‘Right,’ Rosie nodded. ‘Well. They’re … really nice. Lovely, in fact. Specs-y, you might say.’
Oh. Sweet. Jesus.
‘Thanks …?’ Aled was looking at her curiously, like he was concerned for her state of mind.
‘What are you up to?’ Rosie asked, realising the stupidity of the question only seconds after voicing it. It was quite clear he was marking students’ work.
‘Marking students’ work,’ he said, and she found herself wishing she could rewind time and live the last five minutes again, less idiotically.
‘Upper sixth’s timed essays onDr Faustus,’ Aled went on, ‘some of which are making me wonder if their previous teacher even read the text with them.’
‘That bad?’
‘This one’s pretty good,’ he said, gesturing at the paper he’d set down on the coffee table. ‘Zuli Anan’s on course for an A for sure. However, Josh Holloway seems very confused about the doctor’s relationship with Helen of Troy.’ He pointed to another paper, handwritten in what looked like Sharpie ink. There was a coffee stain in one corner. ‘Josh’s essay refers to “the face that scoffed a thousand chips” – which suggests both a serious misreading of scene twelve and a deep-seated love of junk food.’
Rosie laughed, then reminded herself thatlow-key wittywas already on her hot list. Before she could say anything else, a sudden movement in her peripheral vision made her jump.
‘Oh mygod,’ she yelped, clutching her hands to her chest. A moment later, the shifting shape resolved into a form Rosie recognised.
It was the cat. Until he’d stood up to stretch, he’d been practically invisible – his silvery form blending perfectly with the throw blanket he’d been sitting on.
‘Ah. About him …’ Aled said, clearing his throat and looking sheepish. But Rosie had already crossed to the other side of the room, and was crouching down so she could pet the cat’s head.
As he began to purr, Rosie said, ‘Yes?’ and arched an eyebrow.
‘Well,’ Aled continued, ‘it was raining when I got home. And he was by the kitchen door. I didn’t have the heart to leave him out there, getting soaked.’
The cat was now lying on his back on the same seat it seemed he’d occupied all evening – shamelessly showing off his fluffy belly to Rosie, who was obliging him by tickling it.
She looked up at Aled, penny dropping. ‘It’s you, isn’t it?’
‘What’s me?’
‘You’re the one who’s been feeding him all this time.’ Rosie grinned, sure that she was right.
‘I might have been filling in for you occasionally,’ he said, scrunching his nose to push his glasses up again. ‘He’s been turning up while you’ve been at work the past few weeks. I couldn’t let him starve, could I?’
‘Iknewyou saw me in the garden that day,’ Rosie said, feeling oddly triumphant.
‘The day I rescued your apples? Guilty as charged. I knew from then that you were taking care of him.’ Aled’s cheeks were growing pink, and Rosie made another mental note:blushes adorably.
‘Look at him,’ Rosie said. ‘He’s a chonk. Easily twice the size he was when he first started appearing in the back yard. So, here’s my theory: you’ve been giving him foodsince the day you moved inupstairs. The day of my major carrier bag malfunction was merely the moment you realisedI’dbeen feeding him, too.’
Aled sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘All right, Miss Marple. Fine. You’ve got me.’
‘So why not just admit it?’ Rosie laughed.
‘I dunno,’ Aled said, his face fully flushed now. ‘I guess I didn’t want to undermine the Rosie–Springsteen dynamic by pointing out that my Whiskas Fish Favourites sachets were just as appealing as yours. I got the impression your relationship with him was … special to you.’
Rosie chose not to dwell on this astute thoughtfulness, and instead asked: ‘Springsteen?’
‘Yeah. Sorry. It felt fitting. The first time I saw him he was prancing along the top of the fence, spotlit by a street lamp. Dancing in the dark?’
‘It’s perfect,’ Rosie said, smiling. Then she remembered James’s dire warnings about the stray’s questionable hygiene. ‘You don’t think he’s got fleas, do you?’ She winced at the thought of having to fog the entire flat with pesticide.
‘I’m sure he hasn’t,’ Aled said, with suspicious certainty.
‘And you’re sure because …?’ Rosie teased.
