Paycheque

by Fiona McCallum

  Claire straightened up and accepted the glass of milk David held out to her. ‘It’s got a bit of brandy in it. I promise it’ll help.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, and took a swig. She felt the warmth instantly start to seep through her.

  ‘David, I think it’s time for the other remedy,’ Bernie said.

  ‘I think you’re right.’

  Claire looked from one to the other, frowning.

  ‘You’ll see soon enough,’ they said in unison.

  David left.

  Bernadette patted her hand and laughed. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not carting you off to the funny farm or anything. We got you a little present to cheer you up.’

  David walked back in moments later with two squirming, grey striped kittens clutched to his chest.

  Claire stared wide-eyed and held out her arms.

  ‘If you really don’t like them they can go back.’

  ‘No way; I love them. Come here, you guys. Ooh, aren’t you cute?’ She peered at the little balls of fluff with bulging eyes. ‘They’re so tiny. Oh, they’re just wonderful. Thank you.’

  David sat on the sofa beside Claire and the three of them watched while the kittens clawed their way up over the upholstery. After ten minutes or so the kittens had exhausted themselves and made their way back to Claire and Bernie’s laps, curled up and gone to sleep.

  ‘I’ll get their stuff,’ David said.

  ‘Yeah, better have a litter box set up for when they need it,’ Bernie said.

  ‘So, where did you get them? And are they boys, girls, or both?’

  ‘Both boys. You have to take them back in a couple of months to be desexed – it was included in the price.’

  ‘Take them where? What shop did they come from?’

  ‘Shop! Jesus, Claire, you don’t think I’d ever go to a pet shop, do you? You know what I think of those places. No, they came from the RSPCA shelter. I know you would have liked to choose your own, but I’m glad you didn’t – it was so depressing having to look at all the dear little faces pleading to be taken too.’

  ‘Oh, were there heaps there?’ Claire asked, stroking the sleeping bundle in her lap.

  ‘Well let’s just say there were enough to choose from. These guys are brothers from a litter of four.’

  ‘Poor things. Shame about having to leave their siblings behind – they won’t have to be put down, will they?’

  ‘No, all four found homes while we were there.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Claire sighed with relief.

  David bustled back in, struggling with a cat carry box and two bulging plastic bags.

  ‘Sorry, I should have helped. I didn’t realise you were bringing everything in,’ Bernadette said.

  ‘What, there’s more?’ Claire said, noticing the dark forms behind the mesh door of the carry box.

  ‘Meet these guys’ two brothers. We just couldn’t leave them there,’ Bernie said. ‘David’s taking one and the other is for the shop – Darren reckons there are mice in the mulch.’

  ‘Oh, you guys are great. Let me see.’

  ‘Soft in the head, more like,’ David said.

  ‘What are we going to call the little monsters? It was going to be hard enough with only two,’ Claire laughed.

  ‘Well mine is Basil – my favourite herb, and because he’s got sticky-uppy fur,’ Bernie said. ‘You never know, maybe I’ll start selling a few pet products.’

  ‘Oh God, listen to her – a monster has been unleashed,’ David said, and sighed.

  ‘He’ll have a ball wandering around, sleeping in pots,’ Bernadette added.

  ‘Getting under people’s feet,’ David and Claire said in unison, and chuckled at their synchronicity.

  ‘I could take these guys to the stables, but I’d be paranoid about them getting kicked or trodden on,’ Claire said.

  ‘Plenty of cats survive living on busy roads,’ David said. ‘But I’m so jealous – I can’t take my little guy to work. The health department would have kittens, so to speak.’

  Bernie and Claire looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and groaned.

  ‘You could drop him in at the shop on your way to work,’ Bernadette said. ‘What’s another one?’

  Claire felt a little disappointed that the offer hadn’t been made to her. There was definitely something going on between these two.

  ‘So what are you calling yours, David?’ Claire asked.

  David opened the door of the carry box and brought the kittens out one in each hand. He turned them around briefly before handing one to Bernadette.

