Part 12 (1/2)

A tiny shrug.

'I've acquired a cat, too. Do you want to meet him?'

Katie looked up for the first time. 'Yes, please.'

'Through here.' Gwen led the way into the kitchen, praying that the cat was still there.

'He's gorgeous,' Katie said, despite all evidence to the contrary. She dropped to the floor in front of him and held out her hand. To Gwen's surprise, the cat padded straight over and sniffed Katie, then began rubbing his head on her arm, begging to be stroked.

Katie looked back over her shoulder. 'What's his name? Do you have any cat treats? They love the ones with catnip.'

'I'm not naming him. I'll never get rid of him if I name him.'

Katie gave her an odd look. She turned back to the cat. 'h.e.l.lo, Cat,' she said lovingly.

Gwen skirted past the happy couple and pulled a pair of rubber gloves and a roll of bin bags from under the sink.

'I'm going to get started.'

Katie rubbed the cat under the chin and didn't reply.

Gwen had re-stacked the boxes to allow for better access and was just opening the first one when Katie appeared in the doorway. She'd taken off her parka and looked about a third of the size without the bulky coat. She stood still and looked around. Then whistled. 'c.r.a.ptastic.'

'Indeed.' Gwen hadn't fully appreciated the extent of the mess until she'd started lugging boxes. 'I'm wondering whether to just lock the door. I mean,' she looked around, 'it's not like I need a dining room.'

Katie was squinting at the ceiling. 'That's a big crack.'

'Your mum said it was going to fall down. Don't tell her I let you in here, okay?'

Katie smiled for the first time. 'Okay.'

'So, do you want to help me with this lot? I'll pay you.'

Katie's smile widened into a proper grin. She looked like the cheery twelve-year-old Gwen remembered.

Gwen plugged in her iPod dock and hit shuffle. As luck would have it, Katie's favourite Aretha Franklin song rang out. She looked sideways at the girl as she ripped open a cardboard box with more enthusiasm than precision. 'You used to dance to this song when you were little.'

Katie didn't react.

Okay.

Katie pulled out a handful of brown curtain material, then let it fall back in a heap. 'Do you have a system?'

'Um. Not really.'

'Well, we need one. Like on Life Laundry.'

'If you say so.'

Katie tipped the box she was holding upside down and shook it. Righting it, she said, 'I need a marker pen.'

'There's a pack in the kitchen,' Gwen said faintly.

Two hours later, they had several boxes marked up in block letters: charity, loft and house, and three black bags for the tip. There was also a plastic crate filled with old notebooks, sc.r.a.ps of paper with Iris's handwriting, and shop receipts with items highlighted with little stars.

'You should at least throw out the receipts. That's just rubbish.'

'I can't. Iris kept them and, until I know why, I can't throw them out.' Gwen didn't want to admit that she couldn't let go of anything that Iris had written on. It would make her sound unhinged.

'Maybe it was for her tax return. Dad keeps all of his.'

'Good thought.' Gwen frowned unintentionally at the dreaded words. She decided to focus on the day's achievements, gazing at the neatly labelled boxes with satisfaction. She found her purse and extracted a five-pound note.

Katie looked at the floor. 'You don't have to pay me. I enjoyed it.'

Gwen handed her the note. 'Just for that, I'll give you a lift home.'

Katie's face fell.

'Or into town,' Gwen continued smoothly. 'We could go for hot chocolate.'

Katie brightened. 'Can I come again another day? To see the cat.'

'Of course.' Gwen smiled at the whip-fast emotions of a teenager. She remembered what that had been like. Exhausting.

Katie bounced into the hallway and began dragging on her coat. 'I'll bring him treats.'

She kept up a stream of chatter all the way into Bath. Gwen tried to relax and enjoy her niece's company, but she felt a nagging guilt. Marilyn Dixon's tight features kept popping into her mind. It was annoying.

'What do you think?'

Gwen glanced at Katie, who was wearing an unnervingly intense expression.

'Um ...'

'I know. You think I should stand up for myself more. That's what Mum says.'

'I-'

'But Imogen is so, like, intense, you know?' She scowled into her lap and Gwen stamped down on the sudden urge to laugh.

'She's cool, too. Much cooler than me. She's had a boyfriend since she was nine.'

'Well, that's-'

'And she always looks good. She's got the best hair.'

'Hair's good,' Gwen managed.

'I'm just not sure about the party.' Katie paused for breath. 'I might wait and see.'