Page 15 of Milo
The last room is the kitchen, and he finds me standing in there when he comes back in.
“I’ve just met your cat,” I say cheerfully. “I wasn’t aware that you had a pet, let alone such a psychopathic one. How very cute.”
He flushes, and I watch the red flow over his cheeks with glee. “Yes, well, I found her in the woods when she was a kitten and I couldn’t leave her out there,” he mutters. “I kept trying to give her to people who wanted a cat, but she’s never been very sociable and they never seemed to warm to her after she removed the top layer of their epidermis.”
As if she knows that we’re talking about her, the cat wanders in. “Hey, Dotty,” he coos, smiling widely at her. The cat immediately moves towards him, making little chirruping noises. It’s quite adorable and I immediately want to check that we haven’t moved into an alternate timeline because nothing about Niall has ever screamed house in the woods and pet cat.
I settle for more winding up. “Dotty? Your cat is called Dotty?”
He scratches his head, looking slightly embarrassed. “My grandmother was called Dotty.”
“Was she actually christened that?”
“Well, she was Dorothy by birth but then she took off all her clothes and streaked through the house naked when the vicar was taking tea, and my father said she was quite dotty. The namestuck.” I laugh and he grins at me. “She was quite vicious too, like feline Dotty.”
“Not with you,” I say, watching as he bends and Dotty butts his hand demanding cuddles.
“Let’s not talk about her,” he says quickly as she puts her paws on his knees and reaches up to kiss his chin. “Let’s talk about war or poverty or famine.”
“That’s so adorable, Niall.” I reach for my phone. “I must get a picture for Oz.”
“If your finger moves on that button, I’ll murder you and let Dotty eat your remains.”
I blink. “Okay, that’s very explicit.” I look around the kitchen. “I think this room might just be my favourite part of the house.”
It’s a large room big enough to have an old pine table and chairs at one end by another set of French doors and still have room for lots of cabinets. It’s obviously had a lot of money spent on it. The cream cabinets sparkle and the wooden worktop gleams in the light and echoes the sandblasted beams above. There’s a breakfast bar at one end with two cream leather bar stools pulled up to it and a coffee machine that looks like it could run the control tower at Heathrow Airport. The walls are painted that French grey again and I wonder if he had a job lot of the paint, because so far the only colours I’ve seen are white and grey and one of them is a shade.
My heart cries out for some colour, but then I remember his horrified reaction to my colour choices in the attic and I grin at him. For some reason, his step falters but he recovers and looks around contemplatively at his room. “It’s nice. You know I like nice things.”
I laugh. “I know the main house makes you twitch.”
He shakes his head. “All those really old ornaments and pictures. Makes my skin itch. I like things plain.”
I rest Cora’s seat on the floor and stretch. “I can tell that from the colours. This is a really lovely house though,” I say quickly, afraid that I’ve offended him. “I’m just not sure if I’d have gone this far with the renovations.” I come out of my stretch to find him staring at me, or more precisely at the slip of skin showing where my t-shirt has ridden up. Feeling slightly self-conscious, I pull it down, and the movement seems to recall him.
He jerks and appears to pull his mind back. “Why wouldn’t you have gone this far?”
“Well, it’s not your house so I’m surprised you’ve spent so much money on it. You may scoff at my home programmes, but it means that I now know quality when I see it and how much that quality costs.”
“Not mine?” He sounds astonished.
I run my fingers through my hair, feeling embarrassed. “Well, it belongs to Silas and it’ll revert back to him at some point.”
He shakes his head. “It is mine. Silas gave it to me when I came back here.”
I gape at him. “Hegaveyou this?”
He grins and switches the kettle on, bending down to pet Dotty as he does so. “Yes, he gave it to me. Deeds and everything.” He takes two mint-green mugs down from a cupboard and indicates a basket of different teas. “Pick one.”
I stare at him. “You have flavoured tea?”
“That sounded like the sort of voice you’d use to state that I have men chained in my basement.”
“That would have been slightly more believable than you drinking peppermint tea,” I say dourly, and he gives a snort of laughter. I hush him as Cora stirs. We both stand still with bated breath as she stretches her little arms, extending them from her body, but then she smacks her lips and settles back into sleep. We both relax and grin at each other.
Dotty pads over to her and sits staring at her enigmatically.
“She hated me on first sight. Do you think she’ll be okay with her?” I ask worriedly and then stare as the cat rubs against Cora’s foot and licks her toes. “Oh okay, just me then,” I say crossly. Niall grins and, taking the cup he offers me, I slide onto the stool at the breakfast bar. “So, he just gave you the house?” I ask, returning to the subject.
