‘Well done, Bella,’ she muttered to herself as, taking a few deep breaths, she continued walking to the pub. She could barely face bantering with the early-evening drinkers now, but she didn’t have any choice. How lovely, she thought, with another stab of envy, to be in a position where you didn’t have to worry about every penny. Noah, she thought furiously, trying to assuage the feelings of guilt that kept washing over her as she walked, didn’t know he was born.
17
Bloody woman!Noah’s pace brisked up a notch as he tried to work off the feelings of irritation, anger and guilt that the confrontation with Bella had dredged up. Where did she get off, telling him what to do about Monty? It was none of her business what he and his brothers decided.
Monty had been a heartache, and a headache, ever since their grandfather had died, and it wasn’t as if he was a young cat. It was likely he was going to pop his clogs soon anyway; what difference did speeding up the inevitable make? Monty had lived a great life… surely putting him to sleep now was the kindest thing to do?
If that was the case, though, why did Noah feel so guilty? After the conversation with Marc last Saturday night, he’d spent a long, restless week back in London pondering the options. Mollie had as good as told him that, even if Purrfect Paws advertised for a home for Monty, it was unlikely that anyone would come forward and adopt him, and he couldn’t take the cat back to London, so what choice did he have? Marc was right, he conceded, once his irritation had subsided. It was best all round if Monty just went to sleep. By the time he’d driven back to Lower Brambleton on Friday evening, his mind had been made up.
All the same, Noah couldn’t help thinking about Bella’s passionate antagonism towards the idea. She’d been blunt, very blunt, about what she thought Jack’s opinion would be, and Noah couldn’t say she’d been far wrong. Jack wouldn’t want Monty to suffer if he was in pain, but neither would he have been happy to have his old but healthy cat euthanised.
Noah’s brow wrinkled as he felt the beginning of a migraine coming. Funny, he thought, he hardly ever suffered from them when he was in Lower Brambleton. In London, where life was more hectic, he was frequently reaching for Migraleve, but although he always carried some in his washbag just in case, he hadn’t ever needed to take any on his visits here. Replaying his afternoon, though, the phone conversation with Mollie and the confrontation with Bella, had triggered the flashing lights and the pounding that would eventually feel as though his skull was going to break apart.
So much for a relaxing evening walk.
He’d planned to stroll through the woods and take in the warm summer air before heading to the pub for a glass of wine and a snack. He still hadn’t managed to go shopping, and couldn’t be bothered to cook, anyway. Now, as the golden glow of the evening sun began to wane, he could feel his head thumping. Resigning himself now to a couple of painkillers and an early night, he paused in front of a wooden bench in the centre of Lower Brambleton.
The village itself was very small: over the years, it had grown from a tiny hamlet situated between the large towns of Taunton and Minehead in Somerset to a place of only slightly bigger size. This growth was mostly due to a new housing development, Observatory Field, situated at the apex of the village, beyond the woods where Noah had intended to walk. The houses, while not universally welcomed by the existing villagers, had been completed sympathetically, and in keeping with the character of Lower Brambleton, and meant that younger families had been able to move in and rejuvenate what had been an ageing population.
The bench where Noah was now seated was directly opposite the charity shop. Despite the lights starting to flash in his vision, he noticed the cheery window display had changed again to a seasonal summer-holidays vibe. The loud print of the Hawaiian shirt on one of the mannequins wasn’t doing anything to help his headache, though. He also noticed a QR code in the corner of the window, entreating potential cat owners to check out Purrfect Paws’ social media pages to see the cats who needed new homes. Noah grimaced, his thoughts returning to Monty. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to re-home that old tyrant. He shook his head but was rewarded with an even more intense and painful thud from inside his skull. He’d made the right decision. There was no going back now.
All the same, he couldn’t help thinking about how angry and upset Bella had been when she’d confronted him. Compared to Mollie’s calm pragmatism, Bella’s fiery defence of Monty, despite the fact she’d felt the rough edge of his claws more than once, kept coming back to him, knocking on the outskirts of his conscience with an irritating but admirable persistence. Why did she care so much? Monty was just another cat. He was old and he’d had a good life. It wasn’t the end of the world.
