Page 136 of Love ad Lib
‘Er, yes. His old brush was looking a bit tatty, so I bought this for him.’
‘Aww, Henry, that’s so sweet! Did you buy him the toys as well?’
He blushed and nodded.
‘And the cat tree? And the bed? I swear to god, everything he has looks like it’s never been used before.’
He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I wanted him to have the best.’
She stood and wrapped her arms around him.
‘You’re the best, Henry. Mr Pussy and I are extremely grateful.’
He kissed the top of her head. ‘Libby—’
There was a plaintivemiaowfrom the kitchen, and she broke away.
‘We’d better check he’s okay.’
Mr Pussy was sittingon the kitchen floor, his dried food scattered like marbles around him. He looked at her and mewed again.
She crouched down. ‘Oh dear. Would you rather eat something else?’
Mr Pussy stalked over and purred against her knee.
She tentatively reached out and stroked his head.
The purr got louder.
‘Thank fuck,’ breathed Henry behind her.
The purring stopped. Mr Pussy raised his head and growled.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, in what she hoped was her most soothing voice. ‘Don’t be scared of Henry, Mr Pussy. He’s a big ole puddy-cat just like you.’
* * *
Henry traipsed backto the flat through Soho, laden with take-out boxes of chicken and lamb kebabs, ribs, sushi, and two dirty burgers just in case. He hoped he would get to have some of it, but it had been bought in the vain attempt to get Mr Pussy to eat.
After turning his nose up at the dried food, the cat had cried and cried forcing Henry to run to a local shop to buy a tin of wet food. Mr Pussy didn’t want any of that either, so Henry was now walking the streets looking like a food delivery guy who’d lost his moped.
He shook his head. He’d tried to live within the lines, but since meeting Libby he’d gone so far off-road he was totally lost.
What the fuck had he been thinking with the bloody cat? He sighed. He knew exactly what he’d been doing. He knew Libby was unlikely to buy the flat-sitting lie without a bigger reason behind it. Hence Mr Pussy, who he’d bought that morning from an online ad. The cat had belonged to a woman who’d just died and her son couldn’t wait to be shot of him, referring to him as ‘Evil Bastard’. Jack was going to go batshit when he found out. It was one thing to give the okay for Henry to move Libby in and pay her ‘wages’ via Jack. It was another to bring a pet with her.
And didn’t Jack hate cats? He couldn’t remember.Shit. He just had to hope his friend continued to stay away from the UK long enough for him to convince Libby to move in with him. He sprinted up the stairs to the flat and opened the door cautiously in case Mr Pussy was lying in wait.
‘In the kitchen,’ Libby called out.
He entered with the bags to see her on the floor with Mr Pussy in her lap.
‘He’s calmed down a bit,’ she said, as the cat stood and prowled towards the enticing smells, his tail twitching.
Miaow.
She stood. ‘Oh my god, Henry, how much did you get?’
‘It’ll keep if you don’t mind eating leftovers?’
