LITMIR.BIZ

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have to call Very. If she knows Strumpet has gone missing, she’ll be frantic.’ Tom being all nice again was most unsettling. Mattie glanced through the gate at him as he pulled an ancient-looking mobile phone from the inner breast pocket of his old tweedy coat.

      He dealt with Verity while Mattie called 999 and requested a ‘fire crew or someone that can rescue a very obese cat from the railings of an electronic gate. I swear this isn’t a hoax call.’

      ‘Honestly, Very, it’s not something I’d joke about. I can’t take photos on my phone but when Mattie’s finished talking to the emergency services, I’ll get her to send you a picture so you can appreciate the severity of the situation,’ Tom was saying crossly as Mattie reeled off the address and Strumpet yelled his displeasure at having polished off all the butter he could reach around his tubby forequarters.

      ‘I’ll make us a hot drink,’ Mattie decided when the phone calls were done: they would have at least a half-hour wait for a fire crew, supposing that no buildings went up in flames in the meantime. ‘Tea? Coffee?’

      ‘Tea, I suppose … though have you got any of the hot chocolate you served at that book launch a couple of weeks ago?’ Tom asked hesitantly. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

      It was like Tom had had a personality transplant – or maybe the crisis had brought out the best in him.

      ‘I have,’ Mattie confirmed. ‘I could even put a little French brandy in it.’

      ‘Sounds great. Thank you,’ Tom added, and Mattie was about to pretend to faint but decided that she didn’t want to ruin their little entente cordiale.

      When she returned with two steaming mugs of spiked hot chocolate, they quickly realised that there wasn’t enough room between the railings to slide the mug through. It was a wonder that Strumpet had even managed to get his fat head and barrel-like shoulders as far as he had.

      ‘I could get you a straw?’ Mattie suggested, but Tom shook his head.

      ‘Stand back,’ he ordered, and before she could say a word, he took a run at the gate, leapt in the air and vaulted clear over the top of it, landing next to Mattie, who almost dropped both mugs in shock and surprise. Later, she’d be sure that she imagined it – Tom clearing the six-foot gate like it was a little country stile. But right then she simply handed him one of the mugs and wished that she’d had the presence of mind to film it, because no one was ever going to believe her.

      It would have been more comfortable to wait in the warmth of the shop but they couldn’t leave Strumpet alone, so they stayed where they were, taking turns to scratch him behind his ears until they heard a distant siren. Then, a little later, there was the reflection of a flashing blue light as the fire engine negotiated the cobbles of Rochester Street and finally pulled up at the entrance to the mews.

      Mattie had never known relief like it. ‘We’ll soon have you out of there and once again you’ll be free to terrorise anyone with food,’ she told Strumpet, who looked quite sceptical about this claim.

      Tom was talking four firemen through the situation, all of them fully kitted out and ready to dash into burning buildings to rescue children. Though Mattie couldn’t get a good look at them, she suddenly felt quite hot, even though it was a freezing November night. She might have sworn off all men and spat in the face of romance, but she wasn’t dead. Aesthetically, she could still appreciate the physical charms of four very fit, very brave firemen, which was why she was crouched down on Strumpet’s level with glazed eyes and her mouth hanging open.

      ‘Is the cat friendly, ma’am?’ one of the fireman asked. He came closer so Mattie could see that he looked about fifteen – it was probably time to stop swooning. Also he’d just called her ma’am, like she was somebody’s grandma.

      ‘Very friendly, but quite distressed by his ordeal,’ she explained. ‘Also we covered him in butter to try and slide him out, so he’s very slippery to the touch.’

      Strumpet was indeed quite distressed but he also loved nothing more than a man’s touch, so whenever one of the firemen came over to assess the situation, he’d start purring like crazy and headbutting the gloved hand assessing him, which didn’t really help matters.

      When a white-faced Verity arrived with Johnny, the firemen had decided to disconnect the gate’s electronics before they cut Strumpet free.

      ‘We had a flat battery,’ she said distractedly. ‘Then it took us ages to find a cab. Oh, Strumpet! What have you done, you silly boy?’

      Strumpet gave her quite a bit of backchat, and just as the electronics were disabled, (they made a group decision not to tell Posy until the morning, ‘If we tell her now, she won’t sleep and then she’ll just be horrible tomorrow’), a taxi drew up alongside the fire engine.

      ‘Maybe that’s Posy now,’ Mattie muttered. ‘Her spooky pregnancy spidey-sense must have alerted her to the fact that the gate was about to be vandalised.’

      But it wasn’t Posy. Tumbling out of the back of the cab was a woman with letterbox-red hair, a leopard-print faux fur and the kind of heels that weren’t designed for walking on cobblestones.

      ‘Hi guys,’ called out Nina O’Kelly, back from her six-month sabbatical, ten days late. ‘Thank you for arranging for four hunky firemen to welcome me home!’

      

      Nina’s sudden yet delayed arrival quite overshadowed Strumpet finally being cut free and stuffed into a pet carrier before he could abscond again.

      ‘He’s grounded for ever,’ Verity said grimly as she waited for another taxi to take her home.

      ‘And we’re stopping his allowance,’ Johnny added, which was quite funny, but not as funny as Nina stamping her foot.

      ‘Guys! I’ve been gone for nearly seven months, pay attention to me!’

      Though it was way past Mattie’s bedtime, she had to stay up for another hour to listen to Nina’s double entendres about the new living arrangements.

      ‘Mattie and Tom,’ Nina kept saying with lots of theatrical winks. ‘Who’d have thought it? Just as well I’m here to chaperone you.’

      ‘Why haven’t you got jet lag?’ Tom demanded, as he sat primly on the edge of one of the armchairs as if he was desperate to make a quick getaway too. ‘Shouldn’t you be sleeping, and by sleeping, I mean shutting up?’

      ‘I slept on the plane, and rude!’ Nina said as she sprawled on the sofa and gave no indication that she wanted to get to bed any time soon. ‘How do you put up with him, Mattie?’

      ‘We all have our crosses to bear,’ Mattie said automatically, though she and Tom had just managed to bond over a stressful hostage situation. And the way he’d vaulted over the gate! Tom must have very impressive upper-body strength. ‘Anyway, talking of crosses, I have to be up early tomorrow, so I’m going to bed.’

      Even in bed, Mattie could still hear Nina talking and talking and talking some more while Tom answered in monosyllabic grunts. Mattie hadn’t appreciated that the walls in the flat were paper thin. She rolled over, groped in the drawer of her bedside cabinet until she found the round plastic box with her earplugs in (her mother’s boyfriend, Ian, snored like he was trying to rouse the dead) and finally settled into an uneasy sleep.

      The next morning, the flat was silent when Mattie got up and it wasn’t until eleven o’clock that she had a chance to visit the shop, armed with a plate of spiced buns to sweeten the shock, to see how Posy was coping with the desecration of her electronic gate.

      ‘Tom was annoyingly vague about the specifics and Verity’s not back from taking Strumpet to the vet,’ Posy complained as she struggled

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