One to Six, Buckle to Sticks (Grasshopper Lawns Book 11) Read online

  ‘Aye. He’s no kitten, rising ten at least. Susan always reckoned he was more like a dog than a cat. He’s very particular about people and he’s obviously adopted you, so if you’re prepared to go along with that – I did bring his old harness out of the garage. It was covered with dust; fair to say it hasn’t been touched in a good few months. If you can’t take him I’ll have to, so either way it’ll be used.’ He passed a black harness and lead through the window and she took it automatically.

  ‘He walks on a lead?’ she was genuinely impressed, and Iain smiled wanly.

  ‘I did say more dog than cat!’

  ~~~

  Mortimer, it seemed, was used to traveling in a car, and maintained his musing pose all the way back to the Lawns. Once she’d parked her car in the private road, choosing proximity to her front door rather than the shaded off-road parking she usually used, she fumbled through putting on the harness in case he got away from her, then lifted him out, tucked him inexpertly under her arm, and let herself back into her apartment before putting him on the floor. He sniffed the dog bed, which she kept for canine visitors, with marked disdain, then sprang lightly, despite the trailing harness, to the deep window ledge and settled approvingly.

  Leaving him with a saucer heaped with tinned tuna, and another of water – both graciously accepted – and an old copy of the Chronicle spread on the floor, she walked purposefully across the road to the campsite shop. Harry and his wife, it turned out, kept cats, and he was sympathetic and helpful.

  ‘I’ll gie you a cardboard lid for now. We dinnae keep litter trays in stock, but that’ll gie you time to get to the supermarket. We do stock cat litter – did you walk across? Take the lightest yin then, but you’ll want to buy this brand once you’ve got the car.’ He helpfully wrote a name down on the back of a torn envelope. ‘We carry that here, but it’s heavy, ken? And cat food. Is he a big yin? Och, I’ll sell you some mixed pouches for now. Dinna worry about bowls straight away, they prefer to eat out of glass or china anyway. What you do is try him on different types of food. Cats is very particular. Of course, when you find what he likes, and buy it in bulk, he won’t eat it any more.’

  He laughed at her expression and his wife turned from packing shelves to nod in smiling agreement. ‘They’re wee buggers for turning their noses up at food,’ she told Edge. ‘You only need to really worry if they’re not touching their water. Oh, and don’t give him milk. Cats like it, but it’s too rich, goes straight through them. We’ve got some nice cat toys, just a small range, but oor cats love them.’

  ‘He’s ten!’ Edge protested, but politely added a catnip mouse on a length of elastic to her purchases, more to thank them for their help than in any expectation Mortimer would be interested. The walk back, with the unwieldy box lid and pouches in one carrier bag and the not-very-light-after-all litter in another, seemed a lot further than the walk across.

  To her complete amazement Mortimer was electrified when she produced the mouse, snatching it from her fingers and leaping back to the window seat where he alternately growled and crooned over the toy. She tugged the looped end of the cord and they had a dizzying ten minutes of play before he broke the elastic and triumphantly carried his trophy back to the window seat. Cats, it was obvious, were completely unlike dogs, and more research was necessary. After creating crude toilet facilities in the bathroom with the lid and the cat litter, she headed slightly wearily down to the house.

  The library in the main house was impressively comprehensive. Most of the books were novels in large print, but the reference section was more mainstream and included two books about cats. One, The Unadultered Cat by Terry Pratchett, looked more comic than reference, but the other, a slim one entitled The Healthy House Cat, looked just the job and she logged them both out in the register, along with a new Christopher Brookmyre for herself.

  ‘Did you find what you needed?’ Megan, the front desk manager, smiled at her as she emerged back into the big hall, and Edge helpfully showed her the books she’d chosen.

  ‘A cat? Och, Edge, with all these dogs?’

  ‘There are cats,’ Edge said defensively. ‘I’ve seen them on window seats. Anyway, it’s a short term thing.’

  ‘I’m absolutely sure it will be fine,’ Megan said reassuringly and Edge walked back to her apartment, not at all reassured. The Lawns had a fairly conventional policy on domestic pets, but she couldn’t remember the exact terms. Mortimer greeted her by opening one eye, and started to lazily groom a paw as she put the kettle on.

