Only the Cat Knows (14 page)

‘Well …’ Anything to get rid of her. ‘I must admit I’m feeling more tired by the minute.’

‘I could tell! Monica keeps reminding us that head injuries like yours are very dangerous things. She says they can have delayed repercussions and — just when you think you’re all right again — they can come back on you and you have hallucinations and see and hear things that aren’t there at all!’ Her eyes gleamed greedily as she watched for my reaction. ‘
Have
you been having that trouble?’

‘Have I?’ I smiled back at her with an innocence that matched her own. ‘If I have, I can’t remember.’

‘Oh, but I thought you’d only forgotten things that happened before you fell. Not things that have happened since you’ve been back.’ She peered at me uncertainly. ‘I mean, you still remember us now that you’ve met us all again — don’t you?’

‘It depends on what you mean by remembering. I know that I’ve just met you and the others in the last few days. Beyond — or before — that, I don’t remember anything about you. Any of you.’

‘Oh! And you’re sure you haven’t had any hallucinations? Seen ghosts … or strange things?’

‘Not that I remember.’ I smiled blandly.

‘You’re sure?’ She seemed disappointed.

‘How can a person without a memory be sure of anything?’ I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. If she couldn’t take that hint, I’d have to seriously consider throwing her out.

‘Urn … yes … I see …’ There was a long dithering silence, which I did not break. ‘Urn … well…’ I heard the door open and shut.

After a safe interval, I opened my eyes to make sure she was gone. She was. I got up and locked and bolted the door, then returned to my chair to think.

So Monica was planting the idea that I might now be subject to hallucinations, was she? And I’d thought she was a friend.

But Dear Monica ran the household and it was part of her job to get along with everyone — and it made things so much easier if everyone could consider her their friend.

However, Monica was a long-term paid employee of Everett Oversall. That was where her loyalty, possibly her genuine friendship — and who knew what else? — essentially lay …

‘
Ooomph!
’ I grunted as a furry object, unexpectedly heavy for its size, landed in my lap. I looked down and those bright sapphire eyes looked back at me expectantly.

‘And where have you been lurking all afternoon?’ I rubbed behind one fuzzy ear and she allowed it. ‘Don’t you like the company we keep?’

She blinked and turned her head away to stare pointedly at the jar holding her kitty treats.

‘All right,’ I agreed. ‘I suppose you deserve it for being dispossessed all afternoon.’ I got up and poured a lavish helping of munchies into her bowl, still musing my way towards an interesting conclusion.

Very interesting … and disturbing.

It seemed that, having failed to kill Nessa, someone was now trying to destroy the precarious mental balance she appeared to have achieved.

At best, they hoped it would undermine her credibility if she regained her memory.

At worst, they were preparing the way for another murder attempt, aiming for a verdict of ‘Suicide, while the balance of her mind was disturbed’.

And the question was: did Monica really believe the story she was putting out? Was Monica a willing co-conspirator in the scheme or was she just — saving your presence, Duchess — just a cat’s-paw?

I awoke next morning to the sound of seagulls crying and prison bars of light and shadow striped across the ceiling by the wan sunlight.

I lay there disorientated, taking a long moment to recall where I was — and why. Gradually, it returned to me: I was not in some seaside town with an evening performance to prepare for. I was in the middle of an ongoing private performance, my audience more sinister, and perhaps deadly, than a First Night filled with merely bitchy theatrical colleagues.

The seagulls — no, the peacocks — screamed again, as though in pain. Was Nina back on the prowl, forcibly collecting tail feathers? She’d better not let Madame catch her.

Madame
. I had to speak to her today. She might not hold the key to the whole situation, but I felt certain she knew a lot of things it would help me to know.

And Dr Anderson was due for his rounds today. I had to corner him and get the latest report on Nessa’s condition.

Nessa!
I threw back the duvet and was startled by a muffled feline curse from its depths.

‘Oops! Sorry, Duchess, I didn’t know you were there.’

A pink nose poked out from a rumpled fold and there was a minor upheaval as the rest of her struggled free. She bared her teeth and spat out something I didn’t want to translate, but which seemed to be along the lines of, ‘Just watch it!’ She glared at me and shook her rumpled fur
back into place before leaping to the floor and stalking off. In the direction of the food, I noticed.

