side and became particularly interested in the pedals. Anna had to push him gently to the side for fear of an accident, but his response was to jump onto her lap, filling the space between her and the steering wheel. Anna could barely see over him and had to drive the last few minutes with a furry head checking the road ahead for her.
She pulled up into her designated parking space and once the engine was switched off she could hear Maurice purring; he was almost as loud as the engine had been. At least one of us is happy, she thought.
She gave him a tickle around his ear and he pushed his head hard into her hand. ‘Welcome home, Maurice.’ All she had to do now was work out how to get the large fluffy cat from the car to the flat.
Maurice was more relaxed on her lap so with one hand she manoeuvred the cardboard cat carrier nearer to her and opened the lid wide. She lifted Maurice up but as soon as he sussed what was happening he appeared to expand in all directions and started to wave his legs about wildly. Getting a large star-formation cat through the broken box lid was not going to happen.
A quick call to Sophie with a request for something she could use prompted Sophie’s arrival at the driver’s window a few minutes later with a sling-style baby carrier.
Anna buzzed the window down a fraction: she daren’t let it open fully in case he escaped. ‘Seriously?’ She nodded at the baby sling.
‘I figured transporting kids and pets was kind of similar.’ Sophie studied the harness and glanced inside at the large cat filling up more than half of the back seat. ‘He’s huge. You didn’t say it was a baby sabre-tooth.’
Anna shot a glance over her shoulder. ‘One of the volunteers thinks he’s a Maine Coon.’ Another American who’s got one over on me, she thought, uncharitably.
‘He looks like he’s mainlining steroids,’ said Sophie, waving the baby sling at her.
‘I couldn’t get him in a box, so I have no hope with that,’ said Anna. She didn’t want to distress Maurice any further. As if sensing something was afoot he retreated to the back parcel shelf and hunkered down.
‘Try this,’ said Sophie, feeding a large pillowcase through the gap in the window.
Anna held up the pillowcase; it had a giant picture of a pug’s face on it. The inappropriateness seemed lost on Sophie. Anna turned the picture of the dog away from Maurice.
‘Here,’ said Anna, passing Sophie her door keys. ‘You open up and I’ll …’ she lowered her voice ‘… bundle him up and make a dash inside.’
Anna needed to get in the back of the car but didn’t want to risk Maurice escaping so she daren’t get out of the car. Instead she squeezed herself slowly between the seats all the while uttering what she hoped were reassurances. Maurice watched her intently from the relative safety of the parcel shelf. She took a deep breath and, gripping the edge of the pillowcase, firmly swooped upon him and tried to scoop up the cat like a fisherman trapping his catch.
Maurice began to yowl and tried to reverse out of the pillowcase but Anna was already gathering up the ends and gripping them tightly together. She opened the car door and scrambled out holding up the squirming protesting bundle. Anna made a dash for the flats as Mrs Nowakowski came out wearing fluffy orange slippers. Maurice let out an ear-splitting cry and the older woman’s eyes pinged wide open like a bush baby.
‘Hello again,’ said Anna, holding on tight to the wriggling pillowcase as the pug face on the front distorted and bulged. ‘Sorry, I have to dash.’ She didn’t want to appear rude.
Mrs Nowakowski’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s but nothing came out. Sophie held the door open and Anna and the dissenting pillowcase shot inside.
The next morning Anna left Maurice curled up on her most expensive cushion. He seemed to have claimed it during the night and she hadn’t had the heart to take it from him. He had spent most of the previous evening hiding under furniture, which probably wasn’t surprising given his pillowcase ordeal, but this morning he seemed calmer, if still a little wary. She’d left him food, water and a clean litter tray and locked him in. The rescue centre said he had to stay inside for at least three weeks – and preferably longer – so he knew where to return to when he was let out. Maurice was on her mind as she walked through the office, and up ahead she could see Sophie. Anna checked her watch, as it was unusually early for Sophie to be in.
‘Morning,’ said Anna, scanning the holiday chart on the wall and trying to work out whose desk might be free for her to squat at today.
‘Hi,’ said Sophie, giving her a shifty glance.
Anna paid attention to what Sophie was doing. ‘Are you moving desks?’
‘It’s temporary so Hudson and I can be together. Sit together,’ she hastily corrected.
‘Just be careful, Sophe,’ said Anna. She didn’t trust Hudson and Sophie seemed to be getting hooked in very fast.
Anna settled herself down in a nearby desk and moved the usual occupant’s clutter to one side. Really, who kept a potato clock and a pink toy troll on their desk? She had a friendly email from a member of her old team, which she replied to, and told her about Maurice. Anna opened up a new email and added in the names for the board and all senior people on the programme. She and Karl had made good headway on the project scope and she wanted to share that work ahead of the big meeting they had later. Her friend sent a message demanding a picture of Maurice. Anna was happy to oblige as she’d already taken quite a few of him looking rather handsome curled up on that cushion. She sent them from her phone to her work email address, copied the pictures over and pressed paste as she was interrupted by Hudson.
‘Anna, did you say you were issuing the deliverables paper first thing?’ he asked, his tone reasonable but the words instantly making Anna feel defensive.
‘I’m literally sending it now,’ she said, as she huffily stabbed at the send button. In the very same millisecond her brain registered what she was sending and where. ‘Nooooo!’
She had attached the many pictures of Maurice to the deliverables email and now it was zapping its way through the ether to all the great and the good on the programme.
‘What’s up?’ asked Hudson.
‘I’ve sent …’ Anna couldn’t believe what she’d done. It felt like her stomach had dropped to her toes and bounced back up again. She ran her palms down her face. ‘Wrong email …’ Her fingers jabbed at the keyboard; embarrassment swamped her. She’d never live this down. She tried to remember how to recall messages. ‘Nightmare …’
‘Anna? What is it?’ His voice was surprisingly gentle.
He would think she was a total idiot but there was no point in lying – he was on the distribution list too. She swallowed hard. ‘I’ve sent pictures of my cat to almost everyone on the programme.’
His eyebrows jumped but he recovered his expression quickly. ‘Budge up,’ he said, shoving her wheelie chair and making her collide with Sophie like an errant bumper car. His fingers whizzed across the keys as her heart thumped at an unnatural speed. She’d never done anything
