Tinsel and Terriers

‘Are you cold?’ There was an edge to his voice, but Cat could also hear disappointment in it. She’d managed to disappoint so many people recently, in one way or another, but she hadn’t imagined it could happen with Mark.

‘No, I’m fine, thanks. Come and sit down.’ She patted the sofa next to her.

Mark hesitated, as if there was a delay between the words leaving her mouth and reaching him, but then he joined her. Cat was conscious of the gap between them: hands, knees not touching.

‘I wanted to explain what happened, in the van.’

Mark nodded. ‘Go on. I’m all ears.’

‘Right.’ She swallowed. Chips was lying on the floor under the window, and she wished she could bury her head in the collie’s warm fur. ‘What you saw – nothing happened. Nothing was happening, nothing was going to happen. Joe wanted to talk to me because…I’m not there any more. At number nine. I’m always here.’

‘So he has to pick the moment you’re naked to come and find you?’ Mark asked sharply.

‘No, of course not. That was a mistake. He just wanted to talk to me about something.’

‘What?’ Mark clasped his hands in front of him, his elbows on his knees. Cat was struck all over again by how handsome he was, with his dark, messy hair, his strong jawline. But without his usual charm, without the light of amusement in his eyes, he was a different person. An image of Joe, looking at her with real compassion, flashed in Cat’s mind and she pushed it aside.

This was the hard part. Cat didn’t want to lie and she knew she’d done nothing wrong, but the truth about Joe’s cartoon wasn’t going to reassure him.

She ran her finger along her jeans. ‘He’s had a job offer, a new project, for the local paper. It’s a cartoon strip, and he – he wanted to use an idea that sort of relates to me.’

‘Relates to you? What does that mean?’

Cat looked at the floor. ‘His idea is a character called Curiosity Kitten. It’s this kitten who gets into all kinds of scrapes because she’s curious.’ She thought back to the sketches she’d seen. ‘Like opening a box with something dangerous inside, trying to see into a window and falling off her makeshift ladder, that kind of thing.’

‘And that’s you because…?’

‘Because I’m curious, Mark. I do stupid things like that. Sometimes they work, like with Frankie and her attic room, and sometimes, like seeing what would happen if I took a puppy into a nursery, they backfire spectacularly.’

‘So what you’re saying,’ Mark said, shifting round to face her more directly, his knee brushing hers, ‘Is that Joe’s drawing a cartoon that takes the piss out of you? And hedidn’t think you’d have a problem with that?’ He laughed. ‘Is he for real?’

Cat shrugged, sensing that he was on the verge of thawing. Of course that was what she wanted, but she had never intended to make Joe out to be the bad guy. ‘He wanted to make sure I was OK with it,’ she said. ‘I was put out to begin with, but is it really so bad being the subject of someone’s work? Don’t you put people you know in your films?’

Mark shook his head, dismissing her change of subject. ‘That’s what he wanted to talk to you about? In the back of the van, both of you half naked?’ He caught her eye and Cat felt her cheeks colour, but annoyance flashed through her – why was he making this so difficult?

‘That was unintentional. I was getting changed, and he was – he’d just finished surfing.’

‘Oh yes,’ Mark said bitterly, ‘the star surfer.’

‘Mark, come on—’

‘Come on?’ he shot back. ‘I open that door to find you and your housemate Joe, who, by the way, is clearly besotted with you, standing inches apart, skin on show, and you expect me to believe it was a chat? Why did he need to talk to you right then? Was it just inspiration he wanted from you, or more? Or maybe you’d agreed to meet him there so you could debrief each other.’

‘Of course not,’ Cat said, her voice rising. ‘Joe wanted to talk to me, and it was just the wrong time. It was so the wrong time.’ She risked reaching out and taking his hand. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t slide his fingers between hers either. ‘Nothing has ever happened between me and Joe. I want to be with you. Hasn’t the last month proved that?’

Mark looked out of the window, his dark brows knitting together. ‘It was humiliating, Cat, finding you like that. I know you’ve always been close to him—’

‘He’s my housemate.’

