Lulu finished her mint tea and washed the glass. Conrad sat on the sofa, grooming himself. She turned to look at him, wondering when exactly the dream would end and she would wake up. It was a detailed dream, no doubt about that – probably the most realistic she had ever had – but there was no way any of this could be real. Cats did not talk. They simply didn’t.
Conrad stopped grooming and sat up. ‘You look as if you want to say something,’ he said.
Lulu looked at her watch. It was a gold Rolex. Simon had bought it for her on their tenth wedding anniversary and she had worn it every day since he’d died. ‘I should be going.’ She wondered if now was the time for her to wake up.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Conrad. ‘Is that okay?’
‘Yes, sure, I guess. But there are quite a few roads to cross. Are you okay with roads?’
‘I can ride on your shoulders.’
‘What?’
‘And we’re back to “what” already,’ said Conrad. ‘I thought we’d moved past that.’
Lulu laughed. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never heard of that before.’
‘It’s quite common,’ he said.
‘I’ve heard of parrots on shoulders. Long John Silver and all.’
‘Same principle,’ said Conrad. ‘Sit down. I’ll show you.’
Lulu walked over to the sofa and sat down. Conrad arched his back and stretched his legs, then smoothly jumped up onto her shoulders. He wrapped his tail around her neck and sat on her left shoulder. ‘This is the side position,’ he said. ‘It’s fairly comfortable but it’s slightly less secure. He moved slowly, until he had wrapped himself around the back of her neck, his head on her right shoulder, his back legs on her left. ‘I call this the scarf position,’ he said.
‘I can see why,’ said Lulu. She was surprised at how little he weighed; it was almost identical to wearing a fur scarf. Not that she would wear anything made of fur, of course. Not these days.
‘Try standing up,’ said Conrad.
She did. He was perfectly balanced and within seconds it felt completely natural. ‘I love this,’ she said.
‘Walk up and down.’
She walked past the shower to the main cabin door, then slowly turned. ‘This is amazing,’ she said. She walked back through the galley and did a twirl. ‘You’re so light.’
‘Why, thank you.’
‘And you feel so warm against my neck. Seriously, we can walk around like this? You won’t fall off?’
‘Not unless you decide to spin around suddenly,’ said Conrad. ‘So, where exactly are we going?’
‘To see my mother-in-law. She’s in a nursing home.’
‘Is she sick?’
‘Actually she’s quite strong. But she has a few issues with her memory, so she has to be in a place where she can be looked after.’ She picked up her handbag and walked carefully up the steps, then onto the towpath.
The nursing home was close to Lord’s Cricket Ground, just over a mile from the canal. There were two ways to get there: along Warrington Crescent or down Clifton Road. Warrington Crescent was slightly shorter but Lulu tended to go the longer way.
Walking with a cat on her shoulders was a novel experience. She walked slightly slower than normal, but there was never any sense that Conrad was uncomfortable or about to fall off. Most of the time he purred softly in her ear.
She got a lot of smiles from passers-by as she walked, especially from children. She headed down Clifton Road, past Tesco and the Venice Patisserie, and walked by Raoul’s Deli, a Maida Vale institution that had long been one of Lulu’s favourite food shops. Their duck eggs were out of this world. She smiled to herself. Talking cats were also out of this world.
She stopped at the traffic lights at the top of Clifton Road. A postman pushing a cart of letters and parcels stopped and grinned at the cat. ‘Did it take a lot of training to do that?’ he asked.
‘No, he taught me in a couple of minutes,’ said Lulu.
The postman frowned, then opened his mouth to reply, but then the lights changed and Lulu walked across the road, chuckling to herself.
‘That was funny,’ said Conrad.
‘Yes, I thought so,’ said Lulu. Their route took them from Maida Vale into St John’s Wood. St John’s Wood was usually regarded as being slightly more posh than Maida Vale, with its high street chock-a-block with trendy cafes and overpriced delis, and its whitewashed villas with Bentleys and BMWs parked outside. It was where The Beatles had made many of their albums in the Abbey Road recording studio, and where Sir Paul McCartney still lived.
Lulu had always preferred the edgier Maida Vale, where three-quarters of the homes were mansion block flats and houses were owned by the likes of Paul Weller and Ronnie Wood. Earl Spencer used to live there, but he had moved.
It took another five minutes to reach the nursing home, a four-storey block built around a central courtyard with a small lawn and shrubs and rockeries, with benches for the residents to sit on and paved areas where wheelchairs could be parked.
The main reception area was small but functional, with two low sofas and an armchair around a glass coffee table. There were two employees behind a teak counter, a young man in his twenties with blue-framed spectacles and curly hair whom Lulu knew only as Gary, and an older woman in a dark blue suit who was one of the home’s duty managers, Mrs Fitzgerald. The area was overseen by two domed CCTV cameras and all visitors had to be signed in and given a stick-on badge.
