A Home for Shimmer (3 page)

‘No. We don’t say “quaint”, we say “paint” – and the whole house needs loads, as well as a whole refurb from top to toe,’ I said.

‘I like it,’ said Caitlin. ‘It’s got a lot of oldie-worldie character.’

I showed Caitlin upstairs and she followed me around commenting here and there as we went from room to room. ‘And vot are the neighbours like?’ she asked in her unidentifiable foreign accent that kept going from Russian to Indian.

‘Ah, the neighbours. They cluck a lot and lay eggs, apart from that, they’re no trouble,’ I said as we went downstairs and I led her outside to the side of the house to the extension that served as Dad’s clinic.

Caitlin let out a big puff of air. ‘Look, it’s so cold I can see my breath.’

‘I know. I don’t remember it ever being this cold in Bristol,’ I said.

‘Is that why the previous owner sold up – too cold for him?’

‘No . . . um . . . he died – which is why the practice came up for sale. Dad used to work in a centre where there were three vets but here, it’s just him.’ We peeked in the windows of the clinic but there was nothing much to see – Dad’s office, a small waiting area with loads of posters on the wall and to the back, a room where he treated the animals. Like the house, it was run-down-looking, in need of decorating and some new furniture.

‘He hasn’t had a lot of work since he got here,’ I said. ‘Mrs Watson told him that’s because he’s an outsider. She said it will take time to earn the locals’ trust, and that her husband was born and went to school here so everyone knew him.’

‘She doesn’t sound very friendly,’ said Caitlin. ‘Though my dad’s found the same, I think. He said it takes a while for people here to let you in and that starting a new business takes time.’

In the fields in the distance, we could see our dads chatting away. Josh was still with them. ‘Maybe our dads can be friends.’

Caitlin turned to look. ‘Looks like they are already. Cool.’

‘They’re doing the fence pointing dance,’ I said as we watched them take turns in pointing at things. ‘Dad and Josh are always doing it these days. One points, one turns, another points.’

Caitlin made up a version of the dance. Point, turn, point – then she added a knee bend, which of course I copied. ‘Looks like they’re getting on though,’ she said. ‘So where to next, Mrs Estate Agent?’

‘Er . . . next I’ll show you the holiday homes,’ I said and led Caitlin towards the stables.

Caitlin looked impressed. ‘Seriously? You have holiday homes?’

I laughed. ‘We do, mainly for small insects. Wait till you see them. Holiday homes for mice and spiders.’

Caitlin pulled back. ‘Uck. Spiders. I don’t do spiders.’

I went close to her and made my fingers walk up lightly up her arm and her neck. She shrieked and ran off. ‘Madame Belle Femme doesn’t like creepy-crawlies.’

I laughed. ‘There’s a sort of tea shop in one of the barns. Want to look? Mrs Watson comes and opens it up on weekdays. She lives in a cottage at the end of the lane now but still sees this place as her territory.’

‘Only if there are no spiders,’ she replied.

‘No. Only bats in there.’

Caitlin pulled back again. I could see she was going to be easy to wind up. When she realised I was joking, she started to mock strangle me. ‘You are ze crazee estate agent. I will have to keel you because I am not really a buyer, I am ze deadly assassin.’

I freed myself from her and began to run towards the front of the house with Caitlin chasing and doing karate chops after me. Both of us stopped because we could see a battered car (red) coming up the lane from the main road. It drew up outside the front door and an anxious-looking white-haired old lady carrying a cat basket got out.

I went over to her. ‘Can I help you?’ I asked.

The lady looked down at the basket. ‘I’m Mrs Edwards from down the road. You can call me Lily. I’ve this cat here.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Have you come for my dad? He’s the vet. I’m afraid his clinic is closed this morning but he’ll be open again on Monday.’

While we were talking, Caitlin knelt down to look at the cat. It was black with a white bib and had enormous gold eyes. ‘Hello puss,’ she said as the cat poked a paw through the wire of the basket’s door. The cat meowed in response to Caitlin. ‘Oh I think it’s trying to talk to me. What’s its name?’

The cat meowed again, which made Caitlin laugh. ‘It’s trying to tell me its name. Is it a girl or a boy?’

Dad, Mr O’Neill and Josh appeared round the corner and came over to see what was happening.

Lily shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Don’t know if it’s a he or a she or what its name is. Just I can’t look after it. I know that. It came to my back door and won’t go away, but I have cats, see. I got three of my own. Can’t have no more. I was told that this is an animal shelter and I could leave it here.’

Dad bent over, opened the basket and picked the cat up. He took a quick look at it. ‘It’s a she,’ he said.

