It was the week before Christmas, and I was trying to settle myself into a new flat. My boyfriend had decided that he wanted to leave me – said ‘it was not me it was him’ -likely story. I thought it was more to do with the blonde I’d seen him with in the wine bar on the high street when I was supposed to be working late. I’d finished earlier than I expected and decided to surprise him; thought he’d be pleased. Obviously not – shocked more like. Oh, he said she was just a girl from the office and didn’t mean a thing. I asked him if he always held the hands of ‘girls from the office’ and observed that he could be setting himself up for a few lawsuits if that was the case. Anyway, I didn’t want to think of him anymore and busied myself arranging my books accompanied by a large glass of good red and a big box of tissues.
My new flat is in an old-fashioned building. I had seen a card in the window when passing and phoned the number. I agreed the rental without seeing anyone, or indeed the flat, and without any references. I thought it was strange, but I was so grateful to be away from the number one cheat that I just said yes. Once a family home of stature, the owner had divided it into flats. Mine was at the front of the house and had windows which stretched from floor to ceiling. The windows had wooden shutters which you could close to make the rooms cosy and protective. Just what I needed to keep me safe from unfaithful boyfriends. Dusty red velvet curtains fell each side of the wooden frames. When you pulled them, spiders and other detritus fell on your head, not fairy dust. I had to warm myself in front of a gas fire which hissed. My landlady was an old friend of my grandmother, so she said, and that’s why she let the flat to me.
On the day I moved in she had met me at the front door. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her before but that didn’t mean to say it wasn’t true. She was quite a lot younger than my grandmother, who had died five years earlier, but her clothes belonged to a different age. Her hair was black streaked with grey, and she wore pince-nez style glasses. A long purple skirt and a red woollen cardigan completed the picture. She had a black shawl draped around her shoulders, and I wondered why she was wearing fur gloves indoors.
‘Hello dear, nice to meet you. I’m Cassandra. Do come in, I’ve made the flat ready for you.’ she croaked. ‘Sorry, it’s the damp, makes me hoarse. I was a friend of your grandmother you know.’
‘So, I understand. Where did you meet her?’ I hefted my suitcase over the threshold and pushed the heavy packing cases with my feet. My brother had just dumped me and my belongings on the pavement and left. Somewhere to be, he said. Being his usual helpful self- not.
‘Oh, somewhere, can’t remember where now, too long ago.’ She waved her arms in the vague direction of nothing. ‘It’s this way.’ She beckoned me to a wide staircase and began to climb without waiting for me. I struggled after her with the case but left the boxes until later. The stairs wound round in a spiral, edged with handrails made of metal which no one had polished in a long time. The building smelt musty and stale, with an underlying sharp aroma I couldn’t identify. Up the centre of the steps lay a threadbare patterned carpet covered with a thick layer of black fur making the stairs look like a velvet river.
‘Do you have a dog or a cat?’ I asked, trying to make conversation.
The woman looked startled. ‘No, I do not! Filthy things.’ Her voice was sharp.
As we climbed, her shoulders heaved, and she was breathing in fits and starts. She clutched the handrail with her bony hands.
‘This was my family home when I was small,’ she whispered, as if someone other than me might hear her. ‘I used to run up these stairs. The house is too big for me now which is why I converted it into flats – or rather my father did. That’s him.’ She indicated a large portrait in a heavy gold frame which hung in front of us. It showed a stern man with a buttoned-up collar and drooping moustache. He was stroking a large black cat which sat on his lap staring out of the canvas. It was a mean looking cat. The painting was dingy and needed a good clean like the rest of the house.
We arrived in front of a door displaying a number 6 in gold.
‘This is yours my dear. Do you have your rent money?’
‘Yes, here it is.’ It seemed abrupt, but I searched in my handbag and retrieved the envelope containing the notes which she had insisted on. Reaching out with her fur-covered hand, she grabbed the envelope, thrusting it deep into her skirt pocket.
‘Here are your keys. I won’t come in. If you need anything, I live in flat No.1.’ She thrust the bunch of keys into my hand and scurried away along the dim passageway, as if she couldn’t wait to leave.
I haven’t seen her since the day I moved in, but I hear her weary footsteps on the stairs sometimes. At other times I can detect voices, but I never see any of the other residents. I do hear a cat miaowing, but the only evidence of its presence is the hairy stair carpet.
