‘I guess you didn’t so much have to think about the options when you were not looking?’she offers.
‘Something like that.I mean, I knew.And Laurel knew to some extent.The first new person I told last year was Haf, and since then I’ve been trying to feel comfortable in it.And with, like,the communityin general, I was never brave enough to join any societies at university or anything.What I’m saying is ...it means a lot to me that you saw me that way, before I was even brave enough to say it.’
‘Oh God, now I’m gone,’ laughs Shaz through a sea of instant snotty tears.She grabs him back into a huge cuddle, all laughter and love and joy.
As they break apart, he spies Nash sitting with the townies, regaling them with stories.All these brilliant people together.He couldn’t be luckier.
‘Christopher,’ Shaz interrupts his moment suddenly.‘I don’t want to alarm you, but there appears to be a cat eating your ham.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Christopher
‘What on earth am I going to do with him?’The cat sits in Christopher’s lap enjoying a chin tickle and the last bits of ham.
The cat, which seemed to have an alarmingly strong preference for pork-based products, had clearly decided that actually it didn’t mind if Christopher picked it up, provided there remained steady access to said food.They would have had to throw away all the bits the cat had been chomping on otherwise, just for safety’s sake, and so it seemed a waste to not let it eat, even if Christopher was pretty sure Coca-Cola-baked ham isn’t on a cat’s dietary plan.The poor creature still looked as skinny as the last few times he’d seen it.
After a possibly worrying amount of salt for one small cat, it had attached its claws into his woollen jumper as if to saycongratulations you are in charge of me now.
No one had recognised the cat, and after Shaz’s scroll through the various Facebook group posts for missing pets, everyone resolved that it probably was a stray that had survived kittenhood, especially due to its nose for meat.
And so, it made sense for him to just bring the cat upstairs with them.
‘I don’t think you have much of a choice.’Nash touches the cat’s little pink nose with the tip of his finger.As if on cue, sensing the most perfect moment to really seal the deal and ensure a home for life, the cat begins to purr.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Have you not heard of the oldcats pick their owners thing?Or the universal cat distribution system?’
‘The what?’
‘You know, how some people just find a cat somewhere and then that cat won’t belong to anyone and so they then own a cat.’
‘Is this an LA thing?’
‘It’s aneverywherething!Plus, I think he’s pretty set on living here.’
The cat chirrups in agreement.
‘I have to check it’s ...they’re not microchipped first.’
That’s the responsible thing to do, after all.Though if this cat does belong to someone, how did they end up in this malnourished state?Christopher dreads to think about it.
Once all the guests had been picked up by various transport methods, everyone remaining had insisted Christopher and Nash go upstairs with the cat for an early night.There was still cleaning and tidying to do, even after everything had been loaded into the industrial dishwasher.But still, they’d been sent away.
Tegan’s photo documentation of whose dishes and plates and condiments belonged to who turned out to be really handy, and a plan was drawn up to drop them round to everyone tomorrow.
At first he’d felt a little strange leaving people in his kitchen alone, but he’s so bone-tired that he doesn’t have anything left in him to protest.
Plus, it’s quite nice being up here on the sofa with Nash and the cat.
‘It’s kind of incredible that in the last two days you’ve gone from zero animals to two, like you’re Doctor Doolittle or something,’ Nash says.
‘He just spoke to animals.I don’t think he amassed them.And can’t I just be me?’The cat stands, stretches and promptly curls itself into a neat little croissant on Christopher’s lap.
‘No.’
‘Fine.Anyway, why are you so sure it’s a he?”
