Canapés for the Kitties (12 page)

“A cup of tea and the company of friends.” Karla smiled at them as Macho shepherded her into the room. “Just what I need right now.”

“How is Jack?” Lorinda asked.

“Jack?” Karla looked at her blankly. “Oh, Jack! That stumblebum! As well as can be expected, what else? If he'd been paying attention to what he was doing for one moment, it would never have happened.” She flung herself into an armchair and closed her eyes.

The others took the opportunity to raise eyebrows at each other. The verdict seemed a bit unfair on poor Jack, who had been trying to rescue what he thought was a live victim on top of the bonfire. He hadn't even paused to take any pictures.

Roscoe was more forgiving. He abandoned Lorinda abruptly to scramble on to the arm of Karla's chair and rub against her bowed head. Like Macho, he hated tears and emotional upsets. His anxious chirrup penetrated her gloom.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She reached for him. Roscoe braced himself against her grappling embrace and gave her a friendly head-butt on the chin.

“It
was
careless of Dorian to plant that torch where someone could trip over it,” Lorinda said.

“No one else fell over it,” Karla said broodingly. “Only idiot-boy.”

“You're sure tea will be enough?” Macho returned from the kitchen with another cup and saucer. “If you'd like something stronger ...?”

“Tea will be fine,” Karla said. “I'm not that devastated. I'm just damned annoyed.”

“At least Jack's being taken care of on the National Health.” Freddie offered comfort. “Just imagine if this had happened in New York.”

“Don't!” Karla shuddered so violently that Roscoe meowed in protest. “He let our health insurance lapse! That's another little gem he sprang on me just before we left the States. He forgot to pay the premiums – he says!”

Freddie whistled softly and looked quizzically into her own cup, as though hoping the tea leaves might reveal what some of the other gems had been.

“Well, you won't need it this year,” Macho said cheerfully. “You can pick it up again when you go back –” He broke off; Karla's look of fury had struck him like a blow across the face.

“Tell me –” Lorinda tried to lower the temperature by changing the subject. “How are you getting along with Miss Mudd?”

“Don't ask me!” Karla swung violently to face her. Roscoe protested faintly. “I hate the damned creature! I always did!”

“Then why did you take on the series?” It was a tactless question, but it slipped out before Lorinda could stop it.

“Money, of course.” Karla's face shuttered. “And ... there were other considerations.”

“The Mudd books are money-spinners,” Macho conceded. “I'm not surprised the publishers want to keep them going. There's a lot of that about these days. They've even been reviving long-defunct series characters and farming them out to new writers.”

“New writers, I can understand.” Freddie surveyed Karla thoughtfully. “Anything to get a foot in the door. But you have a successful series of your own. You can't need to take on someone else's.”

“Oh, yes. Toni and Terri – the all-American backpackers, hiking their way around the world and into adventure and murder.” Karla gave a short mirthless bark of laughter. Roscoe twitched uneasily. “How I've grown to hate the little bastards!”

“We all feel like that at times, I'm sure.” Lorinda tried not to think of the guilty chapters lurking in her filing cabinet.

“You have no children of your own?” Freddie asked. “No teenagers? No adolescents you've left behind in boarding school?”

“You mean, am I sublimating? Are my backpackers really the kids I never had?” Karla laughed bitterly. “No, we had a son. He was killed in a car crash when he was ten. Jack was driving. Everything began going downhill after that.”

“I'm sorry,” Freddie said inadequately, obviously regretting ever having raised the subject.

“What about you?” Karla challenged her. “All of you? I know your work, but I don't know anything about any of you personally. Just the little bits I've been able to piece together since we moved here. If you're going to question me, fair's fair. Freddie, you've obviously spent some time in the States – there's a trace of a familiar accent, plus an Americanism every now and then. What about
you?
”

“You got me!” Freddie grimaced. “I did a stint in advertising in New York. Had quite a pleasant life there for nearly a decade: plenty of money, nice apartment, darling cat, not to mention the obligatory affair. Then” – she shrugged – “everything seemed to go wrong at once. The cat died, the lover went off with a new and improved younger model, the landlord raised the rent to an even more extortionate level – and the advertising agency was taken over, with the usual claims that nothing was going to change, even as the new upper echelon began eyeing the existing talent to see who they could do without. I can read the handwriting on the wall as well as anyone else. I had enough put by to support me for a couple of years while I found out whether I could really write a book. I took the money and ran. Back here, where I still had some family and friends.”