‘Ooh. Can I hold her?’ asked Caitlin.

Dad nodded and Caitlin gently took the cat from him. It nuzzled into her jacket straight away and started purring. As Caitlin stroked its head, she looked like she was going to purr too.

‘So can I leave her here?’ asked the lady.

‘Oh no, we’re not an animal centre . . .’ I began as Caitlin put the cat back in the basket, which she didn’t seem to like. When Caitlin closed the basket door, she complained loudly and poked her paw through again.

Dad bent over to look at the cat again and she meowed at him as well.

‘She’s really trying to tell us something,’ said Caitlin.

‘Probably that she doesn’t like being in the basket,’ said Dad. ‘Few cats do.’

‘Can I leave her with you?’ asked Lily. ‘I have to get back, see. My son’s coming for his lunch with his kiddies.’

‘How do you come to have her?’ asked Dad.

‘She kept coming to my door. She was clearly starving so I fed her a few times. Wolfed the food down. She had no collar on so I’ve no idea where she’s from. I heard that there was a shelter here. Could you find her a home? Seems a sweet creature.’

‘Oh no, we’re not a shelter. I’m a vet. I see sick animals,’ said Dad.

Lily’s eyes watered and she looked like she was going to cry. ‘But I can’t keep her.’

‘Have you put up lost cat notices?’ asked Dad. ‘She might be a cat new to the area who’s got lost, or could belong to a neighbour who’s got a dog or a new baby. Cats often leave home in circumstances like that. They don’t like change.’

‘I haven’t got time to put notices up! I did what I could. I’ve fed her and left water outside. I am an animal lover, but she wants to come in and my old cats wouldn’t have that. It’s not fair to them.’

Dad could see that she was getting upset. He put his hand on her arm. ‘Of course you’re an animal lover. You’ve done your bit. I wasn’t doubting that.’

‘So can you take care of her? I don’t like to think of her out there in this weather, hungry and cold.’

‘Me neither,’ said Dad. ‘Now don’t you worry yourself any more. Let me take your details and then the first thing we can do is to see if anyone local has lost her.’

‘I can do that,’ said Josh. ‘I could put up notices on trees and lampposts in the village and—’

‘And I could help,’ interrupted Caitlin. She gave me a quick look. I knew her volunteering wasn’t so much through love of animals as wanting to get to know Josh better. Hmmmph.

Josh didn’t notice. ‘That would be great, thanks. Come on, we’ll get started straight away.’ And off they went towards the house leaving me outside.
Hey
, I wanted to call after them.
Caitlin’s my new friend, not yours, Josh
.

In the meantime, Dad had taken down Lily’s contact details and soon she was on her way back down the lane.

‘So what are you going to do with her?’ asked Mr O’Neill.

Dad looked down at the basket and the cat looked up and meowed at him, as if asking the same question. Dad chuckled. ‘You are one talkative cat.’

‘We can’t have her in the house,’ I said. ‘Ginger would go mental.’

‘I know,’ Dad agreed. ‘But we have to put her somewhere.’

The cat was meowing non-stop. I leaned over and picked it up. ‘Shh, we’ll look after you. No need to cry.’ It stopped immediately and wasn’t frightened at all. It seemed to sense that I would be kind to it. It started purring and nuzzled my cheek. I glanced up at the window to check that Ginger wasn’t looking out, in case he got jealous, and there he was on my bedroom windowsill, giving me a filthy look. I quickly put the black-and-white cat back in its basket and once again she let out a loud cry of objection.

‘Why don’t you put her in one of the stables?’ Mr O’Neill suggested. ‘At least she could run around in there a bit and be out of the horrible weather.’

‘She’ll be lonely!’ I said.

Good idea, Mike,’ said Dad. ‘‘Don’t worry, Amy, we’ll look in on her. Let’s go and make her comfortable, then I’ll make us both a cup of coffee.’ He looked at me. ‘Actually you’re not doing anything are you, Amy? Make us a cup of coffee, will you?’

And off they went towards the stables, leaving me standing there alone in the yard. Abandoned by Caitlin, treated like a servant by my dad. I looked up at the house and saw that Ginger was still on the windowsill in my bedroom. He put both paws up to the window as if he wanted to biff them open and, when that didn’t work, he sat back looking very cross.

‘Exactly how I feel,’ I said and stomped in to see what Caitlin and Josh were doing ‘Just call me Cinderella,’ I said to no one in particular, as I put the kettle on. ‘Everybody’s servant.’

Chapter Three

Horse Poo City

‘We’ve no cushion of cash to fall back on,’ I heard Mum say.

‘I know, love,’ Dad replied in his weary voice.