The entrance to my flat is at the back of the house, which is away from the hustle and bustle of the cobbled street. It’s quiet and backs onto a private communal garden, which is scattered with mature trees and shrub beds, has a centre patch of grass and is hemmed in by a black ornate railing fence. The garden is kept locked to stop unwanted visitors.
Oliver catches sight of me, and a look of terror takes hold of his face. I’m not sure whether that’s because he’s lost my cat or it’s the sight of me half running, half staggering with a red face, breathless and close to tears.
‘Nelly, I am so sorry?—’
I don’t let him finish. ‘You promised me you wouldn’t let him escape.’
He looks crestfallen. ‘I was cooking us both dinner, and someone knocked on the door. I thought it was you, and it was Gary, the landlord. He’d left the downstairs open, so your cat raced out?—’
I let out an angry yelp. ‘LENNY.’
‘Nelly…’
‘Oliver, please find him.’ My voice crackles.
‘Let’s both calm down.’
My anger spikes. ‘Don’t tell me to calm down when you were the one who lost—’ My words fade as I spot a flash of grey inside the fence. I run to the railings and see Lenny’s silver-striped feline face staring up at me.
‘Lenny,’ I gasp as a wave of emotion crashes over me. ‘Come out of there.’
Oliver rushes to the railings. ‘Oh, thank God.’
To my horror, my little cat sits down and begins to clean himself casually, like he has all the time in the world.
‘Lenny, we don’t have all night. Come here.’ But he turns away and looks at a bird hopping about on a branch above his head.
‘He’s enjoying himself,’ gushes Oliver.
I glare at Oliver, and he turns back to my cat. ‘Lenny, mate, you need to come back as I am in a lot of trouble with your?—’
‘Mummy.’ The word flies out of my mouth, and I instantly regret saying it.
Oliver arches an eyebrow at me. ‘Mummy wants you to come home.’
The smile on his face is annoying me. ‘What were you to Figgy? I can’t believe you were just Oliver to her.’
He’s touching his nose. ‘Just Oliver.’
I think he’s lying. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘No one has ever asked me,’ he says, flicking his eyes to the pavement.
I feel victorious. ‘Well? You can’t mock me for calling myself “Mummy” and keep your own name to yourself.’
He’s shaking his head. ‘This is a bit too much for the first day of a flat share.’
‘You let my cat escape. I call it a suitable punishment.’
‘Will you promise not to laugh?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Oliver, right now I am incapable of laughter.’
‘To Figgy, I was Papa Tiger. Figgy was the little cat, and I was her… big papa cat protector.’
There’s an awkward silence. I am trying my hardest not to laugh. Papa Tiger – what the hell? We can’t look each other in the eye, so we turn back to look at Lenny.
‘Were you in the bookshop today?’ Oliver asks.
