Page 17 of One Summer

I’ve turned my chair to face the window – deepening the desk staff’s suspicion of me – and I see Max’s car pull into a space, with a frightening slickness of lined-up angles and geometry. Before getting up to intercept him, I wait a moment longer to catch my breath. If I do this thing, I’ll never let this cat, and this reminder of Max, go. Nemo will be with me until his dying breath. Or mine. It’s a huge commitment and I know better than to sign up for something like that. And yet here I am, eagerly waiting to ease Max’s conscience.

‘Max,’ I say, as he walks through the door, holding Nemo in his blue, padded basket.

The morning sun is shining in Max’s eyes, and he looks around, bewildered, but somehow doesn’t see me standing in the alcove of the bay window.

He looks ridiculous. He must be going for a quick mudlark straight after this because he’s wearing his wellies over his suit trousers.

‘Over here,’ I say, making him walk to me, because I don’t want the receptionists to hear our conversation.

‘Lindy? What are you doing here?’ He looks genuinely perplexed and quite annoyed.

I shrug, not knowing how to put this into words.

‘It’s not some last-ditch attempt to get me to change my mind, is it?’ he says, frowning. ‘Because I’m not going to. Nemo is a great cat, but our time together has ended. He’ll be fine. He’ll be adopted within the week. Who wouldn’t want this cat?’

‘You, apparently,’ I say.

‘I’m not going to risk Greta’s health for a pet. Sorry if that offends you, Lindy, but that’s just the way it is. I will always put the welfare of people above animals.’

I take a step towards him.

‘Hand over the cat, Max.’

‘Why?’ he says, narrowing his eyes, suspiciously.

‘Because I am going to take him.’

His face brightens immediately. ‘Really, Lindy? You don’t have to do this.’

‘I want to. Do you have his toys?’

He beams at me, truly delighted. He’ll be able to drive away from this situation without a single pang of regret.

‘Of course,’ he says, handing me a canvas bag stuffed with fake mice, feathery stick things and the silver Christmas bauble that Nemo likes to bat around the living room, preferring it to any ball.

‘What about his tape measure?’ I ask, with a touch of asperity when I can’t see it in the bag. It’s not the DIY kind, but a dressmaker’s tape measure. Nemo loves to hunt it, before dragging it proudly from room to room as if it’s a snake he’s got the better of.

‘Um, I forgot he liked that. Sorry.’

‘Okay. Have a nice life, Max.’

I take Nemo’s basket and walk back to my car. I can sense Max’s eyes on me, and I wonder if he feels any regret – for me, or the cat.

Probably not.

He’s cleared the way for a nice life with Greta Honeycake. No cat dander or ‘planless’ girlfriends to get in the way of his magnificent new existence.

Nemo gives a mournful wail from the backseat of my knackered Fiesta, which is currently filled ankle-deep with empty plastic bottles and junk food wrappers. ‘I’m sorry, mate. You’re stuck with me now. It could be worse… possibly.’

We stop at a newsagent on the way home, which has a few haberdashery supplies, including the beloved measuring tape that I sense Nemo can’t live without. I’m just handing over my two-pound coins when my phone beeps with a photo of the job advert my mum told me about, with the imperative to SERIOUSLY CONSIDER!!!

Seventeen

Clipping

Responsible person required for housesitting/petsitting role on Loor Island. Accommodation needs updating but has sea views. Pay negotiable depending on experience, but the successful applicant will have private access to a beach and a herb garden. Must have genuine love for animals and be willing and able to follow instructions carefully. For more info, please email me at your earliest convenience.

What if I actually applied and got it? In a few weeks, I’d be living in my own private space on Loor Island. No more sharing a flat with strangers and failing at a job I hate. I’d have a whole new life. A chance to start again.

---