Page 12 of The Chemistry Test

Cam

I pull up in the gravel driveway and unbuckle the carry case that’s sitting in my passenger seat.

Mum gives me a cheery wave through the living room window before going to the front door.

She was wearing her trusty frilly apron then, but by the time she greets me at the entrance, it’s neatly folded over her arm, ready to hang back up.

‘Goodness, they get more beautiful every day, don’t they?’ she coos, admiring the kittens even though she’s spent the last fourteen years surrounded by them. Every single one of them was and is the apple of her eye. I love that about her.

She walks us through the open-plan kitchen, into the kitten nursery at the back of the house, making sure to shut the baby gate behind us.

I reach over it to pet each of the dogs’ heads, before following her in.

The nursery has the same terracotta floor tiles and vaulted ceilings as the kitchen, but taking up almost half of the room are two clear acrylic enclosures.

One of them doesn’t have any kittens in it, which can only mean one thing.

‘Shall I put Tabby and Callie in that one?’ I ask, already lifting them out with their heating pad.

‘Yeah, pop them in there, darling. I put in some toys and a bed for them already,’ she says, leaning forward in her rocking chair to see them better. ‘Gosh, Callie really is a diddy little thing, isn’t she? Are you sure you don’t want me to have her?’

My brows furrow. ‘You can’t, she’s bonded to Tabby. They’re like Meadow and Daisy were,’ I add, casting my mind back to the most inseparable duo she ever fostered, years ago now. Considering how she nearly adopted them herself, just to keep them together, I know she’ll know what I mean.

‘I can take both and give you the boys if she’s getting difficult,’ she says, smiling at me. But I can’t imagine giving up on Callie now.

‘You said I could have them, though,’ I say defensively. I know it sounds childish, but I can’t handle another goodbye right now. Not yet.

Mum reaches over and strokes my arm. ‘I’m not trying to take them from you, Cam. I know you can do it, I just didn’t know if you wanted to.’

I think about it more.

‘Maybe you should take them, then. Getting attached is what’s gotten me into such a mess lately anyway,’ I say, picking up a velvet cushion and brushing it back and forth.

‘Hey, that’s enough of that,’ she says, looking at me pointedly.

‘It is,’ I mutter. I wouldn’t have said it to Dad, but I find it easier to talk about Gran to Mum since she’s not related to her by blood, even though she might as well have been.

‘You had something really special with Granny, Cam.’ She smiles, sadly. ‘I know it hurts right now, but that’s not a bad thing. That hurt you’re feeling is your love for Gran living on. Despite it all.’

I’ve heard a similar quote before, something like, ‘What is grief, if not love enduring’, or something like that. And sure, it’s a nice thought, but I’d imagine it sounds a lot more poetic when you don’t feel as shit as I do.

As if on cue, Smokey walks into the room and jumps on the arm of the sofa next to me. He was my uncle’s cat, who we took in when he passed away eleven years ago.

‘Thanks, Mum,’ I say finally. It’s not her fault that what she’s saying isn’t helping. And I know she knows that it’s not. The skin around her eyes crinkles, but she doesn’t say anything.

‘You know, I never really understood why you and Dad never stopped calling Smokey “Uncle David’s cat”,’ I say. I stroke him from head to tail, which makes him arch his back like he always does.

‘I know you didn’t.’ Mum laughs. ‘You used to insist that he was our cat when you overheard us talking about him to other people.’

I remember it like it was yesterday. ‘I really kicked off about it when it got to the point that we’d had him longer than David had, didn’t I?’ I say, laughing too.

‘You thought that was the best logic in the world, that. I told you I always know best. I hate it when life teaches you things the hard way,’ she sighs, knowing that I’ve really been hinting at Gran’s dog, Lady, the whole time.

I look over at her, lying down outside the gate.

With her red fur and pretty cocker spaniel eyes, she really does look like she’s come straight out of the Disney film that she’s named after.

Gran used to watch it with her at least once a year.

‘Lady will always be Gran’s dog, won’t she?’

She nods. ‘Of course she will, sweetheart. Dad and I are just looking after her for her,’ she says, kissing me on the forehead before going to get her.