that his house was up for sale and the cat was legally hers. ‘Okay, how about this? I’ll look after Maurice at my place until you’re ready to go home?’
Bert squinted at her and she wasn’t sure if that was progress or not. ‘What will that cost me?’
‘Nothing. He was unhappy at the rescue centre and he’s happy now. It doesn’t make sense to move him again. Agreed?’
‘How will I get in touch with you when I want him back?’
Anna fumbled on this question and blurted out, ‘I’ll come back and see you, and you can tell me then.’
‘Hmm,’ was all Bert muttered. He broke his stare for the first time and looked around the room. ‘What are you lot gawking at?’ There was lots of shuffling and one loud fart before most of the residents pretended to go back to sleep. Bert’s tone changed. ‘And you promise you’ll come back … Anna?’
‘Cross my heart, Bert,’ said Anna, and she meant it.
One sunny morning Sophie joined Anna for her walk across the park to the bus stop. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ asked Anna, pleased to see her friend.
‘The Kraken is having the kids because it’s a teacher training day and I thought I’d avoid the hellish parking for a change … oh, and I’d like to spend some time with my best friend.’
‘Excellent,’ said Anna, breathing in the May air full of the dewy scent of the lilac bushes.
‘And I wanted to have a chat.’ Anna wondered where this was going. ‘I think I have a crush on Hudson,’ said Sophie.
‘What?’ asked Anna, with a half laugh.
‘Don’t laugh, I mean it,’ said Sophie, getting teary. ‘I’m thinking about him all the time. If he talks to me I get all hot and flustered like I did when I was fourteen and Stephen Bethel used to sit next to me in Geography.’
‘That’s your hormones playing tricks.’
‘But it’s all the time, Anna. And I keep dreaming about him.’ Her eyes wandered off to somewhere near the pond. ‘It’s great stuff. Really sexy. If I could film my dreams I’d make a fortune …’
‘La, la, la, not listening,’ chanted Anna, putting her fingers in her ears until Sophie stopped talking.
‘I thought you’d understand.’ Sophie’s bottom lip wobbled.
‘Really? Me? I can’t even bring myself to like Hudson, let alone drool over him. Plus, he’s a gay man in a committed relationship.’
‘But you’re my friend.’ Sophie coughed to disguise the choke of emotion.
Anna gave her arm an affectionate pat. ‘Yes, and you are mine. Though Dave’s my friend too. How would he feel if he knew about this?’
‘I can’t help my dreams. And even if I told Dave that I fancy Hudson, he wouldn’t be bothered because who’s going to fancy me.’
‘You’re gorgeous.’
‘So’s Hudson. He’s perfect, isn’t he?’
‘I’m not keen and he definitely doesn’t like me. Yesterday he did a coffee run and I swear he missed me out on purpose. And then he didn’t tell me the risk review meeting was cancelled …’
‘It’s just you. Even the witches like him,’ said Sophie. Silvie and Janey were renowned for their bitchy comments and therefore known as the Witches of East Wing.
‘I heard he brought in Marks and Spencer’s biscuits. They’re easily bought that pair.’
They walked up the path to the main park gates and the bus stop and Anna noted the multitude of dog roses in bloom, as they passed. She let out a giant yawn.
‘Don’t,’ said Sophie following suit.
‘Sorry, someone kept me awake playing with his balls half the night.’
‘Tell me about it. Dave’s the same,’ said Sophie and they both burst out laughing.
After a good natter to Sophie on the bus Anna was feeling optimistic, but the sight of Roberta at her desk diluted her cheerfulness somewhat.
‘Morning, Roberta,’ she said as she approached.
‘Are you a feminist, Anna?’
Anna sensed a trick question but could only answer honestly. ‘Ye-es,’ she said cautiously.
‘You don’t sound very sure?’
‘I believe in people being treated as individuals regardless of gender.’
Roberta’s nodding indicated she approved of this response. ‘Apparently someone has complained that the central heating is set at a sexist temperature.’
Anna blinked slowly. ‘And what temperature would that be exactly?’
‘Cold enough for things to be noticed through material,’ said Roberta, her demeanour and voice mimicking a schoolteacher.
‘Nipples,’ mouthed Karl behind her back and Anna had to concentrate hard not to smirk.
‘I see. I guess it can be a bit chilly but I wouldn’t have called it sexist,’ said Anna, hoping that would suffice.
‘Okay. If you’re sure it’s not an issue,’ said Roberta. ‘Ladies don’t start fights, but they can finish them,’ she added, with a tip of her head. Anna was squinting with the pressure of trying to work out what the hell she meant. ‘It’s a quote,’ explained Roberta.
‘Right.’ Anna had no idea which feminist icon would have said that but thankfully Roberta was about to enlighten her.
Roberta leaned in close. ‘Marie.’ Anna was still looking blank. ‘From The Aristocats.’
‘Of course,’ said Anna, trying hard to ignore Karl’s huge grin.
It was another quiet night in for Anna as, now Maurice’s period of confinement had ended, she found she was often on her own once it got dark. He was a proper night owl and the living room window was working well as his exit route. It was too small for a human to fit through, and meant she didn’t need to get a cat flap fitted until it started to get colder. She flicked through the telly channels again but decided there was still nothing worth watching so she switched it off. She may as well go to bed and read. She had settled into life without Liam but it didn’t mean she had got used to being on her own.
Anna picked up her mobile phone and jumped slightly as it sprang into life. She was a little embarrassed about how pleased she was to get a message, whoever it was from. She looked at the screen in anticipation. It was a number she didn’t recognise, so she flicked to the text expecting to see some random marketing message but she was wrong.
It read: Can’t wait to get down and dirty with you tomorrow. Looking forward to catching up over lunch too. C.
Anna stared at the message; clearly it was a wrong number. She crafted what she hoped was a suitable reply: Hi, C. Thanks for the offer but I think you’ve got the wrong number.
Anna was sitting huddled over the phone waiting for a reply. She’d had wrong phone calls before but never a text. It was quite funny really – she wondered how much the other person would cringe when they realised their mistake. After five minutes she felt ridiculous for sitting with her phone in her hand, waiting for a reply from a wrong number. Why would they respond? They’d resend the message to the right person and be a little more careful when texting next time. Then the familiar little beeps came and she hurriedly opened the message: How embarrassing. I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I hope I’ve not offended you. C.
Anna wondered if C might actually be a girl, because how many men would bother to respond? She suspected not very many. But seeing as they’d been nice enough to reply, she sent them another text: Not a problem, I’m pretty