17

After a heavy rainfall during the night, what had threatened to be a grey day turned into a sunny morning. Since her retirement, one of Moira’s pleasures in life was exploring the parks in the city. But when the weather was changeable, as it had been for the past few days, she and her husband walked around the block instead of going into town. Geoff insisted on taking what he called his ‘daily constitutional’ in the fresh air, unless it was actually raining, and Moira usually accompanied him. She was happy looking at her neighbours’ gardens, some of which were every bit as attractive as the public spaces they frequented. Smiling at her own neat front garden, she followed Geoff down the path. The daffodils were still out, along with crocuses and snowdrops and other early flowers.

‘It’s certainly turning out to be a lovely day,’ Geoff said.

Checking the next-door garden as they passed by, Moira spotted something brown lying on the doorstep. Peering more carefully she saw it was a solitary leather walking shoe. Her neighbour must have dropped it without noticing. Always keen to do a good deed, Moira told her husband to wait for her while she went next door to return the shoe to its owner. The shoe must have been outside overnight because it was soaking wet. Holding it by the laces, she rang the bell, a smile prepared in readiness. After waiting for a moment she rang again, but there was no answer. Geoff was calling to her to get a move on so she put the shoe down and went on her way. It was nothing to do with her, really, if her neighbour had left a shoe out overnight. More fool her if it got ruined. She should have been more careful.

Returning from the walk, Moira glanced next door and saw the shoe was still there. As well as the shoe, her neighbour’s black and white cat was sitting on the doorstep, scratching at the door and mewing.

‘Hasn’t she got a cat flap?’ Geoff asked, catching sight of the animal.

‘I don’t know, do I? I’ve never been inside her house.’

‘Well, it doesn’t look like she has,’ he said. ‘Anyway, that cat’s probably too fat to fit through one.’ He chuckled. ‘Come on, love, let’s get home before it starts raining.’

Moira glanced up at the gathering clouds and hesitated. ‘We can’t just leave that poor cat sitting there. Do you think she’s gone away and forgotten about it?’

‘Now, don’t start with your speculation.’

‘Geoff, we have to do something.’

‘What are you talking about? Anyway, even if you’re right, and she has gone away, I’m sure the cat can fend for itself.’

‘It’s not a wild cat, Geoff. You can see it’s used to being well fed.’

Ignoring her husband’s remonstrations, Moira went up the path and rang the bell again. Still there was no answer. She lifted the flap on the letter box and tried to peer inside, but she couldn’t see anything.

‘Hello,’ she called through the letter box. ‘Are you home? You left a shoe out here and your cat wants to come in. Hello?’

The only answer was Geoff summoning her. ‘Come on, love, she’s obviously gone out. Let’s go in and put the kettle on.’

Stepping away from the front door she stared at the window, but the curtains were closed.

‘You poor old thing,’ she said to the cat.

The cat followed them all the way to their own front door where Moira shooed it away. ‘No, Moggy,’ she said, ‘you can’t come in. You don’t live here. You go on home.’

Then she felt guilty because of course the cat couldn’t go home while her neighbour was out.

‘I hope she hasn’t really gone away and forgotten about that poor animal,’ she said later, after she had brewed a pot of tea.

‘What animal?’

‘You know, that cat next door.’

‘You’re not still on about that, are you?’

Moira shrugged. Geoff was right. It was nothing to do with them. That evening she went outside to put the kitchen refuse in the bin. In the near darkness she yelped and nearly dropped the rubbish bag in fright as something brushed against her leg.

‘Good lord,’ she said, half laughing with relief, ‘you nearly gave me a heart attack. Isn’t she back yet? What are we going to do with you? I told you, you’re not coming in my house.’ She sighed as the cat followed her to her door, arching its back and rubbing itself against her legs. ‘Oh, come on then, I suppose a saucer of milk won’t be missed. Only don’t think you can make a habit of it.’