw Robin back away from her. âI mean â ' She bit down on panic. âIt was sweet of you to think about a surprise but, really, I hate surprises.'

âAll right.' His eyes were wary, he seemed ready to turn and flee. She hadn't meant to frighten him, but he had frightened her. He still did.

âRobin,' she said softly. âGo and bring me those bones. Please. Now.'

âNow?' Leif had hurled himself on those bones as though he had never seen anything so delicious in his life. He had hunched over them defensively and even growled a couple of times. Robin didn't relish the idea of trying to take them away from him until he had well and truly finished with them.

âYes, now.' Mags sighed, she didn't want to seem unreasonable. âYou see,' she explained, âthey're dirty, greasy - they'll leave spots anywhere you put them down.' (Not on the bedspread. Please, not on the bedspread.) âAnd they'll attract insects and mice â '

âNot mice.' Robin's lips twitched. Was he laughing at her? Or at some private thought of his own? Had he wrapped up the bones? Or shut them in a box?

âYes, mice. Perhaps even rats â we're near the water, you know.' Echoes of her own childhood came back to her as she spoke, almost in the same tones her mother had used in warning them of life's unsuspected dangers in such things as taking food to their bedrooms. âThey don't have any trouble climbing stairs, you know. The house can be overrun with them before we know it. And this place is bad enough as it is â ' She broke off, conscious that such a statement might be construed as criticism of Josh or, at the least, disloyalty.

Robin did not appear to have noticed. He had a distant
look in his eyes and his head was cocked, as though listening to something no one else could hear.

Or could they? Was that a faint scrabbling sound coming from overhead? No, no, it couldn't be. Her imagination was working overtime, that was all. Hordes of vermin were not instantly invading the house. Even the most ravenous rats would not have had time to discover food that had only been missing for half an hour.

âJust go and bring me those bones!' She called on another of her mother's tones: the no-nonsense, no-argument, do-as-I-say one that brooked no resistance. She could even feel her facial muscles falling into the same lines of imperious disapproval.

However, it worked. Robin nodded acceptance and turned towards the stairs, dragging his feet, but moving in the right direction.

The telephone startled her. No one ever called them. Unless Josh had forgotten something and wanted her to bring it to the station. Her steps almost as reluctant as Robin's, she crossed to the telephone. âHello?'

How could tones so high and crystal clear sound so much like a death knell tolling in her ear?

âYes â¦ yes, he is.' How had she found out? âYes â¦ all right â¦ just a minute.' Robin already had his foot on the bottom step.

âRobin,' she called. âNever mind that for a minute. Come here and say hello to your grandmother.'

BOOK: To Catch a Cat

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