When I couldn’t cross my legs any longer I grabbed my sponge bag, in case this was the only chance I got, opened the door just enough to poke my head out to check if the coast was clear, and left the sanctuary of the dining room. I closed the door firmly and quietly behind me and tiptoed towards the kitchen. It appeared to be a cat free zone, so I carried on through to the bathroom, which was chilly to say the least. It must have been the only room in the house with no form of heating at all, not even one of those old Ascot water heaters that could give you carbon-monoxide poisoning but would have fitted in perfectly. The Bakelite toilet seat was like ice. I washed my hands and face in stingingly cold water and, cats or no cats, went straight back to the kitchen, where I put the kettle on for a hot coffee to warm up my hands. If the bathroom was that cold in the first week of November, what must it be like in January?
I snatched my salad and yoghurt and some cutlery while I was there and nipped back to put them in the dining room. When I turned back I nearly jumped out of my skin. There they were, the three of them, one on the bottom stair, one on the telephone table, and one blocking the kitchen doorway, all looking at me, looking ready to pounce.
We stayed like that for what felt like ages, a kind of tableau – Woman Being Bullied By Cats. We stayed like that until the kettle started to boil. I hadn’t put a lot of water in it, just enough for one cup. It started to whistle and still the cats didn’t move a muscle – they didn’t even twitch their ears. I had to get into the kitchen before the water boiled dry and burnt the kettle. I took a step. The cat on the telephone table jumped down and joined the one in the doorway, not taking its eyes off me the whole time. Great. I’d have a new kettle to pay for at this rate. And how would I explain that to the owners?
I wondered if the carrier bag would distract them for a second time. It was worth a try, so I quickly opened the door behind me and dashed back through. I left one banana in the bag and slid back out with it to find all three cats in the kitchen doorway, lined up like furry bouncers, just daring me to try and get past them. I rustled the bag until I got their attention and then tossed it down the hallway towards the front door. They dived after it and I leapt into the kitchen, turning the kettle off and pouring what was left of the water into a mug hanging from a hook. It just about half filled it. That would have to do.
Keeping an eye on the cats, now rolling and tossing the banana and snowy shreds of white plastic about between them, I took my half mug of water back to the dining room and hoped I could stay there until morning.
This had to officially be the lowest point I’d reached. I couldn’t live like this any more. I had to tell Mum about Alex leaving me, and I had to tell her tomorrow.