‘We’ll put them in the office,’ I said, flattening myself to the wall as Danny squeezed past, holding a sturdy, plastic cat carrier. ‘I hope they’re friendly.’

‘This one’s fast asleep, so it’s hard to tell.’ He placed the contraption on the floor, and went back to the van for another one. This contained a cat of such enormous proportions, it looked like she’d swallowed a magic potion and doubled in size on the journey. I felt an overwhelming urge to sketch her.

‘This is Tabitha, and she’s a great big softie,’ said Danny. All the carriers bore a passport-style photo of the cat inside, as well as a name tag.

‘She’s certainly big,’ I said. ‘Lovely markings though, like a leopard.’ I was trying to make Danny smile, but his eyes roved over my face as though trying to glean something.

‘Her owner died recently,’ he said, and returned to the van before I could apologise for not knowing that the cat was eating her emotions.

He hadn’t yet mentioned the night before, which I was cautiously thankful for. I had no idea how to explain Adam Conway to him. I hadn’t even been able to explain him to Mum and Dad. They’d waited up especially, their faces avid in the lamplight, but my tired brain had struggled to compute what had happened – culminating in the press of Adam’s warm lips on my frozen cheek before he gave Sir Lancelot’s bonnet an admiring pat (‘Your grandmother has great taste.’) and waved me off. I’d merely said, ‘You’ll see him tomorrow at the café,’ before hastening to bed.

‘I really appreciate this,’ I said, when Danny strode back with a carrier that appeared to be empty. I bent and peered inside to see a pair of startled eyes in a bundle of soft black fur at the back.

‘Conrad’s a bit shy,’ Danny said. ‘Liz says that’s why he hasn’t been adopted yet.’ Liz was supposed to have come too but, according to Danny, her mother had been taken ill and they were desperately short-staffed at the shelter, so he’d done two journeys himself to get the cats over. ‘He loves children though.’

I wondered whether to mention that I’d seen his message in the sand, but couldn’t find the words. He might not like that I’d been with Adam at the time. And anyway, it seemed a bit trivial when we were surrounded by needy cats.

‘I’d stay and help, but I’ve a gardening job in Ivybridge today,’ said Danny, after he’d deposited the final two cats. There was some alarming mewling emerging from the office, which was making me nervous, and I didn’t dare to ask about the scratch on Danny’s forearm.

‘What about Nan?’

‘She’s done with me for the time being,’ he said. He was framed in the doorway, the early sunshine polishing his hair and throwing his face into shadow. His eyes still sparkled – it was clearly something beyond his control – but they weren’t as smiley as usual.

‘It was nice to meet your mum,’ I said, trying to get us back on a friendly footing – and to delay the moment I had to face a dozen cats of varying dispositions.

‘She liked you,’ he said, and this time he did smile, and the swoop of relief I felt seemed disproportionate. I was glad that, in spite of his ‘win you over’ nonsense, he wasn’t the type to get all jealous because a man had turned up out of the blue and whisked me on a moonlit walk. Not that he had any right to be jealous. Or anything to be jealous of. Yet.

Wondering what time Adam was going to turn up, I felt a prickle of anticipation, and, as if sensing my attention had wandered, Danny backed away. ‘Remember the rules and you’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back to pick them up around four.’ I watched as he jogged to his van and drove off, feeling as if I’d lost something without knowing what it was.

Sighing, I approached the office, which already had a tang of litter trays – probably because there were several of them lined up – and anticipation gave way to a more familiar feeling of panic and apprehension.

The rules.

What were they again?

---

‘He’s a little coochy-coochy-coo, isn’t he? Yes he is. He’s mummy’s little fluffy, wuffy darling boy. He’s wuvveryly, yes he is, he wants cuddles and snuggles and he’s going to get them, if I don’t gobble him up, ’cos he’s gorgeous, yes he is.’

Mum and I gaped in astonishment as Gwen babbled baby talk to a one-eyed, black and white tomcat, pausing only to lavish him with noisy, wet kisses. He was clearly loving the attention, purring like a generator in her arms, where he lay like a furry baby while Gwen’s glowering face transformed into one of gooey-eyed adoration.

‘I had no idea she was so fond of cats,’ Mum whispered.

‘Fond?’ I whispered back. ‘She looks like she’s just birthed him.’