  ~~~

  As though the kettle had been a signal, there was a tap at the door and she opened it to Vivian, resplendent in a hideous purple and black tracksuit, and her elderly Labrador Buster. Buster beamed up at her, pushed past to go to the dog bed she kept for him and any other visiting dogs, and stopped dead at the sight of Mortimer. Mortimer continued to wash his paw and Buster, intrigued, went over to sniff at the peculiar dog. Lounging cat was replaced instantly by puffed-up angular cat and the dog stopped in his tracks. After a frozen moment he turned away and climbed sulkily into the dog bed, his back pointedly turned. Mortimer melted back into languid pose, although keeping one eye on the intruder.

  ‘Good grief, a cat.’ Vivian, who had stiffened in expectation of a scene, relaxed and turned to Edge with one quirked eyebrow. ‘Where on earth did that come from?’

  ‘Bit of a story. Staying for tea?’

  ‘Yes please. I wasn’t sure if you’d be back. I saw you driving past this morning but we’re on our way out for a walk so I knocked on the off chance. So? The cat?’

  ‘A colleague of Kirsty’s – well, a friend as well – has died, and she can’t have a cat in that upstairs flat of hers. Anyway, no pets allowed by her landlord, it’s a furnished flat.’ Edge avoided going into any further detail. ‘I’m trying to remember what the Lawns policy is on bringing animals in. There’s something niggling at me.’

  ‘Pretty much standard, I think.’ Vivian said thoughtfully. ‘As best I remember, if you have a pet already, and it’s over a year old, you can bring it. They seem to feel a younger pet can be rehomed – or maybe will be a bit disruptive. I know you can’t start with new pets once you’re in. That could be a problem.’

  ‘Damn.’ Edge handed her a cup of tea and sat down herself. ‘But you didn’t have Buster. You only got him, what, a year ago?’

  ‘Yes, but that was different. He was a rescue dog, attached to the main house. The new pet thing doesn’t apply to the Trust adopting rescue animals, or residents re-homing one of the house pets. Don’t forget the founder of the Trust was very pro pets, pro animals generally. She felt anything that got people out and about walking their dogs, and talking to other pet owners, was good, not to mention the company pets provide. I suspect Katryn isn’t as keen on them but it’s written into the articles, so nothing she can do to change that.’

  ‘And damn again. Well, Iain – er, and Kirsty – only asked me to keep him for a few days. Maybe I can keep him under the radar that long. I do rather like him, though – he’s very peaceful company.’ Mortimer yawned hugely and twisted himself like a pretzel, staring green-eyed at them from an upside-down head.

  ‘Anyway. That’s not why I came by, I wanted to talk to you about something.’ Vivian took a deep breath. ‘William’s got a family wedding to go to, in Dundee. He’s invited me to go with him.’

  ‘Okay. And?’

  ‘Edge, Dundee. He’s suggesting we stay over. In fact, go for the whole weekend. I said I’d have to think about it. A weekend away together – that’s a big step.’

  Edge stared at her, then put her hand to her mouth. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said in an awed voice. ‘We had this conversation before. And unless my memory is completely shot, that was also a William! Don’t you remember?’

  Vivian looked bemused, then thoughtful. ‘You’re right. William, William… what was his surname? Davidson! Wow. But for the life of me I can’t remember what your advice was then. I do remember I didn’
t go. He ended up marrying that Maryanne girl; they’d had four children when last I heard, and were emigrating to Canada to make a new start. He’d had an affair or something, it was touch and go for a bit, but she agreed to try again. William Davidson – I haven’t thought of him in years.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Edge’s eyes were dancing. ‘And I do remember my advice; I said to go, but insist on a separate room in case you needed a refuge. He was the worst flirt, it must go with the name. He was quite capable of spending the whole evening with another girl, and that was also a family wedding, so you wouldn’t have known another soul. You were quite cross with me, I even remember that.’

