The Two Lives of Lydia Bird - Josie Silver Page 0,43

as Turpin pulls his head back up to take a look at Jonah. ‘That’s pretty senior in cat years. The vet bills might be more of an issue.’

I appreciate his pragmatic approach, and he probably has a point. Turpin is a bit of an old dude.

‘My boss would kill me for saying this,’ the green-haired girl says, peering behind her to make sure no one is listening. ‘But Turpin’s been here for a year or more now, he’s pretty unsociable. Betty’s a safer bet.’

Jonah looks at me, and then we both look at Turpin, who stares back at us with muddy brown eyes. I screw my nose up, about to let my head rule my heart, and then the old boy lets out this bone-shaker of an ‘I knew it’ sigh.

‘I can be pretty unsociable these days,’ I say. ‘He’d suit me.’

Jonah hides his smile behind his hand. He’d do the same thing – he’s as soft-hearted as they come.

Green-haired girl shrugs in a ‘your loss’ way and reaches for the latch on Turpin’s door.

I guess it was the beat look in his eyes that clinched it. I recognized it. I connected with it. It said, My black heart has nothing for you, and I wanted to say, Sure, I get that, bud, but someone I love told me that the sun is going to keep on inconveniently rising so you and I may as well watch it do its infuriating thing together. Misery loves company, and all that. And now he’s here, staring me down in my living room, and I’m beginning to wonder if I had a moment of madness in not choosing the sweet girl who liked me because Turpin doesn’t seem to like me much at all.

‘Food?’ I say, because I was always well aware that the way to Freddie’s heart was invariably through his stomach. The rehoming centre furnished me with a small supply of Turpin’s usual food to get us started, and only after the papers were signed and he was officially mine did they double down on the fact that he isn’t a great mixer with other animals.

‘It says in his notes that he once mauled a guinea pig,’ one said.

‘And he had a pretty spectacular go at our boss when he first arrived here,’ another said. ‘Although we’ve since realized he’s more of a woman’s cat.’ The look on her face suggests this is code for keep him away from men at all costs, but he seemed quite ambivalent to Jonah. He wasn’t too much trouble on the car ride home, just lay in his box on my knees as Jonah tried to take the corners carefully. It was good to spend some time with him – Jonah, I mean. The deep fractures in our friendship are going to take some healing. I’ve asked him to come with me to Dawn’s wedding in a few weeks. I don’t want to let her down, but I can’t face going alone either, and Jonah at least knows most of my work colleagues because the school uses the town hall regularly for events. He’s agreed; another plaster over the fracture.

Turpin doesn’t follow me into the kitchen when I fill up his bowl, and when I head back to see if a shake of the box will entice him, I find he’s decamped on to Freddie’s chair and turned his face away into the corner. He’s effectively giving me his furry backside. It feels like a cat insult.

‘You should probably choose a different chair,’ I say, aware that Freddie would spit his teeth out at the sight of a cat in his favourite spot.

Nothing. No reaction. Just an obstinate bum.

‘Turpin.’ I test out saying his name with quiet authority and he completely ignores me. ‘Hey there, Turpin,’ I say, Disney chipper. Still nothing. I lay a hand on his back and he does something; I don’t know if it’s a purr or a low growl. I want to say the former; I rather fear the latter. I sigh and try not to feel as if I’ve made a mistake. It’s early days.

Sunday 30 September

Oh my bloody God, what are we doing at a gym? This is one area of our lives where Freddie and I were sharply divided, as in he loved it and I’d rather skewer my own eyeballs than try to stay upright on a running machine. It’s just not something we generally did together; he used the gym at work and I used