Mum stifled a snorting laugh with the back of her hand, but Gwen didn’t even look up. She was so rapt by Dickens (strange choice of name for a cat) that she wouldn’t have noticed if we’d burst into song.

‘I think she’s in love,’ Mum murmured, and I was suddenly grateful to Gwen for creating a welcome diversion. It was obvious, from the moment we’d arrived at the café, that Mum wasn’t sure about the cats, viewing them gingerly, as though they were ancient artefacts that might be cursed. ‘Maybe she’ll adopt one.’

‘Oh, I think that’s a given.’ I reached for the checklist that Danny had left on top of one of the carriers, and we crept out of the office and through to the café, leaving Gwen in her elevated state – probably making the other cats wild with jealousy. ‘It’s mostly common sense,’ I said, skimming the list of rules. At the top the words THERE ARE NO OFFICIAL GUIDELINES SO USE COMMON SENSE had been typed in big, bold capitals. ‘Make sure they’ve access to food and water, which the shelter has supplied, make sure they don’t escape, supervise the animals around children, etc. etc.’ They’d also listed the cats by name, as well as their breed ‘where known’, or their colours and markings, and reiterated that they were all ‘well-trained and friendly’.

I glanced around. It was still early, so not very busy yet, just a few people reading newspapers with toast and coffee, and several more on the terrace, enjoying the sunshine. ‘We should keep the doors closed, just in case,’ I said. ‘The cats might smell fresh air and make a bid for freedom.’

The image of them bolting out was inexplicably funny, and Mum joined in when I started giggling.

‘I think this might be fun,’ she said, wiping her eyes, and relief made me feel giddy. She kept glancing at the entrance, and I guessed she wasn’t so much checking it for safety as wondering when Adam would appear – just as I was. I could tell she was dying to ask more about him. She’d held back over breakfast, flashing a warning look at Dad when he’d said, ‘So, why didn’t you invite your fella to stay the night here?’ He’d mimed zipping his mouth shut, and I was glad that Rob hadn’t come home the night before. The teasing would have been endless.

‘We don’t want cats prowling near the food,’ Mum said, moving behind the counter. ‘We can’t serve hairy muffins.’

This set us off again, and it was several moments before I regained control. ‘We should make this the cat area.’ I swept my arm towards the back wall, pausing briefly to look at my paintings. Had I really sold a couple? It felt dreamlike now, as did most of the previous day’s events. ‘If someone wants to sit and cuddle one, they have to do it here.’

‘Don’t cats do their own thing?’ Mum said. ‘I can’t imagine them sitting there all well-behaved with a saucer of milk in front of them.’

We honked with laughter again, attracting curious half-smiles from a pair of smartly dressed women who looked like they’d come to work, setting up laptops and pulling out earphones and notepads.

‘Oh god. Is the cat thing today?’ asked one, a frown crinkling her brow.

I nodded. ‘It’s on the board outside.’ I flashed my friendliest smile, and she peered through the door at the sign that Danny had chalked, as promised.

‘I always work here on Thursdays.’ She tossed her head and snapped open her laptop, to prove it. ‘I hope they won’t be a nuisance.’

I was about to suggest she go somewhere else, but Mum was speaking.

‘It’s only for today, Alison. You can have your first coffee on the house.’

I shook my head. Offering consolation drinks was hardly setting the right tone. It was as if she was agreeing with Alison that the cats were a nuisance.

‘I’m sure when you see them…’ I began to say, but Alison had already subsided with a charitable little smile. ‘That would be lovely, Liddy.’ Liddy? ‘Where’s Eddie this morning?’ Eddie?

‘He had a meeting with his accountant he couldn’t get out of,’ Mum said, turning to the coffee machine. ‘And Tamsin’s got an optician’s appointment so won’t be in until lunchtime.’

‘Is Gwen here?’

‘She’s out the back, with the cats.’

Alison’s smile stretched. ‘She’s such a love.’

That wasn’t the term I’d have used to describe Gwen, but it was obvious that Alison had built a rapport with everyone who worked at the café, and I seemed in danger of disrupting it. As if thinking the same thing, Mum didn’t launch into her usual, ‘By the way, this is my brilliant daughter routine’, but Alison had turned her full attention on me.