  ‘It wasn’t at all what I wanted to hear,’ Vivian remembered and started to laugh. ‘But I’ll take the advice now. I’ll suggest adjoining rooms. Dear me.’ She fanned herself with her hand, going slightly pink, and Buster lifted his head to stare at her. ‘Well, in that case, I need a favour. Would you take Buster for that weekend? It’s sometime towards the end of May.’

  ~~~

  Katryn Pretorius, the South African administrator, came by not long after Vivian had left, and Edge pulled the door wide resignedly.

  ‘You’ve come to tell me I can’t keep the cat.’

  ‘Ja, well, Edge, you know the ruling. I don’t actually hold with keeping dogs here – health and safety, apart from anything else. But you know if you bring in a pet from outside it’ll upset people who haven’t been allowed to. Is the cat even used to living shut up all the time? I can’t be doing with a stream of people to my office complaining it’s chasing the birds from their birdfeeder, or dogs roaring around the place chasing him and knocking people over in the process.’

  ‘I know, and I also feed wild birds, so he’ll have to live indoors. I took the cat in because the police asked me to, and in theory it’s only a few days. He can be kept inside that long. But Katryn, honestly, look at him. If I get the chance to keep him, I’m going to be very tempted.’

  Katryn scratched the exact spot behind the cat’s ears, and he closed his eyes in dreamy pleasure. ‘Ja, of course you are. I’m a cat person myself, and he’s a beauty.’

  ‘He walks on the lead, too,’ Edge nudged gently and Katryn looked exasperated.

  ‘Edge, don’t make me the bad guy here. Relatively few retirement villages take pets, and the ones that do limit it to the pets you had when you moved in – and even then they usually have to be over a certain age. It’s a sensible rule. I’m going to allow him a week, and I’ll tell anyone that asks that he’s got a special dispensation for that long. But listen; don’t fall too much in love with him. I’ve been taking huge flak from Sylvia, who’s threatening to move out, because she wanted to get a puppy to get back onto the show circuit and I had to put my foot down. She went straight over my head to Hamish, but he stood firm. He’s committed himself now and he won’t be able to make any exceptions. The minute she sees this cat in your window she’ll be back in my office shouting the odds.’

  Edge switched the kettle on without asking – Katryn had probably never turned down an offer of tea in her life.

  ‘So let her move out,’ she remarked unkindly over her shoulder. ‘Would it be the end of the world?’

  Katryn laughed ruefully. ‘She’s not the easiest. The minute she nails that Brian Mitchell down to some kind of commitment she’ll be off, but she’s not leaving him to all the predatory widows here until then.’

  ‘He’s terrified of her! Anyway, she’s years older,’ Edge protested and Katryn shrugged.

  ‘Ten at most, and what’s ten years? He sent her the most fabulous roses after her dog got poisoned, but he’s been ducking and dodging ever since. That was funny in itself; I always thought it was you he fancied, he’s always watching you whenever there’s a social thing on of any kind. But there you go.’

  ‘I’ve only just met him,’ Edge said absently. ‘To talk to, I mean. Obviously I’ve seen him around the place, but if he likes me he’s very coy about it. Still, if he’s keeping Sylvia here he’s got to be told to stop. She has her moments but she’s very disruptive.’

  ‘Ja-well-no-fine. Thing is, Edge, we’ve already got one empty apartment, not too keen to have another. Those murders did serious damage to the waiting list.’

  Edge, who knew the staff’s annual bonuses were based on full occupancy, nodded sympathetically and added boiling water to the rooibos tea that was Katryn’s particular passion. ‘I thought we were back to capacity, once Major Horace took over number one, and that new tenant took on his place?’

  ‘Jayenthi Pillay. Ja. Trouble is, she wanted a three-month trial. That probably tells you how bad things are, that Hamish would even agree a trial period! She owns a place in another village but found it quite cliquey so she’s trying us out. I hope she stays – she was a medical missionary, and now she volunteers in Frail Care, and Matron says she’s a real asset. She’s getting quite chummy with Olga and Donald at exercise class, I noticed, so fingers crossed. But Godfrey Crossley gave notice.’

  ‘Auld Crabbit?’ Edge stared at her, then remembered and poured out their tea. ‘Here you go. I thought he was a fixture forever. Miss P will be a bit devastated. Why’s he going?’

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t really skinner,’ Katryn said reluctantly, met Edge’s bright glance, and shrugged. ‘I don’t think it’s any secret. He’s met some bright young thing of fifty through a dating website and is moving to hers. They’re getting married in a couple of months.’