Mrs Fitzgerald smiled brightly when she saw Lulu, but then her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the cat lying across her shoulders. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she said. ‘Will you look at that?’
Gary peered through his glasses. ‘Is it real?’
Lulu laughed. ‘Yes, of course it’s real. Do you think I’d walk around with a fake cat around my neck?’
Gary’s cheeks reddened and he shrugged.
‘Is it yours?’ asked Mrs Fitzgerald.
‘He’s sort of adopted me. Is it okay if I take him in to see Emily?’
‘Of course. We’re animal friendly here. We always have been. Animals have a calming influence. Well, most of them. We had one of our residents who wanted to bring his venomous snake collection with him; we had to draw the line there.’
She handed Lulu a paper badge with the date and LULU LEWIS on it. Lulu stuck it on her jacket. ‘Does Conrad need a badge?’
‘I think he probably does,’ said Mrs Fitzgerald. She wrote CONRAD on another badge and gave it to Lulu, who stuck it onto her shoulder, just below Conrad’s head.
There were glass doors to the left and right; Lulu went through the ones on the right. The door slid open electronically and she walked down a corridor and then up a flight of stairs to the first floor. There was a lift but Lulu always preferred to use the stairs.
‘These places always smell the same,’ said Conrad. ‘Pee and disinfectant. I’m told that prisons smell the same.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘A cat who had been into a prison, obviously,’ said Conrad.
They reached the first floor and Lulu walked along another corridor to Emily’s room. To the left of the door was a small frame and inside it was a typed card. EMILY LEWIS. The typed card and the frame always worried Lulu. It was nice that everyone would know who was inside, but there was a lack of permanence about it: it would be all too easy to slide out the card and slip in another one.
She knocked quietly on the door and then slowly turned the handle. Emily was sitting in the high-backed armchair next to her bed. Her eyes were closed and they stayed closed as Lulu walked over and stood next to the bed. It was a hospital bed with sides that could be raised. Emily had fallen out of bed four months earlier. Luckily she hadn’t broken anything but she had been badly bruised so the home had brought in the special bed for her. The cost – an extra hundred pounds a week – had been added to Emily’s monthly bill. That seemed a little steep to Lulu; when she had googled the model she’d found similar beds available online for less than seven hundred pounds.
The staff had dressed Emily, probably after giving her a bath or at least a good wash, and brushed her hair. They usually took her down to the restaurant on the ground floor for breakfast. After breakfast she either returned to her room or went to sit out in the garden. Then she’d have lunch.
‘Is she okay?’ asked Conrad.
‘She’s sleeping. She often has a nap after lunch.’
Conrad jumped off Lulu’s shoulders and landed on the bed. He sat there looking at Emily.
The room was pleasant enough, with a window overlooking a strip of grass and the car park. There was a beech tree in the distance. Other than the bed and the chair, there was a modern teak wardrobe, a matching dressing table and mirror, and a chest of drawers. On top of the chest were a dozen framed photographs of a younger Emily and her family members. Among the pictures was a wedding photograph of Lulu, standing arm in arm with Simon. They had been one hell of a good-looking couple, no doubt about that. Her hair was long and blonde, her skin flawless with high cheekbones and a delicate chin. She’d had a great figure back then and had always had her fair share of wolf whistles when she walked by a building site. The days of being whistled at were long gone – attitudes had changed and she had grown older – and the once-blonde hair had turned a steely grey, but she was proud of the way her skin had remained pretty much flawless. And her eyes had stayed a brilliant green. Simon looked dashing in the photograph. Like Timothy Dalton when he had played James Bond. Simon had the actor’s hair and his smile.
Other than the bed, there was no medical equipment in the room. Physically, Emily was in good shape. Her blood pressure was slightly high and she had arthritis in her knees, but the doctors always said she could easily live to be a hundred.
Emily’s eyes fluttered open, then she frowned as she saw Lulu. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘You know who I am,’ said Lulu, smiling. ‘It’s Lulu.’ She walked over and stood in front of her.
Emily frowned. ‘Lulu?’ she repeated. ‘Are you a doctor?’
‘I’m Lulu. Your daughter-in-law.’
Emily smiled. ‘Oh, that’s nice.’
Lulu picked up the wedding photograph and showed it to her. ‘That’s me. With Simon. On our wedding day.’
‘Simon?’ she repeated, as if hearing the name for the first time.
‘Yes, Simon. Your son.’
Emily peered at the door. ‘Is Simon with you?’
Lulu forced a smile. Emily had been told more than a dozen times that her eldest son was dead, but she never remembered. Each time she learned of his death she broke down in hysterics, so the home’s doctor had suggested that they simply stopped telling her. ‘He’s busy at the office,’ said Lulu.
