To Catch a Cat Page 5

  Jamie smiled suddenly, his teeth a brilliant flash of white in his dark features. Robin found himself grinning back, feeling happier than he had been since he left home. Since home had left him.

  ‘Right!’ Jamie reached out and thumped him on the shoulder, echoing his own earlier challenge. ‘Race you to the crossroads!’

  9

  By the time Robin edged open the front door and slipped into the hallway, the exhilaration had worn off and he was beginning to wonder what he had done.

  The angry voices in the kitchen did nothing to reassure him. Auntie Mags and Joshua were fighting again. As usual, the radio babbled in the background. Joshua turned it on the moment he got up and left it on all day, switching from station to station, complaining about the other presenters, arguing back to it, almost treating it like another person in the house. Robin wondered how Mags stood it, or perhaps she just didn’t hear it any more. It got on his own nerves sometimes, but he could always go to his room.

  He started up the stairs now, avoiding the third step from the bottom which creaked loudly when trodden on. He had taken longer than he had expected at the library and then talking to Jamie. Too long? Maybe Mags had gone looking to see if he’d returned yet and discovered the cat. Was that what they were fighting about? He paused at the top of the stairs to listen.

  ‘ … meals. He knows what time we eat. I won’t have him treating this place like a hotel.’

  ‘God! You sound just like Mummy!’

  ‘Do I? Great! Why can’t you think of something more original to say?’

  ‘Why can’t you? I’m not supposed to be the big hot-shot shock-jock. No wonder you can’t do any better than this boring town with its third-rate local radio – ’

  Nothing new. Robin turned and trudged along the hallway to his room, wondering why Mags and Josh bothered to stay together. Nobody else would have them, maybe – and they knew it. Unlike his parents, who had spoken to each other with icily increasing politeness until that last day when more suitcases than usual were stacked by the front door awaiting the taxi that was to take his father to the airport to fly off to yet another engineering job in some far-flung country.

  The familiar bleak chill settled over him and he tried to thrust the memories away. It was almost one o’clock. He’d have a quick wash, feed Leif the tin of catfood he’d bought at the supermarket and go downstairs to lunch. Then maybe Josh would stop picking on Mags. She didn’t deserve it, she was doing her best. And what Josh said wasn’t even true: he didn’t know what time they ate. It changed all the time, according to the shift Josh was doing at the radio station.

  He looked over his shoulder before opening his door just wide enough to slide into the room. He needn’t have worried. The others were still downstairs and the cat, far from trying to get away, was nowhere in sight.

  He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, looking around slowly, his initial relief giving way to unease.

  ‘Leif …?’ he called softly. ‘Leif … are you still there?’ The little mound he had left under the coverlet looked suspiciously flat. ‘Leif …? Eriksson …?’

  No response. He advanced into the room cautiously and stooped to look under the bed. Nothing there but dust. Auntie Mags wasn’t very much for housework. Or maybe he was supposed to do it. Did sweeping and dusting come under Josh’s ultimatum to take care of his own room?

  He straightened up and reached for the coverlet. Maybe the cat had just changed position, so that the bedclothes looked flat. He lifted the quilt gingerly, not wanting to startle Leif.

  Leif wasn’t there.

  ‘Where are you?’ He fought down a rising panic. He was sure he’d shut the door when he left. The window wasn’t open. So where was Leif? He had to be here somewhere.

  Maybe … Robin’s stomach lurched. Maybe he’d been really hurt and had been getting worse and worse. Maybe he’d crawled off into some corner to die.

  No. No … there were little piles of fluffy dust in three corners of the room and a larger, darker pile of his discarded socks in the fourth, but no cat. Besides, the milk saucer was empty, so Leif must have awakened after his nap and finished the milk. If he could do that, maybe he wasn’t so sick, after all?

  The books ought to be able to tell him. Reminded, Robin snatched off his backpack and pulled out one of the books, riffling its pages urgently. Nothing useful there. He tossed it aside and pulled out another. Why did he have to be so stupid? He’d chosen the wrong books. These were no help at all. The third featured long chapters about talking to animals, but the conversations suggested bore no relation to anything he needed to know.

  He clenched his fists and slammed them down on the mattress in frustration. ‘Hell!’ It wasn’t the worst word he knew, but it was the worst he dared to say out loud. ‘Hell!’

  There was an answering explosive sound and the cat shot out from underneath the pillow, bounded across the room until it came to the closed door and crouched there, looking around wildly and trembling.

  ‘You were under the pillow!’ Robin looked at the pillow, which was propped up against the headboard, forming a little secret cave. Clever Leif had discovered it.

  ‘You are one smart cat,’ he told Leif admiringly.