  ‘Why, that bad-tempered old bugger! So he managed to convince someone besides Miss P that God was short for Godfrey? That’s another dating story; they seem to be cropping up all over the place lately.’

  ‘There are more people marrying over fifty than in any other age group.’ Katryn agreed. ‘I always considered the singles market a triumph of hope over experience, myself, but lately I’ve heard a few success stories.’

  ‘I had a success story myself – not on-line, no such thing back in the nineties – but I met my second husband through a dating agency. Not what I intended at all. I was feeling a bit lost and lonely after James died, and I thought it would be a way to make friends. Alistair had just moved to the area, so also wanted to meet people. We hit it off from day one, even though he was several years younger than me. Ironically, we knew people in common and we’d probably have met anyway, but it saved time. Considering we only had eight years together, I’ve always been glad we didn’t waste a day of that.’ She glanced up automatically at the photo on her shelf and her eternally young second husband quirked his attractively crooked grin back. In the next frame along, James beamed understandingly. Tears suddenly pricked her eyes.

  Katryn stepped tactfully into the abrupt silence. ‘Well, then, that’s a definite project for me some day. Maybe when I have a bit more time on my hands. So that’ll be one apartment empty, if Jayenthi decides against us that’s two, and Sylvia would make it three. Not that she’d be allowed a puppy in any other place, but she doesn’t have to live in a retirement village, after all.’

  ‘I wonder if I can help a bit there.’ Edge gratefully followed the change of subject. ‘She was pretty hot stuff on the show circuit, wasn’t she? That apartment of hers has poodle trophies all over the place. I’ve a friend who recently did Crufts with her dog; she knows a lot of show people. Maybe she’d know if Sylvia could get involved as a judge at local dog shows and move herself up through the ranks in her own right, rather than progressing a puppy. Worth finding out what’s involved, anyway.’

  Mortimer hopped onto Katryn’s lap to make rumbling noises and she stroked him absently. ‘She’s probably the only one who would complain about this handsome fellow moving in. You sort her out, without starting World War Three, and I’ll turn a blind eye unless someone else complains.’

  CHAPTER 4

  Friday

  Restart gym class

  About a month earlier some slightly alarming symptoms had led Edge’s doctor to insist on removal of her remaining ovary, and during her con
valescence she had fallen into the habit of walks with Clarissa, who was recuperating after a stroke. Clarissa’s formidable bulldog-cross, Maggie, who had nearly died of a fractured skull during the last run of murders at the Lawns, was also on a strict regime of gentle regular exercise, and the three invalids had been shuffling placidly round the grounds for two easy walks a day.

  The last time Matron came by Edge’s apartment to check her progress, she had suggested she was now fit to return to the more varied exercise classes offered at the Lawns. Favourite outfits in her wardrobe, which no longer fitted her as well as they had before, were an added incentive.

  As a result it had been several weeks since Edge had joined the morning classes in the Sunday room as she hurried down – a little late, as usual – with Vivian. There was a lissome new resident, who had to be Brian’s rescuer Jayenthi, taking a place in the hard-core front row with Donald, Olga and Sylvia. Edge, lurking in the back with Vivian, puffed, fell behind the beat, and struggled to remember the steps.

  Even Vivian, who’d stuck with the three-days-a-week pattern all along, abandoned her towards the end, taking to the chairs provided for those needing to take things more gently – although that was possibly also to separate William and Miss P, who both took to the chair-based exercises early on and got a bit giggly halfway through.

  Although the first half hour consisted only of t’ai chi, basic yoga and some gentle dance moves, Edge decided Matron was definitely pandering to the enthusiastic front row to the detriment of her regulars, and she told her so mock-severely when the session finally ended.

  Matron laughed at her. ‘You do realize you don’t have to do everything at the same speed as the regulars, or even as much as you used to do, right? The idea is loosening up and improving flexibility; do as much as you can and a tiny bit more. If you stay for the next bit – and I don’t see why you shouldn’t – just walk it, don’t push yourself. It isn’t a competition.’