It turned out we weren’t taking Tin Lizzy back to Lymington anyway. Marvin and Steve, for reasons best known to themselves, had swapped boats and we were sailing back on Steve’s slightly bigger, although not any better-looking yacht – he did tell me what sort it was but, as with any other boat related information, it went in one ear and passed straight out the other without troubling a single brain cell on the way.
‘There you go, Beth,’ Marvin seemed to think this slightly smoother ride should make up for the hideous outward journey. ‘What did I say, eh? Like a knife through butter.’
‘Mm … hmm.’ I gave him a tight-lipped smile, keeping my eyes on the horizon just in case the chip butty decided to make a return appearance.
My jelly legs weren’t as bad getting off in Lymington. It was a relief, but not a big enough one to ever make me want to do that again.
‘Why don’t you go and have a cup of tea in that little café up there?’ Marvin gestured towards the cobbled lane. ‘I’ve got a few bits and pieces to do and then I’ll come and join you.’
That was something I didn’t need to be told twice. It was almost miraculous just how quickly my legs got their act together. They carried me off like a thoroughbred racehorse’s legs would have, past my old friend of this morning, the Puffin Cruises ticket booth, and on towards the cobbles and a hot cup of tea. In my head I sounded decidedly middle-aged for a twenty-eight-year-old, but I didn’t care. This twenty-eight-year-old had had a very up and down day – particularly in the stomach department and was in dire need of the cup that cheers.
I was feeling more like myself again as we drove back through the New Forest towards Netley Mallow to give Bella and then Anthony and Cleopatra their second visits of the day. Had I thought about it in the morning, I should have driven my car as far as here and left it in the Steadmans’ driveway, then Marvin could have driven home and left me to make my own way.
‘If you don’t mind, I’m going to shoot off and catch up with someone then I’ll come back for you a bit later,’ Marvin broke into my thoughts before I had a chance to voice them as he pulled up outside the Steadmans’ bungalow. ‘How long do were you planning on staying here? About an hour or two?’
One hour would have been perfect – half an hour for each house, unless Bella was being stroppy, in which case, twenty minutes per cat. Two was a lot longer than I’d planned but I didn’t want to be awkward – my seasickness had probably taken enough of the shine off his day already – so I just said, ‘An hour would be great. If you think you’re going to be longer than that I could always walk back. It’s a lovely afternoon – that earlier drizzle didn’t come to anything, so I don’t think it’s going to rain now.’
‘Well, I might be closer to two hours than one, so if you’re sure?’ He looked a little more relieved than was gentlemanly, I thought, but ignored it. After all, he didn’t owe me anything – more the other way round.
I was sure that I didn’t want to be hanging around for two hours – cats weren’t known for their long attention spans and I’d already seen enough of my clients’ sofas to last me a lifetime. ‘Yes, of course,’ I told him. ‘I’ll see you later.’ Then I watched Marvin drive off, thankful that Daisy had offered to walk Bubbles for me, and that this was the only thing I had left to do today.
‘Tony,’ I called, ‘Cleo, I’m back.’ Anthony was sprawled across the middle seat of the sofa, lying on his back with his front paws stretched over his head as if he was seeing how long he could make himself. His limbs twitched ever so slightly at the sound of my voice – unless he was having a chasing dream and trying to hurry up and catch that mouse – before settling back into exactly the same position. His eyes didn’t even flicker – he was fast asleep like a teenager on a Monday morning and nothing short of a biscuit bag shook right in his furry little face was going to get him off that couch.
I wandered through the open bedroom door to where I knew Cleopatra would be, staking her usual claim on the Steadmans’ double bed. She was lying on her front, with her paws tucked tidily under her chin, eyes closed in a smiley, happy way. She opened one eye and looked at me as if to say, ‘Oh good, you’re back. Would you mind giving my head a little rub, just behind the ear, if it’s not too much trouble?’ Then she closed it again. So I rubbed her head, behind one ear and then behind the other so it didn’t feel left out, before she blinked another sleepy smile to say thank you.
With neither cat in the mood to be entertained, I went to the kitchen and topped up their shared biscuit bowl, which hardly needed much adding as I’d already done it that morning. Then I emptied, washed, and refilled their water bowls. There was no point in opening their tins of Fancy Feast until at least one of them was awake, so I went back into the lounge and looked out of the window.
A light wind had blown up out of nowhere, as half-hearted as the spatter of drizzle had been earlier, and was ruffling the surface of the duck pond. The ducks were nowhere to be seen. It seemed like it might be best to walk down the lane and drop in on Bella now, then come here after, as I’d have to go past to walk to Netley Parva anyway.
