Chapter 24
‘Hallelujah!’ she said out loud when the electricity snapped back on.
She was sitting huddled next to the wood burner, wrapped in a blanket, her ankle throbbing.
The cold had managed to invade every nook of the house and while she’d got up once to fix herself a cup of tea, it had been a bit of a struggle and although she was gasping for another, she’d decided to hold out.
This, though, was good news. She hobbled over to the sofa and plugged her laptop into its charger, seeing the light go on and feeling that, at last, she might be able to reconnect with the world.
Her phone was lying next to the laptop where she’d abandoned it earlier.
She could see from the screen when she pressed the side button that it still had charge, and that she had a few missed calls.
But the device still wouldn’t respond when she tried to navigate using the touch screen.
After catching her thumb again on a shard of glass, she had to give up.
After all, she didn’t want to bleed to death over a text message.
The road outside was more or less clear now, although large piles of snow lined it where it had been pushed out of the way by a plough.
The garden was still untouched, other than a few delicate bird prints close to the tree and the tiny dotted footsteps that Gabi had made when she’d charged away earlier.
Oh God. Gabi. She’d been so preoccupied with lighting the fire, then had sat in such a stupor in front of it, that she’d forgotten the tiny cat’s escape. The little kitten would be terribly cold by now, perhaps even dangerously so.
When Gabi had darted out past her and become spooked by the snow, she’d been annoyed more than anything. She’d assumed that the cat would soon return in search of food or comparative warmth. But it had been more than two hours and there was no sign.
Nicola didn’t know much about hypothermia, but she did know that Gabi would be more prone to it than many animals – she was so small and carried very little weight on her delicate bones.
She stood up now, testing her ankle and realising that although it still hurt quite a bit when she moved, it could just about take her weight.
Adrenaline flooded through her as she pulled on a coat from the banister and opened the door into the freezing day.
‘Gabi?’ she called from just outside her door.
‘Gabi?’ She made kissing noises, even tried a meow, but there was nothing.
She looked at the line of tiny paw prints in the snow; as far as she could see, the ground was otherwise untouched.
She’d have to follow them, see if they’d lead her to her little cat.
She began to walk through the snow; it rose up with each tread, some small clumps slithering into her boot and making her foot soaking.
And it wasn’t long before her feet were almost completely numb.
In some ways, it was helpful – her ankle hurt a lot less.
But in others it had a pain all its own, a kind of stiffening, damp pain that pervaded each of her toes and made her shiver.
Her brain, always helpful at times like these, brought the lyrics of ‘Good King Wenceslas’ to her mind.
The image of the king and his loyal page making their way through the snow.
How the page couldn’t go on because of the cold.
But treading in the king’s steps, where the snow had already been reduced and warmed, saved him.
But then the page had the king to do the steps for him. She was utterly alone.
She stopped, admonished herself. She seriously couldn’t be jealous of a servant in a Christmas carol?
Every time she reached what she thought was rock bottom, she found a trap door and went down another level, it seemed.
‘Gabi?’ she called again as she drew closer to the line of trees that had swallowed her cat. ‘Gabi?’
A sensible person would have brought some cat treats or something to tempt the kitten with. But there was no way she was traipsing back to the house for anything now.
The footsteps stopped at the edge of a line of fir trees that marked the end of her property.
The trees extended for a few metres farther into the next-door field.
Stepping into the cool, shadowed darkness, she was relieved to see that the snow had barely infiltrated here.
The ground was a mixture of bracken and ice, the trees steadfast and green in defiance of the season.
‘Gabi?’ she called again. ‘Gabi?’
The problem was, she realised, that she had no idea whether the kitten had stopped here or gone on.
The footsteps ended, but she’d seen how fast Gabi could run, the distance she could cover.
And that was at times when she was playful rather than scared.
Who knew how much ground she could cover when she was spooked?
‘Gabi?’ she said, more quietly now. Her body ached from her fall and although her ankle had improved, the fact that its pain had faded had given her space to notice other things that felt battered and bruised. She longed to be lying in a relaxing bath rather than standing in a copse in her wellies.
Only if something happened to Gabi, she’d never forgive herself.
She took a couple more steps, peering through the shadows, trying to make out any sort of movement. Finding a black cat in a dark wood must be the feline equivalent of a needle in a haystack, surely. Especially if that ‘needle’ didn’t want to be found.
Nicola was just turning back towards the house, deciding to warm up, then collect cat treats for phase two of her search, when she heard the tiniest squeak of a mew. She stopped, her senses working overtime. Had she really heard it?
Yes! There it was again, tiny, pitiful but definitely feline.
‘Gabi?’ she called again. ‘Gabi?’
When she found the little kitten curled up in the root of a tree, she almost squealed with relief. Gently, she bent down and picked up the tiny ball of fluff. Its eyes were closed, but opened slightly to check its surroundings before closing again.