‘Oh, are you the lady that does the drawings?’ She looked like one of those librarians in films, who whip off their glasses and shake out their hair to show how sexy they are.

‘Um, I suppose so,’ I said, which wasn’t a response to fill anyone with confidence.

‘It’s my daughter’s birthday next Wednesday, and the entertainer’s let us down,’ she said. ‘He’s a clown, supposed to be very good, but they’ve had such a bad press recently, what with that scary film, and he’s become depressed, so—’

‘Oh, hang on, let me write down your details.’ I turned over the checklist and snapped my fingers for a pen. When Mum had thrown me a biro, I said, ‘So, what’s your budget, and does it have to be a clown? A lot of children are scared of them…’ Alison was looking at me oddly, as though I had a giant spot on my face. ‘What?’

‘I was actually wondering whether you’d be the entertainer, and draw the children,’ she said. ‘Jonty showed my daughter the picture you did of him, and now she wants one, too.’

I scribbled unintelligibly again, on the back of the page of ‘common sense’ rules, willing my face not to turn bright red. She wasn’t asking me to find a clown. She wanted me to be the clown.

‘I’ll need to check my diary,’ I said, hoping Mum wasn’t listening, but the other laptop woman was at the counter, dithering over the cakes.

‘I need to know right away.’ Alison gave an apologetic pout. ‘Otherwise, I’ll have to find someone else.’

‘Fine, I’ll do it.’

She cupped her ear. ‘Sorry?’

‘I’ll do it,’ I said, more loudly. It was a job, after all. And I had enjoyed drawing Jonty. ‘How many children?’

‘Fifteen, and we’ll pay you extra because of the short notice.’

‘Er, fine.’ You’ll be earning fifty grand a year, at least. Adam’s words floated back into my head. I’d have to do an awful lot of drawings to make that sort of money.

Alison was beaming now, and I wondered whether I should talk about art more often. Everyone I’d spoken to so far had ended up beaming, including me. It was a shame I hadn’t had that effect on Carlotta.

‘I’m looking forward to seeing these cats,’ Alison said, apparently changing her mind about them being a nuisance. ‘Jade would love a kitten for her birthday.’

‘Actually, they’re rescue cats,’ I said. ‘I don’t think they have any kittens.’

Mum brought over her coffee and, losing interest in me, Alison booted up her laptop as the door opened to admit a group of people in walking gear, fronted by Tilly.

‘Cassie,’ she said, coming over to kiss my cheek. She smelt of sunshine and toothpaste, just as she’d always done, and I wondered what my scent was. Fear, probably, masked with Sure deodorant. ‘How did it go with the gorgeous Adam, last night?’

‘Oh, it was nice,’ I said, flustered, relieved when someone from the walking group called across to ask what she’d like to drink. ‘Aren’t you supposed to have refreshments after the walk, not before?’

‘They’re hoping to see the cats before we set off.’ She grinned. ‘Hey, I’ll see you at the pub tonight?’

Oh god, the comedian. ‘Sure,’ I said, wondering whether it was Adam’s sort of thing. We hadn’t really got round to discussing the things we found funny, though he’d seemed to find me quite amusing.

‘Oh, look at that gorgeous kitty!’ A lady from the walking group was gazing behind me, with a soppy smile on her face, and I spun round to see Dickens sauntering in, followed by a ginger cat, and a fluffy white one with black paws, who leapt on a chair and began delicately licking its paws.

Oh, for Pete’s sake. I’d intended to let them in one at a time so they could acclimatise, and not become overwhelmed. Plus, I hadn’t learnt all their names yet, and whether they were male or female. I would look completely stupid if anyone asked.

‘And what’s this little beauty’s name?’ asked one of the walkers – a heavyset woman in burnt-orange shorts with a bold, tropical print – as she bent to pick up the ginger cat. ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’

‘Er, let me just go and check,’ I said. A couple of middle-aged women were making a beeline for Dickens, who – eyeing their approach – sprang off the table he’d been prowling round, and promptly shot out the back.

‘Mum, can you shut the passage door, so no more cats can get in?’ I called, but she was serving several people at once, and didn’t hear.

A bundle of fur fired past me and dived on a chair, where it stretched out a dainty paw to swipe at a cup. It fell, as if in slow motion, and as I watched it smash in a puddle of foamy coffee, I wondered whether it was too late to cancel the event.