Page 15 of One Summer

More difficult than him just breaking up with me? What else has he got? Can there be another grenade up his sleeve?

What is it?

It’s about Nemo.

My heart freezes.

Is he OK? Has he escaped from the flat? You haven’t lost him, have you?

I told him that calling a cat Nemo was a bad idea. It would wander off one day and then we’d have to go on a quest to find it. Exactly like in the movie, except with cats instead of fish.

No, but I sort of need to lose him. We need to find him a new home. It’s sort of urgent.

Fourteen

Shelter

Nemo is the most majestic cat that I’ve ever seen. An orange and white Maine Coon with ear tufts that could pick up long-wave radio. I’ve grown attached to him, despite my better judgement, because I know that all animals just break your heart in the end. I’m still not over Smokey, the grey tom who I’d loved with my whole heart as a child, and who was killed by a speeding driver. I vowed then to never let myself fall in love with something as precious and fragile as a feline.

But Greta is allergic to Nemo. So allergic, apparently, that antihistamines don’t hit the spot – more allergic to Nemo than she’s ever been to any cat. And because Max is sure that Greta is part of his future, Nemo is going to have to be part of his past.

He’s rehoming him. Sending him to a shelter, where he assures me that they’ll do background checks on any prospective owners.

I am aghast. That he would throw over Nemo for a woman he’s just met sounds almost sociopathic. Greta and Max have only been official for an hour.

He made a promise to that cat, a commitment that he would look after him forever. You don’t just forget that when it’s inconvenient.

Except, you do, apparently, when the love of a gorgeous cheetah woman is on the line.

I don’t want to do this by text message. I go to his number and press call. He picks up immediately.

‘When is Nemo going?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’ I gasp, genuinely shocked at the callous streak that seems to be emerging from Max like a tapeworm. ‘How have you arranged it already?’

‘One of my clients is a big donor to Battersea and he pulled some strings. I have an appointment for 10 a.m. to do all the paperwork and hand him over. Are you sure you don’t want him? I know you have a bond, so I thought it only fair to give you first dibs.’

‘He’s a living being, Max. Not an old TV.’

‘So, you’re saying you don’t want him? I want you to be certain, because I know what you’re like for changing your mind after the fact.’

This almost causes me to explode – the nerve of Max accusing me of being a mind-changer, after what he’s just pulled – but I manage to rein in my temper at the last moment.

‘You are the person who is changing their mind. You made a promise to Nemo, and now you’re dumping him on Battersea Dogs & Cats Home. One day into a new relationship. One hour. Who even does that?’

I laugh, not because it’s funny, but because it is so ludicrously horrible.

‘I’m not dumping him. Dumping him would be driving him to the middle of the countryside and leaving him in a field, so that he couldn’t find his way back home. He’ll find lovely new owners at the shelter. They’ll thoroughly vet all the applicants. It’ll be a wonderful fresh start for him.’

Again with the fresh starts.

‘Because cats are so fond of change?’ I say, incredulous that he’s somehow managed to convince himself of this, and so quickly, too. ‘Cats are the ultimate creatures of habit. Wash their bed and they won’t sleep in it. Change their food and they’ll throw up for a fortnight and probably start peeing in your shoes. Cats hate fresh anything, except maybe fresh kill.’

He exhales. I can tell that I’m annoying him. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation. He doesn’t want to seem like the bad guy. He wants to be the hero of every story. He wants adulation, praise, fans.

It strikes me that one anonymous online blab revealing that he was about to dump his loyal cat for Greta, and the comments section of his channel would be alive with indignation and outrage.

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