By rights, the conversation with Penny should have weighed heavily on Catherine — the biting revelation that she’d missed the chance of a real relationship with one of the best women she knew, all because she’d been too emotionally constipated. Yet Catherine had walked away feeling lighter.
Naming her loneliness seemed to have helped too, almost like she could dismiss it by acknowledging it was there. With her clients, identifying the root cause of their problems made it much easier to prescribe a course of treatment.
After all these years, Catherine had finally figured out what her problem was. She’d been getting in her own way. Now that she could see it, she wanted to step aside and help herself move forward. One step at a time.
On the walk home, she thought about looking into social groups and perhaps enlisting Penny’s help to refresh her dating app profile. She’d struck gold once with Penny;it could happen again, and this time she’d try not to hold herself back. And there was every chance she could bump into the woman in red again. Next time, she’d be brave and ask her name.
Scotch in hand, Catherine climbed the stairs. Juni greeted her at the door with meows and purrs, and whilst she was far from fluent in cat, it seemed like a warm welcome.
“Hello, little one. Let’s get you some dinner.”
She moved fluidly through the space now, switching on lights and navigating past the relative chaos of the flat’s new inhabitants. She placed her glass on the kitchen counter and set about serving up Juni’s dinner. He chirped, chatting away to her the whole while. When she leaned back against the counter watching him eat, she spotted the pink Post-it note next to the photograph on the fridge.
Catherine, there are chocolates by the kettle.
Please help yourself, J x
Just “J” again.For a fleeting second, Catherine considered that maybe it was Juniper leaving notes for her.Don’t be ridiculous.Her eyes drifted back to the photograph and the woman’s strangely familiar smile.She took a long sip of her drink as she raked through her mind, trying to place those lips.
Juni softly headbutted her shin, which made her jump.
“Jesus, you have to stop doing that, or you’ll give me a heart attack.”
Juni arched his back and chirped as if proud of himself.
“Right, well, staring at this photo isn’t going to get that furniture built. Will you be helping me this evening?” Catherine bent and ruffled her fingers over Juni’s soft ears. “I’ve been informed that there’s a chocolatey incentive over here; shall I have a look?”
By the kettle sat a decorative green box. Catherine picked it up and read the elaborate vintage typography out loud.
“Chocolate Amatller. Barcelona.”Fancy.She opened the box and popped one of the dark chocolates in her mouth. In an instant, the rich cocoa melted on her tongue: earthy and ever-so-slightly fruity, but not bitter in the way dark chocolate could sometimes be.
“Mmm, your human has good taste,” she said to Juni, who was watching through narrowed green eyes.
From the hall, Catherine opened the only closed door, which she assumed meant the room was out of bounds to Juni. Before she could stop him, he bounded in ahead of her and bounced across the neatly made bed, leaving deep footprints in the plush duvet.
“I’m not sure you’re supposed to be in here.” She felt much the same about being in someone else’s bedroom — not that she hadn’t been invited; J’s note had strongly hinted that Catherine’s help would be appreciated, but even so, it felt strange.
She flicked on the overhead light. The room was less cluttered with boxes than the hall and lounge, but Catherine’s gaze was instantly drawn to the airer in the cornerdraped with an array of lacy pants and their matching bras. Once she’d taken a moment to recalibrate and stop comparing the obviously much younger woman’s underwear to her own sensible Marks & Spencer cotton variety, which came in multi-packs of three sensible colours, she noted there was no men’s underwear hanging out to dry.No sign of a man in here at all, in fact.
One silk robe hung on the back of the bedroom door.
One pair of women’s slippers by the bed.
And only one of the bedside tables looked to have been used; the other housed a stack of small boxes, which Juni was now perched on top of.
Perhaps she’d got it wrong about a couple moving in here.
Perhaps it’s Will’s underwear drying on the airer, and he goes by Jocelyn at the weekends.
Or perhaps, up until now, the couple’s relationship had been long-distance, and this was their first home together, which meant they’d be at it like Duracell bunnies right above her head.
She shuddered and berated herself for catastrophising, becauseperhapsshe should just mind her own business and get on with what she’d come here to do.
The flatpack box was leaning against the wall. When Catherine went to move it, another pink Post-it note fluttered to the ground. She plucked it from the floor.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much! Help yourself to more chocolates — don’t be shy, they’re actually for you. Please don’t let Juni chew my bra straps (they’re not as tasty as they look). And shut him out of the bedroom when you leave.
Thank you again, lovely neighbour.