‘Oh, that’s nice,’ she said again. She looked over at the bed and her eyes widened when she saw Conrad. ‘Oh. Is that a cat?’
‘Yes it is. That’s Conrad.’
‘Is he my cat?’
‘No. He’s just come to visit you.’
‘He’s lovely.’
‘Do you want to hold him?’
‘Oh, yes.’
Lulu smiled at Conrad. ‘Would that be okay, Conrad?’
Conrad meowed and stood up. Lulu went over and picked him up. She took him over to Emily and gently placed him in her lap. Conrad began to purr loudly as Emily stroked his back.
‘Conrad is a very special cat,’ said Lulu.
‘I can see that. His colour is very unusual.’
‘No, it’s something else. Conrad is super special. He can talk.’
Emily frowned. ‘A talking cat?’
‘Yes.’
Emily nodded. ‘Now that is special.’ Conrad continued to purr as Emily stroked him.
There was a bowl of fruit on the bedside table, a box of chocolates and a John Grisham novel. Lulu picked up the book. ‘Is this good?’
Emily looked over at it and frowned. ‘I think so,’ she said.
‘Have you read it?’
‘I think I have, but every time I pick it up I don’t remember any of it so I start from the beginning. But yes, he’s a good storyteller, isn’t he? Like that Jeffrey Archer. He’s a wonderful writer, Jeffrey. Frank and I met him once. We went to one of his parties. Champagne and shepherd’s pie. John Major was there and so was that Edwina Currie. They were having an affair, you know?’
‘Yes, Emily, I know.’ Emily told the Jeffrey Archer story at least once every three visits. It was one of a dozen anecdotes that she would repeat word for word whenever it occurred to her.
As Lulu put the book back on the table, the door opened. It was one of the home’s nurses, a young Hungarian girl called Ildi. ‘Oh good, you’ve got a visitor,’ she said. She grinned when she saw the cat in Emily’s lap. ‘That’s a beautiful cat. What do they call that pattern?’
‘Calico,’ said Lulu.
‘A calico cat.’ She knelt down and stroked him. ‘So smooth.’
‘His name is Conrad and he’s very special,’ said Emily. ‘He’s a talking cat.’
‘Is he now?’ Ildi tickled Conrad behind the ears and he purred with pleasure. ‘That is very special indeed. There aren’t many talking cats, that’s for sure.’
‘Go on, Conrad,’ said Emily. ‘Say something.’
Conrad looked up at Ildi and put his head on one side. ‘Meow,’ he said.
Ildi laughed. ‘He is talkative, isn’t he?’
‘Meow,’ Conrad repeated.
‘He’s adorable,’ said Ildi. She smiled at Emily and pointed at the box of chocolates. ‘Is it okay if I have another, Emily? They are the best chocolates I’ve ever tasted.’
‘Of course you can,’ said Emily, still stroking Conrad.
Ildi picked up the box, opened it and selected a chocolate, which she ate slowly. She offered the box to Lulu. ‘They do look lovely,’ said Lulu.
‘They’re handmade. They melt in your mouth. Can Lulu have one, Emily?’
‘Of course. When is she coming?’
Lulu smiled and shook her head. ‘Emily, I’m Lulu. Remember?’
‘Of course I do. I’m not senile.’
Lulu looked down at the chocolates. It was a large box with two layers of six chocolates – a mixture of plain and milk. There were only two left on the top layer; she took one and popped it into her mouth. The chocolate melted almost immediately and a warm caramel flavour filled her mouth.
‘Good, right?’ said Ildi, putting the box back on the bedside table.
Lulu nodded. It was amazing. She swallowed and licked her lips. ‘Who gave you the chocolates, Emily? They’re delicious.’
Emily looked up from stroking Conrad. ‘Simon, of course.’
‘Simon?’
‘Yes. Simon.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m not senile, dear.’
Ildi looked across at Lulu. ‘Who is Simon?’
‘My husband,’ she said. ‘Emily’s son.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘He passed away three months ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Ildi gestured at Emily. ‘And Emily . . .?’
Lulu nodded. ‘Yes. She forgets. Dr Khan said it’s best not to correct her.’
‘I understand,’ Ildi said. She smiled at Emily. ‘So, do you want a chocolate, Emily?’
‘Oh, no,’ replied Emily. ‘I don’t want to spoil my appetite. I have just one, before I go to sleep.’
‘Why don’t I take a photograph of you with Conrad and Lulu?’ suggested Ildi.
Emily looked around. ‘Is Lulu coming?’
‘I’m Lulu, Emily,’ said Lulu, putting her hand on her mother-in-law’s shoulder.