Sadness plucked at Catherine’s chest as she climbed the wooden staircase to the apartment above. For so long, she’d avoided even looking up the stairs, let alone ascending them. She hadn’t set foot inside Bridie’s apartment for well over a year. An unsettling stillness lingered in the wake of her dear friend — not just in the building, but inside Catherine.
An octogenarian Scot with a razor-sharp wit and a cast-iron poker face, Bridie was the formidable matriarch Catherine had longed for, and finally got. They’d lived a floor apart for over ten years, exchanged pleasantries in the entranceway, but only bonded in a bubble during the pandemic. Late-night card games and a mutual love of whisky — Scotch specifically — sealed their unlikely friendship.
Two winters ago, Bridie picked up a chill on her chest, coughed through the night and complained to Catherine that her lungs were “Blawin’ likebroken bagpipes.”
Ignoring Bridie’s protests, Catherine drove her to hospital. “You’re in the right place,” she’d said, squeezing the old woman’s mottled hand. “Let them fix you up and you’ll be beating me at cards again in no time.”
The next day, Catherine returned with a bag of Bridie’s things, only to crumple into a plastic chair when they told her she’d gone.
“They said it was pneumonia. I’m so very sorry.” Catherine broke the news to Bridie’s long-distance daughter over a long-distance phone call.
“Thanks for letting me know,” the daughter said. “She always said she wanted to be scattered in the loch. I’ll arrange it.” Static fizzed in the silence. “You should come. I mean, I think she’d have?—”
“Sorry, I have work. Let me know if there’s anything you need from her flat.” Catherine hung up before emotion could fray her voice. She refused to own this pain; she’d already lost her mother. This pain had someone else’s name etched on it; she wanted to box it up and post it to the long-distance daughter. She didn’t hear from her again about the funeral or the flat.
Now, following the instructions on the pink note, Catherine rummaged under the doormat for the key and let herself inside. What struck her first was the gauntlet of unpacked boxes and suitcases blocking any clear path from the hallway into any of the rooms. The new neighbour must have moved their stuff in whilst Catherine had been at work, as she’d have noticed this much stuff being carried up the stairs.
She squeezed between the boxes andinto a small clearing in the lounge. In the centre was a semi-constructed bookcase and a screwed-up instruction manual. Catherine wondered whether the job being abandoned halfway through had anything to do with the empty wine bottle on the coffee table. The glass beside it had red lipstick smeared on the rim.
She looked around, trying not to dwell on the mess that loomed above her own tidy living space. Bridie would be horrified. The old woman may have had way too many knick-knacks for Catherine’s liking, not to mention a penchant for doilies, but she’d kept the place spotless.
Catherine whirled around at the sound of rustling behind her, eyes widening as one of the smaller boxes toppled over, setting off a domino effect around it. As she leaned to peer over at what might have caused the boxes to fall, something brushed her leg. Catherine screamed and stiffened. The small creature at her feet sprang away, fur on end. Catherine clutched a hand to her chest and released a breathy laugh.
“Oh my goodness, you gave me quite a fright!”
Big round eyes filled with dilated pupils peered up at her.
“You must be Juniper. I live downstairs. Your owner asked me to pop by and feed you.”
Why am I explaining myself to a bloody cat?
Juniper slunk behind a bulging suitcase. Catherine knelt and held out a coaxing hand. She rubbed her fingers and thumb together, making a soft shuffling sound, which must have been instinctive as she’d never interacted with acat before. After a moment, a tentative paw stepped out from the shadowy space.
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
As if accepting her apology, the full fluffy grey form of Juniper emerged. He arched his back and softly mewed as he took in her face with his bright green eyes.
“Oh, so you do want to say hello.”
Catherine reached out to him, and Juniper purred as he pressed his head into her palm. His fur was surprisingly soft, almost like velvet.
“Right, well, I suppose you want your supper?” Catherine stretched to her feet, and Juniper rubbed against her shins, purring louder still.
“I’ll take that as a yes!”
Juniper twisted his slender body like a helix between Catherine’s legs as she edged around the boxes, stepping over a slumped carrier bag stuffed with electrical cables and the spewed-out contents of an overflowing laundry basket.
“What a mess,” she muttered, dreading what she was about to face in the kitchen.
The light flickered on to a relatively tidy room. Aside from a few dishes stacked in the sink, the space was clutter-free and at least looked clean. Catherine opened the fridge and easily identified Juniper’s food amongst its sparse contents. Besides a bottle of tonic water and a bowl of waxed lemons, the only other item was cat food; an entire shelf of it. Juniper meowed at her feet, and Catherine smiled down at him.
“Alright, impatient one.” She took a can of shreddedchicken from the stack and emptied the unappetising contents onto a saucer she found in a neatly packed cupboard — the new tenant wasn’t a completely lost cause, after all.
Juniper effectively pounced on his food when she placed it down. She watched for a moment as he hunched over and hoovered up his meal like it might be his last.
Catherine’s curiosity about Juniper’s owner was piqued again. She wasn’t nosy, despite her job, which essentially involved picking through people’s problems and asking them pointed questions. But she was intrigued by her new neighbour. What sort of person moved in and then left with their life in such disarray? Not to mention leaving a dependent without a proper care plan. How could they be so confident that Catherine would step in to help?
As Juniper licked the saucer clean, Catherine glanced around the room again, her gaze settling on a grainy photo held to the fridge door with a magnet. In her hurry to feed Juniper, she hadn’t noticed it before.
