Please Do Feed the Cat (3 page)

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Authors: Marian Babson

BOOK: Please Do Feed the Cat
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What was the saying? You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince?
And now, after all the frogs — the lager louts, the con artists, the pseuds, the useless, hopeless no-way horrors — I had found him at last. My prince: Tobias.
Darling Toby! Tall, dark, handsome, rich – and unattached.
I couldn’t believe such fantastic luck. There had to be a catch – maybe twenty-two of them.
‘He’s probably married,’ Lulu said, waving to the waiter for a fresh bottle of Chardonnay. ‘With a meek little wifie hidden away in the country and three-point-six children. When number four arrives in three months’ time, you’ll never see him again. Because wifie has all the money, of course.’ Poor Lulu based all her assumptions on her own experiences — none of them good — with men.
‘Or else he’s a serial killer, preying on women with good jobs and gold credit cards.’ Zizzie made up for not so much experience with a vivid imagination. ‘Remember the Brides in the Bath! Remember Neville Heath! Remember —’
‘He really does seem too good to be true,’ quiet little Anna said apologetically.
‘Leave her alone, you silly bitches! You’re so jealous you can’t see straight!’ Desmond rose to my defence, his eyes misted with emotion. The hand not holding his glass fluttered up to press his heart. ‘I think it’s frightfully romantic. Good luck to her!’
‘She’ll need it,’ Lulu muttered.
‘But we’ll be here for you after it all goes pear-shaped,’ Zizzie said. ‘What are friends for?’
I kept smiling as the Chardonnay bottle circled the table again and the last few drops fell into my glass. It was time to drop my bombshell.
‘Actually,’ I said casually, ‘he’s invited me to meet his mother tomorrow.’
 
 
‘I rang the sodding RAC an hour ago! What’s keeping the bastards?’ Toby kicked the front offside tyre and slammed his fist down on the bumper with such force that he hurt himself. He growled savagely, kicked the tyre again and licked his wounded hand.
‘They should be along any minute now,’ I soothed, telling myself that lots of men had rotten tempers when provoked. He was quite within his rights to be annoyed. ‘They must have had another emergency — a crash, or something.’
‘It’s not good enough!’ he snarled. ‘We’re late for tea already – and we have early dinner reservations at the Manor of the Four Winds. At this rate, it could be well after dark before we even get to Mother, let alone the Manor.’
‘I’m sure they’ll hold the table for us.’
‘You don’t understand,’ he muttered. ‘We’re late now. Mother will be … horribly upset.’
‘I’m sure she’ll forgive you.’ But his unease was infectious. She might forgive him — but would she ever forgive me?
 
 
‘All right, all right.’ Toby, my suave sophisticated dreamboat, was visibly unnerved and sweating. The BMW had had to be transferred to the appropriate garage and left there for major repairs. Toby was not taking it well. Unless he could find alternative transport, we could forget the Manor. We might even have to spend the night at his home. I wondered how strait-laced his dear mother was. Would she allot us a double room? Or observe the conventions by giving us separate rooms, perhaps adjoining? Or express her disapproval by putting us into rooms on different floors?
The sky was darkening from a lavender twilight into the deep
indigo of impending night as the RAC man dropped us at the door of the ancestral home. It took my breath away – it was practically a palace! Could I possibly live up to becoming chatelaine of such a Stately Home?
I turned to Toby, who looked even more nervous than I felt. Except for the tremor that shook his frame, he stood frozen, staring up at the great iron-bound oak door. I smiled at him reassuringly and stepped forward.
‘Don’t ring the bell!’ He caught my hand. ‘I’ll use my key.’ But he didn’t. He hesitated, looking me up and down.
I quailed before his inspection, suddenly even more unsure of myself. Should I have worn something other than the burgundy crushed velvet trouser suit? Zizzie had been against it, voting for a classic little black dress instead. Had she been right?
But Toby wasn’t looking at my costume. His gaze went to the jewellery he had given me earlier: the ornate silver earrings and necklace, with the matching heavy solid silver cuff bracelets. He nodded approvingly.
‘Darling …’ His voice was unsteady. ‘Pay attention. This may sound strange but … if you should have any trouble with any of my family – it’s unlikely but, if you do, well – biff them on the nose with your silver cuff bracelet!’
‘Biff them …? On the nose …? Toby …’
He inserted his key in the lock and the door swung open. I had no option but to follow him into the huge baronial hall. The front door slammed shut behind us against the encroaching blackness of the night outside.
A welcoming fire blazed at the far end of the great hall in a hearth not quite big enough to roast an ox perhaps, but certainly large enough to accommodate a suckling pig.
‘Mother!’ Toby called. ‘We’re here!’
There was a stirring beyond a doorway across the room.
‘I’m terribly sorry we’re so late … couldn’t be helped. Absolute disaster with the car. Don’t worry, nothing serious, only mechanical … but we couldn’t turn back … I hope it’s still all right … I mean …’
He was babbling. I stared at him incredulously. What had happened to my smooth intrepid hero? He was sweating more
profusely than ever and his five o‘clock shadow had advanced to ten o’clock. What sort of a woman was his mother to reduce him to this?
‘Coming, darling,’ a silvery voice called. A large Alsatian dog preceded the voice into the room.
‘I couldn’t help it.’ Toby went on babbling. ‘Complete breakdown … middle of nowhere … garage overnight at least … RAC dropped us here …’
I kept watching the shadowed doorway, waiting for the Grand Entrance. Nothing happened, although Toby still hadn’t shut up. I began to get the feeling that the doorway was empty.
The Alsatian had circled me and was now advancing for full frontal confrontation, upper lip curled in a snarl — or a sneer. There was something awfully wrong about that dog.
Dog …? Or bitch …? Or … it looked more like a wolf … wolverine …?
Only … only … It was wearing a pearl necklace and earrings. Its nails were lacquered a delicate pink. I felt myself swaying.
‘Darling …’ Toby was behind me, his hands steadying me … his elongating fingernails biting into my shoulders.
‘Darling, I’d like you to meet my mother.’
 