***
I drained my glass of wine and decided I’d had enough of sorting through things. I would go out and see if I could buy some Christmas decorations to brighten up the flat. I pulled the collar of my black jacket up around my ears and wound a purple woollen scarf cosily around my neck. I let myself out of the flat onto the landing. Sitting at the top of the stairs was a large black cat. At last, I thought, the elusive animal. The feline stared at me with emerald-green eyes, and I could have sworn that it narrowed them to focus on me. I went towards it, hand outstretched to give it friendly stroke. There was a frantic miaow, and it disappeared.
I know I had consumed a glass of wine, but that could not have happened. Cats didn’t disappear like a will o’the wisp. I searched all around the landing. Was there a cupboard or door into which it had disappeared? Feeling along the wall, I could not find any nook or cranny where ‘Blackie’ could have vanished into to hide. I decided to continue with my mission.
As I opened the street door and stepped out, a blast of chilly air hit me. It was already dark, and I paused to pull up my scarf to cover my face to avoid the chill wind. As I did there was a strident yowl. On the top step was the cat.
‘Hello pussy cat, how did you get there?’ Not surprisingly there was no answer, just a baleful stare from the bright green eyes. With a swish of its tail, the cat disappeared again. I was beginning to think I was going mad or had drunk too much wine. There was no sign of the cat anywhere, but Cassandra was standing on the top step. How had she appeared so suddenly? The wind ruffled her black hair, and she was brushing down her skirt, causing fur to fly everywhere.
‘Hello,’ I said, ‘have you seen the cat? It was here just a moment ago.’
‘There is no cat,’ she replied in a rasping voice, ‘I’ve told you there is no cat. Can’t abide the things.’ She looked directly at me, her green eyes boring into mine. ‘Don’t be out too late; you know I lock the door at nine pm.’ She rubbed her fur mittens together.
I glanced down at my feet trying to summon up the courage to challenge her. Surely, I had my own front door key? When I looked up again, she was gone. On the step lay a red collar with a silver bell. I looked left and right along the street. There was no one there just litter blowing along the road. The streetlights were ringed with frosty haloes. I sniffed the air; there was a distinct smell of fried onions and something else unidentifiable. Picking up the collar, I put it in my pocket and hurried towards the High Street.
Normally, there would be noise from traffic and the chatter of straggling shoppers as they rushed from shop to shop trying to complete their purchases before the stores closed, but there was deathly silence. I heard my own footsteps echoing, as I walked along. I pulled my scarf more closely around my face. Before me was a brightly lit shop with a lilac neon sign, I was grateful that it was still open. I pushed the door, and a cat’s cry announced my arrival. Startled, I soon realised it was the shop bell. I thought it was a strange sound to have, but assumed it was a new gimmicky item for sale. Some people would love it, but I wasn’t so sure. I’d had enough of cats for one day.
The shop was womb-like, lit with mauve and red lamps dotted around the room. A scent of incense floated on the air, and with that and the music of the Pan Pipes. I sauntered around, fingering items on the displays, my heart filled with joy at the beautiful bright colours. As I was choosing a few new Christmas baubles and some fairy lights, a youngish red-haired woman slipped out of the back of the shop. She was wearing a black ankle length skirt and a purple, green and red patterned shawl around her shoulders. I nodded at her. She nodded back and moved to the front of the shop. I could now see her clearly. She had luminous green eyes heavily made up, bright red lips and was wearing long silver earrings which jangled noisily whenever she moved her head. On her hands she was wearing fur gloves. I stared at the mittens. Then, aware I might seem rude, I smiled at her.
‘Just choosing some baubles and Christmas lights for my flat. I won’t be long,’ I whispered, ‘I know it’s late and I’m sorry to detain you.’
‘No problem lovely, I’ll just be here. Take your time.’ She waved her arm, and a strong smell of patchouli emanated from her person, almost making me choke. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’ As she moved, the music rose to a crescendo then halted abruptly.
The shop was now silent, and I was aware that the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. What did she mean by that? I swallowed hard and hurried to pick out my goods. I knew I wanted to get out of this shop as soon as possible. Gathering the items, I had chosen, I strode over to the counter. There, sitting on a stool was a black cat licking its paws, the rasping sound of its tongue filled the air. The woman had disappeared. The animal lifted its head and stared at me. Another cat with bright green eyes; they must have the same neighbourhood tom as a father.
‘Hello, is anybody there?’ I shouted, ‘hello, hello.’
