Raincoats and Retrievers, A Novella Page 5

With a growing sense of disquiet Cat stumbled back up Primrose Terrace. As she passed Will and Juliette’s house she heard a door slamming and the dogs barking, wound up. She sighed, imagining how the bickering had elevated once they’d got inside. Not waiting to hear raised voices she hurried past and gratefully put her key in the lock of number nine.

  ‘Is that my sister or my Catmate?’ Joe called as Cat pushed the door closed behind her. She hung her coat up, kicked her shoes off and went into the living room, flopping down on the sofa opposite him.

  ‘Very funny. As you can see it’s me.’ She threw her arms wide.

  The room was full of the lingering, aromatic scents of Thai food, and the only light came from the TV in the corner of the room. When Joe was watching TV or a film, he did it seriously. He was wearing a pale T-shirt with an indiscernible logo on it, and faded grey shorts. He paused the television and turned his blue eyes to her. ‘Good night with your folks?’

  She nodded. ‘Yeah, lovely, thanks. We went to this Italian in the town centre. Trattoria Rustica.’ She tripped slightly over the name, and bit her lip.

  Joe nodded, scrutinizing her. ‘I’ve been once or twice. They do a good seafood linguine.’

  ‘I had meatballs. How’s Grey’s?’ She glanced at the screen. ‘Which episode are you watching?’

  ‘The end of Season Four.’

  Cat’s eyes widened. ‘With the candles on the hilltop?’

  Joe smiled. ‘I’ve not got to that bit yet, but yeah.’

  ‘That’s the most romantic ever.’ Cat got up and moved to the other sofa, next to Joe. ‘Start it up again, I promise I’ll be quiet.’

  Joe laughed. ‘Do you want a drink first?’

  ‘No more wine. I’ve had way too much.’

  ‘Coffee?’

  She leaned her head back against the sofa. ‘Coffee would be lovely. Thanks, Joe.’

  She closed her eyes and listened to him move about in the kitchen, boiling the kettle, the quiet chink of mugs. Joe liked Grey’s Anatomy. He made her coffee. He was straightforward. OK, so he wasn’t always in a good mood, but then everyone was allowed their ups and downs, and if he wasn’t happy with her, he told her. He wouldn’t try to get her into bed one night, then act like she was a stranger the next. Well, Joe had never tried to—

  ‘White. Two sugars.’

  Joe cleared a space on the table, shoving a copy of the local newspaper down the side of the sofa cushion, and put the drinks down. He sat next to her, his weight causing Cat to roll slightly towards him.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, moving away.

  ‘You’re quite drunk,’ Joe said.

  ‘Yes, thanks, Sherlock. I had realized.’

  Joe was grinning at her, and Cat suddenly felt ridiculous. ‘Maybe I should go to bed.’

  ‘I’ve made you coffee, and we’re almost at the good bit. Four seasons of backwards and forwards, and this is when Meredith and McDreamy finally get it together. You can’t go now, come on.’ He reached across her and pressed Play on the remote. Cat focused on the screen and the scenes she knew almost off by heart. She was acutely aware of Joe beside her, his shoulder brushing hers, and felt as though his eyes were on her the whole time, which was ridiculous because it was this episode, and there was no way he wasn’t watching the screen.

  At the end, after the American, overly romantic conclusion, Cat realized she had a lump in her throat.

  ‘Well,’ Joe said, switching the DVD off and plunging the room into near-darkness. ‘There you go. Meredith and McDreamy, happy ever after.’

  ‘Except we both know they’re not,’ Cat said. ‘Because it all goes wrong again, and then…’ She couldn’t even say what happened in the end, because it was too upsetting.

  ‘But in this moment, right now, if I don’t put another DVD in, they’re happy.’

  ‘You can’t freeze a moment in time.’ Cat sipped her coffee. It was lukewarm, but it was sweet against the wine taste hovering at the back of her throat.

  ‘Isn’t that what memories are?’ Joe turned towards her, and Cat could feel his breath on her face.

  ‘Yes, but – you can’t live your whole life inside a memory. You have to move forward. I think you’re doing that adbi – admirably. Whoops.’

  Joe reached behind him and switched on the lamp. Cat blinked and rubbed her eyes.

