Bella Osborne - A Walk in Wildflower Park

Karl narrowed his left eye and pouted. ‘I’m guessing you’ve not spoken to Hudson then?’ Of course Hudson had jumped the gun and spoken to Karl already, without her. Anna felt an involuntary sigh escape. She was feeling less and less guilty about whacking the guy in the eye.

After the day from hell Anna was in need of a strong coffee and a good old moan but what she opted for was a trip to the cat rescue. She didn’t like going home to an empty flat and it was a small stand for something she wanted and Liam had never let her have. And moaning to herself was never any fun, but with a cat at least she’d feel like someone was listening. As she had suspected they had lots of kittens and any one of them would have been perfect. They were all cute and all she had to do was choose one. She liked the one with the black patch over its eye and the one who looked like it was wearing a dinner jacket.

A young couple with two small children were looking at the same litter of black and white splodges. There was only one volunteer who was clearly rushed off her feet and was being continually harassed. Anna moved out of the way and went to peruse the pens at the other end away from the kittens whilst she waited for her turn. Each cage had a jolly write-up of its occupant. A very noisy Burmese called Sasha focused his elongated meow at her until she spoke to him. Anna moved out of Sasha’s field of vision and was watching Bill and Ben, two ginger and white males, who were peering over a sign on their window that said ‘reserved’ when there was a thud behind her. Anna turned around to see an exceptionally large tabby cat with both paws on the glass window of his pen. Clearly happy he’d attracted Anna’s attention, he started to parade up and down in front of the glass with his fluffy tail held high. Anna smiled and went over.

His bio said his name was Maurice and he was nine years old, though when Anna peered closer, he didn’t look like an old cat. The dark, long-haired tabby was now sitting, staring directly at Anna. He seemed to fill most of his pen. Anna didn’t think she’d ever seen a cat that big before that wasn’t in a zoo.

‘Sorry, were you next?’ asked the volunteer.

‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘Is he really nine?’

‘Maurice? Yes, he is, but there’s plenty of life left in him,’ said the volunteer, reaching to open the pen so Anna could meet the cat.

‘It’s okay. I was really after a kitten.’ Anna felt instantly guilty. She sidled away so Maurice wouldn’t hear, which she knew was a bit crazy.

‘We have plenty of kittens. Let’s fill the form in and you can tell me which one you’d like.’ Anna relaxed and followed the volunteer back to the kitten section. She glanced over her shoulder. The big fluffy cat was watching Anna intently. The volunteer went through the questions but Anna’s mind kept going back to Maurice.

‘Has Maurice been here a long time?’

‘A couple of months. He’s got a lovely nature but very few people want the middle-aged ones. Is your property rented or owned?’

‘It’s owned. Where did he come from?’

The volunteer stopped filling in the form and looked at Anna. ‘It’s a bit sad really. His owner had a fall and had to go into a nursing home and they couldn’t find anyone to take Maurice so he came here. He’s struggled to settle into life at the centre. He’s been used to the same lap to sit on for nine years and a garden to wander around in, so it’s a bit of a shock for him. That’s why he doesn’t interact much.’ She sighed. Back to the form: ‘Any other pets?’

‘Err, no. Poor thing, he seemed quite friendly.’

‘Did he? You should be honoured. He ignores most of us.’ She scribbled her initials at the bottom of the piece of paper. ‘Right, we’ll pop over one evening and do your home check, and then you’ll be able to come and collect your kitten. Which one was it?’

‘It was … um …’ Anna had to think hard as both the kittens she’d liked had slipped from her mind and all that was there was a picture of Maurice. ‘Actually, could I have another look at them please?’

Sophie kissed Arlo’s forehead and smoothed his hair to one side. It was wayward like his father’s. ‘Night, sweetie. Straight to sleep now.’

‘I don’t see why I should when Petal is still up,’ said Arlo, folding his arms indignantly over his Star Wars pyjamas. ‘She’s younger than me!’

Tiredness had claimed most of Sophie’s body and it felt like she was sinking. Sophie sighed and adjusted the grumpy jiggling mass on her hip that was Petal. She’d forgotten how tired she got when she was pregnant. It went beyond the usual levels of yawning and looking forward to bedtime and was more a sensation closer to lapsing unconscious.

‘Sweetie, Petal’s going to bed now too. Night, night.’

‘But it’s not fair!’ he said, his bottom lip starting to quiver.

‘Sweetie, please, Mummy is tired. Please go to sleep.’

‘Everyone in my class stays up late. Why can’t I?’

I can’t have this conversation now, thought Sophie as Petal’s wriggling increased and was now accompanied by whining.

‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Night, night.’ She switched the light out and shut the door.

‘I don’t like the dark!’ shouted Arlo. Sophie closed her eyes, and tears tumbled silently down her cheeks. The clunk of the key in the lock announced that Dave was home.

‘Hiya,’ he called into the hall. Sophie briskly wiped away the tears, sniffed and headed downstairs.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ said Dave to Petal who reached out for him. ‘You should be in bed by now – it’s late.’

‘Give over, Dave. I’ve not stopped all day so please don’t walk in and start criticising my parenting.’

‘Hey, it wasn’t a criticism. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it for you.’

Sophie huffed. ‘But that’s the thing, you’re not doing it for me . These are your children too!’

‘Blimey, who’s upset you today?’ He headed upstairs with a happily dribbling Petal.

‘You,’ said Sophie, but he was out of earshot. ‘It’s always you.’

When Dave came back downstairs Sophie was plonking dinner on the table.

‘This looks great. I think I’ll have a glass of Merlot with it,’ said Dave, diverting to the wine rack. Sophie glared at him. She needed a glass of red wine far more than he did but she wasn’t allowed one – pregnancy was so unfair.

Dave merrily loaded his fork with spaghetti bolognaise and took a large swig of wine as he read an email on his phone. Sophie sipped her glass of water and stared at him. He’d hardly said anything since they’d sat down to eat aside from imparting that the irritating dry skin patch had returned to his elbow.

‘Dave, I want to go on holiday.’

‘Hmm.’ He eventually pulled his eyes away from his phone. ‘Maybe next year.’

‘Next year we’ll have three kids to contend with. That’s no holiday, plus it’ll cost more.’

That seemed to grab his attention. Dave loved to save money. ‘I guess we could take Arlo out of school, which would make it a lot cheaper. It’s a right rip-off that the travel companies hoik up the prices because of the school holidays.’ He shook his head.

‘Okay, great.’ This was a lot easier than she’d anticipated. Of late Dave seemed to be displaying many Scrooge-like qualities so this was a pleasant change. ‘I’m thinking somewhere in the Caribbean. Nothing too touristy but somewhere like Anguilla might be nice.’

‘We can’t afford … where was it again?’

‘Anguilla. Beyoncé and Richard Gere holiday there.’

‘Together?’ asked Dave, through a mouthful of spaghetti.

‘Don’t be daft. Or Bora Bora, that looked amazing on Keeping Up With The Kardashians .’