  The cat stared around the room with unhappy eyes, shivering visibly, unsure of its surroundings. Then it looked straight at Robin and emitted a faint mewl of distress.

  ‘You’re scared!’ Robin realised. ‘I hit the bed with my fists and it frightened you. It must have made you remember – ’ Remember the violence it had witnessed, the blows rained on its mistress. That was why the cat was staring around the room so frantically, it was searching for the woman it had loved and would never see again. And you couldn’t explain that to a cat.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Robin said gently. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. Come over here and take it easy. I’ve brought you something to eat. Come on …’ He wriggled his fingers enticingly. ‘Come along …’

  The eyes that met his own were calmer, but still unhappy. They eyed Robin doubtfully, as though weighing up the possible consequences of trusting him.

  ‘You know me,’ Robin coaxed. ‘Don’t you remember? I got you out of that house when Mr Nordling was going to kill you next – ’ He broke off abruptly. Putting it into words, saying them out loud, suddenly brought the nightmare home, right into the room with him. He felt as though a blast of icy air had swept through the bedroom and shuddered abruptly. He bit back something perilously close to a whimper.

  The cat crept forward, slowly, cautiously, eyes fixed upon Robin intently.

  ‘He did it,’ Robin whispered. ‘He really did it, didn’t he? And nobody would believe me, if I told them. Would they? I’d only get into terrible trouble because I should never have been in that house in the first place. And I’d gone in to steal you. They could send me to jail for that.’

  ‘Mewrrmm,’ the cat agreed sympathetically. It sat at his feet, looking up at him. They had been through a lot together, in a short space of time. The cat seemed to be remembering that now. It stretched out its neck and rubbed its muzzle against Robin’s ankle. ‘Mewrrmmm …’

  ‘Good boy.’ Robin reached down and rubbed the soft fur between its ears. ‘Good cat.’

  ‘Mrreeeoow?’ The cat twisted its head to direct his attention behind one ear.

  ‘Maybe she isn’t really dead.’ He scratched the ear absently, trying to convince himself. ‘I never got a chance to take her pulse, or anything. I didn’t even get a good close look …’ But there had been all that blood. Could someone lose that much blood and still be alive?

  ‘Ro-o-o-bi-i-in …’ His aunt’s shrill cry made him jump. The cat also jumped, then disappeared under the bed. ‘Rooo-bin!’

  He leaped to his feet. It took him a moment to realise that the voice was not immediately outside the bedroom door, but some distance away. He went over to the door and opened it.

  No. Mags wasn’t in the hallway; he heard her call again. He stepped outside, clos
ing the door carefully behind him, advanced to the top of the staircase and stood looking down.

  Mags had the front door open. She was standing in the doorway, looking up and down the street. She opened her mouth to call again.

  ‘Here I am,’ Robin said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Oh!’ Mags whirled around, startled. ‘There you are! I didn’t know you were home.’

  ‘I told you not to worry about him.’ Josh appeared in the lower hallway.

  ‘How long have you been back?’ Mags glared up at him accusingly. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘Ages,’ Robin said quickly. ‘I’ve been back a long time. I didn’t want to bother you.’

  Josh gave a sharp sardonic bark of laughter and went back into the living-room. Mags closed the front door and leaned against it limply.

  ‘I’m not cut out for this,’ she muttered. ‘Maybe, if it was my own kid and I’d had the training of it from the beginning …’

  Robin judged it was time to come downstairs and start appearing alert and helpful. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s time to eat, that’s what’s the matter.’ Mags straightened up and spoke briskly. ‘Have you washed your hands?’ She heard the echo of her mother in her own voice and frowned.

  ‘Never mind, you’re not going to eat with your bare hands. Just come along. I want to be sure Josh gets a good meal before he goes to work.’ She led the way into the cramped dining-room. Josh was already in there, sitting at the table, his transistor beside his plate.

  ‘Josh – ?’

  ‘Shut up!’ He made a sideways slashing movement with one hand, all his attention centred on the radio.

  ‘ … discovered his wife’s body early this morning when he returned from a business trip …’

  ‘Josh, what is it?’ Mags moved forward to stand beside him, not noticing that Robin was frozen in the doorway.

  Josh made the impatient slashing movement again, not looking at her. He leaned closer to the transistor, his eyes glittering.

  ‘ … in the course of a burglary. Antiques and jewellery to an estimated value of two hundred thousand pounds were taken. The husband is under sedation …’

  ‘Who?’ Mags mouthed silently, pulling out a chair and sinking into it. It might be someone they knew, the way Josh was acting. For a moment, she thought of her parents’ comfortable home and her heart constricted. But, no, the newscaster had mentioned a husband and Mummy had been a widow for nearly five years now.