  ‘What am I doing admirably?’ he asked.

  ‘Moving on from Rosalin. You seem much happier, recently.’ She hadn’t meant to be so blunt about it, but it was too late now.

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘I do? Have you been watching me closely?’

  Cat shrugged. ‘I live with you, I’m your Catmate. It’s kind of unavoidable. You’re only moderately grumpy now.’ Cat’s phone gave a short, merry jingle and she cleared the screen and silenced it, turning her attention back to Joe.

  ‘I love how tactful you are when you’re drunk.’

  ‘Isn’t honesty best?’

  Joe looked away, looked back at her. ‘Sure. Even if you’re going to regret baring your heart in the morning. So if we’re being honest, and your defences are down, how’s it going with Mark?’

  Cat sighed dramatically and closed her eyes. ‘Fuck knows. Yesterday, after our date, he asked me back inside. He was attentive and charming and lovely. But when I bumped into him on the way home tonight, he couldn’t get away from me quickly enough. I don’t get him.’ She shook her head. ‘I fancy him, but I don’t get him. Do you get him?’

  ‘I barely know him,’ Joe said. ‘But he seems…’ He scratched his cheek, searching for an answer. ‘Slick.’

  ‘Like an oil slick?’

  Joe laughed. ‘You said it, not me.’

  ‘Tell me what to do,’ Cat sighed again. ‘Come on, Joe, you always know what’s best. Tell me what I should do.’

  ‘That’s a lot of responsibility you’re putting in my hands.’

  Cat reached forward and grabbed his hands. Joe flinched, surprised, but then let her take them. ‘They’re such good hands,’ she said. ‘Your hands are your talent. They’re steady and warm and they hold onto things well. They have to know what I should do about Mark.’

  ‘I think you’re giving them powers they don’t have,’ Joe said. ‘And I don’t think I’m the best person to ask. Rosalin was a car crash.’

  ‘Why?’

  Joe laughed humourlessly. ‘Because she ran off with my best friend. I thought Polly told you? And she took something that was really important to me.’

  ‘Your heart?’

  ‘Oh God, Cat!’ Joe rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be such a soppy drunk. No, not my heart, though she bruised that quite a bit. No.’ He looked at her. ‘She took something else. Something that maybe I should have told you about before. Look, Cat…’ He sighed and his gaze drifted down to their hands, which were still locked together. ‘This thing about me and dogs…’

  Cat held her breath. She knew he was about to tell her something important. ‘You and dogs,’ she murmured and then, unable to stifle it with her hand, turned away to yawn.

  Joe dropped her hands. ‘Another time. Not now.’

  ‘Why not now?’ She leaned forward and tried to take his hand again, but missed and ended up pawing at his thigh.

  ‘Because it’s time you went to bed. Come on. Coffee’s not working, sleep will.’

  ‘I want you to tell me about you and dogs. I love dogs.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘So what is it?’

  ‘It’s nothing, really. Come on.’

  He stood up and held out his hands. Cat took them and she let him pull her to her feet. His gaze met hers, and she was struck by how much warmth there was in his eyes; warmth that went all the way to his core. She inhaled.

  ‘You OK, Cat?’ he asked softly.

  She swallowed and nodded, not trusting her mouth to say anything sensible. She wasn’t sure it would be tactless again, but it might go too far in the opposite direction.

  ‘My parents are moving to Canada,’ she blurted
instead.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, not moving. Taking a camper van, travelling around for a year. Maybe more.’

  ‘Wow.’ Joe shook his head slowly. ‘That’s huge. How do you feel about it?’

  Cat shrugged. ‘Don’t really know. Weird. They’re happy, which is good, but I’ve always taken it for granted that they’d be close by. Even moving here, they’re still so close.’

  ‘Able to turn up on your doorstep when you least expect it?’ Joe said, smiling.

  ‘Exactly.’ She returned his smile, instantly feeling better. How could Joe make her feel better by just being there?

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said quietly. ‘They’ll stay in touch, and you’ve got us now. I’ll ply you with wine and Limoncello whenever you’re feeling bereft.’

  ‘That’s a very kind offer,’ she whispered.

  ‘Upstairs?’

  ‘I’ll wash this up and get some water. Maybe some toast.’