And where she could lick her wounds in privacy and rebuild her life, Lorinda thought. It was more than she had ever heard Freddie tell about herself, although she had pieced most of it together from hints Freddie had let drop. That was really the proper way to find out about other people, she felt, not this pouring out of facts Americans seemed to require.

“And you?” Lorinda flinched as Karla faced her relentlessly.

“There isn't much to tell,” Lorinda said slowly. “I was a late child, an only child. My parents were nearly fifty so I came as quite a surprise to them. By the time I'd graduated from university, my mother was quite ill and my father couldn't cope. Fortunately, I was able to write while I looked after them. I did a few other books before I dreamed up Miss Petunia and her sisters. They did well enough here and were a great hit in the States. So that's what I've been doing ever since. Between that and caring for my parents, it rather cut me off from my own generation and ... well ...” She emulated Freddie's shrug. “Eventually my parents died ... and here I am.”

“How sad.” Karla's perfunctory tone really meant, “How boring.” She turned avidly to Macho and waited expectantly.

“This is rather painful ... I don't usually talk about it.” He was not going to disappoint her. He took a deep breath and sent the ghost of a wink to Freddie and Lorinda.

“My wife and I were teachers at a mission school in Africa. This was some years ago and we had no idea of the underlying tensions that were about to tear the Continent apart. Even when the revolutions and uprisings began, they were in distant parts of the country. Oh, we heard the usual rumours of atrocities and, as the unrest crept closer to our territory, we even began to discuss the advisability of returning to England. But it still didn't seem quite possible that it could happen to us ... and so ... we left it too late.” He shuddered and covered his eyes with one hand, head bowed.

“We were armed by then, of course. We weren't complete fools. We knew trouble was coming closer every day. We sent out a call for help just as the Mission compound was besieged – and then we prayed. As the days dragged past and our supplies grew low, we began to fear that no one had heard our pleas for help. Our ammunition was even lower than the food – and we'd maddened the rebels by our resistance. There would be no mercy for us when they broke through our defences.”

“How terrible!” Karla's eyes were round, her breath ragged. “But you made it all right. You're here.”

“
I'm
here,” Macho said brokenly. “But my wife ... and not just mine. You see ... we knew ... the drill. You loved her, so you saved the last bullet ... for
her.
”

“No!” Karla's eyes opened even wider.

“We all knew what had to be done. When the terrorists breached the barricades and swarmed into the compound, we retreated into an inner room ... and then ...” He had not uncovered his eyes, his voice quavered.

“Then I put the gun to her temple ... she smiled at me ... I pulled the trigger. All around me, I could hear the other shots and the crash of the front door being broken down. Then ... I ... we ... heard the sound of helicopters swooping down on us. Help had arrived ... too late.”

“Oh, my God!” Karla gasped in horror.

Why didn't we think of something like that?
Lorinda and Freddie met each other's eyes in gleeful collusion.
Good for Macho!
It was a lot more exciting than admitting that he had been a schoolmaster teaching history in a minor public school when his wife ran away with his best friend.

“Oh, you poor –” Karla began.

“Please –” Macho lurched to his feet and waved a hand, stopping her. “I ... I'm afraid I ... It's brought it all back. Forgive me –” He rushed from the room.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” Karla began apologizing to those remaining. “I didn't mean to upset him. I had no idea –”

Roscoe gave her an accusing look and jumped from her lap, pursuing Macho into the kitchen.

“Now even the cat is mad at me,” Karla mourned.

“I think it will be better if we never speak of this again,” Freddie said gravely.