  So … who?

  ‘The Prime Minister announced today …’ The newscaster’s voice changed subtly, becoming more businesslike. The previous item was finished – for the time being – and more mundane matters were on the docket.

  ‘Not who, but where.’ Josh turned away from the transistor to face Mags. ‘Right here in River City! That was the first report. The nationals will have it in the morning. They’ll come swarming down here like wasps around a honeypot.’

  ‘So?’ Mags had a dreadful feeling she already knew the answer to that ‘So?’ She could almost see the ambition coursing through Josh’s veins like blood. His gaze was turned inwards, his fingers drummed on the table top. He hadn’t even heard her question … her coded protest.

  ‘Robin – ’ She shifted her attention to someone more responsive.

  ‘Don’t just stand there in the doorway, come and sit down.’ She looked at him sharply. He looked awfully pale suddenly and seemed to have shrunk in on himself.

  ‘Are you all right?’ A cold chill swept over her. All she needed was for the kid to be sick.

  ‘I’m all right,’ he said unconvincingly. He moved forward slowly, hunched over like an old man, not meeting her eyes.

  Mags was at his side in an instant, her hand on his forehead. No, there didn’t seem to be any fever. If anything, his forehead was cold and rather damp. She stepped back and surveyed him uneasily.

  ‘You’re sure you’re all right? You’re not coming down with the flu or … something?’ The something didn’t bear thinking about. There were all these terrible and sudden outbreaks of meningitis in schoolchildren who had been fine one minute and then the next –

  If anything happened to Robin, what would she do? How could she ever face Eva or his father again?

  ‘You’d better not be.’ Josh snapped to attention and glared at Robin menacingly, as though he could throw any ailment into retreat by the sheer force of his disapproval.

  Oh, fine. That was all she needed. Scare the poor kid to death, that would do a lot of good. You’re a great help, Josh.

  ‘I’m not.’ Robin slipped into his chair, unaware that his blood had drained out of his face, leaving him white as a ghost. Josh’s veiled threat had gone unnoticed. He had more to worry about than Josh’s posturing.

  He had two hundred thousand pounds to worry about. They’d blame him for stealing all those things if they ever found out that he was the one who’d been in the Nordling’s house. And how could he prove he hadn’t?

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

  10

  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.

  ‘Poor old chap,’ Edward said. ‘Rough on him. Wish there was something more we could do.’

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

  Back and forth … back and forth …

  ‘Do you think I should invite him down for a drink?’ Edward glanced upwards uneasily. ‘Or do you think he’d rather be alone?’

  ‘What about dinner?’ Edith had her own preoccupations. ‘We 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 …’

  ‘I 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. ‘But where? Even if we could get reservations this late? The Inland Pier, erm …’

  ‘Not there!’ Edith confirmed his suspicion immediately. ‘That’s the last place we all four had dinner together. It would be too … poignant.’

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

  ‘And for miles around,’ Edith pointed out.

  ‘Erm, I suppose a pub wouldn’t be suitable? Perhaps not very respectful … at a time like this.’

  ‘Again, 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 … start asking questions.’

  ‘Wouldn’t do at all. Quite see that. Erm … everyone does know by now, I suppose?’

  ‘The 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.’

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

  Edith winced.

  ‘Right, pubs are out.’ Out … Edward brightened. ‘How about ordering something take-out? They deliver all sorts of things, don’t they? Chinese meals … Indian … pizza …’

  ‘Not 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 – that is, she was … she used to say …’ Edith’s voice cracked and she fumbled for a paper handkerchief.

  ‘You’ll miss her.’ Edward patted E
dith’s bowed head awkwardly. ‘You were good friends …’

  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?

  ‘Sorry 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.

  ‘Quite all right, old man.’ Edward moved away from Edith as though they had been caught in an illicit moment. ‘We were just talking about us all going out for a meal – ’

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

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

  ‘That’s it. A long, long walk.’ Nils paused and looked at them expectantly.

  ‘Erm …’ Edward wasn’t sure what was expected of him; it appeared something was. ‘Yes … very wise, I’m sure.’

  ‘I might be quite late getting back.’ There was a curious edge to Nils’s voice. ‘I wouldn’t want to think you were waiting up for me …’

  ‘Erm. Yes. Right. Thank you for telling us. We won’t.’ Edward nodded several times for emphasis.

  ‘Also …’ Exasperation radiated out from Nils; it was not the answer he had sought. ‘There are the mornings. I don’t expect to sleep much; I’ll go for early morning runs. I don’t want to disturb you …’

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