 
Lorinda half awoke from a nightmare in which Conqueror and Lionheart, Gemma’s pugs, grown to quadruple-size with elongated teeth and slavering jaws, were chasing her, But-I and Had-Known down a dark alley, heedless of Gemma’s attempts to call them to heel.
The leader of their pack was now a wolverine with a gold lightning flash piercing her eyebrow and a shaved outline of a two-fingered salute on one flank. From between her vicious jaws hung the limp emaciated body of Roscoe and she was shaking it from side to side.
‘What’s it to you?’ she howled. ‘What’s it to you?’
They were gaining on Lorinda. She couldn’t run any faster, she couldn’t run any longer. She was tired … so tired …
Lorinda wrenched herself awake just before they caught her. She felt groggy and vaguely affronted. She had only spoken to Cressie for about ten minutes. How dare the woman intrude on her nightmares!
The reading light was still on, the book had fallen to the floor. The cats – Where were the cats?
She tossed back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. Almost immediately two accusing faces appeared in the doorway.
Stirring at last, are you?
they seemed to say.
‘What time is it?’ There was a disturbing quality to the streak of daylight showing at the edge of the curtains. She wrenched them open to find her fears confirmed. The sun was definitely on the wrong side of the sky, a pale shadowy moon was becoming visible. She had slept the day away. Again.
Mrreeow!
But-Known spoke briefly, but poignantly. It had been a long time since the last meal.
Yuuaaarr!
Too long, Had-I agreed. They’d thought they had her better trained than that.
Guilt-stricken, as they intended, Lorinda was about to drop everything and rush to feed them when Had-I made the mistake of jumping up on the bedside table beside the clock.
‘Oh, no! Is that the time?’ Her guilt veered in another direction. She was overdue at Freddie’s.
‘You’ll have to hang on a bit longer,’ she told the cats as she rushed to shower and dress. ‘We’ll all eat at Freddie’s.’
 
 
‘Back for seconds, are you?’ Freddie greeted the cats, then transferred her attention to Lorinda. ‘You’ve had a good long sleep. Are you feeling better?’
‘Just woke up, sorry I’m late,’ Lorinda said, then Freddie’s words registered. ‘You mean they’ve been here earlier?’
‘All afternoon. Supervising. After telling me a sob story about how hungry they were.’
‘And you fed them. So that’s why they didn’t wake me! Freddie, you shouldn’t let them bother you – ’
‘No bother. Except there’ll be no giblet gravy – they got the giblets first.’
‘Oh, no! You disgraceful little wretches!’ Lorinda scolded.
Unconcerned, they strolled towards the kitchen with a purposeful air.
‘Macho not here yet?’ Lorinda followed her hostess into the living room.
‘Madam changed her mind about going to London for the afternoon, I gather, and is now going to stay overnight. He’s waiting to drive her to the station.’
‘That’s very devoted of him; it’s only a five-minute walk.’
‘Devoted, nothing!’ Freddie snorted. ‘He wants to be sure she’s well and truly gone before he smuggles Roscoe over here for a square meal.’
‘Surely he manages to slip the poor creature something from his own plate once in a while? Cressie can’t keep tabs on him every moment.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Anyway, there’s nothing to slip. I sneaked a look into his fridge when I was visiting one day and she was doing some sort of strange exercises and was safely out of the way for half an hour. There was nothing in it but three kinds of lettuce, a few other greens and a tub of cottage cheese.’
‘And Macho puts up with that?’ Lorinda was horrified. ‘What kind of hold does she have over him?’
‘I don’t know, but I hope he’s enjoying it. The old Macho would be out getting the barbecue ready for summer by now. Oh, I’m so glad you’re back. We’ve tried to talk to him – but he might listen to you!’
‘And he might not. If he’s so besotted with that – ’
The back door slammed. They exchanged glances and waited. Hesitant footsteps advanced across the kitchen floor.
‘In here, Macho,’ Freddie called.
‘I knocked.’ Macho appeared in the doorway. ‘But there wasn’t any answer and the door was unlocked.’
‘We didn’t hear you,’ Freddie said cheerfully. ‘Sit down and have a drink.’
‘Right.’ Macho lowered himself into the armchair awkwardly, trying not to disturb the sleeping cat cradled in his arms. ‘Thanks.’ He managed to free one hand to snatch frantically at the drink.
‘Poor old Roscoe looks out for the count.’ Tactfully, Freddie ignored the desperation with which Macho gulped at his drink.
‘He’s asleep,’ Macho said unnecessarily. ‘I don’t know whether he’s depressed or just too weak to move. He sleeps a lot now …’ he added. ‘So do I.’
‘Very tiring, having a house guest,’ Freddie said drily. ‘Especially a long-term one.’
Macho closed his eyes, leaned back, and remained silent. Freddie shrugged at Lorinda.
Roscoe, however, was reviving. First, his whiskers twitched, then his nose, as the aroma of roasting chicken reached it. His eyes opened cautiously and he looked around, visibly relaxing to find himself among friends.
Erreow?
he enquired tentatively.
In answer, Had-I and But-Known bounded in from the kitchen. He brightened still more and leaped down from Macho’s lap to join them.
‘Et tu, Brutus?’
Macho asked bitterly.
‘Oh, come now,’ Freddie chided. ‘You’ve brought it on yourself, you know.’

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