The perpetual stare was a little unnerving, Cassie thought, while washing dishes and occasionally glancing into the garden. A tortoiseshell feline was sat on the wall and had been there throughout the day and probably all night, as it was in the same position when she came downstairs the previous evening to make coffee, all fixated like a miniature statue.

 

Weekends were best, no alarm clock and mum’s regular house call every Saturday morning for a quick chat on her way to the village. The event had become especially important ever since Cassie’s best friend, Sarah had passed away, unexpectedly.  The desire to go anywhere or do anything after work or otherwise had been slowly replaced by pyjama slumps and mindless TV pap.

“You really should get out more,” mum said.

“I just don’t have the motivation,” Cassie said, drowning in caffeine.

Mum soon changed the subject when she spotted cat through the kitchen window.

“Aw, look at you, so sweet,” mum said, cooing.

“Don’t know why the damned thing sits there,”

Mum was itching to open the door and invite the cat inside, but sensed Cassie’s disdain, all that spit and fur.  

 

Work was essential, but galling. Everyone wanted something unless you simply didn’t exist, the definition of countless shallow colleague connections.  There wasn’t a single modicum of Sarah’s natural engaging ability to coax out a few words, and just as Spring was to flowers, the recipient would gently unfold. Comparisons were futile anyways as Sarah had left this world and the only way was forward.

 

With a wry smile, Cassie breezed into the staff room with social interest in mind, seeking conversations about after work activities - a meet at the local, some birthday party invite, charity bash, anything. There were a few people sat on chairs, including Rose, who was rather dull, but approachable. 

“So, how are you?” Cassie said, chomping down on a cheese and pickle sandwich.

“Not bad actually, you busy?” Rose said.

“Steady,”

Cassie glanced up at the noticeboard where there was a flier, advertising some ‘get-together’ or a party for party’s sake – all welcome.

“Do you fancy it?” Cassie said, with a nudge.

“What’s that?”

“Graham’s bash,”

“I’ll think about it,”

The response was more about being polite than a desire to reciprocate.

 

The day continued with robotic motivation and a wanton desire for the clock to skip several hours. It was a relatively warm day, and so Cassie had caught the bus into work, mainly to save petrol, another transition that further stole her joy, pinching the purse strings for the sake of it.

 

Water was pooling the work surface, requiring a ton of kitchen roll to mop up the water. The kettle was old and needed replacing before the damp destroyed the electrics. Sarah used to love the retro style and matching toaster, as was the only reason Cassie didn’t want to replace them with workable and more sensible gadgets.  They used to share the house as well as décor ideas, and would clash regularly, often without compromise. Oh, for the chance to reconcile every single disagreement about furniture, wallpaper and things that simply didn’t matter.

 

Cat was in the usual place, fixated on the window, and barely moving or looking around in response to incidental noise.

“Sod this,” Cassie said, opening the door slightly.

She began preparing toast and beans for tea and took out a tin of tuna from the cupboard to feed the mini beast. It stayed put for a good while before climbing down towards the house, and then very slowly slunk inside. There was no sign of hunger or even mild curiosity to investigate unfamiliar territory. Instead, it just sat by the chair, staring out.

“Make yourself at home,” Cassie said.

 Eventually, cat ate the tuna and then rested on the rug by the fire, all cosy.  Cassie could only hope that she wouldn’t live to regret the decision, as she didn’t much care for all the perpetual fussing and stroking.

 

A clutter clear-out was long overdue despite Cassie’s lame excuses and guilt.  She lay out several open boxes and began the swift transference of Sarah’s endless fiction titles and vinyl records that were gathering dust beneath the shelves. Cat climbed down from the chair arm to mosey around the clutter and began pawing the surface of a particular book.

“So, why this one?” she said, reaching for the title. 

Sarah’s diary, a pen-driven legacy was chock full of paper remnants from past events, including tickets paper-clipped to the corresponding pages. Cassie didn’t have the heart to consign it to the trash even though it felt deceitful to read it.

 

Friday at the office came and went and Rose had said nothing further about the pub ‘do’ that was advertised on the staffroom noticeboard.  Surprisingly, Cassie had been half-looking forward to the possibility of getting out and about, which was a change for the better.

 

Letters lay randomly scattered on the doormat as Cassie opened the door. There was one addressed to Sarah, which was placed with the others on a shelf, somewhere. Cat glanced at Cassie as she sat down on the sofa, with no purr or signs of affection, though its presence was strangely becalming, a dopiness as if she’d been smoking Ganja.

“Best get you fed,” she said, dragging herself into the kitchen.

The last tin of tuna was tipped into cat’s makeshift bowl, or spare saucer, as was now the routine for one hungry feline.

 

Cassie chalked a reminder on the kitchen slate to get more fish, and noticed a free paper splayed open on the table, showing a penned circle around some charity shop ad on the high street, requesting bric-a-brac. This was Sarah at work for sure, ‘the queen of a no-throw-away policy’.

“How strange is this?” Cassie said to cat, who was dining.