If Noah was a pettier man, he’d have rung Mollie up to complain about being accosted by a member of her staff. He’d had clients at the estate agency who’d complained about far less. But despite her anger, he could appreciate her passion, and the fact that she cared. Sometimes, when Jack was alive, he felt as though his grandfather had been the only person who’d cared about him and been in his corner. His mother had certainly relinquished all parental responsibility once he’d graduated. He got the feeling it was because, as he’d grown older, he’d looked rather too much like his father, and his mother couldn’t cope with the resemblance. But Jack had always been there for him, always offered him the spare bed in the cottage, a decent meal and a sympathetic ear when he’d needed it. And a firm hand, a good telling off, when he’d needed those, too. Irrationally, he thought again of Bella. She’d got the telling off part to a tee, he thought ruefully. Some deeper instinct told him that the counterpoint to that anger might be affection, but he doubted he’d get the chance to find out. Bella, it seemed, was most definitely off him. And he was fairly sure, having made the decision to euthanise Monty, he was unlikely to go up in her estimation.
Sighing, he rose from the bench. He’d said he’d pop in to sign the paperwork tomorrow morning before he left for London. Then, hopefully, Mollie’s vet would get the job done quickly. He found that if he thought about Monty as another part of the process of dealing with his grandfather’s estate, it felt easier. Another piece of paper to sign. Another loose end to tie up. That was the way to get through this. Marc was right; it was for the best. But if that was the case, why did his throat start to ache when he thought of Monty, in his boarding enclosure, sleeping soundly, completely unaware that his fate was soon to be sealed?
18
‘It’s so bloody unfair!’ Bella collapsed onto the sofa of Marieke’s small living room and let out a huff. She’d been plastering on a decent smile for the punters of the Star and Telescope all evening, but her reserves of forced cheer had run dry about twenty minutes before the end of her shift. Harrumphing her way through her end-of-night duties, she’d thrown the towels from the bar into the washing machine and then got out as soon as she could, not even pausing to say goodnight to Paddy and Jen.
She’d spent the evening watching the door, apprehensive that Noah might walk through it. She’d had four hours to reflect on the way she’d accosted him, and she’d had time to consider her actions and think about whether she’d been a tiny bit rash. Although she was upset about Monty, shouting at his erstwhile owner in the street hadn’t been the wisest course of action.
When she’d explained to Marieke what she’d done, her friend had rolled her eyes and remarked, in her usual cool way, ‘Well, you’re not exactly renowned for your tact, calm and diplomacy, are you?’
‘I can’t help it if I love Monty to bits. He deserves better than that prick and his awful brothers.’
‘Be fair,’ Marieke had admonished. ‘The guy’s got a lot to sort out. I’m sure a geriatric moggy isn’t at the top of his list of priorities.’
‘Well, he bloody well should be!’ Bella’s eyes blurred with frustrated tears. ‘The way Mollie tells it, Jack was devoted to that cat. And Noah’s going to kill him off because he’s an inconvenience.’
‘That’s your trouble.’ Marieke shook her head. ‘You always see things in black and white. Noah’s a bastard because he’s doing something you don’t agree with. Monty’s a gem, even though he’s a bad-tempered, vicious old kitty, so he must be preserved at all costs. Don’t you think you might be being a bit ridiculous?’
Bella sighed. ‘Look. I know Monty’s not… easy to love… but honestly, Mar, if I could adopt him, I’d do it in a heartbeat.’ She paused and looked hopefully at her housemate-cum-landlady. ‘I don’t suppose Gerard’s prepared to take one for the team?’
Marieke’s blonde curls bounced emphatically as she shook her head. ‘No way. I don’t like cats and Gerard sneezes enough as it is, just with the cat hair you bring in from the sanctuary.’
‘It wouldn’t work, anyway,’ Bella said gloomily. ‘This place is far too close to Jack’s old gaff. Monty would be back down the road in two flicks of his stripy tail. And I’m sure whoever buys Jack’s cottage wouldn’t exactly be delighted if they found it came with a sitting tenant!’ Despite herself, she smiled at the mental image of Monty yowling on the stone doorstep, scaling the plum tree in Jack’s back garden and popping in to say hello to the unsuspecting buyer. A further flight of fancy had Bella imagining Monty surprising the buyer in the shower – Monty, like most Bengals, loved water, and one of the only ways she and Mollie had found to pull him out of his dark moods was to install a drinking fountain in his pen. That, at least, had provided some stimulation and distraction for the old cat.
‘Well, what’s done is done,’ Marieke said, but her tone was kind. ‘You can’t save them all, Bella.’
Bella’s throat constricted with sadness. ‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘But I really wanted to save Monty.’
Marieke smiled sympathetically and gave Bella a quick hug. ‘I know you did.’
The moment was broken by a ping from Marieke’s phone. Bella grimaced as she caught sight of a naked torso flashing up on her friend’s home screen before Marieke picked up the phone and swiped away the message.
‘Sexting again?’