Outside, the outraged cries sounded again, followed by the volley of barks that seemed faintly familiar. Brutus, I presumed.

Or possibly one of the other dogs. How many were there? I must ask Bud, he seemed to be the most approachable of the guards and wouldn’t be surprised by my interest.

Human voices were raised in what was becoming a commotion. It was getting too loud for me to be able to pretend I had slept through. Besides, I was curious.

Kaftan and turban in place — and ignoring the indignant glare of the Duchess when she realized I was bypassing the food — I stepped outside, closing the door carefully and firmly behind me. She wasn’t sneaking out, especially with dogs around.

The action was taking place on the other side of the cloister and I followed the sounds of an increasing discord. As I rounded the comer, I found them.

Sure enough, Nina had been at it again. Angry birds hissed at her, Brutus snarled in sympathy and Bud shook his head reproachfully.

‘You shouldn’t do it, Miss Nina,’ he said. ‘You know it will drive the old girl wild.’

‘They were shedding them anyway,’ Nina defended as best she could with her hands full of the evidence against her. ‘Those feathers were trailing along the ground, almost out of their sheaths. It only took the tiniest twitch to get them, they just slid into my hand. It couldn’t possibly have hurt Percy and Petruchio is an old crybaby anyway.’

‘That’s as may be, but I’ll have to report it, you know. I have my orders.’ He held out his hand.

‘No!’ Nina put the feathers behind her back. ‘No, you can’t take them. I need them.’

‘Now, you know better than that.’ He wriggled his fingers coaxingly. ‘You’ve been told you can’t keep them
when you do that. You don’t want me to fight you for them.’

Brutus growled in reinforcement.

It isn’t fair!’ Nina cried. She looked around wildly and spotted me. ‘Nessa, don’t let him do it!’

What did she think I could do about it? I gave her my blankest look.

‘Leave Miss Nessa out of this,’ Bud ordered. ‘She has enough problems without taking on any of yours.’

I nodded agreement, wondering just how much he knew about my problems — apart from the obvious.

For that matter, why was Nina lurking around the cloister? It was a fair distance from her studio. Was she really stalking the peacocks, or had she been delegated to keep an eye on me? Was she supposed to ingratiate herself with me and become my buddy?

If so, someone had made a serious mistake. So far as I was concerned, a little of Nina and her pretensions went a long way — and I’d already had more than enough.

Brutus decided to greet me by moving forward and thrusting his nose into my crotch. I backed away hastily.

‘Stop that!’ Bud commanded. ‘That’s no way to treat a lady. Bad dog!’

Brutus paid no attention, following me as I retreated, intent on pursuing his investigation.

‘Horrid creature!’ Nina sniffed. ‘I don’t know why we have to have so many of them around.’

‘Security!’ Bud snapped. ‘If we didn’t have them, you’d soon regret it.’

Brutus turned towards Nina and growled, sensing the criticism in the atmosphere. Bud bent to soothe him. Brutus lunged forward again.

‘No, you don’t!’ It was not Brutus that Bud grabbed, but Nina, who was trying to sneak away with her feathers while he was distracted by the dog.

There was a brief scuffle, punctuated by shrieks from Nina and snarls from Brutus. Bud emerged as the winner, holding four peacock feathers, two of which had been
snapped in half and were drooping towards the ground. Their original owners had prudently disappeared by this time.

‘Now you’ve done it!’ Nina cried. ‘Look at them — they’re ruined! And I
needed
them! I hate you! I’d like to
kill
you!’ She ran off.

‘Nothing new there, then.’ Bud winked at me.

‘I’m afraid you’ve upset her.’ I kept my tone and expression neutral, with an uneasy feeling that there had been something a little too intimate about that wink. And not to be encouraged.

‘Nothing new about that, either. One or another of them is always upset around here.’

‘It’s colder than I thought.’ I demonstrated with a shiver. ‘I’d better get back inside. I just heard all the rumpus and wanted to know what was going on.’

‘That’s right, you need to keep warm.’ He whistled to Brutus, who was advancing on me again with prurient curiosity. ‘You have to take care of yourself.’

‘Yes, I do.’ In full retreat, I returned to my quarters, where the Duchess greeted me with deepest suspicion.

Damn Brutus! He must have left his scent on me again. And probably more than a few hairs. I brushed at my kaftan and tried to placate the cat.

‘Brunch is coming right up.’