‘I’m just going down the road to see Bella,’ I called to the sleeping cats, as if they could understand me, knew or were bothered who Bella was, or cared what I did, even if they had been awake and listening. Of course, if they had, they’d probably have been annoyed that I was, yet again, taking my attention elsewhere. ‘I won’t be long,’ I said, as I pulled my jacket back on and let myself out again. It had gotten colder even in those few minutes I’d been in the bungalow and I walked quickly down the lane.
In contrast to the other two, Bella was still in almost exactly the same spot she’d been in when I’d left her that morning. She looked as if she’d been waiting for me to come back, tapping her paw against the parquet flooring like a mother who’d given her daughter permission to stay out until eleven and it was now past one in the morning. I could see the ‘Where the hell have you been?’ and the ‘What time do you call this, young lady?’ look in her eyes the moment I opened the front door.
‘Hello, Bella,’ I cooed, ‘How are you, lovely girl?’ I was hoping the tone of my voice might soften her up a bit.
‘Don’t think you can soft soap me with that “Hello, Bella, here, kitty, kitty, aren’t you a lovely little pussy cat” nonsense,’ her hard emerald eyes replied. ‘I’ve got your number, missy, and I’ll be passing it on, don’t you think I won’t,’ they added for good measure.
‘How about we get you something nice to eat?’ I tried again, making for the utility room, where an array of every top end brand of cat food filled a whole shelf. ‘What do you fancy for your supper today, Bella? Gourmet Perle rabbit and game? A little Fisherman’s Delight? How about some Dreamies while you make up your mind?’ That should do the trick. I hadn’t met a single cat who didn’t roll over and purr its head off for a few Dreamies. I didn’t know what they put in them, but most cats would tickle your tummy for a little handful of them.
But apparently not this one. She still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t see her eyes any more but the disdain with which she held her head as she continued to stare in the direction of the front door left me in no doubt as to how she felt. This cat had made up her mind about me. This cat had decided that I was no good. And this cat was not for turning.
There is only so much silent treatment anyone can put up with and I didn’t even make it to twenty minutes with Bella. She was still glaring at the front door when I walked through it to leave. Her ‘Good riddance! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, you complete waste of space!’ was almost palpable in the air.
Of, course, among the many cats I’d worked with at Sitting Pretty, the majority had been an absolute pleasure to look after and had made my workday seem not like work but more like a series of visits to very cuddly, small friends. They made my days fly by and my not particularly wonderful wages feel worth it. I had also made the acquaintance of quite a few less pleasant cats, with a variety of unfortunate attitudes between them but Bella, with her determination to be displeased with absolutely everything, was a first.
‘I’m back!’ I trilled as I opened the Steadmans’ door for the third time that day. The wind had become a bit more brisk and I’d walked quickly from Princess Grumpy’s house. The same silence greeted me. Anthony didn’t appear to have moved a muscle since I last looked at him. Cleopatra had rolled on to her side, but both paws were still tucked under her chin and her smiley eyes were still resolutely closed. ‘OK,’ I said, ‘I can’t hang around here like a spare part all evening waiting for you sleepyheads to decide to wake up. I’m going to put your supper out now and you can eat it when you feel like it.’
Back in the kitchen I opened two tins of Fancy Feast, one savoury salmon and the other tuna and chicken, and mashed one into Tony’s dish and one into Cleo’s. At least they had a choice of two flavours.
‘Bye-bye, then,’ I called out, as I left them for the last time that day. ‘Don’t worry your little furry heads about giving me a complex, will you? I’m absolutely fine about all of you wanting to ignore me today. It was worth getting out of a comfortable car to come and watch you sleep and now I’m perfectly happy to go and walk through the cold, dark forest to get back. It’s all fine. It’s all good.’
Silence. Apparently irony was lost on cats. Which I thought rather ironic in itself, as they themselves were unwittingly so damned good at it.
I did my jacket up to my chin as I walked down the driveway. It was definitely getting colder and I was starting to regret telling Marvin that I would walk back. Would that thought occur to him and make him decide to come back for me? His car would be a welcome sight right now. The duck pond was starting to look quite bleak, and I could imagine its usual inhabitants huddled together in the church porch, grumbling about today’s nip in the air, the worse cold to come, reminiscing about last spring and looking forward to the next one – they were English ducks, after all.
At the end of the village, the trees started to close in over the road, making a sort of tunnel, even with their lessening November foliage. I crossed the road so that I was walking on the right and facing any on-coming traffic, stuffed my hands into my pockets for warmth, and kept on walking. I’d only been going for about five minutes when the heavens opened and the trees proved just how little protection they could afford against the downpour.