Part 27 (1/2)

Unable to think of anything I could do that would threaten Russell in any way, I ignored him. The cat showed no fear, continuing his rusty metal noise, so I picked him up and set off for home, with Thomas muttering to himself every inch of the way.

'Youre wasting your time, I said, crossly. 'Im not listening.

I hoped Russell would still be yelling at Mr Daniels, but he was crossing the yard. Of course he was.

I said to the cat, 'This is Russell. He shouts a lot but he doesnt mean any harm so dont worry. Im just going to cover you up now.

'Now youre in trouble.

What happened to we?

'Jenny, whats happened?

'What do you mean?

'Youre soaking wet and youve cut your cheek. I have to hand it to you, wife, Ive only been gone half an hour. Whats in the jacket?

Well, hed stolen a donkey and Id backed him up. Now it was his turn. I went to pull back my jacket, but the cat beat me to it and poked out a head like an outraged periscope, took one look at Russell, laid back its stumpy ear and hissed, long and hard.

Russell took a step backwards.

'What the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l is that?

Off we went again.

'Its a cat.

'Jenny, put down the jacket and step away.

'No. I tightened my grip.

'What?

'I said no, Russell. I cant pull it out of the pond and then ... just leave it.

'What pond?

'The Duck Pond. Some boys threw him in.

'What boys?

'The boys who threw him into the pond.

'And you pulled it out? You?

'Yes.

'Where were the boys while this was going on?

'I dont know. I wasnt looking. I was in the pond.

'Theres blood on you. Did it bite you?

'No, I fell over something.

The cat spat at Russell again.

'Whats the matter with it?

'Nothing. It just doesnt like you.

'Why the h.e.l.l not?

'Because Im cold and wet, and my face hurts, and hes cold and wet and hurt and youre just standing there yelling at the pair of us and if I could spit then I would too.

Mrs Crisp pushed past him. 'Russell, get out of the way. Come with me, Mrs Checkland. Well get you both dried off and you can have a cup of tea and he can have some milk.

'Mrs Crisp, youre not taking that disease-ridden object into my house, he shouted after us.

I turned round. 'Thats not very ... nice. Im your wife.

'I didnt mean you. You know I didnt mean you. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Jenny.

'Nice one, Mrs Checkland. said Mrs Crisp, quietly.

When I came back downstairs, warm and dry again, Mrs Crisp handed me a mug of tea and nodded towards the stove. The cat crouched on a towel, slurping noisily at a saucer of milk. He was not a neat lapper. Milk sprayed everywhere. Beside the milk sat an empty saucer, licked more than clean.

'Tinned salmon, she said. 'He seemed to enjoy it.

'Of course he b.l.o.o.d.y enjoyed it, said Russell sitting at the kitchen table. 'Half an hour ago he was sinking to a watery death and now hes got the warmest spot in the house, gorged himself on a tin of Sainsburys finest red salmon, and is now lapping the cream off the top of the milk. Whats not to enjoy?

If I thought that drying out would improve his looks then I was wrong. This was not a beautiful cat. He was bigger than I thought, but that might have been because his coat was drying out. He was longhaired so hed gone fluffy. The bits I could see were a kind of rusty tabby. His tail was odd. Almost F shaped.

'Its been badly broken at one time, said Russell. 'And hes covered in lumps, b.u.mps, scars, and burns. This probably ranks as one of his better days. So, when hes finished, Mrs Crisp will show him out and well be on our way, Jenny. Get your coat.

I looked at Mrs Crisp, who looked back at me.

Russell became aware of the silence.

'Were not keeping it. Its wild.

'He. Its a he.

'And yet another reason for not keeping it.

'No, its not, said Mrs Crisp who had put on her gla.s.ses and done some peering. 'Its an ex-he. So he was someones pet once, maybe.