Chapter 47
The street WhatsApp group were lovely, sending replies to her post promising to keep an eye out, but no one could remember seeing Oscar over the past few weeks, let alone days, which did nothing to quell Jenni’s growing concern.
Her imagination was running wild, filled with awful thoughts of Oscar being hit by a car, hiding wounded in a nearby garden. Or even worse, what if…
Thankfully, at that moment, Amy rang.
‘Any news?’ she asked in reply to the frantic text message Jenni had sent her.
‘No, nothing. I’m getting really scared now.’
‘What about this person at number sixty-six he’s been visiting?’
‘I texted the number, but I haven’t heard back from them yet,’ Jenni replied, emotion making her voice crack a little.
‘Have you checked if the message was delivered?’ asked Amy.
‘No, but…’
‘Well, check now, then. Perhaps you put the wrong number in, or they haven’t received it yet?’ Amy urged.
Jenni looked. ‘It’s the right number, but I can see they’ve not read it.’
‘You know, you could just go to number 66 and see if they’re in? It’s literally just down the road from you.’
‘Oh. Yes. That’s a good idea. I’ll go now,’ Jenni said, brightening. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.’
‘You’re in shock and not thinking straight,’ said Amy. ‘Go now. I bet Oscar’s been there all along.’
Telling Amy she’d be in touch later, Jenni ended the call and checked her messages again in case there had been a reply while she’d been talking.
Still nothing. But never mind, she couldn’t wait any longer, she’d just pop along to 66 Copestone Road now.
At least she’d be doing something practical rather than just worrying.
Hurrying from her flat, she turned right at her front gate and, checking the numbers as she passed, she walked briskly to number 66, her heart burning with hope that Oscar would be there.
Number 66 Copestone Road was a smart-looking semi-detached house with a pink front door at the end of a short black and white checkerboard path.
Jenni stood on the doorstep and rang the bell, encouraged to hear voices within, but when the door finally opened the woman who answered just looked at her blankly.
She obviously had no idea what Jenni was talking about and she certainly hadn’t seen a tabby cat, let alone been feeding one and tying notes to its collar.
‘I’m sorry, love, he’s not been coming to our house. If I see him I’ll let you know.!’
As the door shut in her face, Jenni felt even more despondent than before – she’d been so certain she’d find Oscar there.
But it did confirm one thing, if 66 didn’t live on the same street as her, Oscar had obviously been roaming further away. Texting as she walked back up the street to her flat, Jenni sent another message to 66.
Hello, sorry, it’s 38 again. Please could you tell me your address? I thought you lived on the same road as me (Copestone) but I’ve just visited 66 and it’s not you!
Ben lent back in his chair and stretched.
He’d caught up on his sleep, had enjoyed a leisurely late breakfast and then spent the rest of the day absorbed in the plans for the summerhouse.
He’d sent the revised version to his dad and had been chuffed by the reply – Ian had asked for a few final tweaks, but otherwise he’d been full of enthusiasm and was keen to get the project underway, so Ben had spent the day making the changes his dad (and mum) had requested.
Keeping in touch was so much easier now than the awkward phone calls of the past, and the shared project made Ben feel closer to his dad than he had for a long time.
Satisfied with the changes he’d made, he emailed the plans to his dad and then stood up. Time for a break.
In the kitchen, a drink in hand, he picked up his phone, which he’d left lying on the table.
Realising it was still on silent from when he’d been at work, he saw loads of notifications, texts and WhatsApp messages flash up on screen – Penny was getting increasingly annoyed at his lack of response; he’d deal with that later.
He scrolled through the texts, stopping at one from a number he didn’t recognise.
Hi, it’s 38, I can’t find Oscar, is he with you?
Followed by a request for his address. With a lurch, Ben realised he hadn’t seen Fred, or rather Oscar, for a few days now and it was unusual to have gone so long without seeing him. Poor 38, they must be frantic.
He quickly tapped out a reply, giving his address and saying he was home now if they wanted to come round, and pressed send thinking it would be strange to finally meet Oscar’s owner.
Spotting the number 66 etched into the glass panel, Jenni made her way down the path to the communal front door.
As soon she’d got 66’s reply with their address, she’d rushed straight round to Henfast Road, which backed on to her road, passing the house on the corner and nearly tripping over the huge pile of sand their builders had left on the pavement outside.
Her mind frantic with worry, she reflected that the one teeny tiny positive about the whole horrible situation was that she had been so busy stressing about Oscar that she hadn’t thought about Ben once.
Now, standing outside the building marked with the number 66, she saw the numerous buzzers for the flats and wasn’t sure which one to press.
Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to think logically.
If Oscar normally waited for 66 outside that had to mean their flat had direct access to the garden.
She paused for moment and then pressed down on the buzzer labelled ‘ground floor flat’.
She heard footsteps approaching and, a few seconds later, the door opened.
Jenni?’
‘Ben?’
They stared at one another, puzzled.
‘What are you doing here? I mean… it’s just… how did you get my address?’ Ben trailed off.
‘I’m… I’ve lost my cat, I… Oh—’ Jenni paused as, suddenly, the penny dropped.
Ben stared at her.
‘You’re number thirty-eight, aren’t you?’ he asked, his voice so quiet Jenni could barely hear him.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘And you’re number sixty-six?’ she said, her heart in her mouth. ‘Have you seen my cat?’