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Chapter 29

Margot

Girls, we have just had the weirdest morning Ever , Liv WhatsApps Anna and me.

I don’t have to guess, I know. But I’ll have to play along. I let Anna answer first.

What? she messages.

Cat Face is back! Liv replies, and uses several cat emojis to emphasise the point. I know what a cat looks like, thank you.

How amazing , I reply. Where has she been?

We have no idea , Liv messages. But she was wandering around the garden this morning as if she’d never been away, original collar and tag still round her neck.

I bet the kids are excited , Anna responds.

They won’t leave her alone. Although there’s something a bit different about her. When she left, she had a small scar above her lip where she once had a scrap with another cat. And now it’s not there.

I let out a huff. How was I supposed to know that? Although Cat Face’s death was more the result of negligence than malice, I felt bad for the children’s loss. Guilt is a funny old thing. Much of the time, it doesn’t trouble me, but when it comes to visit, I have an overwhelming urge to repair what I’ve broken. Finding an identical ragdoll breed the same sex, size, colour and shape as Cat Face proved almost impossible, but I kept referring to images of it posted by Liv on her Instagram page. I spent days searching just about every cat rehoming site I could find online, until I found someone trying to get rid of theirs in Sheffield. After a four-hour round trip and ￡700 lighter, I brought Cat Face version 2.0 home with me, hid it from my family in the garage – minus the mice bait – and set my alarm for 5 a.m. to let it free in Liv’s garden. But I didn’t know I needed one with a damn scar.

But that’s not all because this is where things get really strange ... Liv continues.

The dot-dot-dots feel ominous. A minute passes before a photo arrives. It’s of her kids with two identical ragdoll cats.

Look who walked through the cat flap an hour ago! Liv messages.

What the actual fuck?

??? writes Anna.

She has no collar but she does have the scar above her lip.

I sit back in my chair. It’s only the original bloody Cat Face. I didn’t kill her after all. I went to all that trouble, felt all that guilt, for nothing. The damn thing has been staying at some bloody Airbnb or something.

What are you going to do with it? I reply.

Looks like we’re a family of six now! writes Liv, and adds a thumbs-up emoji.

I look at the original Cat Face and know just where I’d like to stick that thumb.