driveway, well-hidden from any prying eyes.
‘ This
should be a piece of cake’, he thought. ‘ Everyone in town knows that spoiled rotten cat comes and
goes whenever he wants. Just wait until he comes out, pop him into the bag and
be gone, with no-one the wiser. Dumb animal won’t know
what hit him. Piece o’cake! ’
Chapter 11
Chris awoke the next morning with
the very pleasant sensation of something wonderful having happened, and it was
a glorious two minutes before complete remembrance came flooding back and he
burrowed back into the comfort of his pillows, cursing the day he’d first laid
eyes on a large orange cat with a crooked ear and a girl with a mean right
hook.
The weather did little to lift his spirits as he drove to the office. Chill and damp,
with thick black clouds billowing overhead, it mirrored the great, black slough
of despair he was drowning in.
And the day seemed endless.
Usually when he had a problem, Chris could lose himself in work, but not that
day. The nagging thought of the Dunbars and their problems constantly intruded
with scenes from the previous night’s fiasco flashing relentlessly before his
eyes. Finally, he gave up all attempts at other work and turned his full
attention to the core of the problem - Alice Dunbar.
Taking a sheet of paper, he
listed all the things that were making her life and, consequently, everyone
else’s life miserable.
1. The
cat.
That went without saying.
2. Her
lack of a social life.
He didn’t see what he could
possibly do about that.
3. The
state of the house with its nineteenth century decor and its nineteenth century
comfort, or, rather, lack thereof.
He had unpleasant memories of
that himself.
4. Having
to care for that large house with only Alicia for help.
He couldn’t blame her for
that. He had enough trouble keeping his flat clean. Just recently he’d had to
resort to employing a weekly cleaning woman.
A cleaning
woman? Well, why not? There was nothing in the will that forbade it and Mrs.
Dunbar had said he was to use his own judgment. What had Alice said about the
staff when Robert Dunbar was living – ‘a cook, housekeeper, maid and gardener
on full-time staff’? That would be out of the question today. But just maybe
...
After giving the idea more
thought and rechecking the provisions of the will, Chris called James at the
factory, not daring to approach Alice just yet, and made arrangements to pay a
visit after dinner that evening, promising to explain why when they were all
together.
* * *
By seven o’clock that evening it
was pouring with rain. James let him in, and hustled
his raincoat and umbrella into the kitchen to dry. When he returned they joined
the ladies in the library where they were sitting before a crackling fire. It
was the coziest room in the house and Chris appreciated the warmth and cheerful
chatter of the fire. Marmalade, he learned, was shut in the kitchen for the time-being, and since the night was no more fit for beast
than man, was snoozing peacefully in his bed by the radiator.
Alice greeted him with a curt, “Good
evening, Mr. Mallory,” her expression grim. James pulled up two more chairs,
and Chris sank gratefully into its over-stuffed splendor. James had been wise
in making this room his domain. It was the most comfortable one in the house as
far as Chris could tell.
“I’m grateful that you were
willing to see me this evening, and I want you to know how truly sorry I am
about what happened yesterday. I hope you understand that I was sharp with you
only because I wanted to stop you from doing something you’d later regret.” He
could see Alice was thawing a little and so rushed on to press his advantage. “I
know that it must be very difficult for you, taking care of this house
yourself, looking after your family, and now the cat, and doing
all the cooking. It’s remarkable that you manage so well, but I know that it
doesn’t leave you a great deal of time for yourself to pursue
‘ This
should be a piece of cake’, he thought. ‘ Everyone in town knows that spoiled rotten cat comes and
goes whenever he wants. Just wait until he comes out, pop him into the bag and
be gone, with no-one the wiser. Dumb animal won’t know
what hit him. Piece o’cake! ’
Chapter 11
Chris awoke the next morning with
the very pleasant sensation of something wonderful having happened, and it was
a glorious two minutes before complete remembrance came flooding back and he
burrowed back into the comfort of his pillows, cursing the day he’d first laid
eyes on a large orange cat with a crooked ear and a girl with a mean right
hook.
The weather did little to lift his spirits as he drove to the office. Chill and damp,
with thick black clouds billowing overhead, it mirrored the great, black slough
of despair he was drowning in.
And the day seemed endless.
Usually when he had a problem, Chris could lose himself in work, but not that
day. The nagging thought of the Dunbars and their problems constantly intruded
with scenes from the previous night’s fiasco flashing relentlessly before his
eyes. Finally, he gave up all attempts at other work and turned his full
attention to the core of the problem - Alice Dunbar.
Taking a sheet of paper, he
listed all the things that were making her life and, consequently, everyone
else’s life miserable.
1. The
cat.
That went without saying.
2. Her
lack of a social life.
He didn’t see what he could
possibly do about that.
3. The
state of the house with its nineteenth century decor and its nineteenth century
comfort, or, rather, lack thereof.
He had unpleasant memories of
that himself.
4. Having
to care for that large house with only Alicia for help.
He couldn’t blame her for
that. He had enough trouble keeping his flat clean. Just recently he’d had to
resort to employing a weekly cleaning woman.
A cleaning
woman? Well, why not? There was nothing in the will that forbade it and Mrs.
Dunbar had said he was to use his own judgment. What had Alice said about the
staff when Robert Dunbar was living – ‘a cook, housekeeper, maid and gardener
on full-time staff’? That would be out of the question today. But just maybe
...
After giving the idea more
thought and rechecking the provisions of the will, Chris called James at the
factory, not daring to approach Alice just yet, and made arrangements to pay a
visit after dinner that evening, promising to explain why when they were all
together.
* * *
By seven o’clock that evening it
was pouring with rain. James let him in, and hustled
his raincoat and umbrella into the kitchen to dry. When he returned they joined
the ladies in the library where they were sitting before a crackling fire. It
was the coziest room in the house and Chris appreciated the warmth and cheerful
chatter of the fire. Marmalade, he learned, was shut in the kitchen for the time-being, and since the night was no more fit for beast
than man, was snoozing peacefully in his bed by the radiator.
Alice greeted him with a curt, “Good
evening, Mr. Mallory,” her expression grim. James pulled up two more chairs,
and Chris sank gratefully into its over-stuffed splendor. James had been wise
in making this room his domain. It was the most comfortable one in the house as
far as Chris could tell.
“I’m grateful that you were
willing to see me this evening, and I want you to know how truly sorry I am
about what happened yesterday. I hope you understand that I was sharp with you
only because I wanted to stop you from doing something you’d later regret.” He
could see Alice was thawing a little and so rushed on to press his advantage. “I
know that it must be very difficult for you, taking care of this house
yourself, looking after your family, and now the cat, and doing
all the cooking. It’s remarkable that you manage so well, but I know that it
doesn’t leave you a great deal of time for yourself to pursue
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