  The kittens did look very similar – both were grey with dark stripes – but each had at least one distinguishing mark of white on it.

  ‘This one is mine,’ David said. ‘Meet Boots.’

  ‘Great name,’ Bernadette cried.

  ‘Hmm,’ Claire agreed.

  ‘I know these white bits on his feet look more like slippers,’ David said, ‘but you can’t call a cat that. Your turn, Claire, what are you going to call yours?’

  Claire smiled down at the kittens sitting on her lap with their little motors purring. She picked them up and turned them this way and that, examining their individual markings. ‘Don’t kittens smell so yummy?’ she said, taking a deep sniff.

  ‘They’re not for eating,’ David warned.

  ‘I don’t know what to call them, but I’m sure I’ll think of something when they wake up and show their true personalities. But isn’t it true what they say about pets being good therapy? I feel much better already. Thank you guys, they’re the best.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ David said. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t do this years ago – precious little darling.’

  ‘I hope you’re still saying that in two weeks when they’ve peed all over the carpet and torn the couch to bits,’ Bernadette said with a laugh.

  ‘Oh no, look at them, butter wouldn’t melt,’ David cooed.

  ‘Jekyll and Hyde come to mind, or Henry and Edward,’ Claire said with a chuckle.

  ‘Don’t you dare be so cruel as to call them that,’ David said sternly.

  ‘Shit, is that the time?’ Bernadette cried, staring at her watch. ‘Sorry David, but we really have to get going – I’ve got a shipment of pots coming in. Will you be all right, Claire?’

  ‘I’ll be fine, thanks. Might even chuck a sickie for the afternoon to stay home and play with these guys.’

  ‘There’s food, litter and a tray in here,’ David said, leaning one of the bags against the couch. ‘They’ll have to share your Wedgwood, though. We couldn’t find any nice bowls.’

  ‘We’re only leaving if you’re sure you’re all right, Claire,’ Bernadette said, full of concern.

  ‘And you’ll be okay if we go now?’

  ‘Yes! Now go, before I insist on keeping all the kittens.’

  Chapter Thirty–one

  Claire hated leaving the kittens for a moment, let alone when she went to work at the farm. It took her ages to stop laughing at their naughtiness and finally start to introduce some discipline into her now chaotic home. She struggled with telling them off. They only had to rub themselves on her, purr, or look up at her with their big green eyes wide and she’d crumble.

  Claire awoke with her nose already wrinkling in protest. She sniffed at the air around her. Not again! She sat up and looked to the end of the bed where the slightly larger of the kittens was trying to cover two small black turds with the quilt, clearly unaware the fabric bore no resemblance to sand or kitty litter. He paused mid-strike when he realised he was being watched. His expression suggested total humiliation. Claire stared back until she realised the second kitten had awoken, stretched, and was preparing the quilt for a gift of his own. She leapt up, grabbed both kittens, flew into the laundry, dumped them in the litter tray, and slammed the door shut. When were they going to learn? She returned to the bedroom to survey the damage to her treasured one thousand thread count quilt cover.

  It had been over a week and
still toilet training was proving a nightmare. They didn’t seem to be grasping the concept at all. She’d plonk them in the litter tray at regular intervals and all they would do was scratch about playfully for a while before hopping out. A couple of times they’d used it properly, but Claire had put it down to coincidence rather than good management. She was starting to be driven a little mad with the frustration of it all. Not to mention the damage they were doing with their claws when left unattended. The fact that both David and Bernie’s kittens had settled in well and were doing all the right things annoyed Claire all the more.

  Having remade the bed and got dressed, Claire realised she only had ten minutes before she had to be at work. She put some cat food in a container, then grabbed the kittens from the laundry and, ignoring their pleas, stuffed them in the carry box and left.

  All the way to the farm she chatted to the plastic box beside her, making bargains and begging the furry little creatures to be on their best behaviour and not cause trouble, not frighten the horses, and not get kicked or trodden on.

