The Unconventional Journey of a Cat Lady (Cat Ladies Rule the World #2)

1. The Ex

1

The Ex

Bridget

F ollowing another loud bang Bella has had enough and shoots under my bed. I bend over, holding the girls up. At forty-four my titties are more on the saggy side. I risk blinding myself with a rogue nipple if I bend over without a bra.

“Sorry kitty,” I coo and try to give her a gentle pat, but she slides further back under the bed.

“Mum?” Ruthie calls. “I can’t find my trainers!”

Did I tell her not to leave packing until the last minute? Yep! Did she listen? Of course not . I thought that at the age of twenty-two my daughter could handle things like shoes. But no, it’s still “Mum, where’s this?” and “Mum, help me with that.”

Christopher’s twenty-four and living it up in Japan, teaching English to teenagers who probably behave better than he did at that age. Ruthie, my baby genius, is about to start her Masters in Engineering at the University of Manchester. She’s just spent the summer trekking around South America with her boyfriend, living the dream. Both of my children are responsible adults with their lives mostly together.

Yet the moment they step through the front door it’s like they forget how to function. Bella’s not impressed either. She glares at them as if to say, 'Mum’s mine. Back off.’

I sigh. Maybe it’s my fault, I do fuss too much when they’re here.

“Muuuuum!” Ruthie shouts again.

“I’m coming!” I holler back. I’ll miss her when she’s gone but to be honest I’m also looking forward to the sweet sound of silence.

I throw on a T-shirt and open the door to find Ruthie standing in the hallway, giving me the look . The one that says I’m the only person who can possibly solve her missing trainers crisis.

“Bold outfit choice,” she grins. Fine, the pink T-shirt does clash a little with the bright orange leggings but she was rushing me and that’s what was on hand.

“This is my house. I can wear whatever I want.” I shrug.

“You could audition for the role of crazy cat lady,” she giggles.

“Cheeky. And if I hadn’t had to do five loads of washing for you in the last two days because you left it to the last minute, I would have had time to wash my own clothes and dress appropriately.”

“I’m shutting up,” she mimes zipping her lips.

I open the little storage room under the stairs and find her trainers on the shelf. Just where they’d been the whole time.

“When is your dad picking you up?” My ex-husband reluctantly agreed to take Ruthie to Manchester after moaning again about my not having a driving license because otherwise I could at least have taken her halfway.

William lives still in Hampshire where we grew up and where we lived all our married life. He’d never move anywhere else. I, on the other hand, wanted to get as far as possible away from there after our divorce. My aunty Ruth – Ruthie was named in her honour – was cared for in a nursing home down here in Kent until she passed away four months ago. I loved my aunty Ruth and so I bought a small cottage from the divorce settlement and moved close to her, glad for a chance to spend the little time she had left with her.

“Cuppa?” I ask Ruthie as she follows me into the kitchen.

“No time. Dad will be here in half an hour and I’m still not done.”

“Ruthie—”

“I know, I know, you told me to pack sooner but I just wanted to spend more time with you.” She picks up a couple of apples from the fruit basket on the kitchen counter and puts them into a shopping bag alongside a bottle of sparkling water.

“You spent half the time you were here talking to Alfie,” I retort. She came back from their South America trip two weeks ago and the plan was for us to hang out. I took time off from work and I thought we could do some day trips. We did go to a spa but even there she spent half her time on the phone to her boyfriend.

“I love him, Mum,” she gives me a hug. And how can I not be happy for her? They are loved up and when she talks about him I can almost forget my cynicism about relationships. I was like that when I was her age. I got married to William when I was twenty after I fell pregnant with Christopher and back then I actually thought it would last forever.

“I know, darling.” I give her a kiss on the cheek just as the doorbell rings.

“Oh no, he’s early,” Ruthie exclaims, racing off towards her room. She should have known. William is always early – a trait that sadly also applied to the bedroom.

I leisurely make my way to the door, just in time for William to hit the doorbell again. Call it a power play but I don’t rush for him anymore.

“Hold your horses,” I shout before pulling open the door with a grin. “Hi.”

“Bridg,” he greats me with a peck on the cheek. His eyes sweep over me but he doesn’t comment on my outfit. William liked me to dress “ladylike” when we were married but now that we are divorced he’s lost any say in my outfit and he’s smart enough not to challenge me.

"It’s Bri, like the cheese," I glare at him. No one ever calls me Bridg, but William seems determined to make it a thing because it’s the “correct nickname for Bridget.” Who makes these rules? In school, I was called Cheesy. Completely my fault, to be fair.

There was another Bridget in class and she’d already claimed Bridg, so I went with Bri, and pronounced it brie thinking it sounded exotic but didn’t factor in teenage humour. I went around saying, “It’s Bri, B.R.I. – like the cheese just without the E.” Of course, all my friends heard was cheese, and before I knew it, Cheesy stuck.

“Nav and the boys not here?” I peek past him. We got divorced five years ago and it didn’t take him long to date someone new. She was in her mid-twenties back then and I thought William looked like a walking cliché. But against all odds they are still happily married and have two toddlers that keep them busy.