“Yes, of course. I agree.” Karla was still shaken, her own troubles forgotten. “I'm so sorry. I wouldn't for the world have –”

There was a muffled clatter from the kitchen, followed by the sharp crack of an ice-cube tray being broached. Had-I and But-Known were instantly alert. That meant the fridge door had been opened and Roscoe was already on the scene and might be getting treats. They abandoned their posts and headed purposefully for the kitchen.

“I think maybe –” Karla stood, then hovered indecisively. “Maybe I ought to leave now? Maybe we all ought to?”

“No need for that.” Freddie was settled comfortably and had identified the activity around the fridge as surely as the cats had. “Macho will be all right. And we can't leave him now ... to his memories.”

“Oh! Maybe that wouldn't be kind...?” Karla looked to Lorinda for confirmation.

“Here we are.” Macho returned, carrying a tray with ice bucket, glasses, cheeseboard and crackers. Roscoe sauntered along beside him, waving his tail complacently, as though he had organized the refreshments all by himself. Had-I and But-Known followed behind, their gaze firmly fixed on the large chunk of cheddar that they especially favoured.

“Oh, well ...” Karla sat down again.

“Time for something stronger than tea,” Macho announced, setting his tray down on the coffee table. The cats moved forward and began circling the table in an elaborately casual manner while Macho mixed the drinks.

“Have some cheese,” he urged. “Not you!” He pushed Roscoe's questing muzzle away. “Guests first. Where are your manners?”

“Oh ... thank you.” Karla cut a triangle of cheddar nervously, obviously not accustomed to three pairs of little eyes watching her every movement. They were waiting for her to drop it. Had-I spoke sharply and she obliged.

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“Quite all right,” Macho said cheerfully. “Won't be wasted.” Three blurs of fur pounced, proving him right. “Nothing to clean up, either. Quick, cut yourself another piece while they're busy.”

“Uh –” She wasn't fast enough. Three little heads were craning over the rim of the coffee table, watching her avidly: Happy the cats with a clumsy and easily unnerved guest. “I'm not really hungry, thanks.”

“Come here, you little bully,” Freddie said, unfairly sweeping But-Known, the least aggressive of the lot, into her lap.

“That goes for you, too.” Lorinda captured Had-I, immediately negating the reprimand by slicing off a sliver of cheese and holding it for her to nibble at.

Roscoe crouched and soared into Macho's lap the instant he sat down. There was a generous chunk of cheddar waiting for him.

Contented purrs provided background music as the well-trained humans finally got to their own cheese and drinks.

“This is nice,” Karla admitted. “I've never seen so many cats all together at the same time. Don't they get on well together?”

“Had-I and But-Known are females,” Lorinda pointed out. “So Roscoe thinks they're his harem – and they think he's there to do their bidding. It works out very well.”

“Yes, but aren't they all – ?” Karla looked uncomfortable. “Well, fixed?”

“What has that got to do with it?” Freddie asked. “All their instincts are firmly in place. The fact that the apparatus has been removed and they can't do anything about it is largely immaterial. They're all quite happy. They enjoy each other's company and they don't know anything different.”

“Yes, I've heard people say that before. But what if something upsets the balance? I mean,” Karla persisted, “Rhylla was saying that her granddaughter was bringing her own pet along. The kid has only had it a short time and it probably hasn't had anything done to it yet. Won't that upset the applecart?”

There was a thoughtful silence. Rhylla hadn't told any of them about that. Perhaps an entire cat – whether male or female – might indeed upset the delicate balance.

“Anyway, it's only temporary.” Freddie tried for the silver lining. “Child, plus pet, will only be here two or three weeks until she's sent off to her parents and new school in the States. Not much can go wrong in that length of time.”

There was another thoughtful silence. A cat could be mortally offended in ten seconds flat – and carry a grudge for years. It would be too bad if the harmony were to be disturbed for the sake of a transient child.

“I'll ring Rhylla in the morning,” Lorinda said. “Clarice will probably want to keep her little darling indoors for the first few days anyway, while it gets used to new surroundings. It's only sensible.”