  An instinctive check of her appearance in the mirror before she got out of the car made her laugh – she looked dishevelled, and she hadn’t even started work yet.

  Claire carried the carry box over to the stables and found Madeline in the feed room.

  ‘Hi Maddie. Sorry I’m late. Hell of a morning.’

  ‘No worries. Everything’s under control. What’s this?’ Maddie squatted down to peer into the box. ‘Kittens. Oh. Whose are they?’

  ‘Mine. Didn’t I tell you?’

  Maddie’s reaction was a little odd. She was standing there looking at them a little suspiciously, not oohing and ahhing and demanding a cuddle like she had expected.

  ‘Aren’t they cute? Bernie and David got them for me.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Yes, lovely. What are their names?’

  ‘Unnamed as yet, poor little things. They’re both boys, so if you come up with anything I’d be most grateful. I’ve just got to go over a couple of things with Dad in the office, so could you mind them for a bit?’

  ‘Well I’m pretty busy organising the feeds, and then I’ve got the stables to do.’

  ‘Just leave them in their box then. They’re probably due for a snooze,’ Claire said, and left.

  On her way over to the house Claire wondered about Maddie’s reaction to the kittens. The kid was probably just tired. Early morning starts would do that. At least she didn’t have far to travel. That reminded her – she hadn’t seen or heard from Derek since her party. Prior to that, since their moving day picnic, he’d called in or phoned her every day. As she opened the back door into the laundry, Claire realised she missed him.

  ‘Dad, are you here?’

  ‘In here.’

  Claire made herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the dining room table opposite her father, letting out a deep sigh.

  ‘What’s that all about? I’m the old one around here,’ he ribbed.

  ‘The kittens – they’re gorgeous, but…’

  ‘Kittens?’

  ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you either? I must be losing the plot. Bernadette and David got me two kittens. They’re lovely, but they’re driving me a bit nuts with trying to destroy the place when I’m gone and keeping me awake at night. I brought them over in a carry box – they’re at the stables with Maddie.’ Claire noticed a strange expression cross her father’s face. ‘What’s that look for?’ she demanded.

  ‘What look? Oh, I was just thinking… Are David and Bernadette something of an item? Only I thought he was meant to be, you know, a bit on the cheerful side, if you know what I mean. Or is that what all young men are like these days?’

  ‘Honestly Dad, I don’t know.’

  ‘Have you ever asked him?’

  ‘Dad, it’s not exactly something you ask someone.’

  ‘So, we’re just to assume then?’

  ‘I suppose we do. I don’t think it matters what David is.’

  ‘No. He seems a nice enough fellow. It’s just that I’d hate to see Bernadette get hurt.’

  ‘Well she’s a big girl, Dad, so I think we should just mind our own business. Speaking of which, I need to go over a couple of bookkeeping things with you before I get stuck into the horses.’

  Claire did her work as if she were on autopilot. Her head swirled with wondering why she hadn’t heard from Derek, whether David was really gay, and if Bernadette knew for certain one way or the other. She also spent a lot of time worrying about the kittens: where they were and whether they were about to be kicked or stepped on. Tomorrow they’d have to stay home – they were too much of a distraction.

  That night she sat on the sofa watching television while the kittens ran riot around her. She was still wracking her brain over what to call them. Maddie had had a couple of suggestions like Tom and Jerry, Calvin and Hobbes, but nothing had struck a chord with her.

  Claire laughed at herself. For God’s sake, they were kittens! There was nothing wrong with the traditional – Sooty, Smokey, Fluffy, Blackie – except that both David and Bernadette had been so clever naming theirs.

  She picked the kittens up and peered at them, and then turned them around a couple of times. Still nothing came to her. She returned them to her lap and stroked them, but after a few minutes they struggled out from under her hands, leapt off the couch, and scurried off towards the kitchen. There was a gentle knock on the door. Claire unfolded her legs and got up to answer it.

  ‘Derek! Hi!’ He was standing on her step dressed in jeans, burgundy checked shirt and navy blazer. Hmm, very handsome. ‘Great to see you. Come in.’