  ‘Do you want me to do it?’

  ‘I’m not that drunk,’ she said. ‘I don’t think, anyway. Fuzzy round the edges.’

  ‘You’re cute when you’re fuzzy.’ Joe grinned.

  ‘But not when I’m not fuzzy?’ She folded her arms.

  ‘I didn’t say that. Don’t get all indignant because I gave you a compliment.’ He took her coffee cup from her and went into the kitchen.

  ‘I was going to wash up!’

  ‘You were too slow.’

  ‘How would you like it if I said you were really sexy when you were angry?’ She leaned against the kitchen door frame. ‘That’s not a compliment.’

  ‘You’ve never seen me really angry.’

  ‘I’ve seen you a bit angry.’

  ‘And you thought I was sexy?’ Joe ran the cold tap and filled a pint glass with water.

  ‘It was an example. I’m not saying it’s true.’

  ‘But is it?’ He put the water down and turned to face her.

  ‘Joe, that’s not the point.’

  ‘Is it?’ He took a step closer.

  ‘I’m going to bed.’ Cat turned too quickly and stumbled. She put her hands out, and the dining table saved her fall, her wrist twisting as her body weight landed on it. ‘Yeouch!’

  ‘Cat?’ The main light flicked on and then Joe’s hands were on her waist. He pulled her upright and turned her to face him. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine,’ she murmured. ‘It’s nothing.’

  He gently took her hand. ‘Your wrist?’ He slid his fingers up her palm and then along her arm. His touch was light, it made her feel peculiar, a feeling that her drunken brain couldn’t quite pin down, but that was overriding the burning in her wrist.

  ‘I’ve just jarred it. I’ll be fine, honestly.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ She drew her arm back, away from him. She needed time on her own, to let her brain slow down, otherwise she’d never get to sleep. ‘Thanks for the coffee though, and for the romance.’

  Joe’s eyebrows knitted together and Cat pointed at the TV.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Meredith and McDreamy.’

  ‘Happy ever after. Night, Joe.’

  She waited until she heard him reach the first landing, then start the ascent up to his room, and then, clutching her wrist, she went back to the sofa and pulled out the copy of the Fairhaven Press that Joe had moved earlier. He’d done it so casually, but before he’d moved it she’d noticed, in the harsh light from the television, the piece of paper sticking out of it; the one with Joe’s telltale pencil lines on it.

  She sat down and looked at it, her stomach flipping as she realized what it was.

  It was another Curiosity Kitten cartoon, drawn on a scrappy piece of paper, like the sketches that Joe had ripped away from her grasp when he’d seen her looking at them. He’d shoved it inside a copy of the paper, so did this mean he was working for them, seeing where his drawing might fit in amongst the other content? Why hadn’t he told anyone?

  Here the cute, undoubtedly female Curiosity Kitten was at the bottom of a flight of stairs, looking determinedly up at a shut door at the top of it. Behind the door, visible only to the viewer, the room was bulging with stuff ready to burst out on the poor kitten as soon as she opened it. Cat could see boxes, a lamp, a guitar and, in the corner, a small and beautifully drawn dog. A cocker spaniel.

  The butterflies in Cat’s stomach beat their wings faster. Curiosity Kitten was wearing a spotty bandana around her head, a box of cleaning products at her feet. There was a guitar, and Frankie was going to teach her the guitar. There was a cocker spaniel, just like Frankie’s dog, Olaf. There was a curious cat wearing a spotty bandana, who wanted to open the door. Cat had convinced Frankie to open her attic door – she had wanted to help her, and Joe had initially said she was interfering.

  Cat sat back and rubbed her head. Could Joe really be drawing a cartoon about her? Using her nosiness for his own artistic purposes? This had to be her, opening Frankie’s attic door, preparing to go through the boxes and turn it into a usable room. It had been a success – Joe had said that himself only earlier that evening – but here, Joe was depicting it as a disaster scenario. The kitten would be sent tumbling down the stairs by the piles of stuff, including Olaf, who she and Joe had found running in the park, the event that had led her to Frankie in the first place.

  Her curiosity getting the better of her again – was that how Joe saw her?