She sniffed and turned away. We were back to square one.

By late afternoon, I began to suspect that Anderson was not going to appear. At least, not to me.

Had any of his other unofficial patients seen him? Or was it just me he was avoiding? And why?

Because there was no news? Or because the news was so bad he daren’t face me? I fought back the creeping anxiety, telling myself that I would know instinctively if anything had happened to my twin. Surely, I would know …

Meanwhile, his absence gave me the excuse I needed to drop in on Madame unexpectedly.

‘I wouldn’t bother her,’ I explained to Richie, who was guarding the door, ‘but I wondered if Dr Anderson might be here. I know it’s one of his visiting days and he promised to bring me something for these headaches … head pains … I still get.’ I gave him a brave uncomplaining smile.

‘Mm, yes, I suppose you do.’ He looked at my shrouding turban. ‘How long until you get rid of the bandages?’

‘He hasn’t said. I’m hoping it will be soon. That’s another reason I want to see him, to ask about it.’

‘I’m afraid you’re out of luck. No one has seen him. He hasn’t been here today’

‘Oh.’ I was suitably crestfallen. ‘But I’d still like to see Madame.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ I hadn’t expected an interrogation. ‘Why, just to see how she is, to talk, to have a little visit.’ I stood my ground. ‘I had the impression we were friends.’

‘Oh, you did, did you?’ His mouth twisted oddly. ‘Don’t pin any hopes on that. Madame is too old and too weary to have any friends. She doesn’t trust people enough — and she’s probably right. With Madame, armed neutrality is as good as it gets.’

‘It seems to me,’ I spoke more sharply than I had intended, ‘that could be said of just about everybody in this place!’

‘Too true.’ He nodded. ‘You’re learning … or are you beginning to remember?’

When you remember, I’ll be waiting
… Had that message been from Richie? And, if he believed I was remembering, what was his reaction going to be?

‘Richie …’ Madame’s voice called out behind him. ‘Who are you talking to? Who is there?’

‘That’s torn it,’ he said. ‘She’s awake now and she won’t rest easy if she thinks she’s missing something. You might as well come in.’

I followed him into the darkened parlour, blinking as he opened the curtains to let in what daylight there was.

‘So, Vanessa, it’s you,’ Madame was propped up on a chaise longue near the fire. ‘I might have known.’

‘She insisted on seeing you, Madame,’ Richie said. They exchanged a long look.

‘Yes, she would.’ Madame sighed faintly. ‘Sit down, Vanessa. Richie, perhaps you would be kind enough to bring us tea.’

‘No, really,’ I protested quickly. ‘I don’t want to be any bother. I just wanted … to see how you were.’

‘She was looking for Anderson,’ Richie corrected. ‘She thought he might be here.’

‘And so he might. But not today.’ Madame looked at me shrewdly. ‘You are disappointed?’

‘A bit. I’d thought —’

‘He was supposed to be bringing her something for her head,’ Richie explained, as though I couldn’t speak for myself. ‘She still gets aches and pains.’

‘The tea!’ Madame ordered sharply.

‘Oh … right.’ He nodded and left the room.

‘That is better,’ Madame said softly, as his footsteps retreated down the hallway and out of hearing. ‘We have no need of an interpreter, you and I.’

‘Haven’t we?’ I met her gaze innocently, feeling that the armed neutrality was all on my side. Was that the effect Richie had intended? Had he been putting me on my guard — or trying to destabilize any memories that might be surfacing?

‘No!’ Madame said firmly. ‘Now perhaps you would care to tell me yourself: how bad is the pain?’

‘Bearable,’ I decided to admit. ‘It comes and goes. But if there’s anything he can give me to keep it away, I’d like to have it.’

‘Naturally. That is what we would all like. To be as free of pain as possible. In the circumstances.’

‘The circumstances …’ I echoed. We looked at each
other. Her eyes were so shrewd I was glad that the little cottage parlour was so dark.

‘Oh, Vanessa …’ Madame shook her head and sighed deeply. ‘Vanessa, Vanessa …’

‘Oh, Madame …’ I regarded her with equally resigned dismay and a great deal more frustration. Somewhere inside that twisted frame, behind those hooded eyes, was any amount of information I needed. I took a deep breath of my own and reminded myself that I couldn’t shake it out of her, much as I might like to.