The Moon Spun Round Read Free Page B

break, that’s all. We’re going to love this weekend, if Jonathan ever turns up.’
    ‘At least you’ve got the cat, wherever it is. I’m sure it didn’t go out when I came in.’
    ‘It seems to appear from nowhere, then vanish again.’
    ‘No doubt it will turn up. Anyway, I must get going.’ Abbie drained the last of her tea and carried her mug over to the draining board. ‘George will want his dinner. Wouldn’t like to join us for a meal, would you?’
    ‘That’s really kind of you, but no thanks. I’ve gone and bought all this food and, besides, I could do with an early night’
    ‘Well, if you’re sure. We’re only at the corner of the lane. Ring if you change your mind, or if there are any other problems. Number’s on the leaflet—there should be a pile of them next to your phone. I tell you what, why don’t you both come over Sunday morning for pre-lunch drinks? George and Jonathan can talk man stuff and I’ll introduce you to the horses.’
    ‘As long as they don’t bite.’
    ‘No, they don’t. And neither does George.’
    ‘Can’t vouch for Jonathan.’

    By now it’s dark outside. A thin mist drifts off the fields, but the house is warm and cosy. It feels good to have time on her own; she’s not missing Jonathan nearly as much as she thought she would. The isolation doesn’t bother her. She feels safe here, enfolded, the treacherous streets of the city a million miles away.
    The cat is nowhere to be seen. She had searched the cottage with the intention of evicting it, at least for the night. At first she felt relieved. Then, unpacking her suitcase, she felt strangely sad that it had gone. Perhaps it would find its own way back in again. Still glowing from a hot bath, Sally now realizes she’s hungry. Wrapping herself in a dressing gown, she heads for the kitchen to make a tuna sandwich. Scrabbling through drawers for a tin opener, she hears a familiar throbbing drone.
    ‘Look, we can’t go on meeting like this. My husband’s bound to notice.’ As soon as she says the words, she wishes she could bite them back. The wound is too raw for her to be making jokes about marital infidelity. But she’s reminded that Jonathan will be here in the morning, and he certainly won’t tolerate a cat in the house. Dad was right: she should never have encouraged it in the first place. The creature stops purring and lays its ears back in a scowl.
    ‘All right, then, you can stay the night, but this is your last taste of high living. Tomorrow, you go.’ She spoons half the fish onto a plate. The cat rubs its side along Sally’s leg in appreciation, executing a deft about-turn to repeat the action in the other direction. Then it sets about eating, fastidiously picking out small pieces and licking its mouth between bites, as if accustomed to such luxuries. Sally watches it between glances at the window and the darkened garden beyond, only half attending to the construction of her own sandwich. As she picks up the empty fish tin, the cat leaps up, landing heavily on the worktop beside her. Sally jumps back with a scream and the tin clatters to the floor.
    ‘Oh hell! Now look what you made me do.’ Blood oozes thickly from a deep cut inflicted by the jagged lid. She squeezes her finger, forcing the blood to run freely. A shower of bright red spots spatters the worktop.
    The cat moves nearer, uttering a concerned chirrup. Its whiskers twitch and it reaches forward, nose searching out the wound. Sally looks up to meet the cat’s gaze. Those eyes again, those incredible yellow eyes. Heavy droning fills her ears, smothering all other sensations—the colour red, the smell of blood—soothing her thoughts away to nothingness. Light-headed, she feels the room tilt and sway. Sees the pink tongue gently licking, licking, licking…
    A surge of revulsion drags her to her senses and she snatches her hand back. ‘Get away! You disgusting animal, get away from me.’ As the cat leaps for the floor, Sally’s