  She tried to think back to the other cartoons she’d seen. What had the kitten been doing in those? Could any of them be directly attributable to her? She couldn’t remember, her fuzzy brain not letting her into those recent memories as clearly as she would like. Frustrated, she threw the newspaper across the room, half expecting more cartoons to come flying out. She retrieved it and leafed through every page, but that was the only Curiosity Kitten she could find. She put it back inside, and returned the newspaper to the side of the sofa.

  So much for Joe being straightforward.

  Feeling extra weary, and with a headache starting up behind her eyes, Cat had forgotten about her wrist. Pain shot through it as she went to push herself to standing, and she cried out. Flopping back on the sofa, Cat covered her eyes with her hands and forced down a sob.

  How had things gone from feeling so right earlier that day, in the park with her mum and dad, to feeling so wrong tonight? The wine obviously wasn’t helping, but she hadn’t imagined her parents’ impending move to the other side of the world, Mark’s sudden coldness, or the cartoon she’d discovered. Mark was not as into her as she’d thought, and Joe was hiding things from her. How could she have misjudged them both?

  The sound of the front door startled her and she looked up to see Polly, standing in the doorway wearing jeans, and a T-shirt with an owl on it. Her calm blue eyes looked concerned.

  ‘Cat?’ she said. ‘Whatever’s wrong?’

  And the familiar sight, the kindness in her eyes, was Cat’s undoing. Her sob was loud and ugly, and in a moment Polly’s arms were around her. Cat hugged her back, her arms circling her best friend’s slender frame, her tears damping her long blonde hair.

  In the morning, Cat couldn’t decide whether it was her head or her wrist that was more painful. If only she’d drunk that pint of water before she’d gone to bed. If only she’d put some frozen peas on her wrist to stop the swelling. If only she hadn’t bumped into Mark on her way home, or let her curiosity get the better of her when Joe moved his copy of the newspaper. She smiled to herself; her curiosity had led to her discovering that Joe was creating a cartoon about her curiosity. She knew he would laugh at that if she told him she’d found out about it, but she wasn’t going to. She hadn’t even told Polly.

  Her friend had comforted her after her drunken outburst, and Cat had told her what had happened with Mark, and about her mum and dad’s plans. Polly, knowing Cat so well, had assumed that she was most upset about her parents moving away, and that the blip with Mark was just that, and woul
d be easily explainable. Cat didn’t want to admit to herself – or to her best friend – that she was more bothered by Joe’s secret.

  Keeping things from Polly made her wonder about their friendship. She’d been living in the house since January, and she realized that despite being happier with this living arrangement than any other, and relishing her physical closeness to Polly, she didn’t know her best friend inside out.

  She had never felt she couldn’t talk to her about something until now, and that was only because it was about Joe. But was Polly always so open with her? Had her friend been in touch with Owen since the barbecue? They’d got on so well, but Polly hadn’t confided in Cat at all. How was she really feeling about her exams? What did her friend think about Rosalin? What was it with Joe and dogs? Both he and Polly had hinted that it wasn’t just pure dislike that was stopping Cat from having one of her own – after all, Joe had been friendly enough with Rummy, Owen’s fox terrier, when he thought Cat couldn’t see him. There was something they were both reluctant to tell her, and that made her feel uneasy.

  Cat was hungover and confused. She was a curious person – she couldn’t really have a go at Joe for thinking that – but she’d felt closer to him last night than she’d ever felt before; watching Grey’s Anatomy, opening up about Mark and Rosalin, but had then been knocked for six by the discovery of his new project.

  If he was using her as a model, why did it have to be her curiosity that he focused on? Was that at the forefront of his mind when he thought of her? And she had no idea what was happening with Mark. Cat didn’t feel up to confronting either of them and, as she turned over and allowed sleep to call her back, she thought of Juliette and Will, and their encounter the previous night.

  They had seemed so unhappy, so at odds with each other, as if they were two strangers who both happened to be talking to Cat and her parents at the same time. She knew Elsie had warned her off getting involved, but if she could just make them talk to each other, make Will open up to his wife about why he’d quit his job and was spending so much time surfing, then wouldn’t that be helpful rather than harmful? They could always say no. The thought made Cat feel slightly easier, and she soon fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep, oblivious to the sound of the wind battering against the windowpane.