Page 16 of It Had To Be You

The kittens are fed and the cats seem content. I lock up the cattery before heading to my car. I’ve got the next few days off and I’m looking forward to spending them with Mallory. “I’ll see you next week,” I say to Bella on my way out. She’s in the field, picking some vegetables.

“Enjoy your days off.” She smiles and waves.

I drive home and park my car in its usual spot under the trees on the dirt track. As I approach the front door, I spot Mallory in Mr Hatta’s garden.

“Hi,” I say as I approach the gate.

“Oh, hi, Lara. We’re looking at some bird-watching magazines. Mr Hatta’s been showing me what I can spot from the garden.”

“You like studying birds?” My eyebrows knit together. I’ve seen her fussing over Moggy a few times, which was a welcome surprise, but she seems to be interested in animals in general. I never thought I’d see the day she found a hobby that wasn’t dangerous.

“Apparently, it’s a relaxing hobby, so I thought I’d give it a try.” She holds her hands out like she’s got nothing to lose.

I should be happy. At least she’s keeping herself entertained and, as she told me the other day, I can’t wrap her in cotton wool. Spending time with Mr Hatta means someone is keeping an eye on her and I’m grateful for that. I won’t have to worry as much. “Cool. I’m going to get a shower. I’ll see you in a bit.”

It’s not easy to pretend I can let her handle things, but I’m trying. By walking away, I’m trying to show I won’t stress about how she got down the dirt track.

“You sure will.” They go back to looking at the magazines and I carry on up the lane. She seems to be settling into a comfortable routine. Who would have guessed she’d enjoy something like that? A spark of hope flutters in my chest. Could six weeks change Mallory’s outlook on having a real home? I shouldn’t overthink this or it might lead to disappointment, but I can’t help the smile it brings to my face.

When I get inside, there’s an empty can of cat food on the side and Moggy doesn’t move from his spot by the window. She even fed my cat. My mind is blown. She’s told me more than once how disgusted she is with the smell. Moggy must be rubbing off on her more than I thought.

I go upstairs, shower, and change. Instead of completely covering up like I have been recently, I choose a white tank top and blue summer shorts. I find Mallory cooking after I’ve freshened up. “You could have waited for me. I would have made tea once I’d cleaned up.”

“You’ve been at work all day. I’m going to take care of you. Besides, I’m on a roll today.” She lets out a light-hearted laugh that sings to my heart. She hasn’t been like this since the accident.

“Why, what else has gone right?”

She turns to look at me and eyes up my outfit with a satisfied grin. “I’ve managed to get around a little easier and make some friends. Mr Hatta is an awesome guy.”

She could have used any word to describe him. She must have mad respect for him. Go Mr Hatta. “He’s a friendly chap. He’s put my bin out a few times when I’ve forgotten, and he always greets me when he’s out in his garden.”

“There’s more to him than that. He runs the Neighbourhood Watch, a class at the community centre, and a bird-watching group. He’s seen more tits than me.” She says it so seriously it makes me choke on a strangled laugh.

“Do you mean bluetits?”

“It sounds lame when you say it like that.” She gives me a mischievous wink.

“There’s nothing wrong with loving animals. I’m glad even Moggy is getting a little attention from you.” I point to the empty tin.

“He doesn’t fuss as much when he has a full tummy.” She tries to sound casual, but I see the loving gaze she gives Moggy when she thinks I’m not looking.

I get out some plates and lay the table. Mallory cooks two omelettes, and we sit at the table to eat.

I break some egg off and take a bite. “The omelette tastes amazing. Thank you for doing this.”

“If there’s one thing I can do, it’s whip up a mean omelette.”

“That you can.”

“On one of my trips, we did a competition to see who could make the best quickest omelette, and I won.”

“Extreme cooking.” I nod. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

She laughs. “Of course. Slow and steady isn’t my style.” She pushes a bit of egg off her fork with her tongue, and I try to overlook how sexy it is.

It’s just a bit of food, not foreplay.

“It’s good to see you in brighter spirits,” I say. My voice comes out a little higher pitched than usual.

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