She was alive. But the feeling of her freezing, almost rigid little body made Nicola worry they weren’t out of the woods yet, so to speak.
Tucking the uncomplaining kitten under her coat, she made her way gingerly back to the warmth of the stone house.
Inside, she shut the door on the cold and put the little bundle of fluff on the sofa, covering her with a blanket.
Then she searched online to see whether she could find any tips.
There were thousands. But the one that kept coming up again and again was skin to skin contact.
This would warm the kitten naturally without proceeding too fast and causing damage.
She unbuttoned the top of the blouse she was wearing under her fleece and gently rested the kitten against her skin.
It was awful at first – the sensation you get when someone who’s been outside in the cold wants to prove to you just how freezing they are by putting their hands on your back.
But she gritted her teeth and waited for the kitten to warm up slightly.
But it wasn’t enough. She had no way of knowing whether the kitten had developed hypothermia, no way to know whether it was out of danger. She’d only had the cat a couple of weeks but in that time, she’d come to love the little ball of fluff who’d adopted her as her owner.
With her laptop now partially charged, she was able to call the vet’s from her WhatsApp.
He answered, sounding rather flustered. ‘Oui, all??’
‘Hi,’ she said. She explained who she was and what had happened.
‘The important thing is to warm her up. Don’t feed her, not yet. Concentrate on keeping her as safe and warm as you can.’
‘But what should I—’
‘And come in for an appointment. I can fit you in at 2 p.m. Just to be sure.’
‘OK.’ She looked out over the road. A car passed slowly, its headlights on, snow still piled on its roof.
But the vet’s wasn’t far and she needed to know Gabi was OK.
Inside her blouse, she could feel the kitten’s tiny, shallow breaths, the rapid beat of its heart.
Both seemed excessive, but then she knew nothing about kitten normals.
Perhaps little creatures had fast heartbeats?
Perhaps Gabi was completely fine. But something in her felt a shiver of doubt.
The kitten was so very young, and had been out for almost three hours by the time she’d been found.
‘So much for you, lucky angel,’ she said aloud to the glowing figure on her windowsill. ‘I’ve a good mind to chuck you in the bin!’
Her phone began to ring, making her jump.
She watched a name, obscured by cracked glass, flash on the screen, mutely, knowing she couldn’t answer it.
When the voicemail cut in, the person rang again.
But still, nothing. Perhaps it was Lucien.
But she’d yet to programme his number into WhatsApp, and had no way of reading it now.
In all honesty, she was surprised that she hadn’t heard from Harriet yet either.
After all, she’d promised to track Steven down for her and update her when she could.
Sitting down on the couch, kitten still sleeping against her skin, she typed her sister’s number on the laptop. But there was no answer.
She sent:
CALL ME?
Then, for good measure, followed up with:
HOPE YOU’RE ALL OK.
She was just debating whether she should try to make herself a sandwich or grab something from the shop en route to the vet’s when the doorbell rang. She looked out into the garden and saw that a small car had appeared in the driveway, its wheels making the first real dent in the crisp white snow.
‘Oh?’ she said, and heaved herself up to answer.
‘Are you OK?’ Lucien was on her step, frowning.
‘Well, yeah. Just about.’
‘I’ve been calling you.’
‘Ah. I broke my phone. I fell down the stairs and…’
His eyes widened slightly. ‘You fell down the stairs?’ He seemed to notice for the first time that her hand was hovering close to her ribs, supporting the little black cat inside her clothing. ‘You have hurt your arm?’
‘This? Oh, no. My ankle a little.’ She made a face. ‘I’ll survive.’ Then, realising she’d left her friend on the step in the freezing cold, she moved backwards to let him in. ‘What are you doing here anyway? I thought your village was snowed under?’
‘They finally cleared it,’ he said. ‘And I realised that I might just have time to finish my painting, make it special for Annabelle. That’s if it’s OK with you?’
‘Of course, although…’ She explained what had happened, the fact that at this very moment she was warming a kitten against her skin.
‘The poor animal, but poor you too. You must have been frozen?’ He stood up. ‘I do not have a lot of experience making cups of tea. But would you like me to try?’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘But I want to.’
Minutes later he set a milky tea in front of her. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that in normal circumstances, she’d barely be able to drink such a milky brew. Besides – right now? – any hot drink was welcome. She felt the liquid move through her and shivered. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘And I can drive you to the vet’s?’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’
He nodded. ‘OK, then may I stay here and work on my art? I’ll be here when you get home then, in any case, and if you need help?’
She nodded. ‘Thank you.’
Her heart would still dip with anxiety whenever she thought about Steven, or Harriet, or her parents. There was still so much that needed to be resolved. But however disastrous her life seemed, it was definitely better to go through it with a friend.