  ‘Only if I’m not intruding.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just watching telly,’ she said, indicating her track pants, t-shirt and bright, multicoloured striped bedsocks. She was surprised she didn’t feel even a hint of embarrassment. She stood back from the door for Derek to pass, but he stayed put and shuffled his feet a bit as if hesitant. ‘Well, aren’t you coming in?’

  ‘I, er, brought you a present.’ He turned to get something that was just out of view. Claire’s eyebrows shot up in excitement. But her face fell seconds later when he brought a pet carry box into view. Uh-oh.

  ‘Maddie and I went on the weekend and…’ He stopped when he saw her expression. ‘What, you’re not allergic are you? I thought you mentioned getting kittens. And Jack said…’

  ‘I love kittens. But look,’ she stepped back from the door, grinning. In clear view were her two grey kittens wrestling on the floor. ‘Maddie found out today. I wonder why she didn’t warn you.’

  ‘She probably tried to call but I had my phone turned off all day – back to back meetings. Oops,’ Derek said, rubbing a hand across his face. ‘How embarrassing.’ He put the box down.

  ‘Well I think it was really sweet – so thank you.’ Claire peered through the grill. ‘Ooh, ginger. Aren’t they gorgeous?’

  ‘Hello you two,’ Derek said to the two kittens who had strode over to check out who was in the box. ‘What are your names?’

  ‘No Name One and Two at this stage, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well these two come ready-named,’ Derek said proudly. ‘Maddie insisted. The darker one is Terry – for terracotta – and the pale one is Sandy – as in sandstone.’

  ‘Great names. Must be both boys, right, being ginger?’

  ‘Yep, both male.’

  ‘So, could you take them back? I mean I’ve become attached to these little guys and I think four would be overdoing it a bit. I’m so sorry, Derek. It was a lovely thought…’

  ‘Actually, I’ve become rather attached to them myself. And of course, Maddie would only let them go back over my dead body,’ he said, and laughed. ‘So I guess I have two kittens now, too.’

  ‘Oh Derek, that’s great,’ she yelped, grabbing him in a bear hug. An awkward moment passed before Claire released him. ‘So, can I get you a tea or coffee, or maybe a glass of red? I’m starting late tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh well, i
n that case a glass of wine would be lovely.’

  ‘Have you eaten? I was going to heat up some leftover pasta. There’s enough for two, though it’s nothing special.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s lovely. Thanks, dinner would be great.’

  ‘How about you let Terry and Sandy out while I get it organised.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘They can’t be any worse than these two. And we’re getting really used to little accidents around here.’

  Derek tactfully eschewed her offer of opening a second bottle of wine. At first Claire was a little disappointed – she was really enjoying his company. But he was right, it was getting late. And they did both have to work in the morning.

  At the door, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a firm lingering kiss on the lips. She drank in his breath, waiting for, hoping for his tongue to push between her lips and search for hers. But instead he pulled back, held her at arm’s length for a moment, and then pecked her on the forehead.

  ‘See you later,’ he said, and turned to leave. Claire’s heart was a little heavy as she waved him off.

  Back inside the house, mesmerised by the frolicking kittens, Claire thought about how she felt. She was glad he had enough respect for her to not be trying to get her into bed. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her in that way. Maybe he just wanted friendship. Did she? No. Claire knew for certain she wanted more from Derek. But what if he didn’t?

  As she locked the kittens in the laundry for the night, Claire was still trying to convince herself that an uncomplicated friendship was best.

  But laying in bed, enjoying the doughy, woozy haze of two and a half glasses of red wine, she felt the dull ache of wanting to be held, embraced. But was she ready to be intimate again with someone new? ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said aloud to the dark empty room.

  The next morning when she opened the laundry door, Claire found two sheepish kittens peering from between the foliage of the pot plants on the window sill, a considerable amount of potting mix spilt on the floor beneath. Scooping them up she realised she finally had their names – Bill (with white chest and front feet) and Ben (with a white tip on his tail), the flowerpot men.