“No, they didn’t want to be stuck in the car for even longer. We’ll pick them up on the way to Manchester,” William tries to push the guilt button as we walk into the kitchen. Do I feel guilty? Not a bit.

“Cuppa?”

“Sure. Why are you not learning to drive? It would make your life so much easier,” he asks, leaning against the kitchen cupboards. Ruthie looks a lot like me with her dark blonde hair, grey eyes, and that button nose. But Christopher is the spitting image of William which always hits me when I look at my ex. They share intense brown eyes and wavy dark hair, although William’s is showing a lot of grey as of late.

“You know I’m scared of driving.” My ability to judge distance and spatial awareness is shit and I never really wanted to learn to drive. “I don’t really need a car,” I say stubbornly. I mean, that’s not completely true. I often wish I could just jump into a car and drive through the countryside because I do miss that freedom driving gives you. But I definitely don’t need it for day-to-day life.

William shakes his head. We’ve had this discussion plenty of times so he knows by now I won’t budge and I consider the topic closed. Just as I drop tea bags into the mugs on the counter, Bella struts into the kitchen. When she sees William she freezes, arches her back and hisses.

William automatically moves closer to me and I’ve to bite my lips. I only adopted Bella after I moved to Kent so she never lived with him but whenever he comes over she makes what she thinks of him very clear. She hates him. I’ve no idea why because he’s never done anything to her. Do I secretly love it? Of course I do.

“Shoo, cat,” he whispers and makes a hand movement.

“You’re not helping. Just ignore her and she’ll ignore you.” As if to prove my point, Bella gives him one last nasty look before sprinting out of the kitchen.

William takes the mug from my hand and stirs his tea. He eyes the book I left on the kitchen table.

“Don’t tell me you’re still reading this… porn.”

“It’s not porn.” I snatch the book from the table and press it protectively to my chest. How dare he talks about my babies like that? I love my smutty romance. I’ve recently discovered a small-town series set in the Lake District and I’m addicted to it.

“These are unrealistic love stories. Life’s not like that,” he sneers before taking a sip of his tea.

“Yes, thank you. That became abundantly clear at the end of our marriage.” I retort. I don’t get smut shamed in my own house!

“What? Did I not provide enough kinky sex for you? Well, you never said you were into this shit,” he doubles down.

“Any sex would have been a good start,” I smirk and know I’m poking the bear here. In general, William and I have a cordial relationship but whenever the conversation falls back to our divorce the knives are out. I can’t help but blame him given that he made zero effort to save the marriage and he tends to blame me for not providing what he needed, whatever that was.

“I just didn't feel this anymore,” he points between us. I could have bet that this was his next argument.

“Clearly. The only thing I felt in those last years was my own hand.” Oh, that arrow hits the target. I’ve to stop this.

“Wait, are you saying you masturbated whilst we were married?” he huffs. This conversation is getting weird.

“Of course.”

“That's not normal.”

“Why?”

“It's weird. Wives don't do that,” he says exasperated and with hurt pride.

“Are you telling me you didn’t wank whilst we were married?”

“That's not the same.”

“What? Why?” I snort.

“Because I'm a man.”

“So?” He’s really starting to get on my nerves but I’m not willing to back down.

“We have... urges.”

“Well, breaking news: women have urges too and if we don't get a decent shafting from our husbands, we either have to make do with the two hands the goddess gave us or buy ourselves some decent dildos.” I grin. I would have never spoken like this a few years ago but I don’t give a shit anymore.

“You’re so crude,” is the only reply William has. I shrug. I don’t care what he thinks of me.

“Daddy,” Ruthie slides across the kitchen floor in her socks and gives him a hug.

“Are you ready?” he asks, holding her tight in his arms. William does love our kids, I never doubted that. I just wish he’d spent more time with them when they were growing up. Between work and golfing… opportunities for us to spend some quality time together as a family were far and between.

“Yes, I’ve put my bags next to the door,” she grins.

“I’ll load them into the car whilst you say goodbye to your mum.” He places a tender kiss on her forehead and leaves us alone.

“I’ll miss you so much, Mum!” she whispers and slides her arms around my neck. My throat tightens and I’ve to fight back tears.

“I’ll miss you too, honey. I’m so proud of you.” We hug for a long time before she takes a step back.

“Text me when you get there,” I ask whilst wiping a tear from her cheek. It doesn’t matter how old they get, in my heart my children will always be my babies.

“Will do!” she promises before hugging me again.

It takes them another ten minutes to get all her luggage in William’s car and to say goodbye one more time. Eventually William pulls the car onto the road and I watch them drive away until he turns right at the end of the street.

It’s quiet when I step back into the cottage. Bella is with me in an instant as I drop onto one of the stairs. She can sense the quietness as well and knows all my attention will be on her again.

“Oh kitty,” I cry quietly and scratch her throat. She places her front paws on my thigh and stretches until she can rub her face against mine.

“I love you too,” I giggle through my tears. It does hit me hard whenever Ruthie or Christopher leave the house. Although I love the peace, I still sometimes wish I wasn’t on my own.