‘This isfunnyto you?’ I say, hiding a smile.
‘Sorry, sorry, it’s not funny. It’s only that I’ve never seen a cat engage in warfare quite like this before and the way you threw your entire body across the room, well, I’ve never seen any human airborne like that before either.’
Soon we both break into the kind of hysterical laughter that takes forever to get hold of. When we’re finally composed I say, ‘Was hesmiling? Or did the bump to the head do some real damage and I’m imagining that?’
‘It was a smile, but more of the maniacal kind.’
‘OK, that’s only slightly alarming,’ I say. Minou saunters over, casually as anything, and springs up on my lap, kneading the leg of my jeans as if we’re the best of friends. ‘Aww, this is the first time he’s sat on my lap.’
‘These are clearly just teething problems and he’s already learning that he’s safe here.’ Minou accepts a pat from Benoit. ‘But I’m not putting him in the backpack and risking him hating me.’
I grin. ‘Me neither. We’ll leave that contraption for Guillaume. Minou might be a cat but I think he categorises himself more as a human, and I can’t quite see him enjoying being bundled up in a cat backpack, and he would not suffer in indignity of such a thing!’
The turncoat moves from my lap to Benoit’s, resting his body on his chest and tucking his head into his neck. It’s adorable and gives me hope that Minou just might settle in as a house cat.
‘While you’re getting him off to sleep, shall I make apero?’ I ask.
Apero is usually taken in the space after work, the lull before dinner. It comprises a few drinks served with finger food and is a great excuse to catch up with friends without ruining your appetite for dinner. Most Parisians practise this tradition once a week or so. Any time is a good time for apero.
‘Apero sounds great. I’ve got a feeling I might be stuck here for a while.’ It’s hard not to soften at the sight of Minou sprawled across Benoit, trusting him implicitly when really he’s not the affectionate type, not like Marmalade who loves being rocked like a baby.
I’m still not convinced Minou will acclimatise to a domestic arrangement, but I hope he does.
I go to the kitchen and take some brie, a wedge of Roquefort and some grapes and pile them on to a platter. I realise too late that I don’t have a baguette, which is a crime in Paris when you’re serving cheese.
‘Benoit, I’m just going to theboulangerie on the corner for a baguette. Will you be all right for a few minutes with Minou?’ Part of me doesn’t trust the tabby terror won’t create a ruckus while I’m gone and then pretend nothing happened.
‘Oui. I’m not going to move a muscle, so he can rest.’
I take my purse and tiptoe out of the apartment, clicking the door softly closed.
At the boulangerie, I grab a baguette and a citron tart. It’s only when I’m almost back home that I question the fact I’ve left a virtual stranger inside my apartment. We’ve shared a few conversations across the hall and a last-minute dinner, but I don’t really know Benoit all that well. Still, what can he do? Notmuch while the cat has him pinned to the sofa. And he’s too sweet to be the type to snoop. It’s always at the back of my mind that Paris Cupid is a secret I don’t want known. All he’d have to do is lift my laptop lid and he’d see the homepage on the screen. While I trust him, I quicken my steps and tell myself it’s my worry about Minou that has me hurrying.
When I return, all my anxiety evaporates. They’re in the same spot, only now Benoit is also in the land of nod, his head lolling to the side, his mouth slightly parted. I drop the baguette and tart on the kitchen bench and then tiptoe close to the sleeping beauties and give Minou a gentle pat.
Benoit’s eyes spring open and I jump backwards. ‘Sorry, I was checking on Minou.’
He laughs. ‘That’s OK. His purring put me right to sleep and it doesn’t look like he’s going to move anytime soon.’
‘You’re stuck here for the foreseeable,’ I say. Minou is a totally different cat to the one the night before, but maybe exhaustion from his trauma has finally caught up with him and he can rest now he knows it’s safe here.
‘He’s drooling on me a little bit.’
I laugh. ‘And he hardly knows you. How rude.’ While Benoit is stuck as Minou sleeps, I pour two glasses of cool crisp Sancerre.
I hand Benoit a glass of wine as he awkwardly slides upright so as not to disturb the furry creature. Minou wrenches one eye open and then promptly closes it again.
‘Merci,’ Benoit says, taking a sip. ‘I didn’t expect the day to quite pan out like this. But I’m glad it has.’
‘Me too. Guillaume has sent me about a hundred texts asking how things are. After my frantic messages last night, I sense he doubts my cat parenting abilities.’
‘I’m sure he trusts you. It’s probably more that he’s in love and not thinking straight.’
What? How does Benoit know such a thing? ‘In love? Guillaume?’
He gives me a slow nod. ‘Oui. He joined that site, Paris Cupid.’
‘Oh, he might have mentioned that in passing. I wasn’t really paying much attention. What did he say about it?’