A low growl reverberated around the room. The kitty jumped down from the stool and disappeared into the rear room of the shop. Almost immediately, the curtain at the back of the counter twitched and the lady reappeared. She was licking her gloves. I stared. Really!
‘Could I buy these things,’ I asked, dumping the items on the polished counter. ‘don’t bother wrapping them, I have my bag here.’ I retrieved my purse and began to count out the money to pay for the things I wanted to purchase. Without waiting for any change, I scooped everything into my bag and almost ran out of the building. Once outside I took deep breaths to steady myself. What was wrong with me? The street was now alive with traffic and people. I hurried along to the flat, looking forward to getting inside and closing the door on the craziness.
As I approached my house, Cassandra was standing at the top of the steps polishing the brass doorknob in the dark. She turned to me,
‘Did you get everything you wanted, dear?’ she chuckled.
‘Yes, thank you,’ I muttered before scuttling into the hallway and up to my flat. The mean cat in the portrait seemed to be watching me, as I fumbled with my key. I finally managed to open the door and step inside. I slammed the door and leaned against it thankful to be safe at last. Shaking, I put the kettle on to make a cup of tea.
I took my steaming mug into the sitting room and switched on the gas fire. After lighting the lamps, I settled onto the sofa to drink my tea. Feeling calmer now, I went to my bag to examine my Christmas purchases. I pulled the gaudy items from the bag. Why had I purchased so many cat baubles? I was sure that I hadn’t selected them. The back of my neck began to tingle. I felt someone was watching me. Hardly daring to look, I lifted my eyes and there on the low table by the fire was another black cat. I screamed, at which the beast swished its tail and washed behind its ears.
‘Go away! Shoo! Where did you come from?’ The animal looked directly at me, its green eyes looking offended. It yawned, as if I were boring it, jumped down and sauntered into the kitchen where it proceeded to knock over the milk which I had left out. It then began to lap at the spilled liquid. I was frantic. How would I get rid of it? Or do I get rid of it? It obviously thought it belonged here.
I decided I needed to talk to Cassandra, so I went in search of her. As I rapped on the door of flat number one, I could hear a shuffling inside. The door creaked and she peered through the crack.
‘I need to talk to you, Cassandra,’ I babbled, ‘there’s a black cat in my flat and I don’t know where he came from. Don’t know who he belongs to.’
‘Go away dear; you’re seeing things,’ she cackled. 'There are no cats here.’
‘But there is a cat,’ I whispered. ‘He’s in my kitchen drinking milk.’ I wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
‘You’re wrong.’ With that she slammed the door shut in my face.
I walked back down the hairy stair carpet dreading what I would find there. I decided to be positive, pulled my shoulders back and flung open my door. There sitting on the doormat, purring, was my furry visitor. I faced the puss.
‘You need to leave. You don’t belong here.’ The cat just looked at me and continued purring.
There was a chirrup, and the animal twitched its whiskers.
‘I do belong here.’ I looked around to see where the voice was coming from. ‘Can I have my collar back please.’ I froze. Had I finally cracked up?
‘Yes – yes of course you can. It’s in my pocket, I’ll get it for you.’ I went to retrieve the collar then stopped. What was I doing? Talking to a cat? And the cat was talking to me.
‘Don’t be scared,’ its green eyes twinkled, ‘I’m here to look after you.’
‘Look after me? Don’t be silly, I don’t need looking after.’
‘Yes, you do. Your grandma told me you’d been hurt.’ He stroked his whiskers with his black paws.
‘My grandma?’ I was sure I was losing it. Damn that number one cheat!
‘I better introduce myself. I’m Merlin. I’m sorry about all the random appearances I’ve been making, but I had to get your attention somehow. I hope I didn’t frighten you too much. I’ve been living here alone since Cassandra passed to the other side waiting for you to arrive.’
‘Cassandra has – passed -to-the-other-side? Then who’s….?’ I waved vaguely in the direction of the staircase. The cat swished his tail.
Then I realised. That’s how she knew my Granny. So, who was I? There were too many questions, so with a sigh, I pulled on my black fur mittens and settled on the couch with Merlin curled up on my lap. The Christmas lights and cat baubles twinkled in the lamplight. I purred in time with Merlin’s throaty rasp.
About the author
Liz writes short stories and poetry and is just finishing her first novel. She lives in North Yorkshire and at the time of writing is looking out on a dismal day at the sheep in the field behind her house.
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