 

That feeling when you wake with a desire to greet life with unabated enthusiasm, maybe plan a movie evening and cook a nice meal, Cassie thought, something to look forward to, after all, she was due a trip to the supermarket.

 

It had been expected that the jolly outlook would wear thin, but on it went, day after day where nothing was phasing or bothersome, just a minor inconvenience at worst.

 

Mum called as per the usual ritual and passed comment on how tidy and organised the place was.

“Wow - where has everything gone?” she said, referring to the tidy bookshelves, above and below.

“I can’t hold on to Sarah’s things forever. The charity shop will be grateful anyhow,”

“So glad you’ve finally managed to tackle it,”

Cat brushed past and leapt onto the windowsill.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Cassie said.

“Well, who can possibly resist such a beautiful creature,” mum said, about to stroke cat when it shot away and under the sofa.

“’the creature’ doesn’t like being touched, strangely enough,” Cassie said.

 

Instead of mindless garb, Cassie was indulging in some thought-provoking documentary while cat was pacing the lounge room floor.

“What is it?” she said.

Cat continued towards the door that led to the stairs and then looked back, as if to beckon her.  Intent on a response, cat then jumped up and onto the back of the sofa and started patting her hair.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Cassie said. “Come on then, show me,”

She followed cat as it led her up the stairs and into her bedroom.   “You know I don’t normally allow you in here,” she said.

Regardless, cat paw-pointed underneath the bed at what used to be Sarah’s side.  Cassie got down on all fours and started delving, and eventually found a chain entangled in dust and carpet fibres.

“Oh my god, how did you know?” she said, clutching Sarah’s gold heart pendant that went missing days before she died.

Cat sat beside Cassie for a while before leaving the room.

 

The documentary played out while Cassie sat, twiddling the necklace between her fingers. After a good hour, she went to make cocoa, all the while wondering where cat could be. She called out several times and shook the treats tin, but it never showed.

 

The shelf reorganisation was almost complete, apart from one solitary box tucked in the bottom corner, covered in cobwebs and a few old pennies for some weird reason. The lid was dented as if it had been used to prop the books that had since been removed. Cassie sat down on the chair beneath the window and prized it open to reveal several old photographs, many of Sarah.  It was a veritable sift through her childhood and one specific snapshot shook her to the bone. It was in  a garden and Sarah was sat with a tortoiseshell cat on her knee, exactly like the one who had occupied the house for several weeks. 

 

Once the spine shivers and memory replay had dissipated, Cassie walked around the house several times, peering behind doors and into confined spaces, looking for cat, even though there may be countless explanations as animals are elusive, right?

“Where are you?” she said.

Nothing.

 

Cassie was clueless and called mum for comfort, like a child who had lost teddy.

“Cat’s gone,” she said.

“Gone, where?”

“I don’t know, that’s just it.”

Cassie explained Sarah’s diary and the gold heart pendant and how cat had led her to both, trying to stay deadpan because the story sounded batshit weird. Next up was the photograph of Sarah holding what was presumed to be the family pet and totally identical to ‘cat’, in every sense.

“I’m seriously freaked out,” Cassie said.

“Maybe you could visit Sarah’s mother and take her some photographs, including that one,”

 

The following day, Cassie set out for Aldridge Road, half-guessing the number.  She hoped that being there would trigger her memory of the last visit when she attended for Sarah’s thirty second birthday party.  Butterflies were like batwings as she reached a garden bordered by white fencing and a willow tree in the centre.  Once outside the back door, Cassie rang the bell and waited.

Grace spoke through the wood before answering to guard against cold callers. 

“It’s Cassie, I have something for you,” 

 “How lovely to see you,” she said, inviting her inside. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Do you have coffee?”

“Of course, do take a seat,”

Grace wandered back in with two cups on a tray and a plate of biscuits.

“I found these when I was clearing some shelves the other day,” Cassie said, placing the box of photographs down on the table.

Grace drew breath as if to prepare for a ricochet of heartache.  Of course, they were all well-thumbed, but it’s not an everyday event to wade through momentary captions of life.  Finally, the snapshot of Sarah and cat appeared, and Grace stared fixatedly.

“Ah, yes - Sarah adored him,” she said.

“What was his name?” Cassie said.

“Speckle,” Grace said.

“Aw, that’s lovely,” Cassie said.

“He was almost twenty years when he died, not long after Sarah moved to university halls,”

To keep the conversation flowing, Cassie blagged on about wanting a cat, mourning the one that had disappeared without trace.

“They make such good companions, and he had this thing where he would always sit on the back of the sofa and tap your hair with his paws,”

Cassie damned near choked on the caffeine, realising it was beyond a coincidence. 

She thought it best not to decry Grace’s hospitality by revealing the real reason for the impromptu call and instead, left the box of photographs and went on her way.

 

Sarah had showed for a reason, to encourage Cassie to tie up loose ends and solve the missing necklace mystery.

“Thank you,” Cassie said, smiling.