1
‘Ouch!’
Bella West rubbed at the livid scratch on her right wrist, wishing she’d worn a longer-sleeved top. They were a prerequisite when dealing with the cats, especially the one sitting unrepentantly in front of her, regarding her with wary green eyes.
‘All right, all right, you win.’ Bella tucked the pet brush back into the apron she was wearing. ‘I’ll leave it for today.’ She’d been trying to give Monty, the ill-tempered and geriatric Bengal, a brush, since he was looking a bit scruffy, but Monty, clearly keen to keep his fur as he wanted it, had other ideas.
‘I still love you, though, you old bugger.’ Reaching out a tentative hand, Bella ruffled the top of Monty’s head. The cat, relenting, bumped against her palm as if in apology. This was part of the job she didn’t mind in the slightest. The affection from the residents made all the scratches worthwhile.
Bella had been working at the Purrfect Paws cattery and rescue sanctuary for about a year and it was the happiest she’d been in a long time. This job, in addition to the four nights a week she worked at the local pub, the Star and Telescope in the village of Lower Brambleton, meant that she could afford the cost of the room in her friend, Marieke’s house nearby. Caring for the residents of Purrfect Paws, some of whom, as rescues, would go on to new homes and others who came in while their owners went on holiday, gave her a focus that she’d often lacked in her thirty-one years on this planet.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have motivation; merely that she liked variety in her life, and while the past year had seen her staying put in one place, the cats coming through the doors of Purrfect Paws were always a challenge. Some trusted you immediately. Others, like Monty, took longer. She had found she liked to earn that trust, and, for the most part, she and Monty were beginning to bond, random scratches notwithstanding.
‘That’s better.’ Bella began to hum under her breath, and then the humming turned to low singing. Monty looked at her quizzically. ‘OK, OK, so I’m a bit rusty. Don’t give me the judgy face.’ She ran a hand down his back. He was slightly skinny now, but at eighteen years old that wasn’t surprising. His tail flicked up and curled around her hand, and she stroked it, too. The spots on his back, typical of a Bengal, were a darker brown, and Bella knew they were replicated on his belly, but since Monty was definitely not one for belly rubs, unless you actuallywantedmore scratches, she hadn’t seen much of them.
‘Poor Monty,’ Bella murmured. ‘It’s been what, eight months now? You must be wondering what on earth’s going on.’
Monty was a boarder at the centre, rather than a rescue, but in some ways his future was as uncertain as the abandoned cats that Purrfect Paws took in with depressing regularity. His enclosure, the biggest one, had a generously sized ‘catio’, a space for fresh air and climbing, that he could access via the flap, but it was no substitute for the garden he’d been used to. In sadder moments, Bella wished she could adopt Monty herself, but that was impossible. Her friend and landlady, Marieke, lovely as she was, wouldn’t be too happy, since Marieke’s long-term boyfriend, Gerard, was seriously allergic to cats. Gerard could only just cope with staying the night in the cottage with the aid of antihistamines, because of the cat fur that Bella brought back on her clothes after a shift at Purrfect Paws, so adopting Monty was out of the question. Instead, she made sure she spent lots of time with him, even if, on occasion, his gratitude was in short supply.
‘Well, I’ll see you later,’ she said as she ambled to the door. ‘Don’t bite anyone.’
Monty narrowed his eyes at her, then turned around and gave her the full benefit of his back view.
‘Charming,’ Bella muttered. She always made sure that Monty was her last stop on the cattery side. She liked him the most of all the residents, precisely because she’d had to earn his affection.
Her next stop, after thoroughly washing her hands to prevent cross-contamination between the sections of the centre, was to check in on the rescue pens. It was more likely that illness could be spread from the often very ill rescue cats to the boarders, but the owner of the sanctuary, Mollie Wakefield, had put clear procedures in place to limit the spread either way.
Purrfect Paws was the largest hub within thirty miles for stray and abandoned cats, and while they were always busy, the benefit was that they could also re-home their inmates fairly quickly. The summer season meant more kittens, and there were currently four from the same litter housed in a large hutch with their mother, who was barely more than a kitten herself. Bella let herself in, and played for a while with the kittens, after refreshing their food and sorting out their litter trays. She was pleased to see they’d all grown since they’d been brought in a couple of weeks back, and Clover, their mother, was also looking healthier. Hopefully they’d all find homes soon.