‘And it caught me off guard. Surely you can see why it would upset me?’ He turned back to her, squeezing her hand.

Cat felt a momentary resistance before squeezing back. She was relieved the confrontation was over, but it wasn’t the thunderbolt she’d been hoping for, a jolt of contentment that told her she was making the right decision, that this was where she was meant to be. ‘Of course I can,’ she said, ‘and I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding – of course I can see how it looked – but Joe and I are just friends. I love spending time with you and Chips. We’ve only just started getting to know each other, and I don’t want it to end now.’ She risked moving closer to him, and she could see a flicker of the old Mark in his eyes.

‘I don’t either.’ He pulled her towards him, wrapping her in his arms. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Cat. I’ve lost – I just…don’t want to lose you. Stay here tonight.’ Mark pushed her back to arm’s length and gave her his warmest smile. ‘Don’t go home.’ He ran his hand down the side of her face, cupped her chin and kissed her.

Cat responded to his touch, telling herself she’d made the right decision and she was lucky that Mark had understood. He was sexy, charming, fun to be with and forgiving.

But her conversation with Joe was unfinished and she couldn’t stop it playing on her mind. Ignoring everything else that had happened, they were good friends, and she couldn’t leave things as they were. She should be mad at him – he had cornered her in the van, forced her into a position where she had to make this apology to Mark – but all she could think was that she didn’t want to give up on their friendship. She needed to clear the air. She’d do it first thing tomorrow.

Cat unlocked the front door and stood at the foot of the stairs, listening. It was the day after the protest, the first of October, and Cat had no idea how late the beach barbecue had gone on the night before. She knew Polly was working today, and she hoped she’d have the chance to speak to Joe alone.

‘Hello?’ she called.

She was met by silence. Not even Shed, Joe’s large ginger cat, came slinking out of the living room.

She climbed the stairs and went into her room, throwing her coat onto the bed. Her gaze fell on her dressing table and the ‘Bitchin’ Walks’ cartoon Joe had drawn for her when she was trying to come up with names for Pooch Promenade all those months ago.

Walking over to it, she traced the cartoon dog with her finger, thought again of him so close to her, the way her anger had dissolved, replaced by feelings she didn’t want to admit to. How she had hung onto his next words.

She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, and was jolted back to reality by a loud bang outside her door, followed by footsteps. Peering out onto the landing, she saw a large black suitcase sitting at the bottom of the stairs that led to Joe’s attic bedroom. She lifted it. It was heavy.

She heard someone moving about downstairs, quiet swearing. She followed the sounds and stood in the living-room doorway, watching as Joe rifled through papers on the dining table, a red hoody flung over his shoulder, arms strong and tanned against his white T-shirt. She inhaled and Joe turned, his eyes widening as he saw her.

‘Cat.’ He cleared his throat.

‘Hi.’

‘I wasn’t expecting you back.’

‘I do still live here,’ she said softly.

‘I know,’ Joe said, ‘but I thought after yesterday you’d be staying with him. I’m sorry if I made things hard for you. I should have thought about how it might look.’

‘I did have a bit of explaining to do,’ Cat said. ‘It wasn’t my finest hour, or my happiest.’

Joe sighed. ‘I’m so sorry. But he’s OK? Mark, I mean?’

Cat nodded, her lips pressed together. She saw that Joe was holding his passport. ‘You’re going abroad? I saw the suitcase.’

‘There’s this course, in Portland. Illustration, graphic design, the whole shebang. I’ve wanted to do it for ages, but it’s always oversubscribed. I’ve been on a waiting list.’

‘And a space has miraculously become available right now?’ She said it quietly but was shocked by the cynicism in her own voice.

‘I found out a couple of weeks ago.’ He left space for her to complete the sentence. And you weren’t here to tell.

‘Right, wow. Congratulations. How long’s the course?’

‘It’s three weeks, but I might take some time…I’ve always wanted to go to that part of America, so I’ll probably travel down the coast, visit San Francisco.’