‘Do you want a cuppa, love?’ Mollie’s cheerful voice drifted through from the reception and office space that separated the two sides of the building. ‘I’ve just put the kettle on.’
‘Thanks, Moll, that would be great.’ Bella heard the kettle going on and reckoned she had about five minutes to spend with the kittens and the other inmates before a well-earned cup of tea and a biscuit. Some of the residents, like Clover and her little family, were affection-starved and very receptive to cuddles and attention. It was easy to lose an hour with them, and Bella always hoped that, when they were re-homed, cats like that would get the love and attention they deserved. Others, like Monty and the petulant Persian, Ermentrude, were more aloof, but, on their terms, affection was greatly appreciated if they were in the mood.
After checking in on the single cats in their pens, Bella wandered back down the corridor to the office and reception. She had a shift at the pub tonight and was back here tomorrow morning to do the breakfast round, so she knew she needed to make sure she ate well. A biscuit or two might keep her going until she got home, but she ran through a mental checklist of what she’d left on her shelf in the fridge, and hoped Marieke, who had a tendency to pinch her food if she came in late, hadn’t appropriated her lasagne.
‘Everything all as it should be?’ Mollie asked as she handed Bella her tea and slipped her an extra Penguin.
‘They all look good,’ Bella replied. ‘Anyone going off to pastures new imminently?’
‘We’ve had some interest in the kittens, but this time of year I daresay we’ll end up with more to replace them before the week is out.’ Mollie sighed. ‘We really do need to keep pushing the neutering and spaying message.’
‘We do our best, Moll,’ Bella replied. ‘You can lead a horse to water, and all that.’
‘I know, but it breaks my heart every time I see a cat like Clover. She should never have been allowed out while she was on heat. When will people learn?’
‘I’m sure someone’ll snap her up soon.’ Bella smiled sympathetically at Mollie. She knew how frustrating it was for her, with what felt like a constant stream of cats coming through the doors. When Purrfect Paws was full, new cats would be put out to local fosterers, but even those places, where willing volunteers looked after cats in their own homes until they could be found their own permanent places to live, were struggling. The cost-of-living crisis had a lot to answer for when it came to people and their pets.
Bella often considered herself to be like one of Mollie’s waifs and strays. She’d moved in with Marieke a year ago, having reconnected with her after a number of years abroad. When she arrived in Lower Brambleton with no particular plans for work, Mollie had been advertising for someone to help out at Purrfect Paws. The job at the pub had come soon after, so Bella had found herself working rotating shifts at the sanctuary around her nights at the pub. Over the time she’d been working there, she’d learned a lot about animal behaviour, and the behaviour of some human beings, too, and although it was often emotionally draining, she loved seeing how the cats thrived under Mollie’s gentle care. It wouldn’t be too far a stretch to say that she, herself, had thrived too. Coming back to the UK after some years working various jobs abroad had been a huge change, and this life was different to the one she’d left behind in Europe, but she had settled well, and, a nomad by nature, had finally felt as though she was putting down some roots. It was a strange feeling, but one she welcomed. As she sipped her tea and chatted to Mollie about the latest goings on in the village, she again felt fortunate that like the residents in the care of Purrfect Paws, she had fallen on her feet.
2
‘Yes, I can see from your perspective how that would make sense. Yes, but – yes. All right. Look, can I call you back?’
Noah Hathaway shook his head as he ended the call and tried not to hurl his mobile against the wall of his office in frustration. He was very fond of his brother, Marc, but there were limits. And today, before a house viewing that would earn him the best commission he’d had all year if the sale went through, was not the ideal time to be muddying the waters with the inconvenient family stuff.
Inconvenient family stuff. Is that what Grandpa’s legacy amounts to these days?
Leaning back in his chair, Noah tried not to think about it in those terms. He’d adored his grandfather and tried to spend as much time with him as he could before the old man had died four months ago. The journey from Noah’s place in Fulham to the sleepy Somerset hamlet of Lower Brambleton took just under three hours on a good day, and the roads had become as familiar to Noah as his morning commute in the later stages of his grandfather’s life. Now Jack Hathaway lay at rest in the village churchyard, he hadn’t been back in a while, but, like any task he’d been avoiding, he knew he’d have to get around to it at some point.
